My 2025 General Mule Deer Hunt
Opening day couldn’t come soon enough! It was October 9th, one day until open season. I had spent four days scouting in an area I know really well. Disappointed at the results from my scouting, I sat on the glassing knob, reminiscing on years past in this area. This was where I killed my first buck and a couple of my best bucks. My dad and a couple of his friends killed big bucks here many years ago. It seemed if someone worked hard enough and spent enough time, there was always a nice buck living here.
The reason for my disappointment? The past three years, I hunted here without seeing a buck even remotely close to the size or age I wanted to harvest. Every year, my passion for mule deer hunting grew, and I spent more time scouting, learning, and hunting these animals. This year, I set up a handful of trail cameras and even got one great buck on camera in June, but the moment the ranchers put their cattle out to graze, the buck disappeared, and I was back to ground zero. I knew if I just put myself in the right places and stuck to my process, I would eventually turn up a buck worth harvesting.
Opening day rolled around, so I sat on a mountain top I had glassed from the previous morning. I saw a nice buck here the day before. Pushing mid-160’s with a small inline on his front fork. He was temping, but I knew a next-level buck was out there somewhere. This area had some thick timber pockets, which made me hopeful I might find a new buck working timber pockets away from the elk hunters and road traffic. The sun was about to hit me when I heard a faint noise. Not a natural noise by any means.
At first, I had no idea what it was, but it got louder, and soon I could see it—domestic sheep. Two cowboys worked a herd of roughly 300 sheep up the bottom of the canyon right in front of me! Consider the morning hunt ruined in this spot. I was pissed, of course, but watched as the sheep herders pushed the sheep a few more miles over the horizon and into the abyss. Luckily, the sheep were just moving through. I could tell they had no intentions of grazing the sheep in my prime deer country, but I figured any buck in this small canyon was weary, so reluctantly, I retreated to camp.
It was Friday, and I had to head home on Sunday to make it to church and spend some time with my wife before I left for another six days of hunting. Saturday came and went, seeing nothing but hunters on the ridge tops and canyon trails. Disappointed in my old honey hole, I decided Monday to switch things up, try a new area and hopefully find more deer than hunters.
Monday morning greeted me with a fresh blanket of snow. It took me a while to hike up the steep, snow-covered mountain, but I made it nonetheless with plenty of time to spare until first light. It was windy and cold. I hadn’t felt the weather turn this much yet, and it got me excited for what I might find. As light came, a few does appeared, but no bucks yet. I could only see a small portion of the country, so I grabbed my Weatherby rifle and headed down the ridge to the next basin. Coming over the ridge, I found a buck. Through the spotting scope, I realised he wasn’t big, just a nice framed three-point with great eye guards. I wanted so badly to find a giant with him, but after watching for a while, it was clear this buck was probably alone.
A big buck track is anywhere from 3.5 to 4 inches long and 3 to 3.5 inches wide. I used a 7mm PRC bullet to see how big the track really was.
I’m still not sure if I ever saw this exact buck in person, but it was surely a mature, big-bodied buck like I was looking for.
By this point in the morning, the sun was high, and the snow was melting fast. I wanted to check the ridgeline for tracks, so I turned around and started backtracking my trail from earlier. I split off into a clearing that was nearly impossible to glass from anywhere but looked like it could hold deer. Only twenty yards off the trail, I cut a buck track. Analysing the track, I could see this buck was on his way over there ridge when he stopped and bounded back down the face he came from. I must have bumped the buck when I came down the ridge earlier. I followed his track for 100 yards until it cut straight down a draw into thick timber. I knew I probably wouldn’t see him again that day, so I kept my elevation and worked my way back to the road where my truck waited.
Along the way, I cut more deer tracks in the melting snow, but the country was thick enough that I never spotted a deer. I knew this was a spot I needed to hunt, but I needed to change my tactics. This country was steep. It was mostly covered in pine trees but had a few clearings of sagebrush. The biggest clearings were up to 300 yards across, but impossible to glass until you were basically in them. The wind was usually consistently blowing across the hillside. This gave me a great advantage. I should be able to work from clearing to clearing, keeping my elevation and wind to spot a buck without spooking him.
Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to come back into this exact area for a few more days because my dad and sisters were going hunting, and I told them I would come help. Hunting with family is very rewarding, and I knew there was still a chance I might find a big buck for myself, but the goal was to get two of my sisters their first bucks. I spent a few days hunting with them in our old honey hole. I was with my 11-year-old sister, and we spotted the mid-160’s buck I had found while scouting. The buck was almost two miles away. It was a cloudy day with scattered rainstorms, and the buck ended up bedding in the wide open on a steep, sagebrush hillside. We were able to work into range, just under 200 yards, and my sister made a great shot, dropping the buck in his bed! This was fun, and I was incredibly grateful to hunt with my family and share the success and excitement of young kids harvesting their first animal. My entire family came to help pack out the buck, and we kept hunting for a couple more days with no avail.
Finally, I was back. It was now October 21st, and my game plan was to hunt the area where I found the buck tracks in the snow. I made my way in well before light and sat on a hillside overlooking the first big clearing. By this point, the snow was gone, so finding fresh tracks would be impossible. As light came, there was not a deer in sight, so without any hesitation, I slowly made my way to the next clearing, about 300 yards farthing across the steep face. I was very careful not to expose myself as I crested the small ridge separating the first clearing from the second. Old deer tracks scattered the hillside, so I knew a deer could be anywhere at any moment. I crested the ridge slowly, glassing all the country in front of me, high, low, close, and far. I put down my binos and dropped my backpack on the ridge to prepare to sit for some time to see if anything came out.
The moment I looked up, I caught movement; it was a deer about 250 yards away, and at first glance, I thought it saw me! I quickly dropped to the ground and pulled up my binos. I saw the back end of a buck move behind a thick pine tree and disappeared. At first, I thought to myself, “dang it! I just bumped a buck.” I sat for what felt like a few minutes but was probably only 30 seconds, and caught another glimpse of a deer in the sparse trees. It was a buck!
Grabbing my spotting scope, I fixed it on the deer and realised it was a buck I had seen before, an old, heavy 4x2. He wasn’t big, but he was cool, a definite pass. As I looked closer, I saw movement behind a big pine tree. I made out two more bucks feeding and one doe. Soon the other bucks stepped out, the first, a great buck, super tall and big forks! This was a shooter. The second buck ended up being a tiny 3x4.
The deer were not spooked at all, and the bucks were even posturing in front of the doe, showing their dominance. It’s not rare to find bucks rutting this time of year, but I had never witnessed it myself. I got my rifle set and I layed prone. I knew I had plenty of time, but of course, having a shooter buck in front of me made me excited, and I hurriedly got ready for a shot. Ranging the bucks at 250 yards, I decided I didn’t need to adjust my scope; I just needed to aim a couple inches high.
I got steady, got my spotting scope, and Ollin phone adapter set up on the buck to record the shot, and slowly squeezed the trigger. I watched the impact through my scope and saw the buck run down the hill behind a pine tree. When he came out the other side, he only went 30 more yards and bedded down as if he was dying. I knew he was hit good, but his head was still up, so I prepared for another shot to finish him off. Right then, the smaller yet older 4x2 buck came up to the buck I shot and started trying to fight him! The smaller buck jabbed and stabbed my buck, and they both rolled down the hill into the canyon out of sight. I was so surprised at what had just happened and excited that I was able to capture it all on video. I knew if my buck wasn't dead already, he would be soon.
I gathered my things and made my way across the mountain to the last known location of the bucks. After searching for a few minutes and trying to follow the trail of broken sticks and tracks, I could not find my buck. It took me about half an hour of circling the area until I caught a small glimpse of grey hair that almost looked like a rock in the bottom of the canyon. My buck ended up dying deep in a small ravine less than 100 yards from where I shot him, but with the tall sage and deep ravine, it took me a while to find him.
What an awesome buck! My biggest buck to date taping out right at 179 inches. He had a lot more mass than I thought, and I was happy with my harvest. While packing out the buck, I thought about how grateful I am for the time I get to spend chasing these amazing animals. I’m grateful for my wife, who lets me hunt so much and for the people and companies who support me as well.
