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It was early November 2012. I had spent the better part of a week helping a rancher friend of mine wean cows and some other kobs around the ranch, while still managing to squeeze in some moose hunting. I decided that I'd take the afternoon of November 8th off ranching and moose hunting to chase some deer. I made the 45-minute drive to Mr. Rancher's friend's house. He showed me an area new to me.
We only jumped does but kept cutting a big set of tracks that afternoon. So it was decided that Mr. Rancher and I would head out deer hunting in the morning. We would go to the same spot I was at the night before. We had planned to leave the house at 6:00 am to be there just at legal shooting light. However, we kinda fiddle-faddled around a bit and didn't leave until 6:30.
We drove into the spot and Mr. Rancher asked me, "Where should I drop you off?"
I said, "Right where those deer are bouncing away."
So I climb out of the truck, binos on, pack on, rifle locked and loaded. I headed down into the timber and Mr. Rancher was going to glass another spot. It was my favourite hunting conditions—early morning, light breeze coming up the hill, light flurries, and about -10 Celsius. However, we were there later than we wanted to be.
So I head down after the deer I saw bounding away. It didn't take long before I caught up to them again. A positive on three does. So I carried on for a bit. The wind picked up a little, but not too much. It was still coming up the hill, so I stayed up a little higher. With the wind picking up, I decided to climb into the thicker stuff.
Next thing you know I hear thump, thump, thump! I looked down the hill through the trees and saw a doe standing there. I watched her for a second and I could hear another deer. The doe started to walk across the hill and up a little. The wind was good so I figured I'd try to cut her off to see if I could get a look at the other deer. I got about 60 yards down the hill when, to my right, I saw a deer’s face through some sticks and junipers. I used my breath to check the wind and it was coming right into my face. I brought my binos up on the deer. Antlers came out to its ears and turned up. I was positive it was a four-point but couldn't quite tell. Then the deer laid down. His head was sideway, so I started counting points on his antlers. I quickly counted, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!” He had to be at least four on one side.
I flipped open the scope caps on my scope and dialed it up to six power. I put my Parker Hale 1100 6.5x55 rifle on a tree branch for a sturdy rest and quickly found the deer's head in my scope. I didn't admire the rack in the scope, but found his head and dropped down to the left. I put the crosshairs where I thought his body would be and I let a Hornady Superformance 140-grain SST fly through the sticks and twigs. The deer got up but kind of dropped his back end in the process. He turned and took two steps right out into the open. Before he got any further, I let another round fly and hit him right in the shoulder. He was lights out.
As I walked up to him, he got bigger and bigger. I was so excited! I knew Mr. Rancher couldn't be far and probably heard the shot, so I ran back to the road trying not to look too excited. He was already coming back down the road when I got there. I held up my two empty casings and I could see the smile on his face. He pulled up and I climbed in.
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Warren Nichols’ mulie buck now graces
the wall at his home in Edson. |
"You got him!" he said
"Yeah, just a little 5-point," I replied.
"Where is he?"
I told him, "Just in the next clearing, about five to seven-hundred yards down the hill"
We parked in the trees as far as we could. We walked down towards the deer and tried to find it. I knew it was in the immediate vicinity and I had him marked with a blaze orange flag.
Next thing you know I heard some choice words followed by, "THAT'S NOT A LITTLE 5-POINT!"
Right then I knew he had found him.
I walked over to him and I think his smile was just as big as mine was. Talk about guide service. While I was trying to cut my tag on some dinky little tree, he had my deer gutted out. We started to drag him up hill through the thick trees, rocks, stumps and whatever else imaginable. I was concerned because I didn't want to rub off a bunch of hair on the cape. We packed him about 300 yards. Then Mr. Rancher had enough. He went back to the truck, picked his way through the big trees, and drove over the little ones. He got to within 50 yards of the deer. We then took some pictures and loaded him up.
He grossed 184 and netted 171 2/8. ■
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