Oasis Outback |||| Hunters Corner

Jenn’s Muley Hunt ’07

Jenny’s Muley Hunt ’07

Anticipation was high on that day of October 18, 2007. My dad and I were driving straight through from San Angelo, Texas all the way up to our campsite in Western Colorado. We had discussed the two trophy mulies he had scouted back in August, and had the utmost confidence that I would take a nice buck. I had applied 10 years for the coveted tag, and all possible steps had been taken to increase my chances for a successful hunt.

Good food, company, and confidence kept our spirits up for the first three days of the hunt. After that, however, our hearts began to slowly sink. It became a group effort to strategize, to scheme, to wonder where could my big deer, or any shooter deer, be? Two of our three cow elk hunters tagged out and left, a coup which freed up my brother Luke to become my second personal guide.

Eight days of wishing, hoping, and hard-core hunting had began to take its toll on our minds and bodies. At the middle of day nine my dad, brother, and I, the remains of our once jolly camp, hung our heads in defeat after another fruitless morning hunt. Nonetheless, my dad and I shouldered our packs and set out to give it one more shotin our mid-afternoon gloom we had decided we would hunt this afternoon, maybe the next morning, and then break camp to return to Texas possibly empty-handed.

We reached our afternoon destination, and prepared ourselves for another evening of glassing the canyon below. And the words “Jenny, there he is quietly reached my ears. At 600 yards the view of the browsing buck through the binoculars was not impressive to my untrained eye. I believe my exact words were “he looks like a reindeer. This was my attempt to describe how his horns came straight up out of his head. While my dad stayed behind to glass the big buck, my brother and I snuck around to the side of the canyon to get a closer shot. The best we could do was a 400 yard downhill shot, and as I laid down to secure a rest I prayed I wouldn’t miss. I squeezed the trigger of the 7mm mag., the shot rang out and nothing happened! Shoot him again. Luke ordered. I obeyed. The deer jumped up and bounded off into the quakies. That night, an argument would ensue between the guides over whether or not I had hit the deer. Dad said no, brother said yes. However, there was no argument about how sick we all were over the deer I had let slip away.

The next morning we trudged back to the same canyon. In addition to the deer, we had seen two other bucks there as well, and we hoped we could at least find a shooter. I sat at the head, brother Luke on one side, and Dad on the opposite side of the canyon. A decent 4 by 5 was soon spotted, and I slipped around the canyon to try it again. However, by the time I got there, he was gone. My dad and I decided to follow him on around and down into a header while Luke would spot. After a 45 minute stalk and a run-in with some nosey does, we crawled in behind a rock formation to spot the opposite hillside. But what to our wondrous eyes would appear. The one that escaped yesterday, my elusive reindeer! This time he did look big, and as I waited for him to turn broadside, I admired his uncharacteristic rack. I squeezed the trigger, and at 280 yards, dropped the big buck.

As we approached him, we realized that he was a far bigger buck than we had thought. The palmated tines, the 5-inch kicker, the mass, the extreme height of his horns all these contributed to a very uncharacteristic, beautifully different deer. Even though we were tired after the 10 day hunt, the sight of that rack in the backseat kept our spirits high and our thoughts happy all the way back to Texas. I would like to thank our Creator, my Dad, my brother Luke, Shane Hohman, Jason Heabner, Bob Zagelin at SWTJC, and Colorado Division of Wildlife.

P.S.

For the record, I did hit the deer the first day I saw him, on the 2^nd shot. We were worried the 4-inch slit the bullet sliced in his neck would take away from the beauty of the mount, but after he net scored 200 and 5/8 (making the all-time record B& C book), we figured his horns would probably steal the show. I guess if someone asks, I’ll have a great excuse to tell them my hunting story.