Big Game Illustrated - Issue 28

Spring 2020 issue CANADA/USA 6.99

COVER STORY

SO MUCH MORE THAN A NUMBER Cole Stark FEATURE ARTICLE

ALBERTA BIG HORN HUNTING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES Myles Thorp

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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

Production Team:

Kaare Gunderson, Shawn Danychuk Phil Webb, Adam Deutscher, Rob Hanes, Myles Thorp

BGI Field Staff:

David Lockie, Lane Hodnefield, Brad Shaw

Final Proofing:

Carol Wilkinson

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Dougal Muir and Jessica Gaffney

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14 Feature Editorial SO MUCH MORE THAN A NUMBER

By Cole Stark

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In 2009 I had my first sit for whitetails. It was in a little bluff of trees a few miles from home.

ALBERTA BIG HORN HUNTING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES

By Myles Thorp

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As a first-time sheep hunter, I realized pretty quickly that it is not for the faint of heart.

In This Issue THE GREAT GROOT 06

By Hunter Quinn

SO MUCH MORE THAN A NUMBER

By Cole Stark

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THE BIG EAST COAST WHITETAIL

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A LONG JOURNEY

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’OL SPLIT KICKER

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ALBERTA SURPRISE TYPICAL

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By Jonathan Molnar

By Justin Major

By Luke Polzin

By Mark Finn

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ALBERTA BIG HORN HUNTING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 46

By Myles Thorp

MY FIRST BULL ELK

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THE SASK MULE DEER

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SOUTHERN ALBERTA DREAMS

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By Nick Heusser

By Nolan Sawka

By Stephani Harriman

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THE GREAT GROOT

By Hunter Quinn

I’ve hunted this particular property for three years now and every year I have harvested a nice buck on the property.

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He was my number one priority, I was targeting him only, no other buck mattered.

I kept watching him on camera, only getting night photos

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I’ve hunted this particular property for three years now and every year I have harvested a nice buck on the property. The first year, I had multiple bucks on the radar.

My potential targets included a wide ten, a heavy eight and another eight. I had a nine point that I thought was pretty interesting. He had potential to be a great buck in the future. I had one encounter with that nine but it never came together. On November 3rd of that first year, I ended up harvesting that wide 10 point. I was happy with him and he ended up scoring 136”. He was a nice buck, and one that I would gladly harvest every season.

The following year, I had a couple shooters that showed up. One in particular looked very familiar.

After getting, and studying, numerous pictures of him, I was sure that he was that same nine point and and I was very happy to see that he got a lot bigger since last year. He now had a total of 13 points. He was wide and definitely a dominant buck in the area. Even though I had pictures of him, I really wasn’t about to be very picky because I was using traditional equipment, specifically a recurve bow. I never had an opportunity to take him, and it seemed like he always had the upper hand when it came to me being after him. I kept hunting hard but still never had a chance at him.

November 3rd rolled around, and I ended up harvesting a nice 10 point with my recurve. This in itself was a major accomplishment, and I couldn’t be any happier with how last season played out.

Despite being done hunting, I kept on checking my trail camera and, wouldn’t you know it, there was that 13 point taunting me in daylight!

I couldn’t believe it, he was beautiful! I kept my cameras out and he ended up disappearing around December. I was a little worried he may have been harvested during gun season. That’s hunting for you though, you never know what’s going to happen the following season.

The 2019 season arrived and I had been running cameras all spring but had no sign of the 13 point. Zero sightings at all had me convinced, like so many other bucks, that he was most likely gone. September came around and there was still no sign of him. To make matters worse, I only had one other decent buck on camera. I estimated him to be 120”, and decided to keep tabs on him but also see what else showed up.

October rolled around and I had a single blurry photo of a very nice buck, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I went to my other camera and looked at it and there he was, the buck that I have had on camera over the past two years has shown up again and he got real big! Tall, heavy, and wide, he was every hunters dream!

He was my number one priority, I was targeting him only, no other buck mattered. I kept watching him on camera, only getting night photos. My wife and I decided to give this buck a nickname. We tossed around a couple names but decided Groot is the one that would stick with him. After looking closer and closer at his rack, I realized that he was no longer a 13 pointer, but now was a 16 pointer! I had no idea what he would score, all I knew was that he was a shooter. A week goes by and we were getting photos of him almost every day.

Then he disappeared again, and I was very worried.

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There are hunters around the area so I was worried he was harvested on another parcel of land. A week of no photos had me going cray, until finally he came back! I was praising the lord after seeing he came back. He was still nocturnal though. I was trying to come up with a game plan of how to get this buck. Thankfully, I knew the odds were about to swing into my favor, as we were getting closer and closer to the time every hunter looks forward too, the rut.

“That is going to be my ticket to harvest Groot,” I thought to myself.

I hunted a total of four times the next two weeks but we still had no sign of him, just night time photos. I left the woods alone for another week and checked my cameras on the 24th of October. He came in at 6:54pm, just before dark. I knew I had to get into the woods, my chance was coming. On the 26th of October I was off work but it was raining and was very windy so I decided to stay home and hunt the following day. I woke up the morning of the 27th, before daylight and it was windier than the day before. I went back to sleep for a couple of hours and woke back up and decided I would rather be in the woods and have a chance at him. I got ready and got in my stand at 12:30pm. It was still windy but I knew that needed to get in there early since the rut was coming. It was a very weird sit, I didn’t see anything the whole time until about 5:15pm.

It was a doe at a distance. She left so I sat and still was confused on what was going on. Over the years I have always had does come through at 4:15-4:30 so this was very strange for me. 6pm rolled around and I saw a big group heading my way. I grabbed my bow and got ready in case Groot is with this group. It was eight does

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but no Groot. So, I was stuck holding my bow for a half hour, watching the does around me. Slowly, they all leave and I can finally rest.

I sat my bow down, not knowing that would be a big mistake in the next 15 minutes. I saw another group coming but instantly, they are on top of me, I could not grab my bow. It was just does but I heard something behind me. By the sounds of things, it is by itself and it sounds big, I peaked to my right where I heard the noise. There he is! It is Groot. I think to myself, “Man does he ever look bigger in person than he does in trail cam photos.” My heart started beating through my chest, trying to figure out what to do in this game of Chess. He walked right beside me at 10 yards and stopped. I still could not grab my bow because of the does around me. He put his nose to the ground and started grunting and singled a doe out and chases her.

In all the commotion, I finally was able to grab my bow but he kept chasing her and is longer in sight!

I could not stop him with a grunt because of all the does around me. I felt discouraged that I missed my opportunity. I kept my bow in my hand just in case he decided to come back. I looked about 140 yards out and there he stood, watching the does around me. He came trotting in to start chasing the other does, so I grunted at him to get his attention. He was at 40 yards now, looking for the “buck” that grunted at him. He cut right and was entering my shooting lane. At 25 yards, he stopped in my lane and looked over at a doe. I drew back nice and slow, and steady my pin behind his shoulder. I squeezed the trigger on my release, and felt like forever for my bow to fire. I watched my lighted nock go right behind his shoulder. It looked to be and awesome shot! My nerves and heart are going wild as I follow him with my eyes and watch him go down.

He went 60 yards and dropped! I am almost in tears because I could not believe what had just happened.

“I looked about 140 yards out and there he stood, watching the does around me.”

Gear: 2011 G5 Prime Shift Victory Arrows Rage Hypodermic 100 grain Trophy ridge single pin sight Qad drop away rest Fuse 4 arrow quiver Lincoln Outfitters camo Muddy Tree stand

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I just harvested my biggest buck to date at 6:45pm.

I called my wife and my Dad and close friends to tell them what happened. I climbed down because my nerves are still going wild. I started walking back to my truck to get some water and talk with my dad. Everyone thought I was pulling their leg. I decide that it was time to start walking back and follow the blood trail and find Groot. It was dark out so I was using a flashlight following blood. I found my arrow, he broke it off when he was running. I grabbed it and keep moving, and I shine my flashlight up and there he is!! Big buck down! I ran up to him and I was in disbelief how big he is. Giant body, huge rack, everything is big! I tagged him and called my dad again. “I’m definitely going to need some help with this buck in order to get him out of the woods,” I tell him. After getting photos with

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Groot and doing all the chores of harvesting a deer, I didn’t get home until 12:30am that night.

I think that I was still shocked that next morning getting him loaded up to take to the processor. I took his cape and head to my taxidermist and got his skull cap and antlers out. I took him over to my friend’s house, Toby Hughes who scores deer. We put the measuring tape on him and found that Groot had a gross score of 195 1/8”! It was the biggest buck I could ever dream of harvesting. I put the time in and after having him on camera for three years, I was tickled to death to be putting my 2019 buck tag on him. It was a truly unbelievable feeling, harvesting a buck of this magnitude. I still feel very blessed. I’m writing this a week after harvesting Groot and still having trouble wrapping my head around it. I harvested my number one hitlist buck and I will forever be thankful.

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Cover Story

SO MUCH MORE THAN A NUMBER

By Cole Stark

In 2009 I had my first sit for whitetails. It was in a little bluff of trees a few miles from home.

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As the season approached and it was time to start summer scouting, I decided that having a draw tag in my pocket meant that I could hold out for a certain buck, a buck that at the very first sighting I would instantly know that he’s the one.

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“For my entire archery career, I’ve been trying to harvest a mule deer over the magical 200 inch mark and this might just be the year.”

In 2009 I had my first sit for whitetails. It was in a little bluff of trees a few miles from home. I parked the quad a half mile away and made my way into the stand.

With a bow on my lap, and being 12 years old, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Closer to the evening a doe and twin fawns made their way into the bluff. Since this was the first close encounter with a deer in my life, extreme excitement is an under statement! I felt like my heart was pounding so hard she was going to hear it. I had tagged along with my Dad on rifle hunts for whitetail before, but the feeling wasn’t even comparable. It was safe to say from that moment on, I was hooked on bow hunting.

Over the years of applying for the Saskatchewan mule deer draw season with no success, it resulted in my purchasing over the counter mule deer archery tags year after year. In my pursuits, I’ve been extremely fortunate to harvest a number of mule deer that I am very proud of. In the 2018 season, I set a goal to try and harvest a big mature mule deer buck but was unsuccessful.

One morning I woke up to a phone call from my cousin and hunting partner Lane Hodnefield. When I answered, he instantly told me the 2019 draw results were out. After I checked the results I was in shock and nearly dropped my phone. It read “AWARDED”. In all the years we had been hunting together, not one of us had pulled a draw tag before, there was excitement over the phone for sure. I thought to myself, “For my entire archery career, I’ve been trying to harvest a mule deer over the magical 200 inch mark and this might just be the year.”

As the season approached and it was time to start summer scouting, I decided that having a draw tag in my pocket meant that I could hold out for a certain buck, a buck that at the very first sighting I would instantly know that he’s the one.

As August 1st rolled around, I found myself about half a mile away from an enormous typical framed deer with double splits on his right back fork, we later named this buck “The Prince” and knew he was our number one priority. On August 26th, while looking for, “The Prince” I spotted another tremendous non-typical mule deer that had a noticeably darker coat and horns with everything that I could ask for. I was able to snap a few pictures through the spotting scope of him and left the area before he got spooked.

For the week leading up to season I found myself sitting in a tractor looking at pictures on my phone of these two bucks. I concluded that if either of these bucks gave me the opportunity for a stalk, I would take it, but I was leaning towards “The Prince.” A rainstorm rolled in on the night of August 31st and brought harvest to a stop.

It was an early morning in mule deer country looking for the two target bucks. With the morning being uneventful, me and Lane went home to catch up on some rest and practice shooting bows. In the evening, we spotted the big non-typical in a durum field with two smaller bucks. We made our way around the field and started crawling up a sprayer track to him. We got about 100 yards and the wind completely stopped.

Not knowing his exact location in the crop, we held back and waited for him to stand and give his position away. An hour before dark he stood up and took us

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both by surprise. He was way bigger the we originally thought and with no sightings of “The Prince” our focus shifted directly to him. We ended up watching him for the remained of the night to get his location for the morning.

On our way to the field, Lane and I discussed how if we are going to chase this once in a lifetime buck, we need to give him a name. After spit balling for a couple minutes Lane came up with “Kong” and it instantly stuck. As we got into the spot to wait for the sun to come up, we could see the faint colour of deer in the field.

Once enough light came over the horizon, I noticed a darker shade in the far end of the field where “Kong” would always come out at first light. I put my spotting scope on the window and looked out at it, it was him.

While watching him for some time he eventually worked his way to the same area he was in the previous day. With a strong wind not in our favour we drove to the other side of the field to be in a better location to start the stalk. With another storm coming in we quickly got ready to leave the truck and start the stalk.

When we were about to leave, I got a phone call from a very worried mother. A plow wind blew through the yard and she wanted to make sure we were safe. After convincing her we were fine and needed too get a move on, we started our walk down the road. As if someone snapped their fingers the wind completely shifted 180 degrees and the entire sky went black. Knowing we were about to get hit with something bad we ripped down the dirty road and back towards the main grid. About halfway to the grid the plow wind hit us and nearly put the truck into the ditch. Once we pulled up on the grid, I noticed a large trail going through a canola field. When I looked up at the top of the hill, I noticed a grain bin rolling over the hill.

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Once the weather calmed down, we started our way down the road again. After trudging through lodged durum for what felt like an eternity, we found ourselves at the sprayer track that we needed to follow. After crawling up to about 80 yards, Lane’s pants were becoming louder and louder with each movement. We came to the decision that lane needed to remove his pants for the remainder of the stalk. With Lane in front and me behind, we made our way to around 35 yards.

As I looked up and saw Lane’s face, I knew something wasn’t right. He immediately ducked and looked back to me. He ever so softly mouthed,

“He’s up, put and arrow on your string and shoot!

He’s at 35 yards!”. This instantly made my heart shift gears and gave me chills.

I was shaking so badly I couldn’t get my nock onto my string. After three or four tries, I finally got it on and glimpsed over the crop to see “Kong” staring down the sprayer track behind us. I drew my bow back, stood and released as arrow. The shot flew through the air and SMACK! He bounded away and looked to be hurting bad. We watched him in anticipation that he could go down at any minute. Watching him walk over hill after hill and seeing his side, the shot turned out to hit below its mark missing the vitals. For the rest of the morning we followed him to a pasture and bed in a little tucked away slough. After watching him and making sure he wouldn’t leave, we decided to back out and give him some time.

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Kneeling down behind this magnificent animals’ horns had me speechless.

It was late afternoon when we got back onto the hilltop to see if he still had his head up.

After carefully examining the slough, we concluded that his head was down. Still cautious, Lane and I walked down into the slough with an arrow nocked in case he was still alive. After walking into the center of the slough Lane froze in his tracks and pointed.

At 8 yards Kong slowly rose from the grass broadside looking in the opposite direction.

Wasting no time and not wanting him to go any further I drew back and released an arrow straight through both lungs. Kong took two steps, started to stumble and collapsed behind a wall of weeds.

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Walking up to him and seeing his right horn over the weeds I was in shock. This deer surpassed everything I had initially thought about him prior to this moment. Kneeling down behind this magnificent animals’ horns had me speechless. His face was covered in scars, he had a nose like a big horn sheep and to top it off a milky eye. His score was the last thing on my mind.

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THE BIG EAST COAST WHITETAIL

By Jonathan Molnar

It all started when I first received trail camera pictures of this particular whitetail buck at 8pm on November 11th, 2019. To say I was excited would be an understatement!

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This is not a long, drawn out story over years and years. It all started when I first received trail camera pictures of this particular whitetail buck at 8pm on November 11th, 2019. To say I was excited would be an understatement!

The next day we had a storm move in with very high winds and heavy rain. I decided to roll the dice and head out for a hunt. I managed to get out for the evening hunt, but I had no luck. In fact, I did not even see a single deer. Looking at the forecast, a cold front was moving in that night, so it seemed like a great time to be out for another hunt. The plan was to be back in the stand the following morning, and hopefully take advantage of the cool down.

The next morning I got into position early, with high hopes that the cool weather would get things moving. It did not take long, and after sitting for a short while a doe passed by feeding, with a spike horn close behind her.

Moments later I saw a bigger buck passing by in thick cover.

I nervously stopped him in an open spot, lined up, held steady and got a good shot at 25 yards with my 308!

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I nervously stopped him in an open spot, lined up, held steady and got a good shot at 25 yards with my 308!

I could not get a good look at him but I saw enough to know that I needed to hunt hard and try and get a better look. The next few hours were uneventful, and he did not come, and then that was it for the morning sit.

The thought of that heavy buck swirled in my mind, and drove me back in the stand in the early afternoon in preparation for the evening hunt. It was a good thing that I was setup early, because at around four pm I turned around and was shocked to see the heavy buck coming from my downwind side! I expected him to bust me, but he kept coming until he went almost under my tree.

He passed below me and kept going as I quietly and carefully picked up the gun and waited for him to get up beside me where I could stop him for a good shot. I nervously stopped him in an open spot, lined up, held steady and got a good shot at 25 yards with my 308!

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The deer only ran 60 yards and piled up where I could still see him from the tree stand. I climbed down and walked over to the buck. I was amazed with the mass that carried throughout his main beams, not to mention several drop tines that really gave him some character. He was a lot bigger than I could have ever imagined. This deer has 17 scoreable points and came in with a gross scored 194 6/8�. A HUGE thanks goes out to my father Stephen Molnar for sharing with me his knowledge from hunting these big east coast whitetails over the past 30 plus years.

A HUGE thanks goes out to my father Stephen Molnar for sharing with me his knowledge from hunting these big east coast whitetails over the past 30 plus years.

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A LONG JOURNEY

By Justin Major

I’ve been hunting around home for several years now and have always been on the lookout for a truly monster whitetail.

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I’ve been hunting around home for several years now and have always been on the lookout for a truly monster whitetail.

I first spotted this big guy on my trail camera as a really nice 6x6. Despite all of my best efforts, he immediately proved that he was a very smart and cautious buck. I worked hard all season to try and get more pictures of him, but the best I could do was to only capture the odd picture of him during the middle of the night and very early morning, well before sunrise and any chance of legal light. The season ended without a single daytime picture of the buck, but a lot of hope for the next year.

The next season arrived, and I was able to get him on cam right away. He looked great and had grown a lot.

He was even taller and wider and was really starting to look like a monster buck.

Unfortunately, it was mostly a repeat of the previous season, with the only appearances on camera being in the middle of the night. Despite that, I spent most of the season hunting him, hoping to catch him out with a doe or making a mistake. However, after several hunts I was unable to have an opportunity at him or even an encounter with him. Before I knew it, the season had come and gone, but I was happy to confirm that he had made it through the season again.

The next hunting season arrived, and I had cameras out early, ready to go just before bow season in hopes that maybe he would be a little less cautious in the early season. Two weeks before muzzleloader season arrived, the buck I had been waiting for showed up on my camera and he was bigger and better than ever.

I now had so much history and had really learned the area, so I thought for sure this would be the year

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I would get him. Again, just like previous years, he proved to be an incredibly smart and cautious buck and again I was only able to catch him on my camera four times through the entire season, and all during the middle of the night.

I couldn’t believe that after all the hours of preparing, hunting, and waiting I wasn’t able to see him during shooting hours. The season came to an end and I was crushed and frustrated.

I couldn’t believe that after all the hours of preparing, hunting, and waiting I wasn’t able to see him during shooting hours. The season came to an end and I was crushed and frustrated.

A thorough search of the area showed me that his head was all that was left.

The next year came around and I was determined to make it happen. However, despite my best efforts, I could not locate him, and I didn’t even see him on the camera. One particular hunt, I remember sitting there telling myself after four years of chasing this monster buck, I could not believe that I did not even get an opportunity to have a shot at him. It was almost surreal. I could not help but think, after not seeing him at all through the entire season, that he was taken either by another hunter or natural causes.

Spring of 2019 came around and I was heading out to do my usual shed hunts. I headed out one nice afternoon and started walking into the bush. After not even 30 minutes of walking into the shed hunt, as I peered

through the bush, I could not believe what I was seeing. Sure enough, there he lay. A thorough search of the area showed me that his head was all that was left.

There was not even a bone, or piece of carcass anywhere else to be found. Thinking back, I am pretty sure he must have died in the fall or winter of 2017-18 and was not found during 2018 until I located him in finally in the spring of 2019.

It was none the less a long journey. I didn’t get him the way I would’ve preferred, however, at least I was able to get my hands on the buck that I had spent so long obsessing over and have some closure and knowledge about what actually happened to him in the end.

There was not even a bone, or piece of carcass anywhere else to be found. Thinking back, I am pretty sure he must have died in the fall or winter of 2017-18 and was not found during 2018 until I located him in finally in the spring of 2019.

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OL’ SPLIT KICKER

By Luke Polzin

On November 4th 2018 I got my first and only trail camera picture of my 2019 whitetail buck.

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I knew I had to get out there soon, because based on past history, he would likely only be in the area for a brief time.

On 11/4/2018 I got my first and only trail camera picture of my 2019 whitetail buck.

I decided to name him Ol’ Split Kicker because of the matching split kicker points he has on either side. He was working a scrape hard and chewing on the licking branches above it. That picture made a lasting impression on me. It became my screen saver on my phone, and I would look at it every day and imagine what it would be like to harvest an absolute giant like that.

The 2018 season came to a close and the 2019 season began, without even a single sighting or pictures of him. A month of the season went by, and although I continued to hunt him, I was not having any luck.

Then, over a month into the 2019 season, he showed back up working the same scrape on 10/29/19 at 7:23 p.m. To say I was excited would be an understatement, and I sent the picture to my hunting buddies exclaiming, “He is still alive!”

I knew I had to get out there soon, because based on past history, he would likely only be in the area for a brief time. I got out early the afternoon of the 30th and set up my decoy as I often do. The rut action was really heating up. Smaller bucks were chasing doe all evening. At around 4pm, I spotted a big buck stand up to the north of me.

By the time I got my binoculars up, he had already tucked into some brush and I couldn’t tell if it was him or not, I just knew it was a substantial animal and something worth investigating.

The rut action started slowing down around 5pm.

Then, at 5:45 I spotted movement in the corn to the

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north of me. I could only see tines move around the corn, but it was enough to know that it was a really good buck. When he stepped out into the field, I could see the kicker point off of his left G2. “It is him!” I thought to myself, in disbelief. He saw my decoy and slowly covered the 80 yards to check it out. He stood right behind it at 26 yards. I got to full draw, but he was slightly quartering towards me and I just couldn’t take the shot in fear of a shoulder hit. He walked around the decoy and sniffed the estrus pee I had put on the ground. He did not like that at all, and he ran off to about 40 yards. I let down draw, deflated, thinking I had just missed my only opportunity at a world class whitetail!

However, he stopped and still seemed interested. As I watched intently, he slowly circled around down wind and crept back in to 20 yards. A few steps later he was perfectly broadside, and I executed a perfect double lung shot. He ran about 80 yards and went down right in the field in front of me. It was an unbelievable moment. After two years, it was my first time seeing this magnificent animal and I was able to harvest him!

Gross score 198 7/8” 25 5/8” Right main beam 25 7/8” Left main beam 19 6/8” Inside spread 29 3/8” Total inches of abnormal antler growth.

The 2018 season came to a close and the 2019 season began, without even a single sighting or pictures of him.

A month of the season went by, and although I continued to hunt him, I was not having any luck.

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ALBERTA SURPRISE TYPICAL

By Mark Finn

You’ll never know what will show itself during the Alberta whitetail rut.

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In June of 2019, I was offered a job I couldn’t resist. And it so happened to be located right in the middle of the zone I spend hundreds of hours a year scouting and hunting. Throughout the summer I hung cams in my usually areas and scouted new ones.

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In June of 2019, I was offered a job I couldn’t resist.

And it so happened to be located right in the middle of the zone I spend hundreds of hours a year scouting and hunting. Throughout the summer I hung cams in my usually areas and scouted new ones.

With the elk rut starting at the end of August, they were my first priority. So, first on the menu was to locate some mature shooter bulls. From August 25 to September 17, I hunted every morning and evening while working during the day. During those 23 days I passed on several rag horns and had multiple shot opportunities on great shooter bulls; just didn’t get a clear chance to let an arrow fly during the archery elk season.

September 17, Opening day for Rifle.

With all the time I spent hunting elk during the archery season, I already knew where the elk were traveling from feed to bed. It was just like clockwork. I hiked in early, to be ready and to adjust for the wind that morning. As the sun was slowly coming up, the bulls started to get vocal out in the morning dew soaked field.

As legal light approached it was like a symphony of elk bugles breaking the fall morning silence.

45 minutes into opening morning of legal light, the lead cow started to head for the bush. As the other cows and calves followed, the 6x7 bull I’ve been hunting wasn’t far behind bugling every couple minutes.

Either way, anytime spent chasing screaming bulls in the bush is time very well wasted.

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The herd headed straight for a trail they took daily with the 6x7 in tow. The cows started jumping the fence one by one. As the bull got parallel with me at 170 yards, I let out a cow call and stopped him broad side. I was steady resting on a shooting stick, and I let a bullet fly. I heard the whomp! He was hit good. He hunched up and stood there, unsure what just happened. I jacked another shell, and took a follow up shot, WHOMP! Second shot hit him right in the mid shoulder. He got wobbly and fell over right there.

After the echo of shots disappeared, I just stood there and took it all in, with the bull in sight. I gave him the time he deserved, and I thought about how grateful I was to be able to do this year after year. And just like that, my general elk tag was folded.

He was hit good. He hunched up and stood there, unsure what just happened. I jacked another shell, and took a follow up shot, WHOMP!

Onto October, I started to focus on whitetails. I relocated some cams in certain areas with not much to show for it. As November approached, I didn’t have a target buck to keep my focus. But I did know a field where a pile of whitetail does and bucks had been feeding each morning and evening. The first week of November was COLD! And it snowed over 12 inches on November 11th, So I thought with that weather the deer would be moving a lot more, but it seemed to be opposite.

For the next 13 days during prime time, the weather warmed up a crazy amount, one day getting up to +12.

With all the snow gone and the warm weather it seemed as though the deer weren’t moving. I had the last two weeks of November off, fortunately. So, I did the same thing daily. Glass during the morning and sit during the evening. Every day, I drove to my spot in the AM, walked to a vantage spot with my spotting scope and waited for the sun to rise to glass the field where I had been seeing all the whitetails from earlier in the year. For 7-8 days I noticed different bucks moving in to check out the does.

All ranging from 120’s to 140’s, but I wanted to fold my tag on a mature buck.

November 25th, As the forecast was calling for a big weather change, I was encouraged, thinking this might be what kicks the deer into gear and maybe they’ll really start to move.

The morning of the 25th I stuck to my routine, glassing as the sun came up. As I was panning from left to right, I stopped on a buck with his nose to the ground, but he didn’t stop at all. I couldn’t tell exactly what he had for head gear but didn’t look familiar to any of the other bucks I had seen there. He looked tall but didn’t get a look at width. He chased a doe in the bush 15 minutes after legal light, but I still didn’t get a great look at him. I walked back to the truck and thought about the deer all day. That evening I got into my spot at 2pm, and with the weather change bringing snow and colder weather. I couldn’t help but hope that buck would show up in the evening.

About an hour before last shot, the deer began coming out to feed in the field, does with fawns, and several familiar young bucks.

I sat there in disbelief, thinking I couldn’t believe what just happened. I couldn’t believe it, A monarch of a deer I’ve never even seen before, and he’s mine. I sat there, leaning up against a tree glassing him as he laid there. I sat and watched all the other deer along the tree line slowly relax and come back out. I didn’t get up for 45 minutes, I just sat there trying to compose myself, trying to figure out where that buck had come from. He was a complete surprise. After some time, I got up and walked over to him. I got down and couldn’t believe it. He was an absolute stud, big old body, thick neck. Just an all-around monarch.

My phone died, but luckily had my wrist watch to keep an eye on the time. At 4:40, a lone doe came out of the corner that the tall buck went into that morning. As she made her way into the field, she was constantly looking behind her. I figured she had fawns, or a buck was on her trail. I was 200 yards away, down wind and tucked into the trees slightly.

My phone was dead, so I tagged him and headed for the truck. I got back to the acreage where a few friends were already back and cooking supper. They knew something had happened just by the look on my face as I walked in the door. We put supper on hold, grabbed the camera and headed back to carry him out of the field, field dressed and to take pictures.

I had my glass on her and my eyes started to water as I didn’t want to blink thinking I’d miss something. I saw a deer coming out of the bush behind her, nose to the ground. It’s a buck, A BIG BUCK! Wide and tall!!

This had to be the buck I had seen that morning. The doe made her way out into the field, with the buck on her trail, all stiff legged. Both stopping to feed here and there.

While caping him out the next morning, I couldn’t help but think, “Where the heck did this buck hide all summer, where did he come from?!” I remembered a tall tined buck with long uneven brow tines I had pics of from the 2017 season. With no pictures of him in 2018 or 2019, I completely forgot about him. In the shed season of 2019, I found a 2-3year old shed that could be his from the 2016 year. “Could this be him!? I wondered and I believe it is but can not 100% sure.

I was shaking like crazy but needed to calm myself before taking a shot.

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I had lots of time before last light, so I took a couple minutes to settle down. As I did, they both slowly made their way across from me. Roughly 120 yards, I set my cross hairs on him, I felt steady and comfortable. I squeezed off a round, I heard it hit. He immediately hunched up and stood there as I reloaded. I watched him through my scope as he started to stagger, then fell over.

You’ll never know what will show itself during the Alberta whitetail rut. This buck was a true Alberta Surprise Typical.

I had my glass on her and my eyes started to water as I didn’t want to blink thinking I’d miss something.

ALBERTA BIG HORN HUNTING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES.

By Myles Thorp

As a first-time sheep hunter, I realized pretty quickly that it is not for the faint of heart.

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As a first-time sheep hunter, I realized pretty quickly that it is not for the faint of heart. This led me to start the hunting process in 2014 five years before I actually succeeded in taking a big horn ram. I spent a good chunk of time during the late winter of 2014 using my digital helicopter; google earth. I flew around the Rockies looking for what I thought would be good sheep areas.

My first trip didn’t get me very far I spent several days camping along creek bottoms I was convinced would lead me to the terrain I wanted to hunt, eventually I did find the trail head I was looking for! I kept at it and made return trips in 2015, 2016 and 2017. On those occasions I was joined by my good buddy Ted who shares the same determination and passion as me. We were able to make it further, higher and faster, more efficiently each time we went.

It wasn’t until 2018 that we finally experienced the excitement of seeing a ram.

It was a tough year because of the smoke from forest fires in BC. It was an amazing feeling to actually find one. We decided he wasn’t a shooter even though he was “probably legal”, “probably” wasn’t what we were looking for. That was a tough decision after all the effort it took to get in there, but we were determined only accept a mature ram, we wanted 110% assurance it was going to be ram we could be proud of. We knew it was the right decision to pass and never regretted a single moment of that trip.

By August 2019, Ted and I were the most prepared we have ever been; we knew where we want to be and how to get there. Both of us had been training hard and had achieved a fitness level that we knew was needed for

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what we were about to do. The day came to head into our spot and at four am we were on the road. Sheep season was opening in two days and our strategy was to get into position, be mobile and locate rams. A simple plan, stay high glass low concentrating on the tree lines.

On the first day we made it to wolverine camp which we found in 2017. This spot has a great vantage point overlooking a lot of ground. Once camp was set up, we started glassing. Later that evening, we spotted a bunch of ewes and younger rams.

As we retreated back to the tent at last light a conversation I had with a good friend and sheep hunter Tyrel Gilbert came to mind. We had been talking about strategies and what to do if you are only seeing ewes and immature rams. Tyler had said, “The rams are there you just have to find them”. With this going through my head I was even more determined to keep looking.

The next morning, we were up before daylight and glassed all morning with same the result, more ewes and immature rams. So, we packed up and started side hilling into a new area. We took our time, stopping to glass whenever we had a good view. Staying above tree line as much as possible our pace would slow right down as we entered scattered trees and shrubs. There was a lot of sheep sign which increased the chance of a close-up encounter, we were on red alert. Adding to our stress level was the fact that water was becoming an issue. Every drainage we crossed was dry and we were running out of water. Not wanting to give up the high ground we pushed on hoping to find a stream.

Then we got lucky, as we scaled the base of some cliffs there it was water coming out of the rock face. Using our tarp, we were able to make a funnel and fill all our water bottles. What a relief, now we could stay with our strategy to stay high.

Tomorrow was opening day and we hadn’t found rams. It was getting well into the afternoon when we decided to set up camp on top of a shelf right on the edge of the trees.

The shelf was shaped like a finger protruding from a series of cliffs with peaks above. There wasn’t a lot of room for the tent but it had a really good vantage point about 100 meters above us. We climbed up to it and nestled in for the evening. Fifteen minutes later my heart jumped into my throat and for a second, I couldn’t breathe, there they were RAMS. Five years scouting and searching all came together in this instant with three legal and a fourth a squeaker. Total shock and relief to realize that with hard work and persistence the opportunity of a life time was getting even closer. Now to get it done and not spook them.

The strategy was paying off the rams had fed out of the trees onto an open slope with plenty of grass about 700 yards out. The slope was at the opening of a bowl-shaped area and we were at the top of it. The sheep grazed across the slope dropping behind a ridge and appearing again on the next getting further away with each passing moment. As the evening passed into darkness, we spotted them for the last time on a ridge about 1,800 yards out. While we watched them, we located a spot that would give us a good chance at them we just had to get there tomorrow and hope they stayed close. We put them to bed for the night with names. We did not want to get confused when the big decisions were being made about what ram to take.

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Not wanting to give up the high ground we pushed on hoping to find a stream.

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It was a short scramble down to the tent for a restless night. Ted and I went over every possible scenario we could think of. Well sure enough, the next morning we ended up in a scenario that we never thought of. We packed light only taking the essentials for a long day and possibly a night on the mountain. When there was enough light to start moving, we crept into the bowl and up the first ridge. Legs burning and lungs screaming we slowly crested each ridge with binoculars ready.

So far, no sheep, creeping up to the bottom of the ridge where we saw them at dark last night our anticipation was growing. We eased our way up the ridge staying low so we didn’t silhouette in the growing daylight.

There was a cluster of rocks we could get behind so we aimed for that spot. We took off our packs and I set mine up for a rest if a shot was presented. We still didn’t know if the sheep had cooperated and stayed

in the area we eased around the rocks for a look. At first look they were not in the open so, where are they? After what seemed a long time but was maybe ten minutes Ted, whispers, “In the cliffs”. Not what we had expected, they came in over the top not along the grassy areas according to last night’s speculations.

There they were three rams one them beautifully silhouetted in the morning sky.

A quick study with the binoculars revealed two with heavy bases, one of which had a budted off horn!. They were moving slowly and we could see they were going to drop behind a depression and be out of sight. If they kept moving in that direction, they would pass through a few spots that may present a shot. Using the range finder there was a grassy out crop at about 294 yards below them and they were moving towards it. With mounting excitement as they eased out of sight, I set up focusing on the spot they were moving towards. Ted was getting the spotting scope in position while I set up my rifle and pack. Just as we hoped they appeared in single file. The ram with the broken horn was there and the other had big bases and looked legal.

They were angling toward us which added to the tension all we needed was for them turn and profile their horns. When they reached the outcrop, I had ranged a few minutes ago we got the profile we needed.

As the first ram stepped into the open, I could see he was 110% legal, I whispered “I got the leader 110% legal”. Ted knew I was waiting for his confirmation, he whispered back, “lead Ram..110% legal”. I replied, “I’m going to kill the one on the left, let’s do this”.

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Time stood still and my heart was about to reveal our location because the mountain was shaking under the pounding. In my head I am screaming calm down, pause breathing and squeeze. I had complete confidence in my gun all I had to do was steady it and squeeze the trigger, the .300 WinMag barked and a hard smaacckk!!....and the ram dropped like a stone.

With no time to waste the double header was in play so we scrambled to change places me on the scope and Ted on the .300. We knew the youngest ram was a non-shooter but the ram with the heavy bases and busted horn was a very good possibility. He was in the lead with the young ram right behind him we studied him hard for the confirmation that he was 110% legal but he would not present the profile to confirm it. We had to watch him lead the other ram up the cliff they had just descended and out of sight.

What a morning! I had just shot my first ram and we nearly had a double header. It was surreal as we walked over to put our hands on the ram. Five years of hard work came together on this mountain on this morning, we soaked in the moment. Our celebration was a short one but an elated one. While glassing last night we had spotted two grizzlies feeding a few hundred yards below this spot. We were pretty sure they would smell the kill and soon be looking for a free meal. We worked fast and loaded our packs. With over a hundred-pound packs we started side-hilling our way back to the tent to pack up the rest of our gear and start the long hike out. About an hour into the trip it started to rain. It was tough going and getting late in the day but we knew any distance we left untraversed today would mean we would have to do it tomorrow, so we pressed on. That night in camp we were wet, cold, sore and loving every minute of the experience. We enjoyed a whiskey night cap around the fire and relived the day. We soon gave into exhaustion and crashed into our sleeping bags knowing there would be a return trip in 2020 with high hopes of Ted’s first ram.

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MY FIRST BULL ELK

By Nick Heusser

October 1st, a date on the calendar I always dreaded.

On this day each year, I would lose my friends for a whole month‌to freaking hunting season.

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October 1st, a date on the calendar I always dreaded.

On this day each year, I would lose my friends for a whole month…to freaking hunting season. I hated it!

Long chilly lonesome days watching never ending reruns of Cops, hoping my friends would tag out quickly so that things could return to normal. On top of it all, my home health nurse would have to come and get me up at 5 am instead of 8 just so he didn’t miss prime time for morning hunts. This made long days feel even longer. I hated that I was stuck at home while my friends were out chasing 6-point elk or 30 inch bucks that they had scouted all summer. They got to spend their fall mornings surrounded by the beauty of the mountains, filling their lungs with cool crisp air, and doing what they loved. They were building friendships and making memories that would last a lifetime.

And I… well I became very familiar with Cops.

It’s not that I hated hunting. I hated that I couldn’t hunt.

In fact, I had always been fascinated by the idea of hunting. As a kid, I admired when my Grandpa, Cousin, and Uncles would bring home their October harvests. I enjoyed listening to their stories and eagerly anticipated sneaking pieces of jerky from their stash. I loved going into sporting stores and looking at all the trophy mounts and wished I had the same on my wall. My problem with hunting was I knew it wasn’t in the cards for me.

You see, I was born with a super rare neurological disorder known as Dejerine Sottas, which greatly affects my physical body. As I get older, my body gets weaker. Perhaps you may know someone with Muscular Dystrophy; well these diseases are comparable.

Due to the lack of strength, I can’t lift more than two pounds, and I have no use of my fingers as my hands are frozen in a fist position. I am confined to an electric

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wheelchair and have a rod in my back to keep me sitting upright. All of these things, and more, make it impossible for me to hold up a gun, let alone pull the trigger. So I figured I would just spend the rest of my life cursing October.

Several years back I received a knock on my bedroom door, it was my new home health nurse, Josh Yardley.

The previous nurse was a great guy but I wasn’t going to miss those 5 am October wake up calls. But guess what? The new dudes a hunter too, whatever. We spent many mornings talking about sports, chicks, life etc. However, the majority of the time we would end up talking about hunting. One day while showing Josh a 4-point drop antler that my Grandfather had found, I shared a dream of mine with him. I told him how I would love to have some trophies on my wall for everyone to see, especially a bull elk. His response was simple, “Let’s do it. I think we could get you on a nice buck. An elk on the other hand, that may be a little tricky”. He said, “We could build you a gun mount that could hold your gun up and allow you to shoot and go from there.” I was all for it but still had many doubts that it was possible.

We spent the next week or so discussing my physical challenges and began brainstorming how to overcome those challenges.

We knew we had to create a contraption that would attach to my wheelchair and would hold my gun up and we knew we had to figure out a way for me to pull the trigger. Josh told me he knew just the guy who had access to a shop and who would love to help us, his longtime friend, Jonny Dietrich. Josh contacted Jonny and without hesitation Jonny was all for helping

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us out. With the newest member of our team on board we drew up some blueprints and brought this creation to life. Now it was time to put it to the test.

Considering that I was unable to shoot, I didn’t own a gun and wasn’t in any big rush to purchase one until I knew I would be able to shoot. Jonny told me he had the perfect gun that is super accurate that has very little kick and would be perfect to test out. The next day, Jonny Showed up with his trusty .243 in hand and said, “Let’s put this thing to the test. We strapped on my mount, stuck the gun on, and quickly realized that I could not get close enough to the scope due to my limited mobility. Without hesitation, Jonny said, “we are going to have to cut the stock to get you closer to the scope.” We argued back- and-forth for a few minutes about this idea. I pleaded with him that cutting the stock off of his gun was not an option.

Especially with so many other uncertainties that lied ahead. I lost that argument. The next thing I know Jonny was taking a saw to his gun. (Now, throughout the story you will read about me overcoming some challenges but if you want to talk about doing something hard, try taking a saw to your gun.) We then strapped the newly modified .243 back on the gun mount and I again attempted to look through the scope. This time was a success and boy was the sight through that thing beautiful.

With our gun mount fully assembled, it was finally time for me to shoot.

We hung balloons from a tree about 100 yards away as targets and Josh told me to whack one. We loaded a single .243 bullet and I stared down the scope trying to get a balloon in my crosshairs. I would turn my chair back and forth and tilt up and down but, as you could imagine, it would throw me way off target. We decided

it would be best if I got on the target the best I could and had Josh kneel beside me and pull my chair with subtle movements in the direction I instructed. I again lined up a balloon the best I could and told Josh which way I needed to go. “little left, up a little, left a little more, right there right there!” I pulled back on the drum stick (which I use to pull the trigger by sticking each end in my hands and pulling back) and let one fly.

All the balloons were still there, so we tried again and then again over and over, never hitting one balloon.

Turns out I was a horrible shot, but I didn’t care because for the first time in my life, I was shooting a gun. That in itself was a huge accomplishment.

We spent a lot of that summer target shooting and preparing for the upcoming deer season. I got to where I was able to shoot a fairly good group from 200 yards and was able to get on my target relatively quick. I felt confident enough that if I were able to get a deer within range, I would be able to make a kill shot.

We were ready to take on our next hurdle, finding a location that I could get my wheelchair to that had bucks. We decided easily accessible private property would be our best option for a successful hunt. I knew just the guys who had the type of property we were seeking, a local farmer Todd Workman and my longtime friend Justin Perry. After asking Todd and Justin to hunt their properties both were happy and willing to do whatever they could to help. We now had all the tools needed; it was now time to hunt.

My attitude toward October quickly changed from lonesomeness and envy to excitement and joy. Instead of watching my buddies head off to deer camp for the week I was gearing up in camo and heading out myself carrying the same eagerness and excitement upon

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Justin told me he would love to get me an elk and felt he would be able to call one in close enough for me to shoot my shoulders that they did. Over the next three years I was able to harvest five animals, two turkeys and three bucks. One of those bucks being a 4 point that I deemed a trophy and mounted it on my wall. I had now accomplished a big part of my goal and had the confidence in my hunting ability that maybe getting a bull elk wasn’t so farfetched.

We decided we were going to give it a try. We began discussing what our best chance at getting a bull elk was and felt archery season, with a crossbow, would be best given the fact that rutting bulls can be called in. Turns out Justin’s property is also great elk country where elk often rut. Justin told me he would love to get me an elk and felt he would be able to call one in close enough for me to shoot. Boy was he right! Over a two year span Justin called screaming bulls within a range I wasn’t sure my heart could handle. At one point I had a bull that probably would score well over 300 staring me down from 40 yards. However, being that close to such a smart animal while in a wheelchair made things a bit harder. I have to move my chair around too much to dial in a good shot without scarring it. So I decided to start putting in for early rifle season hunts where the elk are often still rutting.

Guess what? I drew out.

Opening day for the early riffle hunt, we felt it was best to get to our spot plenty early so that the noise of my wheelchair didn’t spook the elk as we came in.

My Dad, Josh and I set up next to a couple of trees in the middle of a field where we had a 360 view of wear the elk may come out of the trees. Johnny was set up on the other side of a hill glassing and hoping to radio us with good news of elk coming our way. My brother and cousins were off another direction doing

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the same. Josh was knelt beside me still strapping my gun on when we heard what sounded like cow elk chirps. We both froze in our tracks in disbelief. Josh quickly pulled out his binocular‘s and glassed in the direction of the chirps. With Josh’s eagle like eyesight, he confirmed what we thought we heard, three cow elk walking along the hillside. We were dumbfounded. It was way too early for action. Within seconds, a bugle sounded out filling our ears with the greatest sound on earth. I couldn’t believe it! I thought to myself, this is really happening.

My nerves quickly over took me. My heart began thumping like a phonebook in a washing machine.

Josh located the bull first and shakenly whispered “Nick get ready, there he is”.

I was having a hard time finding the bull in my scope so Josh zoomed the scope out and I kept driving back-and-forth until I had the elk in sight. Then it happened, I captured the bull in my scope and he was everything I had ever hoped for. Josh rezoomed my scope back in and I nervously followed every step that elk made. He was moving at a fairly slow pace but quickly enough it was hard for me to place a good shot.

He was headed after the three cows that were near the top of the hillside getting ready to disappear to the other side.

Every time I got into position to make a shot, he would disappear behind the thick maples getting closer and closer to the top of the hill and out of sight. I felt my chances dwindling away. Josh, with desperation in his voice told me to position toward the only clearing left between the bull and the hilltop. Everything we had worked so hard for came down to that bull elk walking through that opening and stopping long enough for me to put on a good shot. He appeared again from behind the maples into the clearing and Josh let out a chirp that stopped the bull in his tracks. For that moment, it was as if life was put in slow motion.

Calm overcame me and I knew this was my chance to fulfill what we had all wanted so badly to happen.

“Little left, little up, left again, right there right there”, I said. Josh held as steady as possible like we had practiced 100 times before.

I pulled back on my drumstick and fired a shot from my Rugger 6.5 creedmore, loaded with confidence, hard work, desperation, and hope. The shot rang out making a deafening sound but nothing more.

The bull elk was still standing there as if nothing happened. I told Josh, “I missed, put another bullet in”. He did, and to my surprise, the bull was still standing there. So I let another fly, same outcome.

I told Josh to load me another bullet and he panicly searched for one and quickly realized we didn’t have another bullet.

03*(*/"-

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“I think I did it, I think I shot my elk” We both sat there with the most helpless, disheartening feeling you could imagine. I peered through my scope at my dream elk still standing there as Josh desperately searched for a bullet that didn’t exist.

Right then, that bull elk collapsed to the ground and didn’t get back up! I said to Josh, “I think I did it, I think I shot my elk”. Josh stopped searching for the mythical bullet and took a look through his binos at the elk. He quickly turned toward me with his hands on his head as he ripped off his hat and said with the most excited voice a person could have, “You got it you freaking got it!!” Turns out both of my shots connected and both well placed. My Dad, Josh and I celebrated as if I had hit a World Series walk off homerun.

Josh wanted to gather the rest of the crew so they could come celebrate the moment with us. So he took off on a dead sprint fueled by pure excitement and joy. My Dad began gathering equipment and hiking it toward the road. I was left alone and had a few moments to soak in what had just happened. I peered to the sky with tear filled eyes and thanked the lord for that moment, for great friends and family and for a moment I will never forget.

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THE SASK MULE DEER

By Nolan Sawka

I knew I just accomplished my very first big game animal with a traditional bow and was the biggest buck I have ever killed.

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Saturday, September 21, 2019 was the morning of, what would be, one of my most exhilarating days, even though it started like most other hunting days.

My girlfriend Sarah, who I might add is new to hunting, and I started our morning off much later than we had anticipated the night before. Rushing out of the house, we set off towards ‘destination unknown’.

We were slowly making our way through the prairie backroads, clouded with rolling hills of wheat, deciding to stop periodically to glass and pick apart hillsides and sloughs. It wasn’t too long till we stopped and looked at a massive slough and I said, “I bet there are bucks in that mess, we would never get them though!”

Sitting in the driver’s seat of my truck, I turned to my left side and noticed an oddity out in the crop. I spotted it about a mile and a half out in the saddle on two rolling hills. As in many other hunts, my immediate thought is always, “It’s a giant buck!” and then

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discover I’ve only spotted a deer. Instinctively, my binoculars went up and focused.

I realized then, that it actually was a giant buck!

I knew right away he had spotted my truck, so I began to slowly back my truck up behind a hill big enough to hide behind. I started to gather my gear together and decided what I would need to take had to be very minimal, anticipating for what I knew was going to be a long, painful stalk. Needless to say, Sarah and I are excited as we get ready to head out. She quickly turns towards me and questions if she should stay near the truck; finding her answer from the look on my face most likely.

As in many other hunts, my immediate thought is always, “It’s a giant buck!” and then discover I’ve only spotted a deer. Instinctively, my binoculars went up and focused. I realized then, that it actually was a giant buck!

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I snatched my longbow and headed off, picking my way through the maze of tangled and wet wheat, trying to find the path of least resistance. I made my way up to the gradual base of the hill and tucked under the crop onto my stomach. Slowly and painfully, I pushed my bow in front of me, trying to keep it from tangling.

Calmly, I inched my body up with my elbows and toes to a position where I thought I would be able to cautiously emerge from the crop without being detected. I also needed to be in a position of well within the danger zone for an unsuspecting muley buck. As I played the scenario out in my head beforehand, I finally reached my target spot. I gradually poked my head above the overgrowth of the crop, surprised to see absolutely nothing but more golden wheat and no giant muley buck. Astonished, I gazed back towards the road from where I first spotted the buck and

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tried to reassess exactly where he was. I then suddenly realized that I was an entire hillside too close.

I swiftly gained my footing and retreated to the next hillside about midway up and tucked under my canopy cover. My stalk began again as I advanced to the top of the hill and my eyes set on what I only saw minutes ago.

There standing was a big, clean, 4x4 buck about 70 yards away slowly but steadily feeding his way up the next hillside.

Suddenly appeared a large, gnarly, non-typical buck. I knew this hunt had only just begun and was now a completely different game than I had anticipated.

In an instant movement caught my eye just below in a small spot of slough grass.

Suddenly appeared a large, gnarly, non-typical buck. I knew this hunt had only just begun and was now a completely different game than I had anticipated. I watched them feed up and crest overtop of the hillside while the sun lit up the sky from the morning horizon and the golden wheat encircled them; a view right out of a painting. I let them disappear over the peak and I gradually made my way up that hill after them.

I once again emerged from the crop to see them below, feeding next to a big slough of cattails and reeds. I had a feeling that with the rising sun they would be bedding down soon.

I watched as they did exactly that and seemed to entirely disappear as if they vanished with the wind. I knew this was my opportunity and I had to make it count. I crawled up to the edge of the long slough grass from where I saw them bed, which was 150 yards or so. Keep in mind I’ve probably crawled close to a mile or so by now. I was completely covered in mud and thorns, having to remind myself to not rush and that I got this. With a good idea of where they bedded, and keeping the wind in my face, I would only move when it blew and shuttered the crop around me to avoid alerting them. I paced myself to a location where

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I knew I was very close; closer than I have ever been to what I knew were giant bucks. I calmly came up with an arrow knocked, my three fingers under my arrow on the string.

I was set up and ready, but shaking so badly I started to doubt myself making any decent shot.

Rising on my knees, I looked and saw nothing.

The bucks were not where I thought they had bedded. As soon as I realized this, my left eye caught a tall 4x4 rack turn and face directly at me. I thought I was busted and I had now or never to not be picky and shoot the first deer that provided the opportunity. I simultaneously stood up as he was about to stand and I hit full draw hit my anchor point. I let my 150gr stinger broadhead fly with authority out of my 60lb longbow. Before I knew it, my arrow was already at the deer and that’s when I saw it sail an inch right over the top of his back.

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That was it. I knew I just accomplished my very first big game animal with a traditional bow and was the biggest buck I have ever killed.

My heart sank, I had him and it was already over in my mind. Just as I was about to catch my breath, he busted out of the slough like a freight train. All I could see was that big non-typical come out of the slough and then about 15 feet to my left. As all this was happening, I knocked another arrow. I don’t know if it was instinctive or not, but in one fluid motion of knocking the arrow and watching this buck, I whistled and for whatever reason, it worked. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned almost directly towards me with a slight quarter to me.

I knew he was still within my kill zone and before I knew it my arrow left my bow on a direct path, disappearing right into his chest.

For some reason, this was the calmest I had been the entire stalk from start to finish and I knew I had just killed the biggest buck I’ve laid eyes on!

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He ran over the hillside and disappeared.

That’s when I started shaking uncontrollably trying to get my phone out to text Sarah, who had been sitting patiently in the truck which was about two hours at this point. I walked up over the hillside to find the start of the blood trail, unbeknownst to me there was a pond on the other side where he had gone down into and was up to his knees just standing in the water. I was a little taken aback by this sight and didn’t know what was going on or how to approach the situation. So, I sat down and watched as his knees got wobbly and eventually tipped over in the water.

That was it. I knew I just accomplished my very first big game animal with a traditional bow and was the biggest buck I have ever killed. I got to the water where I could only think, “Man, he got the last laugh dying out in this pond.” Off go the boots, hiked up the pants and in I go. Once I got my hand on him and pulled him to shore, I finally got an up-close look. That’s when the excitement and emotions took over. I couldn’t believe it, I just sat and looked over him. Sarah had finally made it over to where I was and jumped into my arms, congratulating me with hugs and kisses. I couldn’t have asked for a better day, outcome, or person to share my first trad archery buck with. That was a good day.

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SOUTHERN ALBERTA DREAMS

By Stephani Harriman

Ever since joining my boyfriend on his 2016 Mule Deer hunt, I just couldn’t wait to pull a tag of my own to hunt the southern badlands country in Alberta for big mule deer.

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Ever since joining my boyfriend on his 2016 Mule Deer hunt, I just couldn’t wait to pull a tag of my own to hunt the southern badlands country in Alberta for big mule deer. Finally, in 2019, I was able to pull it and start planning my hunt.

The day we were to leave was a nasty one, windy, cold and snowing hard. Roads were terrible, with ice the whole way, which made for a long trip, driving less than 60 km/hr most of the way. I will admit that on the way down, I started to wonder if this was all worth literally risking our lives for. Upon arriving at our destination, it was so late we just threw our stuff in the hotel room and hit the sack. 5:30am was going to come sooner then later. I couldn’t sleep all night, tossing and turning, because I figured that my boyfriend Ben probably forgot to set his alarm. 5:27am came around and I just couldn’t take it any longer, I woke him up and we began to get ready for the long-awaited opening morning hunt.

Finally, arriving to our hunting destination, we geared up and set out from the truck. It was a very brisk -22C, not counting the wind chill. It wasn’t long into the sandhills when we spotted our first deer. It was three does, making their way off the crop land into the hills.

We were not too sure if the rut was under way, so we watched them closely, and soon enough four more does joined them with one mediocre buck that we weren’t very interested in.

Continuing through the sandhills we spotted a small 3x3 buck with a few small does.

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He was the biggest fork horn we had ever seen, probably a 180” frame but with only 2 scorable tines on each side

It was a good sign and at least the deer were plentiful!

While watching these small deer we noticed a great big dark chocolate coloured buck slowly making his way along the bottom of some hills, on his tail was a lighter coloured buck that we just figured was a small young buck, they were too far away to determine antler size but they were definitely worth investigating, and we just had to get a better look. Away we went, staying out of sight and smell we carefully made our way into these boy’s kitchen. Every so slowly peeking over top of the hill to where we had last seen the two bucks, there he was, the giant chocolate caped mule deer we had seen from over 600 yards away, was now only 200 yards away and we were able to closely study his head gear.

His massive body definitely didn’t compliment his head gear! He was the biggest fork horn we had ever seen, probably a 180” frame but with only 2 scorable tines on each side, he was going to get the pass from us.

Now we were wondering where his cohort ventured off too. Soon enough, he too made an appearance just behind the dark buck. Much to our surprise, the light tan coloured buck had a very impressive set of head

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gear! Carefully studying each tine on him, it really didn’t take long to decide that my five year tag was more then worthy of getting folded on him. Carefully taking my time, retracting the bipod out, getting nestled in and chambering a round into the 7mm-08 rem., I got ready for the shot. Just as I was getting ready to make my shot, a coyote came trotting over to the deer and spooked them both off! Over the next hill they went with their new coyote friend on their tail.

Shaking our heads we quickly got up and scurried over to the hill they went over, with the wind still in our favor, we were hoping they weren’t to far away.

We quickly made our way to the hill they had disappeared behind, and just as we were about to crest the hill they went over, Ben spotted the giant rack skylined only 100 yards away. Dropping down, I got the bipod back out and chambered another round.

Slowly inching our way closer, it felt like miles to try and get to where I could shoot off the bipod and see the buck with all the tall shrubbery. Slowly belly crawling and sliding the gun along, the buck finally looked at us, now only 80 yards away, we laid motionless. Soon he looked away again, as if he was more interested in something else in front of him. I slowly sat up and looked through the scope. I could only see his head and some of his neck. Ben said, “shoot him in the neck, its all ya got” With all the shooting I did all summer long I was more then confident in the 80-yard shot. Time seemed to stop, and I just slightly squeezed the ever so familiar trigger. I felt it break and BOOM. After the recoil settled, I saw nothing. Ben said, “Awesome shot, you got him!”

The feeling of accomplishment and excitement overwhelmed me, what a gorgeous buck.

I was excited as I got up and rushed over to ensure I had made an ethical, clean shot, there he was, right where I had shot him, laying there stone dead! The antlers seemed to have grown! The feeling of accomplishment and excitement overwhelmed me, what a gorgeous buck.

As we were knelt beside the fallen buck, we noticed what had bit us earlier on and what probably had distracted the buck long enough for us to get a shot at him, the coyote! He came loping across a neighboring

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hill side about 250 yards away and stopped broadside.

I quickly grabbed the rifle once again and steadied the crosshairs on his shoulder. BOOM! Coyote down! Not only did I shoot a mule deer of a lifetime, but I was also able to kill my very first coyote as well. A day I will surely never forget. I can’t thank my boyfriend Ben Jameson enough for all the hard work, time off, map studying and guiding to help me find and harvest my first mule deer.

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