YOU JUST HAVE TO FIND THEM

By Brett Cobb

My name is Brett Cobb and I am the middle sibling of three brothers. My older brother Trae and younger brother Bryn and I were drawn as a group for mule deer this year in zone 6.

We have always rifle hunted whitetail, but none of us have ever killed a mule deer. A few years ago, I purchased and started using a bow, and for the past three years joined a good friend in zone 6 for the mule deer archery season. Unfortunately, I leaned that bow hunting mule deer is not an easy task and was unsuccessful.

When drawn this year, I convinced both of my brothers to get a bow, and we made several trips during September and October to try and arrow a monster. Passing on many decent bucks, we found ourselves in rifle season, tags in hand. With Trae stuck at work with no sign of it letting up, Bryn and I decided to head down south to hunt Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning.

We headed out armed with information from the previous year’s hunt. Last year when hunting the area with some friends, we had spent several days chasing a very large buck. On our last day while walking out, my buddies bumped an even bigger deer, watching it bound over the hill with our hunt time running out! Fast forward to the current year when my brothers and I were drawn. The buck we were chasing last year was arrowed in velvet by another hunter but there had been no word about the bigger one. That was until my buddy, Cody Sinclair, contacted him to congratulate him, and in talking mentioned the other buck we had spooked. The local hunter apparently was familiar with the buck, and mentioned he was around somewhere, had shrunk since the previous year, but was still a beautiful deer. Knowing this, my brothers and I had spent plenty of time in bow season glassing his home area with no luck. In reality, we had pretty much given up all hope that he was still around.

On Tuesday afternoon, after seeing several large groups of deer bedded in the area, Bryn and I got permission to walk in, hoping even to find another decent buck. Almost two miles in, we bumped a really nice buck and two other smaller bucks. Us, being green to the mule deer game, knew he was probably big enough to shoot, but given a side view and miles of hills and valleys and a deer that was on to us, watched him run away with little hope we would ever see him again. After following where we thought he went for another half mile we turned around and started heading back on a slightly different path. Fairly soon we spotted the better of the two smaller bucks. Quickly, we ducked into a valley and got into position to where we thought he was. When we slowly crested the hill, the first thing we saw was a small two point at about 125 yards. We knew that this buck had been partnered up with the other ones, so the sight of him brought my hopes up quickly. Very quickly we noticed the other larger buck close by and dropped to our knees just peeking out enough to scan the area. I pulled up my binos up just in time to see a big non-typical stand to his feet. At that moment I had no doubt that we had a very large

“We knew that this buck had been partnered up with the other ones, so the sight of him brought my hopes up quickly.”

deer on our hands! I ducked down and said, “That’s your buck Bryn, you’re gonna want to shoot it!” Bryn, still not knowing exactly what he was shooting, took my word for it and took the shot. He smoked the buck, and I watched him dive into the shallow valley below. I’ll never forget walking up to that deer, still not appreciating fully how nice he was, and watching Bryn’s eyes get bigger as he got his first good look at the buck. It was an epic moment between brothers. Before we even lifted his nicer side out of the grass we were jumping up and down hollering like little schoolgirls. Gutted and tagged, we walked almost two miles back to the truck, and then got to work and got him processed and back home.

That nigh was a very restless night back in the hotel. We were playing over in our minds the previous day’s events and despite not much sleep, that motivated us to get up early and we headed out at first light to find myself a buck. At this point, I couldn’t help but grin when I was looked in my truck mirror at the largest mule deer I had ever laid my hands on. I knew how rare a buck like that was and was already preparing myself to be disappointed in comparison, with any deer we might find that morning. After several hours scouting and glassing we somehow managed to spot another great buck. I knew he wasn’t the giant Bryn’s was, but with the small chance that I would be back in the area for the rest of the season and some coaxing from Bryn, I decided to close the distance to get a better look. Half an hour later after some walking, running, and belly crawling, I ranged him at 330 yards. With plenty of time and a comfortable position laying down, I slowly squeezed the trigger, hearing the reassuring thwack of a solid hit. As we walked up to my deer, I was in awe of his long tines, and we laughed at the fact that the day prior, this deer would have looked pretty good without lying beside the one already in the back of my truck. After we loaded them both up in the truck, we stood around for quite a while in awe, looking at the two deer we had killed in less than 24 hours. We knew they were a caliber that many hunters wouldn’t ever get the chance to see in their lifetime and we may never again. Thanks goes out to friendly landowners and hunting partners we can share memories with and that always keep us convinced. I have heard it many times and I finally believe it, “The big ones are out there, you just have to find them”.