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I have loved the outdoors my entire life, but my hunting journey didn’t start until 2013 when I was already in my mid-thirties. Hunting had always interested me, but I just didn’t have that mentor or person to push me the extra little bit to get started. In My first season, I was afforded the opportunity to hunt with a group of older gentlemen that had been hunting for 30+ years. I learned a ton that first year, from scouting to field dressing to butchering. The biggest thing missing was that first harvest.
The spring of 2014 saw me crossing paths with an avid bowhunter that I came to be working with. This chance encounter will forever play a significant part in my hunting life. Before I knew it, I was the proud owner of a used APA bow and had the itch to partake in bowhunting. I would take my bow with the family on our camping trips, where I would often find a place to shoot in the boonies. A few of my friends had also taken an interest to hunting, but for me, it was different. I did everything in my power to learn as much as I could; I would make daily visits to forums, watch the popular hunting shows, and even attend the library to enhance my skillset. Did my wife think I was crazy? Most likely, but she never said a word.
My bowhunting interest found me connecting with an old friend that I hadn’t talked to in a few years. He had some permission north of Edmonton where we began scouting. My first trip to the tree stand in early September taught me a lot; the first being my need for new boots, as I had walked into the alfalfa for about 20 seconds before my feet got completely soaked. I went out to this location about four times during bow season and never did see an animal when I was in the stand; they seemed to only show up when my buddy was there. I was lucky enough to get additional permission east of Edmonton in mid-September, as this area holds a population of mule deer. I had roughly three encounters here where I should have harvested a mule deer (spot and stalk) if I had more experience.
October had me accept an invite to bowhunt moose up north with the guy’s father that had got me into bowhunting. I had met this man once in my life and I was now going on a three-day hunt with just him. I had a 40-inch bull come in to 80 yards, grunting and raking but a swirling wind broke my heart like a little kid losing the championship game.
It was now late November and snow had blanketed the entire capital region. I had planned a late-season hunt with a friend and his father-in-law in Pincher Creek, but a family emergency forced me to cancel the trip. My friend had to make the journey for our first whitetails without me. It was now November 20, I had been texting another buddy and we decided that an early morning hunt was a good idea. He had some property further east of the spot I had been chasing the mule deer. I packed up my rifle and we were off at 6 am. The morning saw us split up in the heavily bushed area with numerous large sloughs. He had been out there a few weeks earlier and had seen numerous wolves, so we were ready for anything Mother Nature would give us. I bumped a large whitetail in the morning (not sure what gender) and had a bull moose standing broadside at 20 yards (typical-no tag). It was a long walk back to the cabin, as the heavy snow had started to fall. We ate lunch and sat by the fire. Both of us were falling asleep when my buddy chimed in, “I might just sit here and drink some beer.” I sat there for a short time and thought aloud, “I can’t kill a deer sitting here,” before asking him about the far east side of the property. He informed me of where the property lines were and advised that he had never hunted on that side.
I made the walk to the trail on the east line and what was the first thing I saw? Quad tracks of course, so I continued walking while asking myself what I would say if I ran into the trespassers. A 20-minute walk found me in an open slough bed. The quad track had stopped at this spot and turned around.
I decided to continue walking another 15 minutes to hit the property line. A quick break had me muttering to myself, as I had to backtrack up the large hill I had just walked down. Fifteen minutes later, I was back at the slough bed I had initially stopped at. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rear end of something about 300 yards across the slough. A quick glance through the binos resulted in, “Oh my God! It’s a buck!”
He’s now walking up a hillside in the trees and I quickly grab the Primos can and hit three bleats, followed by a grunt on the tube. To my amazement, I see him stop and wag his tail. I scurry behind some cover and initially think that he had walked away up the hill. Another look through the binos though and I can see him just standing there, still facing away from me. Three more bleats, he turns around, and b-lines right toward me. The next thing I know, he’s covered the ground quickly and is walking straight toward me. He gets to 50 yards and I tell myself, “He’s going to bust you.” I raise the Sako 270 WSM and take aim right at his upper chest/neck area. BANG, he drops in his tracks and I can’t believe what just happened.
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| The author poses with his first whitetail buck. |
I wait for a few minutes before a slow walk up and find the old bush buck right where he dropped. A quick text to my buddy and he arrives with the quad a short time later. Eerily enough, my other friend that I was supposed to be in Pincher Creek with had just sent me a picture of his whitetail that he had shot five minutes before me. A couple hours later, I had a deer hanging in my garage for the first time and all the neighbours over for a beer. My four-year-old thoroughly enjoyed touching the antlers, as she had become quite accustomed to the whole idea from TV.
I wrote this story because I wanted to showcase the importance of mentorship and hard work when it comes to hunting. I think you need both aspects to be successful in the field. I often hear people whine about never seeing any animals but most of the time they’ve put in minimal effort. I’ve only been hunting for two years and it is definitely in my blood.
I want to thank Mark, Barry, Darcy, Glen, Al, Jack, Danny, Sheldon and Jordan for all the guidance. Not to mention my wife for understanding the passion that I have for this way of life. ■
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