Big Game Illustrated - Issue 27

Winter 2019 issue CANADA/USA 6.99

COVER STORY

BEGINNER’S LUCK GOT MY FIRST BUCK Tiffany Wiebe FEATURE ARTICLE

THE BIGGEST WHITETAIL OF MY LIFE Chad Wilkinson

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Publisher: Big Game Illustrated Media

email: info@biggameillustrated.com www.biggameillustrated.com Senior Editors: & Circulation:

Chad Wilkinson, Devin Gorder & Cody Forsberg

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16 Feature Editorial BEGINNER’S LUCK GOT MY FIRST BUCK

By Tiffany Wiebe

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He had the biggest body I had ever encountered on a whitetail and a 200+˝ rack to go with it.

GRANDPA’S OLD COAT

By Clayton Taylorson

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Nov 17th was just going to be another hunting day, except for the fact that my 13yr old daughter, Bailey, was able to get out into the bush with me.

In This Issue THE BIGGEST WHITETAIL OF MY LIFE 06

By Chad Wilkinson

BEGINNER’S LUCK GOT MY FIRST BUCK

By Tiffany Wiebe

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24

THE BUCK OF A LIFETIME

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SQUATCH THE MYSTERY BUCK

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GRANDPAS’ OLD COAT

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THE DEER OF A LIFETIME

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BIG JIM

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LUCKY 4 ELK

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THE SOLID 50” BULL

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THE SECOND CHANCE BUCK

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By Brett Morrison

By Clayton Smith

By Clayton Taylorson

By Cody Brink

By Craig Ward

By Eric Payne of Payne Slayer Outdoors

By Franco Commisso

By Kirk Bullee

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54

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THE BIGGEST WHITETAIL OF MY LIFE

By Chad Wilkinson

He had the biggest body I had ever encountered on a whitetail and a 200+Ë? rack to go with it.

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Reflecting on my whitetail season, there is no doubt that a big part of my success came from a whole bunch of events that, at the time, I thought were terrible.

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A few years ago, when whitetail populations across Saskatchewan plummeted, the seasons in the south were shortened significantly to allow them to recover, while in the north, where I hunt, they were inexplicably left the same.

The result over the next few years was a migration of whitetail hunters north, and an explosion of hunting pressure in the areas where I hunt. One area that we always had the most success was a bush road about 15km long. In the past there would be six or eight blinds and treestands the whole way, but this changed with the change in regulations, as people, understandably, want to hunt whitetails more than a few days a year.

This one 15km bush road now has literally hundreds of blinds and trail cameras on it, and a three year old buck there is now impossible to find, when the deer used to mostly die of old age or predation. There were hunting setups literally every few 100 yards!” I sensed an increase in pressure, and noted smaller and younger bucks on camera, but

“Shed Hunting was when I finally realized the gravity of the change.”

Half way through shed hunting season I made the decision, instead of dwelling on the problem, complaining about the lack of big deer, and crying about ‘my spot’ where I had hunted for 15 years being no more, I decided to take it as an opportunity to branch out. I used all resources I could, including imagery and maps to find a half dozen other big areas to explore. The next few years I spent literally thousands of hours checking out all these new areas.

My family’s spring weekends were dominated by shed hunting trips to new stomping grounds, and once summer fishing slowed down, the late summer and fall weekends consisted of regular trips to hang and check trail cameras, which had grown to a fleet of several dozen.

Over a few years, I had found 3 or 4 really good spots with less pressure that seemed to hold mature bucks.

One spot in particular had quite a few older bucks, and a few in the 170”+ range, so we decided to focus there. One buck in particular was a very heavy antlered 8x5 buck, with the really big bodied, but lean look of a five or 6 year old deer. He was the kind of buck that sometimes explode in size year over year. The problem was I only had two pictures of him all year long. Shed hunting revealed a few stands and blinds, showing there were a few other people hunting close by, but not in big numbers.

The next spring and summer, I spent many days shed hunting and berry picking with the kids all through the area and got a really good idea of the country and located seven or eight good spots within a couple miles of where I had pictures of the 8x5. Based on rubs, scrapes, and sheds, it was clear the deer concentrated through the rut and winter in a few spots.

August 1st I wasted no time in hanging about a dozen cameras on game trails and all through the area, determined to find the 8x5, or another big whitetail and start to make a plan. I basically fanned out from the spot where I had a couple pictures of him, hanging cameras in every direction. I waited a couple weeks then moved in to check the cameras. I was excited to see one single picture of the 8x5 in full velvet. Unfortunately, it was a very poor picture, just a single, low light picture of only his rack, but it was enough to know that he had blown up and was an absolute giant, now an 8x9 with super mass and a monster frame.

The setup at the spot where I had a picture of him was perfect. It was an open pine ridge between two deep ravines, with a swampy area in the middle. Through scouting and shed hunting, I knew the swamp was home to many deer as the sign was heavy, and the trails through the open pine were deep and well used. The one picture I got showed him coming out of the swamp and down one of the heaviest trails just 30 yards out of the swamp, lined with big rubs on every spruce tree

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along the way. I thought that swamp was his home base, and this was confirmed by the fact that I did not get a single picture on any other camera even though I had many out in every direction. I was confident that I knew where his bedroom was, so instantly put together a plan.

“I changed my tactics from covering ground and spending time in as many areas as possible, to focusing on this one area that I now thought he called home.”

I became ultra cautious, and waited until the wind was perfect, and it was raining heavily with a forecast calling for a couple days of rain to go back in. I hiked in with two pop up blinds and set one on each side of the swamp, brushed in heavily, so I could intercept him as soon as he got up and left his swampy bedroom no matter which way the wind was. I mapped my entrance and exit routes while the rain poured and washed any sign of me away. I thought I had a perfect plan, and now just waited for the season to open and the wind to be perfect. Due to family commitments, with young kids in sports, I did not get back to hunt until the middle of September. I snuck in first thing in the morning and got into position in the dark. Everything was perfect, wind in my face, and a nice cool morning had the excitement building as I made my way to my blind. As I got to the spot where my blind was supposed to be, I could not find it. I had it marked on a GPS, and was sure I was in the right spot, but it was dark and I could not be 100% sure. I decided to sit down beside a young spruce tree under cover and wait for the sun to come up. As I sat there I was honestly furious. I did not know if I had just marked the wrong spot, or not anchored my blind well enough to protect it from blowing away, or someone had found it and

walked away with it, but all I knew was I had been waiting for this morning hunt for a month, or more appropriately for my whole life, and it was ruined!

Finally, the sun came up, and I sat for an hour until it was bright enough to see. Sure enough, I could see the spot where I brushed in my blind, it was only five yards from me but the blind was nowhere in sight. I walked over to take a look. Something caught my eye on the ground and then I realized my blind was there, but it was flattened and tore up. I looked around and saw more and more evidence of the culprits. Smashed and broken trees, flattened areas around berry bushes, scratch marks on the trunks of bigger trees and I knew exactly what had happened. I snuck up to where my trail camera was only to see it hanging from the tree, wires dangling on the ground and broken into pieces.

I had dealt with trouble making black bears enough to know this was not a battle I would win, so I made the decision then to pull my cameras out, leave my flattened blinds there, and abandon the area until October when the cool weather would limit the bear’s trouble making nature. Checking the card when I got home confirmed my suspicions as I had countless pictures of many different bears, including a sow with yearling triplets, the ultimate destructive animals when it comes to cameras and blinds.

2019

The next six weeks or so drove me crazy, checking other cameras around the area, but not having any luck relocating the 8x9. At least this confirmed my theory that he lived in the swamp, or at least that’s what I told myself to keep from going crazy. Finally, a major cooldown hit with freezing temperatures and flurries.

Once again, I snuck in during some very poor weather and reset my two blinds and hung some new cameras.

It took all my strength to wait a couple weeks, but I knew with a big, mature buck like this I could not push too hard. The pre-rut in October seems to often be a chaotic time for buck movement, and this was no different. Thankfully, I did get a couple decent pictures of him, and it confirmed that he was still in the area, and even bigger than I thought. However, he was only on camera maybe once or twice a week and at random times, so I decided to wait. Thankfully there were no more bears on camera, and lots of does, so I was confident that he would be around as the rut got closer.

I continued checking cameras in the area and only had a single picture of him on one camera to the north through late October and into November. At this point, I knew he was a buck with a very small home range, and knew that was likely how he got so big and old, as there were other hunters in the area with stands relatively close by.

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Sneaking back to the swamp, I checked both cameras at both my blinds and was very happy to see he was on both cameras two or three times a week in daylight, although still at very random times and only for a picture or two.

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This small home range meant my chances were very good, since he likely spent most of his time right there.

Generally, I hunt the tail end of the rut, the very end of November and early December, when the bucks are just finishing up breeding the last few does. This is always the time when late evening sits are super productive, when bucks are getting back in their routine, and most bucks will come in, desperate for that one last doe in heat. However, with a very busy schedule of kids in school and sports, this year my window for hunting was four days during the week, when I could book holidays from work. My window to sit in the blind would be from around 10am until dark as I would need to drop kids off at school or daycare, and my drive and walk into the blind was a couple hours.

“Given this, I decided to roll the dice and hunt the peak of the rut.”

I had many, many does at my spots, so I knew that the bucks would come around in between does. There was a good chance the 8x9 would be locked down for days on end, but also a really good chance that he may walk down the trail at least once if I sat all day for four days. My wife Lindsay is also an avid whitetail hunter, so I offered the spots to her, as she had been home with our newborn baby for a few months. She said she didn’t really feel like hunting yet, but I could tell she just wanted me to have a chance at this buck I had obsessed over for so long. I appreciated her willingness to pass on the chance of a buck of a lifetime and let me pursue him.

My plan was set, and the Monday morning found me very distracted as I dropped the kids off at daycare and school just before sunrise. I knew I should be in the blind at that moment, but priorities in life change and family is more important that anything else, even a 200” whitetail that I know maybe in front of my blind at that very moment. Finally, just after 10am, I settled into the blind. The wind was pretty good, although it

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had shifted somewhat which always makes me second guess things. After 90 minutes, I still had not seen a single deer which added to my uncertainty. It was bitterly cold, and five layers of clothes and the small heater I had barely kept up. Finally, a doe and twins came in and entertained me for a few minutes. I was relieved to see them come in very relaxed, clearly there was no issue with swirling winds. After a while the doe suddenly become nervous and bolted, followed by her twins. I got my rifle ready as I could see a shadow coming through the trees.

“I caught a glimpse of an antler and held my breath.”

As big deer so often do, he stopped in the thick trees and I could not see him well. He hung up there for five minutes until he cautiously stepped out. It was not the 8x9, but rather a small 4x4. Still, I was happy to see bucks on the move. He did not stay long and was gone on the chase again. There was no action for the next hour or two after that. I will admit that I was a bit distracted and not paying as close enough attention every moment when I looked up to see a big brown shadow standing in the edge of the trees in the same spot the 4x4 had hung up. At first I thought it was the same 4x4 buck as before, but I quickly noticed this deer was much taller, in fact it looked like it was

a foot taller as the antlers were above the brush that completely hid the younger buck. He was frozen, staring straight ahead as I raised my binoculars.

Instantly, I noticed splits on every point on his left side and knew it was my target buck. I silently, but quickly put down my binoculars and raised my rifle.

He took one step and was partially clear of the brush. I considered shooting but knew better and waited for a completely clear shot.

At this point time slowed down, it seemed as thought he stood for an hour, although watching the video back it was seven minutes. The entire time, I refused to allow myself to look at his antlers, instead holding on his vitals, in case he spooked. Finally, he took two steps into the wide open, I centered the scope and squeezed the trigger. BOOM, it all happened fast and I expected him to be lying there, but he was not. There was no sign of him and now the shakes were setting in like never before. I could not believe how intense they were and I could barely move or talk, knowing that

“the whitetail that I had been searching for over my 20 year hunting career had just made an appearance,” and in broad daylight, three hours into my first real hunt of the year. My mind flooded back to the countless trips to the area with my wife Lindsay and three young kids. All those weekends spent shed hunting, berry picking and just spending time in the forest had all fed me the information I needed to close the deal.

Even though in that moment I was alone, I could not help but smile thinking of all the fun times we had, and how my hunting experience had changed from hundreds of hours in the blind, to hundreds of hours spent scouting, shed hunting and working trail cameras. I realized that the changes were necessary in

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order to maximize time spent with family, and the new spots I had found were driven by my old spots being lost. It was all this change, much of it that I did not particularly plan on or imagine happening, that led me to the biggest whitetail of my life, and taught me many lessons about life in general along the way.

After an hour I headed to the spot he stood and was relieved to see a good blood trail. He made it about 150 yards down a deep ravine and right back to the edge of the swamp he called home. I was truly stunned when I walked on him. I have had the pleasure of walking up on many 170” and better whitetails, but this deer was in a whole other league. He had the biggest body I had ever encountered on a whitetail and 200˝+ rack to go with it.

He fell on the well beaten path lined with his rubs on young spruce trees, that I had initially found that summer while picking blueberries with a one year old on my back and a five and six year old by my side as I showed them the shredded trees and explained what they were and why deer had made them.

I sat down beside him and just enjoyed the moment.

My wife Lindsay was at work, so I texted my father Tim to ask for help getting him out. His reply was simply, “Be there shortly,” followed by, “How big?” I replied, “Real big”, then starting snapping photos and just tried to soak up the experience. My Dad has shot a lot of really good whitetails in his day, so I knew by his reaction when he got there that this was a very special whitetail. It was the most excited I have seen him about a whitetail since I was a kid, and it was a great experience to share. Adrenaline fueled us on the mile drag out through deep snow up and down some big valleys, and we arrived back home about the same time Lindsay and the kids got home, so we could all share a few moments with the giant buck whose home we had all spent time learning about through the previous couple years.

Cover Story

BEGINNER’S LUCK GOT MY FIRST BUCK!

By Tiffany Wiebe

It was my 1st year as a hunter, but knowing the Great Whitetails that Alberta holds, I had high hopes to shoot my first buck.

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He will forever be a reminder to never give up. As Brandon always told me before each hunt, it’s about being at the right place at the right time and that day I certainly was.

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“At that point my heart was pounding, and I couldn’t seem to calm down.”

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Since opening day, we had spent every day we had free, and every weekend we could, on a farmer’s land where we had permission to hunt.

It was my first year as a hunter, but knowing the great whitetails that Alberta holds, I had high hopes to shoot my first buck. However, as each weekend went by, I grew more and more doubtful. We were not having much luck. In fact, I had not had a single sighting of a whitetail buck. On the plus side, we were seeing a lot of does everywhere we went. With the amount of does that we had encountered, and rumors swirling of the bucks that were seen in the area, we decided to keep our faith and give the area another chance.

November 10th 2019 Early in the morning we had set up by a brush pile with a perfect view of a very heavily used deer trail.

We had seen many does using the trail regularly so thought it would be a good spot to wait, given that it was November and the whitetail rut was starting. After waiting a few hours, as usual, not one deer was in sight.

We decided to leave after a couple of hours of waiting, to continue with our plans we made for that afternoon then head back out for an evening hunt.

After our busy afternoon, it was about 3pm when we made it back out to the field. We waited for about an hour and once again, nothing. The lack of any kind of activity was discouraging, but we decided to roll the dice, and we moved onto another field where we would sit until dark, in hopes to find a buck there. When we got up and made our way back to the truck, a small buck that was hiding behind a brush pile heard us and went running into the trees.

After seeing him, we changed our plans again, and I was determined to stay and see if he would come back out. We quietly snuck back to our original spot, when a doe came to graze on the field where it had been previously used to grow oats. I noticed as she was grazing that she was periodically looking around and seemed to be looking for something or knowing that something else was going to come out. For a moment,

I got nervous because it almost seemed that she could sense us in the area, but then something in the trees behind her stole all her attention, and ours as well!

As we strained to see and hear, we started to hear rustling in the trees.

“I had a strong feeling the buck was making his way back out!”

As quietly as I could, I began to prepare myself and get ready by laying my rifle on a sturdy log to control my shaky hands and make sure that I could get the perfect shot. It didn’t take long before I was catching glimpses of that looked to be a set of tall, monstrous antlers peaking over the tall grass at the tree line. My jaw dropped, and I was overwhelmed with excitement as to what I was seeing! As quickly as he appeared, he was gone, and my excitement turned into disappointment as the great buck sensed something in the area and turned around and went running back into the trees.

I could not believe what just happened, but it was too late to do anything else, so we decided just to stay put for the evening.

After a few minutes passed, I started to see movement coming from the other side of the trees. He was really hesitant, and with each step he took, he stopped and looked around, very slowly making his way out of the trees, taking multiple glances in each direction.

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“I had a clear, perfect view, and took a minute or two to regain my breath, as I aimed and took the shot.”

We hid low, making sure not to be detected. As soon as he cleared the trees, he seemed to fill with confidence, and it was surprising how quickly he charged across the fieldand right up to the grazing doe. I knew this was my chance to shoot my first buck, and I was grateful that I had taken the time to find a sturdy rest as the log helped hold my gun steady in my shaking hands. I looked through the scope and saw the buck.

Instantly, he dropped in his tracks, not even taking one step! I could not imagine a more perfect way to fold my tag within the few days we had left of the season. He will forever be a reminder to never give up. As Brandon always told me before each hunt, it’s about being at the right place at the right time and that day I certainly was.

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THE BUCK OF A LIFETIME

By Brett Morrison

As the November deer season in Saskatchewan was approaching, I could feel the anticipation building, as always.

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When I finally picked up the trophy, I realized how fortunate I was to have harvested such an animal. It was definitely a year I will never forget.

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As the November deer season in Saskatchewan was approaching, I could feel the anticipation building, as always.

I was ready to go and pumped to get out and do some hunting. To make the 2019 season even better, I was lucky enough to have a mule deer draw tag in my pocket as well. I had waited a long time to draw this tag, so was very hopeful that I could make it count.

It was early November when I first got out for mule deer. I already had plans to head out and see if I could get a look at a mature mule deer, when that morning I received a call from my brother saying he had seen a good mule deer. It was perfect timing, so I went and checked out the area where he had seen it. Despite spending a good amount of time, and scoping all the good spots where I thought he might be, I did not have

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any sightings of him. Despite the lack of sightings, I trusted my brother so I came up with a plan to go to that area that evening anyway. My plan was to find a good vantage point where I could see a long ways and just sit and wait, watching for any movement and trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive buck. So, me and my brother went and hunkered in for the evening.

Really, I didn’t have much hope that we would see him but I knew there was a chance. It began as a quiet evening, but as luck would have it, out of nowhere I noticed a deer come out of the bush. It was him, and he was all by himself! What was even better is that he came out in the perfect spot where I could get a good look at him, and well within my comfortable shooting range. I only needed one quick look, and I knew right then I wanted him. The buck sauntered out confidently, so I was able to get setup perfectly for a shot.

“I took my time, found him in the scope, lined up and let a shot go.�

I heard a smack, and he bolted out of there. We wasted no time picking up a good blood trail and with a bit of tracking we ended up finding him

piled up not far away! He did not shrink at all as we walked up and I was very happy to use my draw tag on such an impressive buck. The mule deer hunt was very exciting, and I could not have asked for it to go any better, but truthfully late November is my favorite time of year. It is a special time of year that only comes around once a year. It is the time of rutting whitetails in Saskatchewan when those smart old buck let their guards down for a few days each year.

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It was one of those rare moments when the buck gets bigger as you get closer to him!

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My brother, Dallas Morrison and I had hunted together quite a bit already through November but battled poor weather conditions and strong winds daily. This particular morning, I again met up with my brother and we set off for the day. It was a colder late November morning with no wind. “Finally, some good hunting weather,” I thought as we set off. It took no time at all, and we started seeing bucks moving that morning. It was obvious they were moving well that day. We spotted one great buck, and I lined up on him but and almost shot, but reluctantly passed on him at the last minute. As he stepped out of sight, I instantly wondered if I would regret that decision. However, those thoughts did not last long, as just minutes later we noticed a doe standing out in the field. We snuck in closer and passed the hill that she was standing on. We could see better with each step and uncovered seven more does and a buck. Right away when I saw the buck, I instantly knew he was shooter.

“Without hesitation I chambered a shell in my trusty 7mm Remington mag and let one fly.”

I heard the sweet sound of the smack and I knew I had got a good hit. The buck didn’t go more than 30 yards before piling up. We didn’t really know what I had shot

until we came up to the beast. It was one of those rare moments when the buck gets bigger as you get closer to him! When I finally picked up the trophy, I realized how fortunate I was to have harvested such an animal.

It was definitely a year I will never forget.

Mule Deer score – 179 gross Whitetail score – 188gross and 181net

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SQUATCH THE MYSTERY BUCK

By Clayton Smith

After a discouraging start to the hunting season, I came out with the buck of a lifetime.

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I would like to thank my girlfriend, Nicole, for being very supportive with me being gone every evening of September, and my mother in law for making me supper many nights after I was out hunting. A huge thanks to my dad, the guy that got me into this crazy passion of hunting. And finally, of course, the landowners are the ones we have to thank for the privilege of all of the hunting we get to do!

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“Every Bowhunters favorite time of the year is opening day of a new season.”

This fall, I learned a valuable lesson about trusting the process. It all started back in early August when Alberta released the draw results for the 2019 hunting season.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get any draws, so I would only be hunting the general deer and elk tags around Alberta. I had to decide whether I would be heading to southern Alberta or staying around home to hunt mule deer. After a quick, busy summer of camping, fishing and having no chance to do any scouting for mule deer for the upcoming hunting season, on August 31st I went off scouting to try and identify where the good food sources were. I thought of the alfalfa field I had hunted last year and where I had seen several mule deer the year prior in September and October.

Around 6pm, I went to the tallest hill in the field for a good glassing vantage point, which looked over most of the alfalfa. I was laying there for about an hour, only having five or six mule deer does come out in the field, so I decided to have a little nap to pass the time. It was about a half hour later, when I woke up, that I got my first look at an absolutely beautiful deer. I looked towards the bush where I was hoping they would come out, and there he was, feeding about 200 yards away on the edge of the alfalfa field. I made sure to get a decent video of him to show some of my buddies that were better at judging mule deer than me. I let him bed up in the middle of the field just before dark, hoping he would either stay close to there or come out of the same spot again for opening day, which luckily was the very next morning.

After dissecting the video that night with friends, determining the potential size of the deer, we had a general idea that he would be around the 185” to 190” mark. I would be more than happy to harvest a deer of

that size any day, but with a bow, it would be a once in a lifetime deer and he would become my main focus for the rest of the season.

I woke up to a very foggy morning that threw a kink into most hunter’s plans across Alberta, so the morning hunt was a bust while trying to wait for the fog to lift. While I had no idea if he went back to the little opening where he came out of the previous evening, I had big hopes and went back there to wait him out. The hours went by and while waiting for the buck, or even a few of the smaller bucks that were with him that night to show up, finally two of the smaller bucks came walking out at 20 yards. My hopes started to pick up that he would be following them shortly.

With an hour and a half left of legal light, I was starting to think he wouldn’t be coming out until last light or after dark. The buck ended up being a no show and that was the end of day one. I had full intentions of coming back the next evening and sitting there again September 2nd A day to remember, and the real start to a love-hate relationship for this deer. I got to the same spot I was sitting at the previous night and the wind was perfect for him to come right in close for a shot. The action started early in the evening. It was a perfect day for the deer to be traveling, just cool enough. Two of the small bucks that were with my buck came out of the bush right away before I even got settled in to my spot for the night. They passed without me knowing and moved on to the alfalfa field. I had a feeling I was going to have an encounter with him that night. An hour passed with nothing else coming out of the bush, and I started to get a little stir crazy, so I went for a walk up to a glassing point to see if he came out of a different spot. When I got to the top of the next hill, it wasn’t

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long until I spotted a bunch of mule deer bucks on the other side of the quarter coming across the field.

The buck wasn’t in the group, but I thought maybe he had come out earlier and had already disappeared.

I figured I could make it to a point where they were heading without being seen, and I made it there with no problems. I told myself at the start of the season that I wouldn’t push the envelope in any situation with this buck, but this is when I threw that idea out the window and decided to get closer. I only had 45 minutes of legal light left, so I was moving very slowly, trying to be as careful as I could to not spook any deer.

Sure enough, he went bounding away into the group of deer, and that made them all group together about 150 yards out. The one I was after came last into the group, having no idea what was happening or what spooked the group. Now, with ten minutes left of legal light, I wasn’t about to take a shot unless he came into much closer range in that amount of time.

He was curious, and the bravest one of the group. He came walking in within 80 yards with a small four by four buck behind him. By then, it was past legal light anyway so I just sat and watched. Eventually, they quietly ran off, and headed to the bush for the night.

Little did I know that that short, exciting encounter was going to be the last for a very long time. With working during the week and only having short evenings and weekends to hunt, it was going to be very difficult to keep track of him.

September 3rd That evening, I set out trail cameras to hopefully get a picture of him traveling from point to point. I hunted the rest of that evening staying on my glassing hill, hopefully catching him coming into the alfalfa, but the only thing that showed up there that night were five decent whitetail bucks. I only had opening week to hunt this area before I left for work meetings, which would occupy most of the second week of the season. I left for meetings Tuesday morning, so Monday evening I was back in the alfalfa field on the glassing point waiting for the buck to make an

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I looked up and spotted a deer bedded in the tall grass only 10 yards from me!

appearance. At this point I hadn’t seen him on trail cameras, or seen any mule deer with antlers at all. By the end of that evening, it had been one week since my last encounter with him, and everyone was telling me I should take a break from this deer and let him be for three or four days.

“My head told me to take the week off from him, but my heart couldn’t leave this buck alone.”

I was back home from my week of meetings, and it was the weekend of the 14th of September when I went hunting again, planning to spend all day Saturday out.

I started the morning strong, checking cameras only to have nothing on it besides does and too many coyotes.

Based on the outcome of the morning hunt, I decided to spend the evening driving around, taking a look at some canola and cereal fields to see if anything moved in there. As the evening progressed, my searching

didn’t turn up anything, and with it being prime elk rut in the middle of September, I decided it would be nice to take a trip up to my uncle’s by Little Smoky, Alberta to see if we could get onto some elk. I put my deer on the back burner of my head, and told myself he would come back when the colder weather sets in.

For the next couple of days, my plan was to help my dad pour concrete in our shop, then jump in the truck and head north for September 15th, a day before rifle season up there. The first morning there started early with a couple faint bugles way back towards the river, but nothing came of those elk. There was a pile of people in the same area I was hunting as well. When I got back to the edge of the forestry line, there were 5 new vehicles along the access to this bush. Much of the next 3 days were unsuccessful and overcrowded, so I decided to pack up and head home to find some elk around Vermilion.

September 23rd Was the start of a week of rain and cold weather. It wasn’t just bad for hunters but for farmers too, as it was the third week of September and hardly any

combining was done. I felt my time running short; I had to start making a solid plan to hunt this mule deer.

I knew I wouldn’t want to hunt much during the rain, and being back at work from holidays, I couldn’t hunt mornings. I figured I would maybe get an evening or two between rains, so on Monday evening I went to check a couple of my cameras. It had been two weeks since I checked them and, of course, there were only a few does and more coyotes on the cameras. As far as I knew he had not been back to the field at all in the week I left him alone. It crushed me and it was hard to even let myself think he was going to come back. A couple days passed during the week where I couldn’t get out hunting, with either some odds and ends needing to be cleaned up before the snow comes, or I couldn’t really find it in myself to go sit another night out there and not see anything.

September 26th I had to work all day again, and it was another really windy day so I wasn’t planning on hunting. I had lunch with my mom, and we got talking about this deer and how I was excited for the stretch of cold weather

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coming. I told her that with the cold weather coming, “I bet you any money, those bucks will be coming out of the deep timber and head to their fall food and start to hang out there.” Something in me told me that the first day it hits minus temperatures, they would be heading into the alfalfa early in the evening.

September 27th It would be the day of my hunting career I will always remember. It was finally Friday and the start of another weekend to hunt. I got off work and headed out, thinking about what to do that night for hunting.

It was another cold and windy day and I told myself I needed to go out, but I was dragging my feet because of the weather. By the time I got out there it was 5:30pm. I stopped off at my in-laws’ place, and they were making meatballs, which made it even harder to go sit out in the cold and wait for this deer that I had no clue was even there. I said to myself, “I need to go check cameras, and that’s it”, so I headed out there, and toughed it out because you never know what could happen. By 6pm, I was done checking cameras and again, nothing walked by, so I headed to my glassing point to sit for just a while because, you know, warm

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meatballs on the stove. I sat there cold and with a hungry stomach. It was only five minutes that I was sitting there when I said, “Screw it, I’m going back.” I got up and began to head back.

My whole attitude changed when I walked over the edge of the hill and 600 yards away, there the buck was, standing in the same opening he first came out into, way back in August! Moments after spotting him, I watched him walk back into the bush. Not knowing exactly where he went, I made my way over, keeping two hills and the bush line between us. I found a cattle trail and followed it to the opening where I saw him. I found a good bush to hunker down in and wait it out.

It was 40 yards to the other side of the lane and I was ready for a shot I’ve practiced many times. I was sitting there for about 40 minutes, and I heard the loudest cough I’ve ever heard from an animal. At first I thought it was a cow, but I wanted to get eyes on it before I gave up and left. Five minutes later, a small 4x3 buck stood up about 30 yards away from me. I never even knew was there, but he started feeding closer to me and walked right towards me, where I ranged him at 40 yards. I was texting my buddy at the moment, telling

him about what was happening, and as I was about to finish the text, I looked up and saw the buck I was after at a fast walk. So, I dropped my phone, took my glove off my release hand, came to full draw and,

there he was, laying five feet from me! After countless days, planning, ups and downs and anxiety, I had the mule deer I’ve always dreamed about, a really clean, perfect typical.

“as he was walking past my 40 yard mark, I let my arrow fly, and smoked him!”

I would like to thank my girlfriend, Nicole, for being very supportive with me being gone every evening of September, and my mother in law for making me supper many nights after I was out hunting. A huge thanks to my dad, the guy that got me into this crazy passion of hunting. And finally, of course, the landowners are the ones we have to thank for the privilege of all of the hunting we get to do!

I watched him run off about 100 yards away and tip over! After he tipped, I told myself to wait a while for him to expire, but with full excitement and confidence in the shot, I nocked an arrow and started to walk over to him. As I approached the spot where I saw him fall, I started to get worried - I couldn’t see him in the tall grass. I walked over the bank of a nearby dugout and

*Additional Details on the buck Green scored gross 202 3/8 and net 193 6/8, first P&Y and B&C deer.

GRANDPAS’ OLD COAT

By Clayton Taylorson

November 17th was just going to be another hunting day, except for the fact that my 13yr old daughter, Bailey, was able to get out into the bush with me.

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I had been hunting archery and muzzle by myself, but now that it was rifle, she was excited to get out and see if she could harvest her first deer.

She was not as excited when I woke her up at 5:30am to start the process of getting ready for a cold sit. It was -32˚ that morning without the wind. With all our extra layers on her normal blaze orange didn’t fit so I gave her mine and said, “I can wear Old Ed’s. It’ll probably be lucky.” Old Ed is the nickname my grandfather got from his first grandson and it stuck.

Everyone called him, “Old Ed”. He was the man who instilled the values and love of the hunt into me. Some of my greatest memories are of me and my grandpa just out hunting and sadly we lost him in March of 2017 at the age of 84. We got all dressed up and went to grab our rifles. Normally I shoot a .300 win mag, but when I opened my safe, I saw Old Ed’s old model 94 lever action 30 WCF and thought, I’m wearing the coat I might as well take the gun too. I had no intentions of actually shooting, as we had a target buck in mind for Bailey. We headed out to the stand.

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We hunt within walking distance of our house so we took our time as to not get sweaty and then cold. We got in the stand quite awhile before shooting time to let everything settle and quiet down. We whispered about the wind and which way we hoped deer would come in from and who was going to shoot if the deer is where and all the rest. A small button buck walked by on our downwind side just before daylight. He got right to where I figure he’d wind us and stopped, stamped his foot and snort wheezed, then cruised off right behind our stand. We hoped he hadn’t scared everything else off in the bush, but it sounded like he didn’t run off too far himself. The sun came up and hit the bush and at that moment we heard a buck raking a tree behind us.

“Excitement set in for the both of us!”

I decided to give a little rattle and see if I could peak the interest of the buck we had heard. We caught the interest of that button buck though who came out into the clearing followed by his sister who came down the game trail on my side of the stand. They milled around and played for awhile. A large doe came out from the same trail and they ran up to her to feed, only to met with a few stern swipes from her front hooves. Another doe came out shortly after, which led to an entertaining doe fight with full on boxing while reared up on their back legs. It was shaping up to be a great morning even if we didn’t see anything else and lots of smiles were exchanged between my daughter and I.

next. Not a deer in sight. The doe could’ve been being chased by a buck or a coyote or simply just running through the woods. I heard a grunt and spotted movement in through the trees. Something was coming right down the same path. Surely it was a buck.

I looked at Bailey and her eyes were big as she scanned the area. I looked back and spotted a buck coming with his nose to the ground. I couldn’t make out the horns very well, but assumed it was the target buck for my daughter, a decent 4x4 I had on camera with a sticker on his G-2. He went right to where the doe had stopped although with his head down we still hadn’t sized up the rack. He wasn’t fully visible as he stopped behind a few willows right where the doe earlier had turned around. I could see his vitals but his rack was half hidden. He lifted his head. Thinking he was bigger than the target buck I whispered for my daughter to take the shot, but she said she couldn’t. I said, “You better hurry or he will be gone!” She whispered that she couldn’t make the shot with the trees in the way. It was a good call on her part to know not to make a shot if you aren’t confident with it.

I told her that a buck may come from that same trail so let’s be quiet and ready for that. She gave me a nod. Just a few minutes later a doe busted out of the bush from that trail at high speed and then came to a sudden stop. When she spotted the other deer, she wheezed and bolted back half way to the trail and then headed straight away from us down an old logging trail and out of sight. Everything was spooked and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen

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“As he laid on the ground I think buck fever set in for the both of us.”

I knew he’d catch the scent of that hot doe and be gone. My daughter whispered, “If you can take the shot, shoot him Dad!” He put his head down to catch the scent, so I lifted my gun, pulled the hammer back, lined up the iron sights behind his shoulder and squeezed. The shot rang out and he reared up, came down and ran right out into the open with one leg out swinging. I levered in another shell and took aim.

Right before I squeezed off another round he ran right into a tree and fell to the ground motionless.

That’s when I knew for sure he wasn’t the 4x4. We had trouble unloading our guns in the stand and now my legs were shaking so bad it made it difficult to climb from the stand. We got to the buck and he was still

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laying with his rack wedged on either side of the tree.

I pulled his head back and lifted it to take a look. I was in a bit of shock, but I smiled at my daughter and she said, “Wow! That’s big Dad!” I told her it’s the biggest deer I’ve ever got. We shared a hug, she took some pictures, and then I showed her how to field dress him and we dragged him home together. On the way back we stopped for a rest and as the realization set in that I had just got the buck of a lifetime only a year after I had lost my teacher, best friend and hunting partner in the same bush I learned to hunt in, my daughter looked at the deer and I and said, “I guess Old Ed’s coat brought you some good luck.” I said, “It sure did, you better wear it next year!

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THE DEER OF A LIFETIME

By Cody Brink

My first ever hunting adventure completley changed my life.

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Let’s just start this story from the very beginning. I grew up being known as my mom’s “Little Buddy”.

Wherever she went I wanted to be by her side. Getting my hands dirty, helping, or just doing whatever she was doing. My mom was a single mom who loved the outdoors. It was very important to her that I was a part of the adventures, making sure we had a good time.

Every year in the fall when the leaves started to turn and farmers were in the fields, there were many days of getting ready and much talk about the upcoming deer seasons. I usually found myself at my grandma’s house, waiting to get a look at my mom’s first buck of the year.

At the age of five (after many days of insisting) for the first time I was included in the hunt. It was a cold, snowy day and my mom helped me into my snowsuit, stocking cap and mittens. All bundled up I was ready to go hunt a, “Big buck”! She grabbed me, the old 870, and a hand full of bullets as we jumped into the big 4X4 truck. On the way to meet the hunting party, she thoroughly went over the rules and let me know what was to be “my” job. Once arriving at the big barn, I can remember all the guys standing around talking about the plan for the first drive. I stood next to my mom, so excited and I was ready to leave so we could go shoot a deer! We got back in the truck and drove to our designated spot. Getting out of the truck, mom replayed the rules one more time. As soon as I agreed, I proceeded behind her, fighting through the sticker bushes and deep snow in my bulky snow suit.

Finally entering the corn field, we stopped in the fence line full of brush and small trees. In my blaze orange, I still felt hidden in the fence line waiting for the other members of our party to push the timber. I started getting really excited and I was going to get “my” own deer. So, I started packing snow balls carrying them in hands ready to throw at the deer when they came out

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into the open. Next thing I know my mom whispers, “Cody look, deer!” I turned to see deer running from the forest. BANG!!! Mom shot and a big buck dropped as a few more does continued running through the field. I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! Everything was going so fast, so loud and now mom was panting and yelling, “Deer Down!” to the group as they came through the forest line. After all the excitement, everyone gathered around the deer and it was finally time for me to do “my” job!

“My mom told me that this was the most important job of all!

I was given the tag to put on the antler.”

I stood proud next to my 1st tagged deer. I wasn’t too sure about the next process though, field dressing the deer? It was explained to me this is what we had to do before we loaded our buck into the truck and off to the big barn to hang it. This memory is forever in my mind.

A year never goes by when I don’t get a chance to tell this story. It was right then my passion for hunting whitetails began.

Each year trying to improve my skills to keep going on the next Whitetail EXCURSION. I’ve had a healthy competition with my mom, sister and friends to see who tags the biggest deer every year. Now don’t get us wrong, our main objective every year is to put meat in the freezer but we just like the healthy competition.

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BRINK EXCURSIONS has been blessed with good fortune when it comes to putting nice deer in front of our clients, family and our staff every year. Not every year do I choose to shoot a deer because I get caught up with the old thought of “The next one will be bigger”. This is good and bad. Good – Lets the deer get bigger for next year. Bad – I get to eat a “tag” sandwich. Each year praying this will be the year you will have an opportunity at that monster buck. This year was that year for me. While in a tree stand things change, your perspective changes. It’s hard to explain unless you have done it yourself. When you are sitting indoors there is always “stuff” going on around you the hum of the refrigerator, the rumble of your heater, music playing, TV in the background or just someone talking. Your senses are overloaded with noise coming from every direction causing them to become diluted.

When you are out on a hunt you are the predator. All your senses get turned on high, they are the tools that give you the edge to a successful hunt. The wind blows, you stop moving so you can hear better. When you hear a twig snap, your eyes bolt over that direction to see why. You become on high alert and aware of your surroundings ready to seize the opportunity.

This season was no different. I got in my stand and “Hunter Mode” came into full effect. After getting settled, I watched and listened as the forest came alive around me. At the first sounds of rustling, I looked down and watched an opossum waddle his way under my stand. As time passes, a pack of does come stealthily into the forest to my left. I’m doing my best to keep still but also keep my head on a swivel. It’s rut, if there are does, there’s a good chance is a buck is near! It isn’t long until I see a small fork buck coming from the field to the timber on my right. He’s young, just messing around making his way to the timber. Taking little stops along the way for a little nibble and sniff around.

He walks into the tree line and starts acting funny. I thought for sure he was going to put his nose down and come in after the does. But instead he started acting nervous and uneasy. Immediately, I thought to myself what did I do wrong? Had he smelled my trail that I left coming into the forest? Suddenly he raised his tail

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and headed straight to where I had just come from. I was a bit bummed that my entertainment had left, he was fun to watch.

Back to checking on the does. I slowly pan back over to my left. They were still milling around in the timber completely un-phased by the events of the fork buck. Instantly, movement caught the corner of my peripheral sight to the right. Something was moving through the brush coming in where the fork buck had just been standing. It was another buck! Wait, it looked like something was stuck in its antlers! Squinting for a clearer and look through the brush, could it be just leftover velvet hanging off the antlers? Maybe even a section of brush had gotten stuck in his antlers?

As the buck moved into the opening and in to full site, my heart began to beat so hard it immediately started pounding in my ears. That same pounding as I remembered when I was five when buck fever hit me for the very first time. That wasn’t something stuck in his antlers, THAT WAS HIS ANTLERS! It was just mass and a lot of it. I dare not move. He was looking at the does right in my direction. I was pinned! I prayed for him to cut right through and walk right under my stand.... but he didn’t. He kept moving towards the same direction the fork buck had went. Not wanting to move and spook him I was going to let him walk.

No good shot. I just had to let him pass and hope that I would get another shot a different day, as he slipped into the brush almost out of my sight.

At this time, I had already decided I was taking the next week off to do nothing but sit in this deer stand and determined to chase this monster. Right at that moment, he ducked into the trees and he started heading towards the does. Just as I was starting to relax, my heart seized back up into my throat! BOOM, BOOM, BOOM was all I heard in my ears as the buck fever kicked in even harder. I glanced ahead into the direction he was heading, and I only see that there is one opportunity. He’s about 20 yards away and the only shot available is through a basketball size opening through the trees on that trail. I pull my bow back and the tunnel vision hits. All I can see is through my peep

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into the basketball size opening. Waiting, I see brown, and.....RELEASE. I watch my green LED knock fly through the air like it’s in slow motion. I see hair fly and the buck kicks and twists as he takes off back to the right over the hill.

“My adrenaline was coursing through my veins, buck fever running rampant.”

I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I flew down the tree stand to check my arrow. As I pulled the arrow out of the dirt it was covered in blood with hair stuck in the arrow head. Excited, I started following the path to find blood. I find little spots here and there but nothing big. I stopped to calm down and decided that it was best to leave him lay in peace, not chancing kicking him up and having to track him even further.

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A few hours later, I rounded up the family to come track down the kill. We started back where I shot, we tracked him over the hill and found him lying in the native grasses. I was beyond excited!

“After 28 years with a passion for whitetails, this deer of a lifetime was mine.”

I still can’t believe it, a feeling of being blessed comes to mind every day to think that I was able to have this opportunity at a once in 20 lifetimes buck. If you love something, go out and do it. You never know when your big chance in life is going to be right in front of you. Head out and seize the moment, chase your dreams. Keep safe and happy hunting.

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BIG JIM

By Craig Ward

The 2018 hunting season started off no different than the previous 40.

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“I couldn’t believe my eyes as this cagey giant buck was bedded mid-day in a wide-open field” I was full of anticipation and excited to start the season. I had two target bucks on my radar, and only approximately one month to hunt them. The first was a big sleek stud of a 5x5 with a picture perfect typical frame, and the other was Big Jim, a gnarly old buck that dreams are made of. I had scouted the big typical buck for over two years and had countless trail cam pictures of him and I felt it was only a matter of time until we would meet.

August 18th While cutting some hay adjacent to a pea field, I glanced out the window and nearly fell out of the tractor seat! There, only a mere 40 yards from the tractor was a giant set of velvet antlers protruding from the peas. As the tractor rolled by the buck remained motionless. I continued to the end of the field, and when I came back around the big boy had slipped out and was nowhere to be seen. That was my first encounter with Big Jim and one that would not soon slip my mind.

“I was both excited and confused.”

Why hadn’t this deer showed up on any one of my dozen or so cameras? Regardless, I knew what I had seen, and I could hardly wait for November. I secured all my permission and set up three blinds. I usually put the blinds up in early October, but harvest was late, and nothing got put out until a few days before the season opened on the first of November. With everything was in place now all I could do was wait and hope the giant old buck would slip up and I would be in the right place at the right time!

The first week in the blind was disappointing to say the least. The same fork horn buck and small doe came out every afternoon at the same time nearly every day.

They would wander past me at about 40 yards. The absence of other deer concerned me, to be honest. In past years I always had a group of five or six does that I saw nearly every sit in this very blind. About a week into the season I finally saw them in a neighboring field. The next few evenings they would make their way out of the large bush and feed across a field next to the field I was patiently waiting in. I didn’t have permission on that field and couldn’t shoot safely in that direction anyway if a large buck appeared, as there were buildings and a yard in that direction. I knew that the presence of those does would eventually bring bucks into the area though, so I was somewhat encouraged by knowing they were there.

The snow came about a week into the season, and hours in the blind became colder. I had to add a layer of clothing to make the sit more comfortable for the long hours in the blind. Bucks were starting some pre-rut activities as I started to see bucks using there scrape lines in the daylight hours. On November 8th, I had five different bucks trot down the scrape line that my blind overlooked, starting about ninety minutes before dark. Two of these deer were nice 4 by 4 bucks, heavy and wide. Things were heating up, and deer were really starting to move.

November 9th I finally got a look at a shooter on November 9th, but he caught me off guard. The big typical I had hunted for two years ran past me wide open at 100 yards at 2:35 pm in the afternoon. The window of opportunity for an ethical shot was so small that the shot would have been hurried and at a running deer, so I elected

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to pass with hopes that he would return. Shortly after the deer disappeared into the willows, four bull moose wandered out of the same bush he had come from. Either the moose had spooked the old buck, or something else had pushed all of them out. That evening ended with a different kind of excitement. Just as last light was fading, and I was intently watching for the big typical to reappear, a big old owl came from behind and landed on the roof of my ground blind. I was not expecting the sound and nearly jumped right out of my seat! It was a great night in the blind.

The wind picked up the next few days, and deer sightings dropped right off. I sat only afternoons in the blind, it was just too hard to get into the blinds in the morning without getting busted. My new strategy was to glass from the truck at first light, then use that information to know which blind to sit in for the afternoon.

It was on one of these morning glassing sessions that I got my second look at Big Jim.

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November 21st I was sitting on a hill with the spotting scope in my truck when I saw him in a slough bottom about a mile north of my blind. I had permission on the field, but there was no way to get to him without spooking him first.

“Even at a distance of 800 yards, he was watching my every move.�

Eventually he started working his way west, I saw him duck into some brush when a school bus drove by, and only a couple minutes after the road was clear again he broke out at a full run in the direction of the field where my blind was located. I instantly headed south

to my field, grabbed my rifle and walked into the far fence line where I thought he would cross into a big bush. I was sure he was coming, and I was ready. Ten minutes passed, but no sign of him. When I had all but given up that he was coming, I looked over my left shoulder and caught some movement in the distance and there he was. Instead of grabbing my rifle, I reached for my binoculars and watched him disappear into a large bush a 1/2 mile south of me.

“With wobbly knees and shaking hands I knelt and picked up his antlers to admire them from the long grass.”

I went home, added a few layers of clothes and headed back to the blind that overlooked the bush that Big Jim had disappeared into, determined to wait him out.

It was cold, but I was dressed for it and determined.

Hours passed, finally at 4:10 a doe emerged from the bush and skipped down the trail in front of my blind, all by herself. I reached for my rifle, sure that Big Jim wasn’t far behind. Thirty-five minutes later, I noticed a deer walking slowly through the willows.

I truly could not believe I had just accomplished what I was beginning to believe was impossible. I got him tagged, then I tried to call a buddy that was sitting in one of my other binds to come help. After the long sit in the cold, my phone was freezing and not working, so I made the half mile walk back to the truck where I could thaw out my phone and hopefully get some help to retrieve Big Jim. As soon as the phone was warmed up in the truck, I called on my good friend Rob Hanes and asked if he would mind helping me take pictures and capping my deer out. The last big deer I cut the cape shorter than I should have, and I was relieved when Rob answered and said he was on his way.

“Through my bino’s I could see it was Big Jim.” I looked at the clock on my phone, eight minutes of legal light left to shoot so this had to happen quick. He worked his way to the end of the bush and stopped.

I had full view of his head and neck and a few inches of his shoulder at 130 yards. I steadied the crosshairs on the top of his shoulder and pulled the trigger. The 6.5-284 Norma shattered the silence and I looked for any kind of motion, but everything was still. I decided to give it ten minutes before I went for a look, but in reality, I think I waited about forty-five seconds. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest! I walked over to the willows where the buck was standing and there lay Big Jim, my biggest deer in forty plus years of hunting whitetails.

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I’m not sure that I can ever top this buck but come next November you can bet I sure will be trying to. I would like to thank all my amazing friends for their help, the land owners who allow me to hunt on their land, and to my scouting partner and wife Laureen for all that she does so that I can spend so much time in the field doing what I love most! On that note here’s to the buck dreams are made of, BIG JIM!

Rob and his girlfriend Courtney took some great photos that really captured the beauty of this magnificent buck and for that I am so thankful as I can always look back at these pictures and share them with friends and family and relive that very day.

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LUCKY 4 ELK

By Eric Payne of Payne Slayer Outdoors

I feel very lucky to write this story and explain how fortunate I have been in the pursuit of our great Rocky Mountain Elk.

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I have never considered myself an elk hunter. Maybe I didn’t know what I was missing, or didn’t want to put in the time, money and effort in to chase the big elusive bulls. But after years of listening to the stories my buddies would tell of the big screaming giants that call our Rockies home, I decided to buy a tag and give it a go.

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Now let’s talk about luck. Believe it or not, my very first bull was shot on the very first morning I had ever hunted elk for myself.

Let me be clear on the situation. Time I had spent in the field for elk – none. Knowing how to call, or even recognize sign – no experience. Knowing where to start looking – not sure. This was one of those times where I was taken to an area by another hunter and he did mostly everything. However, the part that I did, happened around 2pm, after he called in a great bull in the 3 point or better area. I shot my first bull at less than 25 yards with my 30-06. A great big 6x6 with big spread, good mass, and ivory tips, grossing over 300”.

There is way more I could talk about as this is only the beginning of the story but I will only add that it took two days to get the antlers and meat out of the area and back to my truck. I may have earned the bull in the end but I owe a great deal to my friend. I would also like to thank another friend who gave me his cape to mount my bull. His cape came from the elk he had harvested two weeks prior to mine – an elk that took almost six years to get. My cape was left in the back country as it was almost more than I could bear just to pack out my meat and antlers.

The second bull I ever shot was about five years later.

I then realized how hard elk hunting really was. This was no special bull, but I had a tag just in case. One of my good friends had a mule deer tag and it was known that there were elk in the area. More luck! Driving home one night from chasing mule deer we ran into a legal bull by the road. We made a quick permission call and then had a two hour pursuit which ended with a legal three point on the ground.

“The best thing about elk is the meat but there is a strange feeling you get when chasing one of these large challenging animals.”

I was starting to understand why guys do it. My third bull was also lucky but the only difference was there was also blood, sweat and tears this time. I’m proud to say this one was with archery tackle. Drawing a mule deer tag in an area I had hunted my whole life, I decided to again buy an elk tag just in case. I was sure the season high would be a monster mule deer but it seemed fate had other plans. After a rather hard mule deer season I was able to finally connect on a great 170” class mule deer. Later that season on a fateful Sunday afternoon I found myself in a big bowl full of elk where we had hunted all season. There was one bull in mind that we had watched all year. Luck was on my side again. The big bull left his cows to get a drink.

I put myself in a spot I thought he might head back up the ridge near. I was right. He came from below me at over 1000 yards. I lay on my back in the grass and waited until he was 65 yards in front of me. It worked great and he walked to my right a bit after catching a molecule of me. He gave me the opportunity for a broadside shot. I cow called and it stopped him. I drew as I sat up, 50 yard pin on his back and let it fly. My arrow disappeared in the 10 ring. The bull was down in less than 100 yards and I had another great 6x6 bull!

First one ever with my bow and I had done it all on my own. The excitement was more than I could handle.

Something had changed in me. I was now feeling more like an elk hunter. A very lucky elk hunter.

After the third bull I felt great. I was happy with the three bulls I had taken. Knowing I was so fortunate to have harvested a giant bull in the mountains and now a trophy with my bow, I was not sure I needed another bull. However, from the first time ever buying a tag until now I had been applying for a great southern Alberta zone just outside of a big national park. The sizes of the bulls that reside in this area are unimaginable. I decided to take the gamble on a nine year wait. I drew the tag this year for late season which fell Dec 25 – Feb 21. I would need luck on my side again as the season is totally dependent on the weather. No snow and cold means no elk leaving the national park. With lots of homework done and some great permission I started hunting on Boxing Day.

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I drove up to the area several times, always paying the fuel costs, driving in the worst road conditions and putting the miles on. Looking as hard as I could, I couldn’t locate any bulls in daylight hours outside the park. After hunting as hard as I could I finally felt defeated. I was ready to quit which is not like me, but this was different. I felt physically and emotionally drained. I went as far as removing my scope from my rifle and installing it on a different caliber gun.

This would definitely stop me from hunting elk and I would move on with my life. Two weeks later I had almost forgotten about the tag and was happy with my decision. I had given it an honest try. The funny thing was I went with a few friends to a hunting film festival and every video seemed to talk about not giving up.

My friends also gave me grief about giving up on my chance. I will say in the back of my mind I wish things would have turned out different, but this was one of the hottest winters ever. Almost no snow and no low cold temperatures. I guess I can’t be lucky all the time.

Boy was I wrong. Within a week, our nice mild winter changed to some of the coldest winter temperatures.

-35 Celsius hit us. Snow. East Winds. Something was happening. I received a text at work from a land owner.

He was talking to me about the ridge I had spent most of my time hunting. He told me there were over 15 bulls on it that afternoon. I panicked as I knew I should go and try one more time. Then I laughed as I remembered I had taken my scope off my 300. Not my best decision. After many phone calls my friend bailed me out and let me take his 300. Thursday, February 7th found me on the ridge at first light and for the first

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time ever I saw a legal bull where I could hunt him.

Luck was with me for the rest of the day. I scanned the ridge and saw over 10 legal bulls. Wind was perfect.

There were no other hunters in sight. With a two mile stalk in -30 Celsius, powder snow perfect for walking, the best northeast wind, a 100 yard belly crawl got me to within 200 yards of 10 different bulls. I shot the one that I felt was the most mature. As the bull lay on the ground I called a friend. He shared the experience with me as I walked up to the bull.

“The closer I got the bigger he was. I could not believe it.”

I had done it yet again all on my own. Another 6x6 with mega mass and super dark antlers. The emotions were endless as I knew I was so lucky to have taken this bull in an area where so many guys have been unlucky mostly because of weather conditions. After field photos, I had more luck as the land owner was able to get a gator up to the ridge and pull my bull out.

Four tags, four bulls. Luck from the start for sure. I will say on the last bull I finally felt different. I was an elk hunter. I had earned this bull. There is no doubt that half of hunting is luck, but it also is about hard work, drive, a positive attitude, putting yourself in the right spot, doing your homework and building good relationships with land owners. I have maybe hunted 30 days in my life for elk and shot four bulls. That is lucky for sure. But people who know me know how much passion I have for this sport. I live and breathe to hunt and put in the most effort I can. There is nothing wrong with a little luck, but luck will still never come without putting in the hard work first. The more you put in to something the more you will get out. And luck maybe on your side.

A special thanks to the land owners, my family and friends for making each of these hunts a success.

THE SOLID 50� BULL

By Franco Commisso

A once in a lifetime bull for us, and a once in a lifetime hunt for my Dad and I.

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Our scouting trip revealed a solid 50� bull. He was a tremendous bull for our area, and one that we would be very happy to be able to tag.

We made the decision then to focus on that bull, and he ended up being our target bull we were after once the season rolled around.

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This hunt really began in early August. Since then, my Dad, Vince Commisso, and I have been out scouting for moose every spare second we had.

It was a lot of time and some days had almost no action, but towards the end of August, we finally found what we were looking for. Our scouting trip revealed a solid 50” bull. He was a tremendous bull for our area, and one that we would be very happy to be able to tag.

We made the decision then to focus on that bull, and he ended up being our target bull we were after once the season rolled around.

We hunted hard during the archery season and had two encounters with the big 50” bull. We also used trail cameras to try to help pattern him and we even got pictures of him once in a while, but in the end we did not have the luck we needed to seal the deal with our archery gear. As the fall progressed, rifle season came along and we were back to the same spot, hunting hard and knowing we just needed to find him again, and with the rifle in tow, we would have a really good chance at getting him this time. However, the first couple days were completely uneventful and we had no luck. We decided to give the area a break and come back the next Monday.

First thing Monday morning, now November 4th found us back at the same spot before first light. As soon as we had shooting light, we headed in again, and right away we saw a cow moose by herself. We took this as a great sign. We knew this land very well, and had a good knowledge of where all the trails were, so we decided to take a trail that circled downwind of the cow. Out hope that that maybe there would be a bull around keeping his eyes on this lone cow. We slowly snuck down the trail and after about 10 minutes, crept up a big hill and slowly crawled over it to see the valley below. Sure enough, there were moose on the other side!

“In fact, there were 2 cow moose and 3 bull moose, all right there!”

The first bull, we glassed was a small bull, but the second one was our target bull! There was a third bull there too, but we could not get a great look at him, so we moved a bit until we could see him.

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My dad took the shot and the big bull dropped in his tracks!

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As soon as we got a look at him, we quickly realized that he was even bigger than the one we had been after. There was so much brush and trees in the way between us and the moose that we had to move around and try to find a shooting lane. Finally, we found a small opening where we had a clear lane to the biggest bull. My dad took the shot and the big bull dropped in his tracks!

We waited a few minutes then walked up to where it was. As we got closer and closer, we were completely in disbelief. It just kept getting bigger and bigger and did not even seem like it could be real.

“The big bull was so wide, had so many points, and we were so excited!”

To confirm what we thought we were seeing, we put a measuring tape to it and measured out at 59 1/2” wide which is almost unheard of for and Alberta bull moose! This was a definitely a one in a lifetime bull for us, and a once in a lifetime hunt for my Dad and I.

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THE SECOND CHANCE BUCK

By Kirk Bullee

September rolled around once again, and I was itching to get out and harvest some big game.

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It was the 17th of November, and as usual, in the morning my family and I went out to hunt. We all said, “Good luck and come back with a buck.� I went out on my own to a spot and my Dad and sister went out to another.

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I was bow hunting early September when I harvested my velvet mule deer scoring 179 7/8 net inches and grossing in at 184.

I only had two tags left to fill. My moose and whitetail tags were in hand. Next, I harvested my whitetail and finally I ended up harvesting my moose on the last day of rifle season. It wasn’t the one I wanted by far, but it was still a great feeling to have my moose tag filled Backing up to some detail about “The Second Chance,” which is what my whitetail hunt was.

It was late October when my sister and I were out for an evening hunt when we came across a great buck that we had never seen before. We knew that we only had a few minutes to take action. I slowly grabbed my bow and drew back for the shot. The arrow was flying perfectly. I thought everything went to plan, and it was a going to be a kill shot. We waited for a bit before going to take a look.

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“We got out to where the buck was. To our surprise, there was no blood and no arrow!”

The only thing we knew we could do was to start searching for both the arrow and the buck because who knows what had happened or where they were. We were determined to find some clues. We looked until dark that night and there was still no sign of either the buck or the arrow. I came out to the same spot the next morning and after looking for about an hour, I found my arrow, and it was spotless. In that moment, I knew that this wasn’t going to be the last encounter with this buck.

I went without seeing the buck for the next three weeks, but I was not going to give up just yet.

“My heart stopped for a minute, this was my chance, the second chance.”

Fast forward to the beginning of rifle season, which also means the whitetail rut is approaching so I was ready for anything to happen. Days went on in rifle season, with no encounters of this buck. It was the 17th of November, and as usual, in the morning my family and I went out to hunt. We all said, “Good luck and come back with a buck.” I went out on my own to a spot and my Dad and sister went out to another. Not even an hour into the morning hunt, I got a phone call saying, “We found the buck!”. My heart stopped for a minute, this was my chance, the second chance.

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I quickly got back to my truck and went over to where they were at. I set up on one side of a big ravine while my Dad and sister started slowly walking towards me, trying to spot where exactly the buck was. I was scanning the area when I spotted a buck in the trees across the ravine from me, and I knew in the moment that it was him. I signaled to my Dad and sister to stop.

I wasted no time lining up for the shot.

Although it was a small opening, I was confident in my shooting and I knew I could make the shot. I took the shot, but it was a miss. The buck ran out to the top of the field. I had to grab my gun and run to the opening that was 40 feet away to get another shot off. When I got there, he started running away. With the remaining breath I had, I had to take a deep breath and lineup one last shot. “Smack,” echoed as my bullet found its mark and he went down.

“I couldn’t wait for my Dad and sister to see this amazing non-typical buck.”

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I saw in the distance my Dad and sister racing towards me with joy, jumping up and down. “Kirk you got the buck,” my sister said, jumping into my arms for a hug. Hugs were all around and smiles ear to ear.

There were no words for this moment and it was definitely where a team effort paid off.

This was not a buck, this was the buck and the second chance that made everything count.

03*(*/"-

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