Sunday, October 12, 2014
It almost worked according to plan.
OMR laid down the gameplan. In the waking hours of the morning, he'd stay back, cover the exit routes and I would climb the ridge and try to find a buck.
I crested over the ridge for my position, and ho-le-shit.
You could tell from 500 yards out, there wasn't going to be any question if it was a shooter.
The plan was perfect as the deer were returning to their beds after a night of feeding in the newly sprouted winter wheat. The game was officially on.
450 yards out, they hung up. The wind was wrong and they stopped in their tracks and stopped moving towards me. Damn it.
The buck and his does dropped into their beds, not leaving me a lot of options. I sat and debated my moves, knowing that eventually the farmers who drive the tops of the cut stubble would be along soon and the jig would completely be up.
You only have minutes in a time like this to make things happen. Sometimes your choices work, other times, well....the meat doesn't hit the freezer
I circled as far as I could around them with the hope to drop down, cut the distance and take the shot.
The wind is what did me in, as I was about crest, drop down and shoot, they bolted
As mule deer do, a sharp whistle got them to stop. 350 yards out, I put the crosshairs on the bucks back and let er have it
The dustcloud under the buck said he was going to live another day
Frustrated. You bet. It was probably the biggest buck I've ever had a chance at.
But it's why I will be back at it again, trying to alleviate the frustration.