Big Game Illustrated - Issue 14

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ILLUSTRATED

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BIG GAME

06

ILLUSTRATED Volume 4 Issue 2 | Fall Edition 2016

16

In This Issue...

6

Family First by Darryl Wolfe

12 My Lucky Spot by Braden Koster 16 Ultimate Low to Ultimate High by Jason Carstairs 20 The Great Chase by KC Donahue 20

26 The Old River Bottom Buck 30

by Landon Douville

Great Beginning by Matt Primrose

34 Stickers by Brandon Vonk 38 My Story by Taylor Johnson 34

42 Something Special by Trevor Carruthers 48

Worth the Wait by Justin Ongaro

52 Lucky No. 7 by Chris Maxwell 60

Dream Season by Joel Mack

70 Back to Back Jumbos by Jordan Wittman 48

80

Dreams Do Come True by Jody Schmidt

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Read more on Saskatchewan’s highest scoring buck since 2012 on page 6!

FEATURES...

25 The Forgotten Predator

by Chad Wilkinson

68

People have an integral part of the natural world in North America for thousands of years and are now more important than ever in keeping the balance.

78 Campfire Chronicles

by Chris Maxwell

Many hunters plan their hunt all year.

Managing time for it should be a critical part of any hunt, in order to ensure you can spend as much of your time as possible actually hunting!

Time Well Spent

by Kaare Gunderson Spending time doing what you love, whatever that is, should always be a priority and sharing it with family makes it that much more special.

80

The Future of Hunting Dedicated to all the young hunters.

Darryl Wolfe with Saskatchewan’s top scoring whitetail since 2012! Darryl, from Regina, Saskatchewan is an avid hunter and an avid shed hunter. After a heartbreaking ending to his 2015 season, it would have been easy for him to give up, but it motivated him to work even harder at what he loves, and the results speak for themselves. In the spring of 2016, while shed hunting, Darryl picked up one of the greatest whitetails in Saskatchewan history! The total inches of abnormal points from Darryl’s buck came in at a staggering 116 2/8” which is the most ever on a whitetail from a Saskatchewan and, according to the Boone and Crockett records, the 8th most all time in the world! The buck has been officially scored for Boone and Crockett and the Saskatchewan record book but has not yet been entered or accepted. The gross score for Boone and Crockett was 256 2/8” with a net score of 229 7/8”, while the net score for the Saskatchewan record books is 239 7/8”. The rack is extremely challenging to score and truly one in a million.

FAMILY FIRST BY: DARRYL WOLFE

“My father, brothers and uncles always believed that the time spent together during our hunting trips was what mattered most....

I

spent most of my childhood afraid of the monsters under my bed and in my closet. I guess you could say I have some latent issues with monsters. It's funny how things play out when we grow up. I suppose the same can be said for some of those monster bucks we all dream about, you never know what some will grow up to be. Little did I know I would end up hunting them the majority of my adult life which led me to not necessarily the highest scoring, but the most non-typical deer Saskatchewan has ever seen! In my childhood, hunting always played an integral part of my family's life. Hunting has always been a family affair for us and a healthy dose of hunger always kept us searching. It fed all seven siblings and both of my parents in our modest two bedroom farm house. Learning a healthy respect for these magnificent creatures started by getting up a couple hours before sunset every day, to find something to fill the freezer and our tags. It was rather common place during that special time of year to find ourselves around the fireplace telling tales of how the big one was spotted just over the hill, but had eluded us once again. My father, brothers and uncles always believed that the time spent together during our hunting trips was what mattered most. It was lessons like these that I learned during that time that would form who I became as a hunter. Learning to focus not only on the deer, but on the blessing of a great family hunt.

As time progressed the fundamentals stayed the same. I got older and continued to follow the stories of how some of these larger bucks were taken. I realized there were patterns in how these monster deer were harvested. Paying close attention to how these lucky hunters would find, stalk, and kill their target.

The antlers that adorned our quarry started to consume my thoughts when in the bush. Applying these tactics had started to produce larger bucks for me and I knew I was onto something worth following. I was hooked! I would always joke with my wife about how many miles I would put on that day before

Trail camera pictures of the buck Darryl was after. He was eventually taken by another hunter.

I found something of interest. It's true what they say, "It’s just a matter of miles before you find what you're looking for". I call it a law of probability. I mean, it's only a matter of time if you're in the right area before you find the right one. Justification, I suppose for the amount of time spent out. Getting into shed hunting and stewarding deer year round added another large learning curve for me, which would provide a huge amount of information.

Fast forward to the season of 2013. As things progressed with the harshest winter Saskatchewan had seen in almost 60, I started to become interested in a new area for me. It had the strong and unmistakable odor of sulphur. Sounds strange but it really drew me in. I'm sure it had done so with countless other hunters and whitetail before. Offering them an open water spring, which couldn't fully freeze and was chocked full of rich minerals. But it was posted. NO HUNTING! NO TRESPASSING! There had to be a whitetail in there, with an odor like that they wouldn't be able to stay away! So with a quick trip to the town office I found out who the land owner was and promptly asked for exclusive permission to steward the herds in this area. "Permission granted" are some of the most beautiful words a hunter can hear. Knowing the previous two winters had killed a lot of deer, I was still hoping that something strong had survived. So with a ton of evening scouts in mid spring and having spied a few potentials, I was set to start in that area. Because I didn't want to disturb such a fantastic area, I left the majority of my scouting to trail cameras for the rest of the season. I focused most of my time in a separate area which was also producing some quality whitetails. It wasn't until the year after that my eyes were treated to a sight that every hunter dreams about, a three and a half year old 200+ inch whitetail in the area! A real gut instinct moment. Turns out that one of the "potentials" had some serious potential! Needless to say,

this buck became my obsession. With a few sightings, close to a thousand trail cam photos, close encounters, and knowing it was a world class deer, I obsessed over this animal. As a lot of you know, hunting these 200 inchers is a total different ball game. Some may go so far as to say they’re a different species of whitetail altogether and it certainly proved to be just as difficult as I expected. Having a few hiccups in the area, including losing a camera in the area to a trespasser was fairly disheartening, but I didn’t let it discourage me for too long. I started to get more and more photos of this beast of a whitetail on cameras close by. Sadly the season came and went. I wasn’t presented with a single decent opportunity to harvest the animal that I had poured so much time and effort into.

As the New Year came, another year of hopes and dreams filled my head. I continued to supplement the area with the salts, minerals, and feeds provided to me by my good friends Stephan and Mike at Monette outdoors. I was rewarded with a few hundred more photos of the big guy as he came in on a regular basis for his routine feedings. As the 2014/15 winter proved, the herds were treated very well and continued to shed their antlers late into early spring. I knew that seeing more twins and triplets than the previous years was a really good indicator of how healthy these herds were becoming. It kept kept me optimistic that this season was going to be different.

Constantly updating my brothers and buddies on the latest news of this buck and the phenomenal location we called the "honey hole". I checked the cameras religiously. Every single Sunday and sometimes on a Tuesday or Wednesday, until I finally spied a few photos with him without his head gear. That same day I scoured the area with my dog Louie until I found the set literally lying on top of each other just inside a small bluff with skidoo tracks all around. “Maybe the trespasser was after the same deer?” I thought. It didn't matter at that point, as I had a smoking hot set of sheds that would have made that fool drool! That shedding season I had put well over 200 miles on my boots looking for the best of the best. Racking up my numbers, including a really nice match set of a 175 inch 6x6 which happened to be one of the big guy's area buddies. Nothing that season would come even close to outscoring that set at 202 inches with a 24 inch inside spread (and that didn't include an 8 inch broken tine!). That summer the big guy had put on an incredible 216 inches of bone which didn't include the same 8-9 inch tine which he had broken off again! Not having a single daytime photo of him during bow season, but many of his 175 inch 6X6 buddy which my brother would later anchor, I chose to stay away from this area until he was ready to start showing up during legal light. The area he was located in had a single quarter section of wheat which hadn't been harvested yet. It wasn't until it was, that he started to move around and show up during midday hours. With him continuing to show up during daylight and having to wait until November twentieth to hunt, it was a wait that seemed to drag on forever.

That year, my brothers entered the draw and were all drawn due to a "family first" draw system used that season. Hunting him that late fall proved to be one of the most challenging and disappointing moments that I have ever had. Not only had he

patterned me within the first two days of hunting him, but I wouldn't get a single shot off on him that year. I know hunting has its highs and lows and waiting for that final moment can test anybody’s patience, but I had put so much time and effort into this one animal, that I was sure of my potential success.

With only a few days left of the regular gun season, a truck was driving down an unmaintained provincial road and a shot rang out. About an hour later I heard another shot. It was only 300400 yards from my post in a flax straw pile. I instantly knew what had happened and it crushed me. I felt all of the air leave my body and I knew that the animal I had spent so much time and energy on was gone. The next day I received a photo from a friend that had proved in fact what I had expected. The big guy was killed by another hunter. That was a low I had not expected and a turn of events I hadn't planned for. That was where most hunters may give up completely for the year, but hunting is in my blood and quitting was never an option for me.

On the bright side of things, my brother shot that really nice 6X6, and with shed hunting season just around the corner I still had things to look forward to. This is where things started to get interesting. A few months passed and the 2016 shed hunting season began. I was hot on the trail of a couple up and comers in a few areas I hadn't focused too much effort on in the past, and had been tracking them in hopes of finding their sheds. A really nice double beam, and a heavy set 5x6. Putting a few miles on my boots, I was hoping to find a set from the next "big one". In any given season I'll focus a percentage of my shedding season on new areas. Sometimes paying off with great dividends, sometimes not. For the most part I'll always follow my gut instinct when it comes to new areas. That's one thing I'll always trust when it comes to hunting. I have a firm belief that because hunting is a part of our human nature, I should always pay close attention to what my instincts are telling me. With a half hour drive every day to and from work I had always pass patches of bush that peak my interest. So on my way home from the city one day I decided to check an area that happens to be owned by a family friend. What made me check it out that day was pure gut instinct. I started with pulling off to the side of the road and opening up google maps to

take a bird’s eye view of the land. It had a few key features that have always produced for me, so it was an automatic yes when I asked myself if I had time to check it out.

The past few years had been really wet so the sloughs were substantially higher than normal. It was the previous year that things had started to dry out a bit. Thinking to myself “big deer always have wet feet”, I started to check the areas surrounding dried up sloughs. Sure enough, as I started my trek, I found a three year old white cracked 4 point out in the open which told me that either someone had passed on it or it had been a while since anyone else had shedded in the area. As I diligently scoured the area I came across another 6 pieces. None had any substantial mass, length or tine count, but was still good to know that l was in the right area. With my paws full of bone I headed back to the truck and thought, “One more bush”. Closing the distance to the bush, I felt my “Spidey senses” tingling and the thought of finding this year’s big one entered my head. I entered the bush and was immediately in knee deep slough grass. Not five steps in, I was treated to a beautiful sight. That all too familiar mix of grass and tines. It looked huge.

I thought, “It looks like two dead heads locked in some sort of twisted demise or was it a couple of separate sheds dropped in the same place?”

Pulling my phone out, I knew it was something substantial and I had to get it on video. As I gripped a single point and gave it a light tug the entire mass moved. “Oh my God,” I thought, “This is one piece! What is this thing?!” Like a kid on Christmas morning, I started to unwrap the mass of grass and tines, and with each passing moment more points emerged to produce one of the largest dead heads I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes and hands upon. UNBELIEVABLE! I thought to myself, "This is easily the best find of my life". Drop tines, kickers, stickers, multiple beams, mass and length. This head had everything! Easily 200 inches, HOLY SHED! I couldn't believe the turn of events. From an absolute

worst nightmare of a season, to a dream come true! I immediately gave my brothers and buddies a call letting them know what had just happened.

Not only were they ecstatic for me, they gave me some great advice. "All things come full circle" was their words that made me crack a smile. The next phone call on the list was to the D.N.R. I phoned and asked what to do in this case and they advised me to apply for a permit to mount and retain. I submitted the video for inspection and gave them photos to let them know exactly what happened. Permit granted! Unfortunately I didn't have any history on this legend of a find, but felt amazingly blessed to be able to play such a role in the life cycle of this deer, even after its death. As unfortunate as it was, I believe it was the winter of 2012-13 that claimed this deer and many other's lives. It had obviously been sitting in the water for a few years until it receded and left a really cool green line on the tines. It appeared to have remained relatively undisturbed, as there was only a tiny piece of one of the left beams chewed.

In the following weeks I brought it in to have it scored by an

official scorer for the Saskatchewan record books, but it being such a complex rack I was told that it had to be looked at by a few people. Rough estimates were over 250 inches!

Waiting about a week with ants in my pants, I finally got the phone call. Score time! Officially, it came in with a gross score of 247 7/8” and netting 239 7/8”. This placed it as the 17th highest scoring whitetail in Saskatchewan record books. The gross score for Boone and Crockett was 256 2/8”. This is where this buck shines and really stands out, having 116 2/8” of non-typical points puts this buck at the very top of the list in Saskatchewan for having the most inches of non-typical points ever recorded in Saskatchewan history and 8th most in the world according to Boone and Crocket records, although it still has to be officially entered and the process followed for Boone and Crocket entry. Unbelievable!

I still shake my head and wonder, "How was I this lucky"? This buck was what my dreams were made of, and now in hindsight I am so thankful I put in the effort. There were times when I questioned why I pushed so hard for something unknown, but it became rather clear as I pieced my history together, with all the support a guy could ever want from such a great set of friends and family. Thank you so much to all my dearest family and friends who have helped contribute to my passion and most of all to my wonderful wife who supported me through it all and who is now pregnant with twin girls!! Wonder what next year will bring?

Another view of the incredible buck. The left antler is extremely challenging to score, with two beams. Jesse Bergen from Vivid Taxidermy did the amazing taxidermy work on Darryl’s buck.

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Braden Koster of Evansburg, Alberta anchored an Alberta beauty in 2015! His buck had the dark antlers that Alberta is well known for, along with a number of non-typical points giving the buck some unmistakable character. In total, Braden’s buck had 16 4/8” of abnormal points which helped push the gross score up to 182 4/8”. Braden is part of the Bone Yard TV show team which you can follow at www.theboneyardtv.com and on facebook.

BY: BRADEN KOSTER

T

he tale of my lucky spot begins with a 12 year old “know it all hunter”. As a freshman in the hunting world with a fresh hunter training certificate, a youth tag in my pocket and a browning bow I was on a mission to prove that I was a trophy taking superstar. I knew I would have my hands full keeping up to my multi-generational family of successful hunters, who have trophy walls littered with jaw dropping bucks and bulls. A giant whitetail was atop my list and I was quick to learn after many failed stalks and long hours of waiting that it could take a lifetime to harvest a “buck of a lifetime”, if ever!

Fast forward 20 some odd years and here I am still learning. I have had more success and luck than I deserve and I am still consumed with the next season, and the possibility of an encounter with a chocolate horned bruiser, cranker, boonie, hammer, etc. you get the idea. Once you think you have all the answers, a target animal gives you the slip and you are left explaining to your hunting buddies why you are not a complete failure and how you let that monster get away! I’m reminded of some sage advice that I was lucky enough to receive from my grandpa Johnson many years ago. “Hunt the wind, be quiet, find a good spot and don’t tell anybody!” was the ticket to success he’d say, so once I found one I returned there year after year.

It is in fact the spot where I proposed to my wife, where she got her first bull moose and I have had so many exciting and memorable hunts that you don’t want to whisper for fear of disturbing its splendor. For me it is a sacred place and absolutely “the lucky spot”.

This would be my third season filming The Boneyard TV show with only one shooter buck taken on camera and I was

determined to show off my filming and hunting expertise. Any hunter living in Alberta knows the winters of the previous few years, especially 2013 had been brutal in our part of the world and the mature bucks were few and far between, and the pressure was building. After countless hours of swapping camera cards in the Killin’ Kams, sitting in treestands or blinds, miles walked and a near miss with frostbite my 2014 season came and went leaving me to eat tag soup. We saw few bucks and the ones we did see were young and needed a couple years to mature. Those bucks were tempting but, “they will never be 180’s if you keep shooting 150’s” is another piece of good advice I try to follow!

2015 found me right back where I left off. It was the same property, “the lucky spot”. Archery season ended with little action for me. Some of the my ‘BoneHead’ counter parts that go by the names of Calvin and Mitchell had touched the trigger on the Kill’n Stix and harvested a couple of nice whitetail bucks in archery season, which got me jacked up and ready to hunt the November rut. As rifle season approached the Killin’ Kams started to reveal some nice deer

cruising thru my lucky spot. Opening morning found me and my hunting partner/cameraman Dana Baksa tip toeing for a mile in the dark with expectations running high, camera in tow. Skunked was not a word that was in my vocabulary for this season I knew the deer gods would not let me down this year, especially if I hunted every day in November.

I might be divorced and broke, but I was going to get a buck and good one. Day one ended with a few does and a couple young bucks following a common trail 75 yards west of us.

Day two found me solo with the camera in the same spot, same set up as day one but with a few fresh inches of snow on the ground. I was in the blind before first light, quietly anticipating the big one as light filled the sky.

It was a good morning in the blind and I was treated to a nice club horned buck and does all around. I was like a bobble head as deer were crossing all morning, one of those mornings all hunters dream about.

And then it happened!

The moment every hunter lives for, the reason we spend our hard earned rubles on every hot new accessory and weapon. The reason our wives grumble when an early alarm goes off. The opportunity to see a true giant in his element, in all his glory slowly angle towards you with no idea the trap has been set and you are ready. At 75 yards, a 180 class non typical beauty walked past me, unaware and with the camera rolling I squeezed the trigger on the old .360 and the rest is history. It was the very first time I

had ever seen that buck and when he stepped out and turned his head, my heart skipped a beat. A culmination of lessons learned, mistakes made and years of hard work sprinkled with luck equalled the biggest buck of my life. With family, friends and my hunting partner present, I was able to recover a beautiful deer only 50 yards from where he had stood and our paths had crossed at my “lucky spot�.

TO

LOW

ULTIMATE

HIGH BY: JASON CARSTAIRS

T

his story starts in early August of 2014 when my son Ryan and I decided to head out on a little scouting mission for the upcoming hunting season. My plan was to stay close to home and have a good evening out bonding with Ryan, and hope to see a few deer wandering the local fields. We headed east and not far out of town on the edge of a lush green alfalfa field we noticed a single deer standing along the treeline. I could see with the naked eye that it was a respectable mulie buck, so we decided to just sit quietly and admire the beautiful specimen and hope others would join him. He slowly sauntered out into the green hearty field of alfalfa. Soon five more bucks followed suit. One by one we watched intently as they all followed the first buck to the center of the field to feed for the evening. As the last one entered Central Alberta produces some the field my jaw big mule deer, but few bigger than nearly fell to my Jason Carstairs full velvet mon- knees. I couldn’t believe what we ster. The frame on Jason’s buck is were witnessing. nothing short of spectacular, with This buck was an a greatest spread of 30” even. Al- absolute giant, though it has a number of sticker he was one of the points and uneven fronts, the gross widest and tallest score of 213 3/8” really tells the size bucks I had ever of the buck. The net typical score seen. This buck had everything a came in at 181 5/8” giant mule deer needed to break

the 200" mark. He was in full velvet with giant deep forks and outstanding mass.

I now had my work cut out for me. My goal was to now seek out permission to hunt this incredible specimen. Lucky for me a good friend of mine named Chuck, an old timer from our local community, was very good friends with the landowner and was able to get permission granted to me for the upcoming bow season, so I was set! Now I just needed to put in countless hours of scouting to figure out the buck’s habits before September first. The opener could not come fast enough, I was very excited to put the skills I have learned over my hunting career to the test on the incredible buck. I knew finding the buck would not be an easy task, but I knew he was honed in on that lush green giant dinner plate. Every evening I would watch the field from a distance hoping to see the giant come out in daylight but every evening countless deer would show but the big one that taunted my dreams would not. Days went by and my patience was being tested but I knew I just needed to wait him out. The 2014 season opener had finally arrived and I had yet to set my eyes on the giant again. My guess was he was just making his appearance every night in the security of darkness.

It was now September 5th and I had to be home early from work for a school function for my son Ryan. Lucky for me the function didn’t take very long and I was home around 6. I figured it was a really nice night out and with some spare time, I needed to be back out in the field hoping to catch a glimpse of my buck. I decided to head to the south end of the field where I had witnessed so many of the other bucks enter the field over the past couple weeks. I got to the spot, just sat down when I

noticed a nice young 3x3 buck standing a mere 50 yards away.

I thought for sure I was busted but I just sat still and fortunately the young buck carried on his business. Only moments later standing in the young bucks footprints was a giant four point, I was in awe of his full velvet frame standing a mere 50 yards away. He had no idea I was in his house, I sat still on my knees watching him close the distance. I ranged him the whole way as he traveled the same path the young buck did minutes earlier, 50 then 48 and then 45yards but no shot was present. After watching the buck for approximately 25 minutes standing a mere 40 yards away my heart was now pounding out of my chest. With every beat I was scared he was going to hear it pounding for it was the only thing I could hear. He was now feeding and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he turned broadside presenting with a 38 yard shot. I brought my Bowtech Tomcat to full draw and centered my 40 yard pin on his chest just behind the shoulder. Everything was coming together perfectly. I released my carbon arrow and watched as it was headed for its target and at the very last minute I watched as the buck dropped and my arrow sailed over his back and into the trees behind him. He took about four large leaps and then stopped at 65 yards, not knowing what had just happened.

He took a quick look around and then headed for the safety of cover into the trees and, for me, what felt like out of my life forever. I have been hunting for twenty years now and the feeling I felt that very moment after missing the deer of a lifetime at 38 yards broadside still makes me absolutely sick, I wanted to cry or launch my bow into the trees never to be seen again. The thought of never bow hunting again crossed my mind. I went home that night and told my story to my wife, she just laughed at me but I

did not find any humor in my story. In fact, I was completely deflated. I couldn’t sleep that night but I knew I had to get back out there and try again, something inside me told me not to give up and to keep trying and good things would happen.

The next few days were gloomy, raining and cold but I wasn’t giving up. It seemed as though everything was working against me. With all my efforts the only thing I got at the end of each and every day was a wet rear end. I was starting to feel drained but I pushed forward. All I could think about every waking moment was the giant buck that seemed to overtake my whole life. September 9th, I got home from work later than usual and the rain had finally stopped. I had a good idea that the deer might just be moving better than they had the past few nights with the better conditions. I quickly got all my gear together and headed out, I knew I was later than one would hope but if I could just get into position I was willing to give it a shot.

I headed to the same location I had missed the buck just few days before. I hadn’t gone far when I noticed a small buck in the field. I thought I was busted again but he seemed to have not yet seen me. I hunkered down and scanned the field and sure enough I found a bachelor group of four bucks bedded in the back corner of the quarter. Upon closer inspection my target buck was indeed a part of this handsome group! Now I had to come up with a game plan and fast, as I was working with a limited amount of time before legal hunting time would come to an end for the day. The wind was out of the west so I knew I needed to circle around and get behind them and come from downwind of the bucks. It wasn’t going to be easy but I was going for it. I covered ground fast but always out of sight of the bedded bucks, allowing me to close the distance in a timely fashion. There was a small stretch of trees close to the edge of the fence line where the deer were bedded. I figured if I could get myself to the tree line I stood a pretty good chance of sneaking within shooting distance. I was still 300 yards away from the bucks and now two of the bucks were feeding, making things even more difficult. The ground was wet and pretty quiet but I wasn’t going to make a mistake now after coming this far. I kicked off my boots, a trick my younger brother Scott told me works well. Scott is a very accomplished bow hunter so I decided to give it a try. I was amazed at just how quietly I could move through the trees. I slowly inched my way through the trees step by step trying not to blow my cover. I made it to

a large clump of willows I had previously marked in my head, knowing the bucks were within 60 yards I brought my stalk to an even slower pace. I peered around the edge of the willows ever so slowly and only 40 yards away stood a small 4x4 feeding away. I peered just ever so slightly more and I could see the giant buck still bedded where I had last seen him when I started the stalk. I took a few deep breathes to calm myself down. I needed to get myself into a shooting position so I got on my hands and knees and turned myself as I came up the giant 4x4 was now standing looking in my direction. I stayed motionless for what seemed like an eternity until he turned and looked to his rear. I quickly pulled out my range finder and ranged him at 53 yards but there was no shot presented for there were some trees covering his vitals. He simply needed to take three steps to the south and I would have my shot. Like on cue, he did just what I needed, after three steps he was in my shooting lane at 53 yards, slightly quartering away. It was getting darker by the minute so I knew I needed to get a shot off and with him standing quartering away it was now or never. I slowly drew my bow back just like I did days earlier. This time I settled my 60 yard pin just under the buck’s backbone and put pressure on the trigger of my release. I watch as the arrow sailed through the air on route to the buck’s vitals and this time hit its mark. The incredible buck kicked out and up and then ran 15 yards further into the field and stopped. Instantly, I was second guessing my shot, as it looked a little bit farther back then I was hoping. I was shaking like a leaf in a wind storm and my mind was going crazy. Only seconds later he took two steps and toppled over into the knee high alfalfa. With a huge sigh of relief it seemed as though I had just done what I thought was nearly impossi-

ble. I watched for a couple minutes to make sure he was fully expired. I gathered up all my gear and walked to the edge of the field only to see one of the young bucks still by his leader’s side. The young buck finally sauntered off and all I could see was the main beam of my buck sticking up from the second cut alfalfa. I couldn’t hold my composure any longer, as I started yelling and screaming with excitement, words cannot describe how I was feeling at that very moment. I walked up to him and just admired him for the truly magnificent animal he was. I knew all along he was a deer of my dreams but when lifting his antlers from the alfalfa I couldn’t believe just how big he really was and I knew I truly did harvest a buck of a lifetime. I had gone from an ultimate low of lows after missing this buck just days earlier to the ultimate high after harvesting this magnificent animal all within four days of my 20 year hunting career. I have been very blessed over the years in this great province of Alberta and hopefully with any luck many more will come my way, but for now 2014 will rank very high as one of my most memorable ones and most certainly one I will not soon forget.

I would really like to thank my good friend Chuck for the help with permission on the land this buck called home and good friend Rob Hanes for coming out and taking pictures of my buck. Rob also saw my buck early in August and was fortunate to capture pictures through his spotting scope of the giant before I harvested him. I also need to thank my wife Kristina and my little hunting buddy Ryan, without your support none of this would have been possible so thank you so much!

The

GREAT CHASE BY: KC DONAHUE

I’ve been hunting every year since I was old enough to shoot.

It is a family tradition that my Dad takes me hunting each fall and we have done everything from sitting in a blind, to oneman bush pushing. He hasn’t hunted whitetail himself in a long time because he allows me to use his gun. This gun is special to us. It is a 30-06 pump action that he received 25 years ago from my Mom on my first Christmas. Since then one of us has used the gun to shoot a deer every year.

In general, I take pride in my shooting skills. I always take my time, don’t waste shells on long shots and never use more than a full clip in an entire season. That is how it usually works out, but this year put me to shame! I had exactly five days to hunt in the middle of the season before going back to work so I needed to make the best of it! The last few years have been very hard on the deer population but that didn’t deter us.

My brother and Dad had their spots setup, but hadn’t seen much. I knew a few smaller shooters were consistently coming

into the blind so I thought this was my best chance. As long as there were some deer were coming in, I knew ‘the one’ may step out.

Day 1 was slow, partially because I slept in and got to the blind late but nothing decent came in the rest of the day. Day 2 found me running late again. Despite that I did see a few shooters but they were on the small side so I decided to hold off. On the morning of Day 3, I told my Dad we needed to get out of bed early and go sit in the blind at dark, so we were in place at sunrise. We were up early but again by the time we left the yard it was legal shooting time already. We traveled the regular route that I’ve taken every year since I was a kid. It usually produces a doe or two to start the day so is a great way to get excited to see movement!

We were only five minutes from home when Dad shouted, “There’s a shooter!”

A big deer was chasing six does in the field and the buck stopped broadside from me at fifty yards! My heart was beating out of my chest but I took my time and pulled the trigger. “CLICK.” The gun didn’t pick up a shell so I pumped my 30-06 and again, “CLICK.” I could feel my heart drop but the buck was still just standing there mocking me. By the time I got the clip out and fixed he had sauntered off after the does.

We caught up to the does at the end of a long bush but the buck wasn’t with them. I told Dad to go back because the buck was going to sneak out of the bush on us, but he didn’t hear me so I grabbed my gun and started to walk back to the other end of the bush, which was more than 300 yards away. Then the buck headed straight north, giving me a quick shot right before he turned, heading over the hill. The farmer’s field he went into was well known to us and

The whitetail population in Saskatchewan is really starting to bounce back, and KC Donahue’s buck was one of the top deer in the province in 2015. KC calls Saskatoon, Saskatchewan home, a location known for big gnarly whitetails. KC’s buck certainly fits that bill, with loads of abnormal points, a big frame and wide inside spread and an official net score of 200 6/8”. Another striking feature of KC’s buck are the dark chocolate antlers these northern bucks are known for.

we have hunted it a few times but it gave the buck so many advantages over us. The field has a lake on the backside with small willow runs on the west edge of the lake. The buck had entered and gone up a large hill on the south end that connects to the lake at the bottom and east of that point is another field that connects to a huge thick bush where he could disappear.

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game plan. I wanted to hike to the top of the hill, the last known whereabouts of the buck. Dad on the other hand wanted me to be posted by the willow run and he would push him down to me, but it was my buck and my decision so we started the long climb. I got halfway up and intercepted the buck’s tracks into the bush again. We could tell by his tracks he was just slowly sauntering so Dad sent me back to the willows to post.

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By the time I got back to the willow run, Dad was yelling at me that the buck was 20 yards in front of him and heading in the opposite direction of me! I climbed back up the hill and stood in the bush line to watch both sides of the field until I heard Dad’s whistle that meant to follow him. I found Dad in the middle of the next field. The buck was sneaking along the ridge over 300 yards away, but looked like he was ready to bed down.

After the long hike I was so winded I needed to sit and rest if I was going to steady myself for a long shot. We decided to keep walking along the ridge to get a bit closer. When I finally got into position to shoot the buck, he disappeared and I could see him running across the lake heading back to the willows where I was supposed to be posted! I ran through the bush and onto the lake, leaning on a dead tree so I could be steady to take the long shot. At the shot, the buck stumbled a bit, but picked up the pace.

Unfortunately, by this time I had already broken my one-clip rule and I only had a few left in my second clip! We headed back to the spot where I was supposed have been posted before. This willow bush was where we had last seen the buck, and the bush was so thin that I could see through it and into the tall grass and dried cattails. I stood on the edge so I could see both sides of the willow run.

Dad started pushing a few bluffs back but when he walked about ten steps into the willows in front of me, I could see Dad’s bright orange suit and he yelled, “He’s coming right for you!” I got ready and sure enough I saw the buck coming right at me! I put my scope up and realized I still had the scope set at nine from my long shots earlier. I gave the scope a quick spin to dial it down, put the gun up and waited till my buck came away from the bush where my Dad was. I still hadn’t had a good look at his rack, but I didn’t care, I was just looking for his shoulder. I hit him in the heart at 40yards and he dropped like a log. My Dad ran out of the bush jumping up and down! We both expected some ground shrinkage, but when we got up to

the buck it was ground growth! He was the buck of my dreams with lots of stickers making him a nine by ten and scoring 200 6/8” Boone and Crocket!

Dad and I have had some great hunts together over the years but nothing like this. I thank my Dad for the great tradition of taking me out hunting. We have made some great memories and I am happy to report that “The Meat Gun Strikes Again!”

The Forgotten Predator

by Chad Wilkinson

As an editor of a hunting magazine, an advocate for hunting, and most importantly an avid hunter myself, I often find myself thinking about the morality of hunting, and how to explain this morality to the general public. It is not always an easy task, after all the outcome of a successful hunt is often killing an animal. Hunters are aware of how the natural world really works, and that Walt Disney’s portrayal has no bearing on reality. We know that Mother Nature is cruel and most animals do not have a ‘nice’ death by human standards, if death comes through ‘natural’ means. We know that as hunters we have a responsibility to be very humane when the moment of truth arrives, and we all know about the changes humans have made to the world and why this makes hunting even more important. The explosion of agriculture resulting in unlimited food resources, controlling of predators, and destruction of habitat make it that much more important that we all do our part in helping wildlife managers to control populations to sustainable levels. This helps to avoid population crashes and massive die offs due to disease and winter kill during exceptionally harsh winters. We as hunters know all this, and use this in our successful rebuttals of anti-hunters distorted views of the world. It is a common thread and a strong argument, and is the reason that even most non-hunters support hunting in one form or another.

The controversial release of wolves into many of their historic ranges, and now some of the problems this has caused, along with increases in populations of grizzly bears in some areas they are protected such as western Alberta raises a few interesting questions. Wolves were reintroduced into Yellowstone Park using the justification that they were part of the natural balance, and the elk in the park were actually changing the habitat in a detrimental way because the populations were completely uncontrolled. There is evidence that this was the case, although there is still some debate over the merits of such a reintroduction. The idea within many parks such as Yellowstone, and most across Canada and the US is that they should managed in a way to be as ‘natural’ as possible. Everything is managed to simulate the conditions that would have existed prior to the last few hundred years when people changed everything. So what is missing from this ‘natural’ environment? Oddly enough, the one thing that is missing is the apex predator, the very top predator that all of the wildlife has evolved successfully alongside is missing from the management strategy. There is no hunting of these wildlife by people. It is easy to forget that people are actually part of nature. Every species of wildlife in North America has evolved alongside people. First Nations people have been here for thousands of years, much longer than that if you speak to many First Nations people whose oral histories have them here since the beginning of time. Why would people be excluded when they have been an integral part of evolution, and nature? The answer is simple, because many people have forgotten that they have a place in the natural world. Many people are trapped in concrete jungles we call cities, and have no connection to nature and ac-

tually believe that people have no place in ‘nature’. This is another reason hunting is so important, both to the natural world, and to people themselves.

Many of the problems that arise due to wildlife are because they are not hunted, they are not controlled in any way.

It is easy to have the perception that people are not be a part of natural ecosystems, but the effects of this are at least as dramatic as the exclusion of wolves as a control of elk in Yellowstone.

We constantly hear stories of large predators being unnaturally aggressive towards people, property and pets. This is not a remnant of natural evolution, this is a new phenomenon that has arisen from the refusal of game and park managers to allow hunting and control of problem animals in some ares. During thousands of years, any wildlife that became a threat or were aggressive to people were almost certainly killed. The result were populations of wildlife that evolved to avoid humans. Large predators like wolves, cougars and even bears evolved to have a fear and avoidance instincts towards people, because in the ‘natural’ world, people have been the top predator for thousands of years. If we are talking about what is natural, and preserving animals in a ‘natural’ state that attempts to replicate pre-industrial times, then it must be recognized that people were always, and still should be the top predator in the system. Personally, I have experienced this as we live in northern Saskatchewan and deal regularly with wolves. Generally, they are shy and fearful of people, but there have been a couple occasions where they became extremely aggressive and attempted to kill and eat animals and pets of ours. On these occasions, the situation did not end well for the wolf, and the result was that the rest of the pack learned and avoided that area for years to come. Killing of one problem wolf was in the best interest of the rest of the pack. Had those animals been protected, and had they taken and eaten our animals, they would have learned that people mean food and would have been back when they were hungry. This is not a new experience, as people have been protecting their property for 1000’s of years. Of course now we have technology and the means to inflict more harm on entire populations of animals, so it is critical that it is done in a responsible way.

Hunting is not simply a way for game managers to remove excess animals from populations, it is an integral part of nature.

It is the modern version of fulfilling that role of top predator in a beautifully balanced system. If people are removed from this system, it is just as detrimental as if other top predators or keystone species are removed. Our responsibility is to fulfill this role in an ethical and sustainable way. The history of game management in North American is remarkably successful. One must only look at the historic populations of deer, elk, ducks, and geese to see that all of these species are thriving in North America today, thanks largely to hunters so hunters must continue to be an important piece of game management moving forward.

Landon Douville of Outlook, Saskatchewan holds what can only be described as an old legend. The buck had appeared on a few people’s trail cams in 2014 (opposite), but finally fell to a bullet from Landon’s rifle in the 2015 season. The buck may not be a high scorer, but he is definitely a once in a lifetime trophy with incredible mass, and loads of character and abnormal points clearly identifying the whitetail’s ancient age.

M

y second year of hunting in 2014, as a 13 year old was going great. I was drawn for bull moose and mule deer and filled both of my tags using a muzzleloader.

When we were hunting muleys we didn’t see very many whitetails because the population was down, so my Dad decided we should set up some trail cams on some posted land along the

river where he had permission, and that had a good number of deer. We set up trail cams on main trails from the field to the river bottom to see what kind of deer were in the area.

A week later we went to change SD cards to see what kind of deer we had captured pictures of. We were not expecting anything like what we found! We couldn’t believe that we had pic-

BY: LANDON DOUVILLE

“Week after week, we checked the trail cams and there was still no sign of him. By the evening before opening

day I had pretty much lost interest. That night my Dad asked, “So do you want to skip school and go try anyway”. I just shrugged my shoulders in disappointment. My Dad had a grin on his face and said, “Well you better go look at the trail pictures I picked up today”. I jumped up and ran to check. He was on the property next door and he was showing up on camera right at legal time in the mornings. It was the best feeling ever to see him again!”

tures of such an awesome, old whitetail buck. Now the problem was we only had permission for archery, strictly no guns as the land owner lived on the other end of the property. Luckily, my Dad showed the pictures to his buddy Beau Knutson and he said he would lend me a crossbow to use as I wasn’t strong enough to pull a bow yet. The next day we went out and found a good spot to set up our ground blind on the trail that old buck was using. By this time, it was already halfway into the shortened rifle season so we only had one weekend left to hunt.

The weather turned to -30C but we sat in the blind anyway and all we saw was a couple of does and a fawn. I was discouraged because I froze my butt off for nothing, but a deer like that doesn’t come without some hard work! The next day we went out again and all we saw were the same does and fawn. Either the cold weather or our blind changed his pattern. Rifle season ended before we could get another chance to go out again.

We decided that I was going to try to get him in the 2015 archery season in September. This was going to be my first archery hunt ever. My Dad tuned up my grandpa’s old bow so I could use it. I practiced and I practiced. It wasn’t long until I was hitting close to the bullseye almost every time. I was so excited and couldn’t wait for the season to come. When it came time, we started looking for his sheds. By chance, a friend of my Dads that works for the land owner found one shed in the yard. My Dad asked his friend if he would give it to me and he was kind enough to do so. I was on my search to find the other side when wouldn’t you know it, I was lucky enough to find the other side, 500 yards away on the edge of the river bank! My Dad helped me do a European shed mount and rough scored them at 164” non-typical. The character on the antlers was amazing.

In the spring, we setup trail cams to try and pattern him and get pictures of him as he was growing. We narrowed his path down and got some amazing velvet pictures of him in different stages. He didn’t grow a G3 point on the right side but grew a 7” drop tine on the end of his left beam and a few other stickers. He looked so impressive in full velvet.

We found the perfect spot to make a natural ground blind.

We spent hours making our blind look realistic and making sure I had clear shooting lanes.

Week after week we watched him and each week

I became more and more excited. September 5th was the last time we had pictures of him and the beginning of the archery season was only ten days away.

School was now starting and so were my early morning football practices. My Dad would drop me off and then take a drive to see if he could see the old buck. He was able to watch him a couple times coming out of the river bottom on the land next door. Now we weren’t sure what to do as we were running out of time to set up another blind and then the worst thing imaginable happened. It was September 11th, I had a football game in Rosetown and we were getting crushed, but my coach decided to put me in anyways. I was a grade 9 player, playing on a senior team. Unfortunately on the second play, I jumped on a fumble and someone landed on me, breaking my right wrist. That quickly ended my football season and my dreams of shooting the deer with my bow! As I sat in the emergency room waiting for the doctor to come, all I could think about was not being able to hunt with my bow for the first time. I knew this wouldn’t stop me from hunting in muzzleloader season if he was still on the other property next door. It was going to be the worst and longest six weeks of waiting of my life.

We hadn’t had a picture of him for weeks. My Dad decided that we should set up a trail cam next door where he last saw him, unfortunately we couldn’t get him on the trail cam or spot him anywhere. It was like he totally vanished. By the last few

days of muzzleloader season I was able to move my arm more which was still in a cast almost up to my shoulder. We decided to go out to the property next door and sit on a ridge overlooking the river bottom, hoping to get a shot with the muzzleloader. We only saw two does and a small buck. We tried one more time before the shortened season was over but there was no sign of him. By this point, I just wanted to give up. I felt there was no point in trying, it just wasn’t my year. It was a five week wait till rifle season and all I could hope for was that he stayed on the property next door so I could get him with a rifle as my arm wasn’t strong enough to use my bow yet. Week after week, we checked the trail cams and there was still no sign of him. By the evening before opening day I had pretty much lost interest.

That night my Dad asked, “So do you want to skip school and go try anyway”. I just shrugged my shoulders in disappointment. My Dad had a grin on his face and said, “Well you better go look at the trail pictures I picked up today”. I jumped up and ran to check. He was on the property next door and he was showing up on camera right at legal time in the mornings. It was the best feeling ever to see him again!

We planned to go out the next morning to get him before anyone else did because by now lots of people knew about him.

We set the alarms for 6:30. I got up and made myself a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast. We put on lots of layers that day because it was -17C. We were out of the house by seven and drove to our hunting spot. When we arrived we started on the long walk to the spot where we planned on sitting on a ridge overlooking the river bottom. When we got there, the sun was just coming up. There were a couple of deer that we could see off into the distance. Five minutes after legal time a

deer popped out of nowhere to our left about 150 yards away, walking through the brush below us. I looked at it and thought it was just a doe. I nudged my Dad just to tell him it was there.

He looked with his binoculars and all he could see was the back end because it had walked behind a bush. It made its way by the bush and my Dad almost screamed, “That’s him, shoot!” Dad made a grunt to make him stop. He stopped broadside glaring up at us on the ridge. I lined him up with the Savage .270 on the Primos bipod and squeezed the trigger. “Click”, the worst sound in the world for a hunter! I reloaded it. The firing pin wasn’t hitting the primer hard enough to make it ignite. I squeezed the trigger and again, “Click”! So I reloaded my last bullet hoping this one will go off. We couldn’t believe he was still standing there and not bolting. “What’s wrong with this gun? Is this really happening?”

I thought as I squeezed the trigger again and “BOOM”. My Dad yelled, “You hit him!” He ran 40 yards and down he went. I couldn’t believe that I had finally done it. I just couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t wait to go down there and look at him. When we got down there we were surprised to see he was smaller than last year but still an awesome old buck. He ended up 22”s smaller than last year at 142” non-typical with 6” circumferences at the bases. It was a long year but so worth it.

GREAT BEGINNINGS BY: MATT PRIMROSE

M

y first experience w i t h anything related to hunting was at the young age of four.

My uncle had harvested a whitetail and was skinning it in his shed. I’m not sure what compelled me to help but, armed with a butter knife, I was determined to lend a hand. That was the only experience with hunting I would have for many years.

Fly-fishing and backpacking have kept me connected to nature and helped to develop my love for the outdoors, so much so that I chose to spend months on end living out of a tent while tree planting. I spent many summers wandering around cut blocks witnessing nature in a completely new and unique way. I soon found myself wanting to take advantage of the opportunity and try hunting.

It wasn’t until the fall of 2015 that my first real hunting experience took place. I was invited out to a friend’s cabin on a family goose hunt. From the moment the first flock flew over I knew that I was falling in love with this new experience. I immediately began researching as much about hunting as I could, from how to identify deer to expert mature buck techniques. I scoured landowner maps and cross-checked them with Google hoping to find what I considered a promising hunting area. I was working out of Vegreville at the time so after work I would drive from farmhouse to farmhouse asking for permission to hunt.

Luck must have been on my side because the second and third places I stopped at offered me access to three sections of land. Immediately, I purchased two game cams and set them up on some well used trails, leaving them out for four to five days at a time. I knew I had the bug bad considering how excited I was to check the cams and look for anything that might have passed by the camera.

Matt Primrose started off his hunting career with a bang, tagging a net Boone and Crocket typical whitetail! The hunter from Edmonton enjoyed amazing success in one of his first times out. His buck has everything needed to score very high with matching G2’s both well over 13”, beams of 24 1/8” and 25” and not a single abnormal point. The net score on Matt’s buck stretched the tape to 170 2/8” after only 4” of deductions.

Once again luck was on my side. Every time I set my cams up, I would catch a buck or two.

November was approaching and plans were made. My friend Sean and I were to head out the first day of hunting east of town. We were out early in the dark, it was a cold and wet day spent silently in a blind with no sign of a whitetail. Despite that, IT WAS FANTASTIC. Throughout the day we spotted a bull moose that walked slowly past our blind at about 50 yards, we also came upon several sleeping mule deer. I considered it a great first day of hunting. I’m not sure if it was the determination to harvest a deer or just the excitement of being out and enjoying seeing the world in a new light, but the minute we packed up, Sean and I began planning our next outing.

After our first day revealed no whitetails I decided I would set a cam up in a different location about an hour away. That evening, by the time I got out to my new spot, it was getting dark so I quickly set off to set up cams around a well-used watering hole. I had masked my scent and was moving as stealthy as possible, but the grass was tall and the ground had frozen hoof marks left there by the cattle that had been grazing the past month. This made walking much more difficult in the fading light. While I tripped and plodded through the darkness my mind began to wander. I pictured what I must look like through the eyes of some predatory cat lurking in the brush line and the irony of the moment wasn’t lost on me. After setting up the cams and laying some scent I turned tail and started heading back to the road. Everything seemed so quiet and peaceful. The silence was shattered as I came to the end of the

berm that I had been traveling in and heard a massive snort wheeze which in the dead of night sounds very similar to the sound I can only imagine a bear makes as it tackles its prey.

My head shot around to the left just in time to see the glint of a massive whitetail buck dashing off into the woods. I was able to see a portion of one antler but the picture in my head was that of the legendary Bambie’s Dad standing proudly on the hill. I know that I had just seen the King of the Forest.

November 9th was the evening I would return. This time there would be no chance for my buck to take me by surprise.

I would arrive an hour and a half before legal light ended and then spend the night until the sun came back up hoping to be there as he got up for that first morning drink. My ground blind was set up against a small stand of alders behind a crescent shaped pile of dirt that was covered in tall brown grass.

Nothing passed by in that last hour of light so I settled in under the alders for a night of animal sounds. When legal light approached the next morning I was prepared for my buck who unfortunately must have been a late sleeper because he didn’t show up and I had to head in for a few hours of work. Although the giant buck did not follow the script I had written, I decided to check my trail cameras before leaving, which were regrettably pointed too high. However, there was something on one of them that caught my attention. It looked like the tops of a few nice tines of a good sized whitetail. “Could it be the buck I wanted nothing more than to reunite with?” I thought to myself.

Before noon I was back in my blind and I began calling and rattling as best as a beginner could. While sitting alone in silence I began to pray, not for a trophy deer but for some wisdom, patience and if the opportunity presented itself a steady hand and a swift kill. Within a few minutes, I got the impression that I should move about 20 feet to my left towards a grassy clearing behind the water hole. As quietly as possible I began to move breaking only one branch on my way. Unfortunately, it seemed like it was the driest, loudest, snappiest branch in the forest! At this point, I felt like all hope was lost.

“Every animal in the forest must have heard me” I thought as I tossed my rifle to the side and I sat down thinking about what a horrible move I had made. After a half hour of waiting I spun around toward the clearing I was now overlooking. Along the corner of the clearing I saw movement, then I saw antlers. I grabbed my binoculars. Sure enough it was the massive buck I had ran into just days before and he was coming straight toward me! I did nothing as he approached, for fear of spooking him. He made a beeline right for me, I got as low as I felt I possibly could, down behind the grass as he slowly walked within five yards of me. He was so close that I could smell the poplar that was scraped into every crevasse of his brow tines. He was so

close, I felt he was going to hear my heart that felt like it was going to burst from my chest. I considered making a grab for my rifle but instead I took in every second and enjoyed the moment and waited for my opportunity, if it ever came. Regardless, I knew I would have been happy coming so close to such an amazing animal. He walked right past me, taking a step then stopping to survey the area. I was amazed he was so close and didn’t notice me. I let him walk past and into another band of trees, which gave me a chance to grab my gear just feet away. I started calling with a doe call hoping this would lure him back out. I waited about 20 minutes then made another soft doe call and antlers finally reappeared at the edge of the trees about 150 yards away. Just as slow as he had approached me the first time he quietly crept out into a 50 foot wide cutline taking a step then pausing to smell the air. I slowly brought my rifle to my shoulder and took aim as I followed him out of the trees. As he approached the middle of the cutline I said a short prayer and squeezed the trigger. At the report of my rifle I immediately jumped up and reloaded worried my first shot may not have been a good one, even though it felt so right. Fortunately, by the time I had chambered another round my deer was on the ground!

I was elated as I approached him. The closer I got the more excited I became. As much as I would have liked to document my first hunt I had only brought my cell phone for pictures and it was dying fast. I quickly snapped a few photos before my phone died and I was left standing there with the realization that I would have to carry/drag this beast about a mile back to my vehicle. Being a first time hunter, my only lessons in field dressing was anecdotes and a YouTube video I had watched in preparation for my hunt. Field dressing wasn’t

nearly as hard or as dirty as I had imagined it would be and I was set on saving as much of the animal as possible. Once field dressing was complete, I somehow managed to hoist the deer onto my shoulders and fireman carry it through the band of brush that separated me from the open frozen swamp. It must have been the remaining adrenaline that gave me the strength to pick it up that first time because once through the bush I stopped to try and get a trail cam picture and there was no way I was picking him up again. Luckily I had packed ratchet straps with me and I crudely fashioned a very uncomfortable harness that eased the slow and excruciating drag to my vehicle. I kept thinking once I was there I was home free, this was naïve to think since getting a hefty sized buck onto the top of an xterra alone is as far as I’m concerned impossible. Moving to plan B I laid a tarp in the back of my vehicle hoisted the antlers into the back then contorted around my gear in order to drag the big guy inside. Almost five hours after I made my shot I had my deer in my vehicle head in the folded down passenger seat and I was on my way to the butcher praying that my legs would have the strength to operate the gas and the brake for the duration of the drive.

I couldn’t have been happier with the experience of being in the bush and having an animal walk right past me at mere feet away.

Little did I know that I had harvested a buck of a lifetime all in my first year of hunting! If I wasn’t hooked on hunting before this crazy exciting season I sure was now. Next season should be exciting and I can only hope it is half as good as my very first.

Stickers BY: DARLENE NIEBOER as told by

BRANDON VONK

Brandon Vonk of Creston, Iowa, tagged a buck he named Stickers late in the 2015 season. The big deer has it all, with long beams, very tall points, and over 41” of abnormal points which give the rack some serious character. G2s are both 13”, with G3s over 10”. The buck had broken off over 5” of antler, but still had a huge gross score of 198 4/8” and a net non-typical score of 193 7/8”!

I

t had been an uneventful hunt as I pulled onto the highway that early November evening.

That all changed in a hurry as something absolutely stunning crossed my path. It is a sight that is etched into my memory and one that I will never forget.

Driving just down the road from our farm I could see eyes in the ditch. As I slowed down my truck, two whitetail does ran out in front of me followed by two giant bucks. I couldn’t believe my eyes! As I sat there in awe, staring at the big buck who could only be described as a giant 10, another even bigger buck who I named Stickers, sauntered in out of nowhere and the two bucks squared off right in the middle of the road in front of me! Then as quickly as it began, Stickers chased the giant 10 off and out of sight.

I got home and called my friends who had joined me in the tree stands earlier that day and shared my exciting discovery. We talked it over and made a plan.

The next morning I checked Google Earth for possible routes into the area, then checked the forecast only to find that the wind wasn’t in my favor. Despite the setback, I made a plan to head to work for the morning and go out early in the afternoon, hoping the giant would cross my path again.

I headed out to the farm and stopped at the same spot where I had earlier encountered the buck. Glassing the fields and timber, I was anxious for any sign of him. With nothing in sight, I headed over to check to the pond and terrace. I could see two does eating from the picked bean field and there, lying down underneath the patch of crab apple trees was Stickers.

By now it was middle afternoon and the southeast wind was still against me but I was determined to give it my best shot.

I geared up, sprayed myself down with scent killer and headed out for an attempt at a stalk.

I started out about 200 yards away and was able to close in to 70 yards watching the trees intently as I moved in. I knew Stickers was lying just under them. As I crested a hill, I could see he was still there so I regained my composure and caught my breath. The anticipation built as I continued to close the distance! I very slowly crawled my way closer while crouching down in a ditch, and once I was 35 yards away I drew back my bow but there was no clear shot! I let down as quietly as I could and knew what I had to do.

Climbing out of the ditch I stayed on my knees, hoping I was out of sight of the big deer. Once again, I drew my bow back and slowly stood up.

Snap! I stepped on a twig at the same moment as I noticed a couple does who were now staring straight at me! As I slowly turned back, I could see that the buck was staring at the does and to my relief had not yet noticed me. All of this seemed to take forever while I stood there with my bow drawn back. I knew this was my chance and I had to give it my best shot. I positioned my 30 yard pin on the buck and tapped the release.

Time stood still as I watched the arrow fly in what seemed like slow motion towards the deer. He jumped up and then instantly vanished. It happened so fast that I could not tell if I had made a good shot or not. My heart sank

when I walked to where he had been standing to check for blood or for the arrow and I found nothing! As I looked down into a washout I spotted him still on his feet so I got positioned and put another arrow into him just as he dropped on the spot.

What an incredible feeling it was to watch that happen! Finally, it sunk in and I knew that the magnificent animal was all mine.

As I walked up to him, a flood of emotions flooded through my

veins like nothing I had felt before.

This buck is my biggest to date. Although I did not have a long history with the buck, I was prepared and moved quickly to capitalize on an opportunity as soon as it arrived. I accomplished what I consider to be a dream come true, a 200 class whitetail buck! It is proof that dreams can come true, you just have to be ready when they do!

My Story BY: TAYLOR JOHNSON

M

Taylor Johnson took the largest mule deer in Alberta of 2014, and the fifth largest typical mule deer ever in Alberta near her home in Chauvin, Alberta. Her tremendous buck has an incredible frame with long beams and tines. The official score came in at 206 4/8” gross and 200 5/8” net!

y story begins many years ago, basically as soon as I was old enough to walk.

As soon as I was able to get up and walk around I followed my Dad. Everywhere he went, I went. I can remember him waking me up well before the sun during hunting season every single day. He would pack me a thermos of hot chocolate and mom would throw in some snacks and away we would go looking for “the one”. We looked until he had to drop me off for school at 9:00. I think he hated dropping me off as much as I hated having to miss hunting for school. Everyday though, Dad was there to pick me up again from school and we would hunt until the sun set.

I think he liked it so much because he always had someone to push bush for him. My entire life, I have had this routine with Dad, and now my

Shawn Danychuk Photo

husband has been added into the equation and we all go together. Because we have lived in the same area all our lives we kind of have an idea of where the good deer are.

We ended up setting up a hunting stand five minutes from our house and have sat many hours in the stand waiting for the right deer to walk by. We knew he was in there, we had him on our trail cams but he was always just a little bit smarter than us. In fact, we even have one of his sheds from last year. We searched high and low but couldn’t find the other.

Since my husband loves to bow hunt, (I like to also but there is never enough time in September when you are a teacher) he was there many days waiting for him to walk by. One day luck was on his side, and so was the wind, and he got a shot off on the one!

Nerves must have got the best of him, because he never found blood or the deer.

Fast forward to November 20, 2014. Aside from my wedding, this was the best day of my life and I didn’t even know it when I woke. My day consisted of the normal routine, hunting day and night. I think we only missed two evenings of hunting in all

of November. This day was special though as I got to spend my day with one of my favourite little 5 year olds, his name is Jaxon. It was nearing time for me to take him home so that my husband and I could go hunting for the night. We have about a 20 minute drive to Chauvin from our acreage and this particular day we asked Jaxon if he wanted to look for deer on the way to town. His enthusiasm was so great, we couldn’t say no.

So we decided to take a snoop passed our honey hole where our tree stand was set up. To our amazement, we saw “The one” cresting a hill after a doe. My heart nearly fell out of my butt.

We devised a plan as to how we were going to get him. My husband dropped me and my 7mm Remington off on a hillside in the direction the buck was going and I was able to get to where I thought he was going to go. It’s not the easiest to hunt with a five year old, so my husband stayed in the truck with Jaxon.

After what felt like hours of waiting, the sun was getting lower in the sky and I thought we lost him. Just then I saw a doe pop over the hill about 70 yards away. Thankfully, the wind was in my favour. I sat so still. All I could hear was my heart beating.

Then a couple minutes later came the deer we had been hunting for the better part of two years! It was an amazing sight and I knew this was my shot. I pointed the barrel directly on him and pulled the trigger before he disappeared over the hill like the doe did! With all the adrenaline pumping through my veins I didn’t know if I had hit him or missed him. I scanned the area with my scope and there he was, laying right where I shot him! He didn’t look to be moving so I walked towards him. My husband and Jaxon came rushing over. When we got up to him I could not believe my eyes! He was even spectacular than I thought! We all were dancing and hugging, and crying tears of happiness. The stars all aligned or something or maybe Jaxon was my lucky charm because everything seemed like it was just meant to be. I immediately called my Dad and told him what happened. He was out hunting about an hour away but told me he was on his way. I was ecstatic.

After examining more closely, the amazing creature I had just taken actually had a severely injured back leg, right at the ankle and he also had a very large hole near his rectum. We think it might have been from a fight with another deer as we never did find a bullet in there. As moments passed we decid-

ed to call a friend to come help load the deer. He must have weighed twice the weight of a normal deer! My husband and I were determined to load him all by ourselves and after many unsuccessful attempts we finally were able to get him in the truck by ourselves. This was a very proud moment for me as I had just shot my first mule buck and loaded him with only the help of my husband. We continued on to drop Jaxon off, he was pretty excited to tell his family what happened, only in his

story he shot the deer. Finally Dad was home and I was able to show him my deer. We all went and skinned it together and celebrated. My deer was officially scored at 206 4/8 and with deductions it came to 200 5/8. I eventually learned it was the

largest typical mule deer shot in Alberta in the 2014 season and the 5th largest typical mule deer ever shot in Alberta. It was a day I will never forget.

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PREDATOR CAMOUFLAGE CLOTHING PO BOX 483, LETHBRIDGE, AB TlJ 321 TEL: (403)380-6495 predatorcamo@hotmail.com

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Something

Special

BY: TREVOR CARRUTHERS

Trevor Carruthers and his father Ted travelled from the heart of BC to east central Alberta where Dan had drawn a tag after a long six year wait. The pair were waiting for something special and pushed themselves to the extreme in the badlands of Alberta. The buck they tagged is an amazing specimen, with antlers that gross 200� even, including 43 1/8� of abnormal points!

“A

lright Dad, you’d better come and look at this buck”, I said. It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon, and I had just focused the spotting scope on a wide framed buck who was working the willows in search of a receptive doe. The buck took no second look and no ‘judging’. He had decent mass, several extra little forks, webbed points, and what looked like an extra beam that came out of the side of his head. Simply put, the buck had the ‘wow’ factor that I had told Dad we were looking for.

Rewind about 7 hours, when Dad and I were making the drive to the zone he had drawn a tag. After 6 years of waiting, and a few months of planning, November 11th was finally here and we were hopeful that the next few days would bring us some quality deer sightings. I had shot a really good buck, grossing 187”, with the help of some good friends two years previous, and this year my Dad had drew a tag in the hopes of finding something special.

Throughout the first morning, we spotted several good bucks, but none that really had that ‘wow’ factor. On a few occasions, I’d mentioned that a buck looked really good while judging him through the scope. I could tell Dad was excited as almost every time he looked like he was ready to go and was waiting for the final ‘let’s go’ call from me. After looking at over 20 bucks that morning, I told Dad that we weren’t just looking for a ‘good buck’, but something truly special.

It was nearing the last hour of the first day of our hunt, after finding a typical framed buck in the 180” range, when I found him in the spotting scope. He came out of the thick willows and his wide frame caught my attention. The big typical was bedded near some does and this buck cruised the willow edge, checking out does and monitoring the area. Dad knew what I was talking about when he focused the scope on this buck. He was simply breathtaking and unique. We watched him until dark while he worked the area and we planned on being back in the same spot the following morning to plan a stalk.

Morning came and we were in place. I peered over the edge of the coulee rim, it took only a few short minutes to find a large bodied buck in the early morning dawn. A quick check confirmed, it was the ‘big typical’ from the day before. Minutes later another bucked walked into view, and I was relieved to see it was the one we were seeking. I ranged the bucks at 550 yards and we started to discuss a plan of attack. While we figured out the wind, the terrain, and the steep approach it would take to cut a couple hundred yards off, we watched the bucks posture with each other as they took turns feeding. A big bodied buck limped on the scene and the two bucks moved from his path, almost acknowledging his presence as they avoided him. This new buck was a huge framed 3x3. He had dark heavy antlers and a body frame that reminded me of a fall steer. This buck was a stud and he knew it.

The wind wasn’t right for an approach that would put us 250 yards from the bucks, so we waited until they fed into the valley bottom and then started our approach. As we rounded the corner of the sandy cliffs, I spotted a buck moving slowly through the creek bottom. It was our target buck, and I ranged him at 315 yards. I tried to make a quick decision about whether or not we should attempt a shot, but figured the buck was headed down into the same willows he spent the evening in the night before and we’d quickly get into a position for a better shot that wasn’t so rushed. That decision turned out to be one I’d later regret.

We snuck along the same trail the buck had taken, following fresh tracks in the soft sandy bottom. As we popped over the top of the same hill where the buck paused, I fully expected to see him within shooting range. I peered over to see nothing, not even a single doe. Confused, we sat down and began picking apart the country with our binoculars, trying to locate any sign of the buck or any of the does that were with him. We spotted the ‘big typical’ on a hill to the side, and he had us pinned down. Glassing him quickly at 200 yards, we decided to pass on him

and wait for our target buck. He spooked and took off into the hills.

We continued to sit and glass, with no sign of the buck in sight. I didn’t think that we had done anything that would have caused this buck to spook. The wind was good and our approach was right. My gut told me that the big deer had either bedded in the thick timber or had snuck around the corner while searching for does. We decided our best course of action was to settle in for the day and wait. Well, a long seven hours later and we were still left scratching our head. We had seen three coyotes all day long and not a sniff of a mule deer. Doubt started settling in and the sun was setting, so we made our way back out of the coulee.

Hiking out of the coulee proved difficult, with no trail for most of the way we ended up finding ourselves cliffed out and turning back to find a better trail. We found it eventually, but not before putting Dad into a position of wondering if hiking back down into that steep country was really worth it. “We we’re going to have to have a serious conversation about going back down there”. I knew I had pushed Dad too hard and into country that was too rugged for his liking, and assumed that we would have to find something a bit easier the next day. I was proud that we gave it good go, but had accepted the fact that most likely it was our last chance with Dad’s feelings on scaling the steep coulee walls.

A good friend Cody Dziedic, and one that I’ve shared several mule deer hunts with in the past dozen or more years arrived that evening at the hotel. We told him the story about the buck we had been concentrating on and showed him the video. He was excited and we talked about how we had started to figure out this buck’s schedule and what he liked to do. We knew the chances of us convincing Dad to hike down those gnarly badlands was slim, but excitement ran deep and we decided to go give one more look and see if we could find the buck after committing so much time to him.

We arrived at the same spot that morning and quickly gave Cody a lay of the land. The wind was howling up top with warm temperatures moving in. I began to scour the valley, hoping to find any sign of the buck. Nothing.

Bucks roamed the area and a few does fed in the willows, but ‘our’ buck had vanished. Suddenly I caught a quick glimpse of a buck making his way to the bush line.

A quick confirmation with the scope and we were sure it was him. He marched quickly and in the same time that I located him, he did something that shocked me and bedded down. We landmarked the spot by counting big dead poplar trees and glanced at Dad to see what he thought about venturing back down. “Let’s give it a try”, he said. I can’t describe the feeling I had when Dad decided to push himself back into the steep hills to give it one more shot. With that, we were off and had a plan to sneak in close and wait for the big deer to stand up.

About 45 minutes later, we were down amongst the willows, making our way from shrub to shrub, not knowing exactly where the buck was, but figuring he hadn’t moved from the last point we had seen him. I continued to glass the thick willows trying to locate any sign of an antler, to no avail. Closer still we moved, from about 200 yards down to what we thought should be 120 yards. Still no sign of the buck, but a nice light wind was blowing in the right direction and we had no reason to think we had spooked the deer or he had moved. We got set up, glassing through the willows on and off, and waited.

An hour passed, and I motioned Cody to start raking some bushes. He moved back about 15 yards and began to rake the small willows. No movement. Yesterday’s misplay started making me wonder if we had done something wrong, but I remained confident we were in his ‘bedroom’ so to speak. Cody blew a grunt tube a few times and continued to rake. I glassed through the willows.

The sun hit a wide sweeping main beam in a different light than the willows and I realized quickly that the buck was now standing, with only his antler and white face visible. I froze,

and my heart raced as I stared at him from inside 130 yards. He turned 180 degrees and laid back down. My confidence soared and I knew we had done everything right up to this point. The buck had bedded into such a low spot that even from 120 yards on flat ground, we could not see his antlers when he was bedded. When he stood fully upright, all that could be seen was his face and antlers. Another hour passed as we hoped the buck would stand on his own. Finally he stood slowly and began to march stiff legged to the left. I was whispering to Dad to make sure he could see him, but his lower vantage point was making it tough for him to pick the buck out of the willows with waving grass in front of him. I continued to whisper, the desperation in my voice present as the buck began to move as if he knew something was wrong. He continued to look our way cautiously and walk slowly left.

At one point, the buck trotted quickly, sensing something was wrong. I told Dad “Left, he went left” and saw his rifle searching for him. “HARD LEFT”, I shouted as the buck paused in a clearing about 50 yards to the left of his bed. I watched as the buck froze in his tracks. Dad found his mark and I saw the big buck lunge forward, hit directly behind the shoulder. He crashed through the willows and I lost sight of him. It took less than 20 seconds and Cody exclaimed “He’s down!” We had done it!

And talk about “Wow factor” when Dad approached his

buck, with his right antler in the sky as he reached down. We both knew he was something special, but I don’t think Dad was really prepared for what we had just accomplished.

We spent the next hour taking a bunch of photos, savoring the moment, and quartering and caping the buck.

With everything loaded in packs, we started our hike through the thick willows. We made our way back up the valley and made sure we enjoyed the hike up, checking out some of the terrain as we trudged through the badlands. This hike was much more enjoyable, even with the weight of a mule deer on our backs, than the night before.

Dads buck ended up grossing 200” and netting 194 2/8” NT, which was pretty irrelevant after such an adventure. I’ve spent many countless days hunting for goats and sheep in nasty country and seen some pretty impressive things, but nothing could make me more proud than watching Dad make the decision to push himself mentally and physically to put an end to this hunt on our target buck.

BY: JUSTIN ONGARO

W

hen it comes to hunting in North America, the Bull Moose is king. Weighing well over 1000 pounds, they possess the power to smash through thick bush without breaking stride, but also have the agility to navigate their way through the forest without making a sound. Close encounters with moose are always intense due to their massive stature. The sound of a bull’s guttural grunt combined with the sight of antlers swaying side to side will make any hunter’s adrenaline pump!

As far back as I can remember, I’ve had a passion for being in the outdoors. From catching frogs to ice fishing with my grandfather, I loved it all, but nothing came close to our family moose hunts every fall. These trips fueled a hunting obsession that I will have for the rest of my life. Growing up in a family where the saying, “You don’t eat the horns” was preached, I was the odd man out. Don’t get me wrong, the meat is definitely what we hunt for, but the chase for a true giant is why I hunt. The idea that there is always a bigger one out there gets me every year, and more often than not, I end up with unfilled tags in my pocket.

When I told my family I was going to build my moose priority for upwards of 10 years to have the chance at killing a monster bull, they thought I was crazy! After 11 years of waiting, my friend Brad Davis and I, were both successfully drawn for the three day primitive weapons Bull Moose hunt in Camp Wainwright.

The Camp Wainwright special license is a regulated hunt on Justin Ongaro waited 11 long years to pull a coveted a military base in AlCamp Wainwright primitive weapon bull moose tag. His berta which covers a long wait was worth it when he fulfilled his lifelong goal vast area of 609 km2. of taking a 50” bull moose! It was the biggest bull taken It is not enclosed, allowing the animals to off the base in 2015, and stretched the tape at 50.5” wide. travel to and from the He and his three friends put in three full days, the entire base as they please. length of the season, and filled both of the tags they had Each hunter is allowed with two great bulls. to bring a hunting partner, but they cannot carry a weapon.

We were fortunate to

have the help of two great hunters Clint and Grant Wall. For this hunt, Clint was hunting with me, while Grant was with Brad. On day one, all hunters must sign in at the base and listen to a briefing on rules and regulations.

Photo albums filled with the top bucks and bulls taken in past years were on display for everyone to view. My goal has always been to shoot a bull over 50”, and after looking through the photos, I knew this could become a reality as a few bulls over 50” are killed every year. The briefing ended about 30 minutes before legal light and all the hunters got into their vehicles and headed out in all directions in search of their target animals. With Clint working the map we decided to head west towards the Battle River which is perfect moose habitat. The terrain is ideal for spotting, with numerous high vantage points allowing you to overlook the valley for miles. At first light we spotted a group of 4 bulls on a ridge about 500 yards away, and after a long look with the spotting scope we figured the biggest bull would have been about 40”. We then saw a group of moose leaving the valley, they were traveling quickly through some willows, so we got into position to intercept them and were treated to 13 moose, crossing single file in front of us inside of 100 yards! The group consisted of cows, calves and small bulls, it was amazing to watch them cover ground, and in just a few minutes they were specs to the naked eye. We then head down into the valley to check out the marshy willow flats of the Battle River. As we came around a corner, the trees opened up and allowed for a view of a large meadow that went into a cove of willows surrounded by thick bush. As I was telling Clint, “This is as good of a moose spot you will ever find,” I spotted a moose on the far side of the meadow just outside of the willows, about 600 yards away. Instantly, with the naked eye, we both knew he was a bull, but we weren’t sure how big. As soon as I got him

in the spotting scope, I knew it was decision time. With our phoneskopes attached to our spotting scopes, we both started videoing and taking pictures of the bull. After watching him for a long time, we agreed he was a beautiful bull, but it was only the first morning of the hunt. Like always, I started to think, “There is probably going to be a bigger bull out there.”

As the bull started to walk into the thick bush I decided to pass the bull up. In the back of my mind I knew the bull was not going to travel far and that he was going to most likely bed down and stay there for the remainder of the day. With the fresh snow we were confident we could get in there to take a closer look at him if we wanted. As we started to leave the area I was questioning my discussion to pass up what was one of the biggest bulls I had ever seen in the wild. I sent picture messages of the bull to some of my friends and family to get some more input. Everyone was saying it was a great bull and that I was crazy for passing it up! Finally I received the text I was waiting for from one of the best field estimators I know, all he said is, “That bull will go 50 inches.”

We then met up with Brad and Grant and after watching the video of the bull a few more times, I decided that I was going to go back in after him. When we got back to the meadow, the bull was out of sight so myself, Brad and Clint were going to head into the meadow while Grant got up on a high ridge so he could watch the valley and give us information. Grant and Clint do a great job of videotaping their hunts, especially their sheep hunts and they were going to give it a try. Clint wanted to film so he carried his combination of spotting scope, tripod and phoneskope to capture the hunt. I chose not to bring my trigger sticks, as I thought it was going to be a tight shot in the bush. We started walking to the other side of the meadow where we last saw the bull. Once we were on his tracks, we slowly started following them into the cove and towards the thick bush where the bull was headed. As we approached the tree line, moose

started getting up in the bush about 100 yards away. As the moose began moving through the trees we were not able to spot the big bull. Finally Clint said “There he is to the right.”

The bull was bedded in a cluster of willows in the middle of the meadow and had just stood up. Brad quickly ranged him and he was 188 yards away. Because of the tall grass and trees, I could not use my bipod so I had to stand with my muzzleloader free hand, watching the bull as he turned broadside and stopped. As I watched for what seemed to be an eternity, the crosshairs floated over his vitals but I knew I was not going to take the shot freehand. I took my focus off the scope and my peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Clint’s spotting scope and tripod pointed right at the Bull. I didn’t think, I just grabbed the tripod and rested my muzzleloader on top of his spotting scope. Once I rested the gun on the spotting scope it bent forward as the scope was not locked into place luckily Clint was right there and got the scope locked. I got back focused on the bull, now confident with my rest, I placed my 200 yard dot right behind the Bull’s shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The bull absorbed the shot while he turned 90 degrees and started to slowly trot away into the thick bush. Once the bull disappeared, I looked to Clint and realized he was using his spotting scope to film the hunt. Jokingly, he said I grabbed his scope like a bully in elementary school. After playing back the footage to the point where I grabbed the scope, I was a little worried. The shot was through some tall grass and enough willows to possibly effect a bullets path.

When we got to where the bull was standing Brad found the first sign of blood! As we followed the trail there was lots of blood on both sides of the tracks so I was confident I had made

a good shot. Grant called us from his elevated position letting us know only 3 small bulls and 2 cows came out of the back side of the bush and crossed an open field. With no sighting of the big bull we thought he was dead in the bush and proceeded in after him. As we followed the tracks into the bush the blood trail was very good, with every step I thought I was going to find the bull bedded but that was not the case. The bush kept getting thicker, then Clint heard a crack and spotted the bull 40 yards away at the edge of the thick cover. As we maneuvered to find a shot through the trees he headed out into the open towards another tree line. By the time we got to the opening he had almost made it to the tree line but was not moving fast. We took off running after him when we got to the other tree line we followed the blood trail until Clint spotted him bedded in some thick cover. As we got close, the bull tried to get up but we finished him off with a close range shot. The bull was down and the celebration started. As I walked up to the huge bull I was in awe, I had waited 11 years for this moment and it was finally here.

When Grant arrived back he asked Clint how the footage turned out and we started laughing as he told the story of how I said, “Give me that thing,” and grabbed his spotting scope.

After dragging the bull out of the bush for some photos the work started. We had to quarter the bull and drag him out to the closest road. Once we were done, we spent the next two days helping Brad find a bull. On the last day Brad made a great shot on a beautiful 40” bull that Grant was also able to capture on video. It was an amazing hunt and I was so lucky to have Brad, Clint, and Grant there with me. My bull ended up being 50.5” wide, and was the biggest bull killed in all the primitive weapon and rifle seasons at Camp Wainwright in 2015! I never saw a bigger bull in the three days so I am glad I didn’t succumb to the idea that there might be a bigger one out there. When I got back to Edmonton and showed my family they were all proud of me and my Dad insisted I get the bull mounted for his cabin. They were amazed at how big the bull was and after butchering it they were all shocked at how good the meat was. Now that my family knows the meat tastes fantastic and how much more meat you get with a big bull, I might see them pass up smaller bulls in the future but I don’t think they will wait 11 years for one!

ucky L no.

BY: CHRIS MAXWELL

Success never tastes sweeter than it does on top of the mountain.

These are the memories you will never forget, the moments on the mountain that define your life as a hunter. These words sum up Chris Maxwell’s successful sheep hunt, and form the basis of his new spot as a featured columnist for BGI magazine, Campfire Chronicles.

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ountain air brushed past my face as the trail of old memory laid before us. Optimistic as I had ever been, we headed deeper into the mountain. Flat prairie had turned to foothills which had turned into the mountain ranges that now engulfed us. Several hours of riding later we were finally at base camp; the first leg of our expedition was complete.

It had been a long journey to get to this point. Five years of DIY backpack hunting in some incredibly rugged country and the previous year going with Skip Selk, a local outfitter in late season had all preceded this day. I was now back with Skip for the first few days of the new season, our time was limited but Skip knew the country well and I was determined to make every day count.

Opening morning found us at the headwaters of “Secret Creek�; it was a major sheep corridor with prime habitat. Far enough into the mountain to discourage all but the most determined of backpack hunters but accessible enough to reasonably hunt the area by horse.

I was filled with optimism, the day before we had spotted a band of seven rams. Three rams appeared to be legal with one old monarch well past his prime. His crown was broomed heavy and his belly hung low. This is perhaps the oldest ram I have ever seen on hoof and we were moving in to get a better look. An hour later had us set up in a better vantage point where we pulled the spotting scopes out once again. Quickly

we relocated the rams, they were running straight up the mountain! Immediately scanning the area, we spotted another hunter who had simply walked straight to the rams only to have spooked them to the top of the mountain. We watched as the backpacker turned back and walked out and over the mountain top.

Sheep hunters often talk about the highs and lows they experience while hunting sheep, this was definitely a low point but as every seasoned sheep hunter knows, your luck can change in an instant. A flicker of a tail, an unsuspecting glimpse in the binoculars and the hunt is back on!

Day two found us back in the same drainage in the off chance the sheep had come down from their perch in the crags of the mountain. We did relocate the rams but now instead of one hunter in the drainage there were five others plus us! I was in a state of disbelief, knowing how hard these guys would have had to work just to hike into this location with fifty pound packs.

Being just over twenty miles from the nearest road, the real question is how do you pack an animal out on foot this far back in the mountain? We decided at this point to pull the pin and go to another drainage that hopefully had not been pressured.

Disappointed but still optimistic, we headed out and were soon back at base camp.

The next three days brought nothing but disappointment.

Plagued by extreme weather, including two snow days in the mix, things were not looking good. Although it was unseasonable weather for late August it is not unheard of in the mountains. A fourth day turned up nothing, not even a track had been seen in the scree.

At this point in the hunt my optimism was fading fast, but as every experienced sheep hunter knows optimism is one of the key ingredient for success. It is what drives you to go out day after day looking in drainages with only the remotest of possibility, it is what makes you put your boots on in the morning and head into poor weather and it is what keeps the mentally tough, tough. On a tough hunt every day becomes a choice to persevere and those that do are often rewarded.

Down to my final day of hunting, spirits were at an all-time low.

We only had time to check out one more drainage and off we went.

In the hours I had spent riding and glassing I knew that even if I did not harvest a ram I had already been successful. This was pristine country and few people had ever set eyes on it. I truly have been one of the fortunate few that have had the privilege of experiencing this wilderness first hand.

Shortly after mid-day, it finally happened, we spotted the first band of sheep! They were only ewes but now the search was on and it didn’t take long for Skip to locate two bedded rams. Fortunately for me they ended up being the two best rams and we had spotted them first. The rams, although attentive, didn’t seem concerned as I got into position. Using my pack as a rest, my first shot shattered the mountain’s silence and connected! Luckily, the ram was hit hard and we had time to get around him and set up for the final shot.

This monarch had finally come to rest on a precarious scree slope and waited our arrival. Making our way to him, I had a true sense of reverence for this animal. Few species have the magnificence and allure of the Big Horn.

Lady luck had smiled on me, not only did I have a tremendous

ram on the ground he had come to rest only 500 yards from where we could bring the horses to. This might not seem like a big deal to some but to those that know what it takes to pack an animal off a mountain, any distance this was a welcome blessing.

Alberta’s Big Horn Sheep, perhaps the most difficult species to hunt in all of North America had been my nemesis species now for seven years. No matter how hard I hunted or how far I hiked I just could not get on a good ram. Everything from the rugged mountain ranges to the inclement weather can bring

even the most seasoned hunter to their knees. There are a lot of sheep and a lot of tags especially if you are a resident but that does not guarantee you will find them and certainly does not guarantee success.

Although my quest for the Big Horn had begun many years ago and is finally complete, I will continue to pursue them as long as I can. There is something about the allure of mountains, the habitat sheep live in, and the difficulty of finding a trophy ram that only a sheep hunter can understand.

Hamilton Greenwood Photo

Photo by Shawn Danychuk

www.saskbowhunters.ca

BY: JOEL MACK

I’ve only dreamt about having a hunting season like the one I had this past year. It all started in early April when I was at my Dad’s girlfriend’s house in Rocanville, Saskatchewan for a visit. We had been talking about all the wildlife and beautiful scenery surrounding her acreage as it overlooked the Qu’Apelle Valley. Rebecca then said something that ultimately started my 2014 hunting season. “The bears should be waking up soon,” she said, completely capturing my attention. After talking to Rebecca about the bears in the area it was quite clear that there was plenty and they were a becoming a problem. Although I had never hunted bear before, I thought this would be a great opportunity to start. I was shown an area of land where I was allowed to place my bait and a couple tree stands to hunt the black bears. I then called my good buddy Chase to ask if he would like to join me in

hunting. Of course he was just as excited as I was!

For the next couple weeks Chase and I spent all of our free time gathering bait, getting tree stands ready to go and making sure our bows were tuned up and sighted in. We made a trip to our spot at the end of April and we set our tree stands, chained our bait barrel down and set up a trail cam.

We were filled with so much excitement that we could barely wait to come back and see what had found our bait. The next couple weeks went by very slowly as we awaited our first opportunity to make our way out to check out our trail camera.

As we ventured through the bushes towards our bait we were overcome with excitement as we envisioned finding our baits completely gone and everything torn to pieces. But, our enthusiasm came to a quick halt when we noticed that the bait had not been touched and not a single picture was

Joel Mack completed an incredible feat in the 2014 season. He tagged a trophy class bear, elk, mule deer and whitetail all in the same year in southern Saskatchewan!

taken. Just over a week later Rebecca checked my camera for me to possibly save me another wasted hour and half trip from Carlyle in southeast Saskatchewan. At the end of the day I received an email from Rebecca, I immediately noticed there were picture attachments. The pictures were of a very nice black bear in daylight hours! The thrill was back and so were Chase and I to hunt the following Friday.

Unfortunately, our first afternoon in the stand we didn’t see anything but had an awesome night in the tree just knowing a bear could walk in at anytime. The next afternoon felt great, perfect temperature and calm wind. We got up in our tree stands around 2:30P.M. At about 5:30P.M. Chase caught my attention and told me that he caught some movement in the brush to his right. I grabbed my bow and got ready. Ten minutes went by and we hadn’t seen any more

movement and couldn’t hear anything, we figured whatever it was had passed right through without stopping. Out of nowhere I glanced up to see a nice bear walking straight towards us and fast! My nerves didn’t even have a chance to catch up to me; it was all happening too quickly. The bear made its way through the thick brush into a perfect shooting lane at just 18 yards. The only problem was we were face to face and he was staring right at me. Was it all over? I thought I was busted for sure as the bear eyed me down for a good 15 seconds. But, as luck would have it the bear turned broadside and took a couple steps giving me a perfect clear shot at his vitals. I settled my 20-yard pin behind his shoulder and hit my release.

I watched my arrow pass through his lungs and him take off crashing through the trees. Within a few minutes, I finally settled my shakes and through the silence we heard the fa-

mous “death moan.” Now we were cheering and soaking it all in. We quickly scurried down our ladders and ventured out on our blood trail. Finally, about 60 yards from where I shot him we came about my bear.

I cannot even describe the emotions that I was overcome with as I walked up to my first black bear. This also just happened to be my first ever archery kill! Many pictures were taken and numerous great memories made.

As summer rolled around, all I could think about was the fall hunting season. When the Saskatchewan Big Game Draw results came out I was excited to see that I had been drawn for mule deer in my favourite zone and also a hard to get elk tag in my home zone of 33. I spent the remainder of summer scouting for elk.

Finally, September 10th rolled around. The elk were in full rut and the season was now open. The first few nights after work I spent out hunting, I made a lot of miles walking but could not get on any elk. I really wanted to find an elk and get a shot in before the weekend, as the hunting pressure would only increase over time. I had no luck that week, so for the weekend I got together with my stepdad Adam; who also had a tag. We also met up with two of our good friends who were willing to help us in our hunt. We hunted an area that we scouted all summer and had trail camera pictures of a really nice bull. But, we ended up seeing more hunters than elk and heard gun shot after gunshot. It was very discouraging after all the pre season hours and hard work we had put in. The frustration set in, as we didn’t see a single elk.

The next weekend, the area we hunted the previous week was quiet from hunters so we were very excited. But yet again, we had no luck; the elk were spooked and were not coming in until well after dark. The following Monday; Adam and I decided we would split up; one guy was to walk north from the truck and the other to walk south. I got to a spot on the edge

of a hay field and right as legal shooting light was approaching I heard a bull bugling to his cows only 200 yards away. I was quick on the call and challenged him. The 300” class bull came running in on a string. He stopped at about 150 yards and let out a bugle, I rested my cross hairs and pulled the trigger on my 300 Winchester Magnum. I watched the bull run away unharmed. I missed my chance, nerves got to me and I jumped the trigger. I was crushed.

The next day I went to the exact same spot thinking maybe luck would have it that the same herd would be out there. The fog was so heavy that I couldn’t see 20 feet in front of me so instead I decided that I would leave and catch some sleep before my afternoon hunt. I was on my way home to Carlyle when just a few minutes north of town the fog seemed to lift. That last minute decision had me headed to another spot just outside of town. I parked my truck and as I was putting my boots on outside I heard a bugle! I grabbed my rifle and bolted in that direction.

I could easily make ground on the elk, as the hilly country kept me out of sight. I narrowed the distance quickly by following the loud bugles of the bull calling his cows.

Finally, I approached the herd and could see about 10 elk through some willow bushes. They were on a fence line just about to jump over and into the thick bush. My chances were looking slim. By the time I snuck around the bush there was only one elk left to jump the fence but luckily it was the herd bull! I quickly pulled my gun up and made a quick shot right as he jumped. I made a perfect shot on the bull and as soon as he hit the other side of the fence he went down.

I fell to my knees and had a moment to myself before getting up to celebrate and call everyone to tell them my news. After a short time, Adam showed up with the quad and we made our way to the elk only to take several pictures and load it on the trailer. Elk season was full of highs and lows and was definitely

one of the best hunts of my life.

It was now November 1st and rifle mule deer season was open.

The second weekend in N o v e m b e r, my buddy Chase and I left Carlyle at 3:30A.M., on a three and a half hour journey west into mule deer country. We spent the morning finding high vantage points and watching deer make their way from the fields back into the hills. After watching and passing up plenty of respectable bucks, we finally found the one to go after.

We spotted a group of deer dropping into a coulee. We watched them for a while in the binoculars. There was one average looking buck and a few does in the group that we could see. As we were watching them and just about to leave, a semi hauling bales came by and spooked them. All the deer got up and took off through the field into the next coulee, but this time there was a much larger buck running right behind them that we hadn’t previously seen with the group! We immediately knew this was the deer we needed to go after.

As we snuck over to the next big coulee, Chase peeked over

the edge and said he could see the big buck standing in the wide open on the other side. I stood up and didn’t even have to look twice; I knew I was shooting this deer. I took my first shot and missed high; I took a second shot and smoked him at 300 yards with my 300 Winchester Magnum!

The buck took three steps and piled up. Once we got up to the deer we took plenty of pictures and got ready for the half-mile drag back to the truck. Even though our legs and arms were burning from the trek, we knew it was worth it.

The end of November means one thing to me, rifle whitetail season! After checking my trail camera when I got home from mule deer hunting, I was thrilled to get into my ground blind. My first afternoon in the blind was exciting; I saw a doe, two fawns and a small 4x4 buck. The second afternoon I watched the same doe and two fawns feeding in front of me for over an hour. Suddenly a really nice 5x5 buck came in and pushed the other deer away. This buck was one I knew I wanted to shoot as I had several pictures of him on my trail camera. Sadly, the camera made him look older and a lot bigger. I just couldn’t shoot him. “He will be a much nicer buck next year if he can survive another harsh Saskatchewan winter”, I thought to myself as the buck eventually faded away into the darkness and my evening hunt was over.

The next afternoon I was later than usual getting to my blind. I spooked three deer walking in and thought my afternoon was ruined. It was the coldest day of the year thus far and I was underdressed for the weather. I was frozen to the bone and hadn’t seen anything. I just wanted to go home.

With about an hour left of shooting light I decided to pack up my things and head back. As I stood up a lone doe made her way into my view so I sat back down. She fed for a couple seconds and took off with her ears pinned back like something was chasing her. I then could hear branches snapping and a big body coming through the trees to the opening. I got my rifle up and ready and when the buck finally showed himself I noticed it was my number one hit list buck. I was thrilled to see him, as I hadn’t had any pictures of since late October, not to mention

the first time I’d seen him in person. I made no mistake and with a perfect shot dropped him on the spot. As I watched the buck fall it was a very emotional, bittersweet ending to a hunting season of a lifetime!

I worked so hard through blood, sweat and tears and I finally just closed the deal and punched my last tag of the year. This has been the most amazing year for me and I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with the luck of my first baby growing inside my fiancé. I can’t wait to share the stories of my dream hunting season with my daughter when she arrives.

TIME WELL SPENT BY: KAARE GUNDERSON

I

am absolutely consumed these days with fish, specifically big pike, it’s like they are my “new whitetails”. I know this is a hunting magazine and I was asked to contribute regularly on whitetails but in following up to my most recent article and how I was going to share what was happening in my season I must discuss fishing. It is what my family and I have been doing almost every weekend and when school ends for the year and I hang up my whiteboard marker, it’s what we will do almost daily through the first 20 days or so of July. It was without question, my first love, and for a chapter in life I was doing it very little. I suppose it was a perfect storm of life timing that contributed to that, University, a new job, no boat, they all factored in. Six years ago I bought a boat and since then it has been an incredible ride with countless unforgettable moments.

Before proceeding, allow me to mention that even with this current summer time obsession, whitetails never fully leave my brain and tonight I will swap my first trail camera card of the year. That first card swap is always exciting.

Once the snow finally melted I wrapped up a great shed season with some memorable trips. Never have I really had a shed hunting buddy, my whitetail pursuits have turned into solitary efforts the past 15 years or so but this year I spent time with two, my sons. We had our moments, days in the sun, moments we were second to none. On one occasion we simply “mopped them up” scooping roughly 25 bones in 3 hours! On another we found an absolute giant, sure it was old, but it was off a buck I once knew and even have a couple of fresh sheds from,

it looked like an elk shed laying in the open as my boy Tait and I spied it from 100 yards. We decided that there likely was not a larger whitetail shed picked up in Saskatchewan that day.

Even if that is not true, we decided we were kings for that day.

Moose sheds always seem to elude me despite spending time shed hunting where the moose sign is off the charts, but on another occasion, while separated by extremely thick hazel brush up on some high terrain brushy flats I heard an excited yell. “I found a moose shed, and it’s fresh, and it’s pretty nice.” In making my way over to the sound of Reid’s voice I spotted yet another bone matching that same description laying under a lone spruce tree. Even though it was our very first father/son match on fresh moose sheds, I do realize that it could also be our last.

Those days were special moments and I most definitely realize that. The outdoors, for those who spend time in them, they can bring so much joy.

But eventually, the leaves, they popped out, winter rolled into spring and shed hunting was once again over for another season, time waits for nobody. And during these months of May, June, July and August there is not a whole bunch I can do when it comes to my ensuing hunting season. I can practice with my weapon, as any good hunter should, we owe a clean kill to the game we pursue. I can and I will scout. I will view trail camera images, I will set up some blinds or stands, even refresh some salt licks but I most definitely cannot do enough in relation to whitetails to keep nearly as preoccupied with them these days as I am with fishing. I have put a lot of time

and effort into hunting deer over the years and have a pretty good grasp of what I can expect come fall so I simply will not let it consume me at this time of year anymore. Eventually, I think we all get to that point when we put enough of our self into something, we plateau.

So when I referred earlier to fishing as my “new whitetails”, I simply meant something I was thinking about all of the time, something I was deeply passionate about, something I wish to get better at and like in hunting, the only way to get better, is to learn more, try new things, make mistakes and have successes.

Much like the 20 year old me was pouring whitetail information into my brain, I am reading Gord Pyzer articles on pike fishing, he is a fishing god in case you did not know. I am staring at instagram photos and following fishing related accounts.

Like a teen I am watching youtube videos and like 20 years ago with whitetail tactics and equipment, I am keeping up to date

with the latest trends in tackle and lures.

Even as an old dog, I am learning.

In reality, there is much similar when it comes to hunting whitetails and chasing big pike, in my eyes anyway. Monster bucks are not a dime a dozen, nor are jumbo pike over that 20 pound mark. You simply do not put the net around a 40” plus fish with much more regularity than you see a booner on each hunt. Whitetails are found in a vast variety of habitats ranging from heavy boreal forest all the way to native prairie and everything in between. Big pike also thrive in a variety of habitats. We find them in cabbage beds, on giant sand flats, rock piles and steep drop offs. I once read a Jim Shockey quote that stated, “a big buck spot is a big buck spot is a big buck spot……..”

I think I can say the same about pike, they like structure, the spot on the spot. Like whitetails, their habits and behaviour is often dictated by external factors, such as temperature, time of year, and obviously, food. This spring I discussed with my son Reid about how it would be, if like in hunting, one could only catch one per year.

Would we run underwater trail cameras at strategic locations like we do for deer? Would we use that information to tell us when the time was right to target our one catch of the year?

Where would be the best places on the lake we fish most often to set those cameras? We decided we would, but also, that being able to catch and release as many big females as we can hook up with, is a better deal for us. The only thing that may make it better would be if those pike grew antlers, and they shed them the moment we got them in the net.

And a great deal it has been for us so far. Aside from the countless small fish, average fish and nice fish, we have put a couple real dandies in the boat, one off of sand, the other out of cabbage and there will be more, I can just feel it. When you figure out patterns and start to put puzzle pieces together in fishing, just like in hunting, you just know your odds for success get higher and higher. Those moments, captured on camera from a boat are much like those when everything finally comes together hunting and you can proudly pose for a photo with your buck.

“Got One”, “Fish On”, “That’s Weight”, those phrases, they seem to keep ringing from my boat, much like “found one” and “I got another”, did while we shed hunted this spring. I simply cannot imagine having it any better when it comes to raising my kids. I know it sounds cliché, but they are cool. They notice the osprey above. They spot the bear working its way through bulrushes along the shore. They appreciate the beautiful colour of a golden walleye and the different markings on each big pike, just like

capes and throat patches on the deer in our basement. They recognize which sheds are from which deer. Simply put, they appreciate nature and all of its wonder. It makes me proud. They are 100 times the sportsman I was at their age. I had not picked up great sheds, I had not released countless big fish, I knew nothing of conservation. They have and they do.

Like I stated earlier, time waits for no one, it just marches on. And because of that, whitetail season will be here before I know it. Summer will roll into fall, leaves will turn, geese will head south, I’ll have another notch on my age post and we will be hunting whitetails, and hopefully good ones at that. “We”, I look forward to that, it’ll be something new for I have pursued deer in a solo fashion for many years but this year, as I have stated in other articles, I get to play the father guide role. Alone is just simply the approach I grew to love but that focus on an individual pursuit for so long is one of the reasons my old first love has rekindled a fire in me that is burning in my kids. I grew to miss those outdoor pursuits that aren’t so solitary. Fishing is more social during the actual playing out of the act itself. Jokes are often cracked while friends in other boats are hollered at.

Heck, sometimes we even play music out loud while doing it.

If I could crank out an early 90’s country playlist while sitting in my deer blind, like I do sometimes when I fish, I’d be dancing, maybe even literally. I find for the most part that fellow fisherman are quite friendly generally. They are quick to offer advice on where the bite is hot and even what they are using.

They are generally respectful of other’s space and jealousy very rarely rears its ugly head, at least where I fish. Hunters and fisherman are similar in many ways I guess, besides being damn good liars.

I am not saying that I wish hunting was not such a solo endeavour for me personally. That is what I love about it and I wish to have it remain that way for the most part. Some folks climb

mountains, some participate in physically gruelling events.

Whitetail is my own personal physical and mental challenge.

But it is nice to have both and I sure am glad I rediscovered everything fishing had to offer, we are having a pile of fun doing it. Looking back, I can say that I think I missed out, when I had more of one and less of the other. Finding a balance has been important. Maybe for all of us there is something new to discover, or rediscover. Maybe for you it is golf, maybe you are one of many bear hunters out there. Maybe you are a baseball fan or player, maybe you like to camp or maybe you are like me and like to get on the water and chase the monsters that lurk beneath. Whatever it is, don’t forget about it and devote all your emotional energy into only one thing, I do not believe it is worth it. Without wishing days away hunting season will arrive and then my focus will once again be redirected. Here in Saskatchewan, we live in a place that offers so much, it is foolish to not take advantage of it, as well as fight to protect it.

By the time this issue even makes it into the hands of readers my summer will be over and I will be back to my real job. Sunsets on the water will turn into sunsets from a field edge. Making fluorocarbon leaders will give way to replacing fletching on arrows. Plano boxes full of lures that rarely get touched will take a backseat to a backpack full of stuff that also hardly ever gets touched. Spending time with my family will change looks, from the inside of a Lund Impact to inside a pop up ground blind. My depth finder will become less necessary than my binoculars or rangefinder. A filleting knife will be traded for one of the skinning variety and photos of fish on my instagram feed will step aside for ones of whitetails. The smiles however, they will be the same, and they will be genuine and big!

Jesse Bergen runs Vivid Taxidermy out of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. He did a spectacular job bringing Darryl’s buck back to life. To contact Jesse visit

www.vividtaxidermy.com or call 306-230-2933 or Email: vividtaxidermy@sasktel.net and make sure to check out his work on facebook.

B

J

Part 1: 2014 Hunt I was introduced to the outdoors at a very young age while tagging along with my Dad, checking his trap line. I wasn’t much help, but I did what I could to keep up. I learned early where we could walk and how to make a good set. Just being outdoors was the best part for me, until one nice sunny day out on the trap line, while Dad was recovering a coyote and resetting a new snare. I was patiently waiting; looking down in the snow, when I realized what I was seeing was the tips of an antler. I immediately pulled it out, and was shocked to be holding a cranker six point whitetail shed! That was the moment my huge buck obsession began. Throughout my childhood my interest was sparked more and more every time a hunting magazine would come in the mail, or whenever I found a big shed throughout the spring and summer. At that time, hockey was a big part of my life and it took up most of the time I would have spent hunting with Dad for the deer that we had collected sheds from the previous spring. As I got older it only got tougher as hockey practice took up every weekday with games on weekends. I was satisfied by the respectable trophies I harvested, but knew I could do more if I had time.

Last year, 2014, was my first year away from playing the kind of hockey that demanded so much of my time, and I was pumped because I was drawn for mule deer! I finally had the time to hunt one of the big bucks I had my eye on for years. I spent the summer the same as every other summer, watching, taking pictures of mulies, and setting up trail cams. It was a very typical summer for the deer in that area as their patterns were the same as most years. Throughout September I was too busy going to college and helping with harvest to keep watch on my target buck. I still got out a little, but never saw the target buck again after September 8, 2014.

A couple days before muzzleloader season my Dad and I went walking in a nearby area hoping to find our #1 hitlister.

To our surprise, we spotted a really wide, heavy buck. We knew instantly this buck had a big frame, but we didn’t know how good his forks were since the deer was about 700 yards away and moving away from us. Dad and I named the buck Brutus because he was just a big, old, heavy brute and we agreed Brutus was quite fitting. Brutus became second on the hit list and if my target buck didn’t show up I was going to come back to look for Brutus.

On the opening day of muzzleloader season, I took the day

Jordan Wittman lives in an area known for giant mule deer, but the back to buck Jumbos he took in 2014 and 2015 are off the charts. Jordan’s home town of Swift Current, Saskatchewan, has likely never seen such amazing deer taken by one person in back to back years. Jordan’s first buck (opposite) grossed 202” of total antler including a 27 6/8” inside spread, while his incredibly massive 2015 buck (below) had a gross score of 219 7/8”, including a total of 51 3/8” of mass!

BY: JORDAN WITTMAN

BACK -TO- BACK

JUMBOS

off from college, hoping for a successful morning. It was pretty windy, but that didn’t seem to bother the deer that morning.

At first light I saw a buck fighting another good buck. I was pretty excited to get the last half of the fight on video. By the end of the morning I had seen just about every deer in the area, except for my target buck. I kept on coming back every morning before school hoping my target buck would show himself again, but no such luck.

On the morning of October 10, I was out spotting at first light when all of a sudden this big, wide, heavy buck pushed a doe out from behind a hill. It was Brutus! It was easy to tell he was a good buck; the only problem was that my heart was set on my target buck. I decided to wait a few more days for my target buck, especially since I had years of history with him.

The next morning, sure enough, there was Brutus again! I decided to sneak in for a closer look. I crawled over a small hill into some sage bushes so I could get a really good view of the deer. He was about 80 yards away. I had my camera along and was able to get some pictures and video of the buck. When I was done with my camera I brought up the muzzleloader. I was so close to squeezing the trigger, but a small part of me still wanted to hold out for my target buck. It was killing me later

that I hadn’t pulled the trigger, and all night as I watched video of Brutus over and over, I couldn’t believe I didn’t shoot. It was time to take my head out of the fog. No matter how big my target buck was, Brutus was also a giant I had to take!

The next day I couldn’t get out in the morning, but was able to go for the last two hours of legal light. The first hour went by seeing nothing but a coyote. The clock was ticking down as I began to think, “Oh GREAT, I passed up Brutus and now that I’ve decided to take him, he’s disappeared just like my target buck!” All of a sudden I saw a giant framed buck sky lined, making his way over a hill. It was Brutus! I moved as quickly and as safely as I could to cut the distance before it was too dark. I came to the hill where I had last spotted him. Once I got close to the top of the hill I got down and started crawling my way over. There he was in plain sight. My heart was pounding so hard I had to take a minute to calm myself down.

I quickly ranged him at 144 yards. I knew I could definitely make the shot. When I pulled the deer up into my scope I had to take a couple more seconds to slow down my excitement.

He turned broadside as I placed the crosshairs right on target and pulled the trigger. Brutus immediately took off straight up the hill. He made it half way up before he began losing his balance and fell back down to the bottom. “I GOT HIM!” I excitedly shouted. I phoned my parents immediately to tell them all about the hunt as I talked 100 mph. From that moment on, I decided to never pass up on a giant buck again just because it was not my target buck. You can never be disappointed with another giant!

Part 2: 2015 Hunt

I’ve always heard about how fun bow hunting is and have always wanted to give it a try. Since harvest takes up most of the time during archery season, I had never got into bow hunting.

This year I decided I was going to try archery while harvesting at the same time. There had to be some time that would work to get out and hunt.

In mid June I went out for an evening drive hoping to spot mule deer and see their new growth. Just before dark I was able to spot a buck named Triple H, which stands for Heavy, Heavy, Heavy. It was a little earlier in the growing season, but I couldn’t believe what I was looking at! There was so much mass it just looked like clubs on the ends of his horns. This deer had put on a ton of mass from the previous year.

Throughout the rest of the summer I practiced hard with my bow, but I found my shooting skills regress when I took a two-week break. I had to start practicing all over again with a new found determination.

I kept a close eye on Triple H all summer and gathered photos of him. He had two different patterns during the summer, and both were very similar. Just before September he made a major pattern change and he moved deep into the hills. In the evenings he wouldn’t move until last light or not until dark. In the

mornings he usually showed himself heading to his bed. Triple H had three different bedding spots. One of his beds was high up in the hills, the second bed was deep down in the hills, while the third, he would go deep down and then go a mile further than his second bed.

Harvest was now in full swing and it didn’t look like I was going to be able to hunt much, until the weather forecast changed and rain was predicted for the opening day of archery season! Opening morning came and it had rained just enough to stop the harvest and keep me to the main grid. I met my hunting buddy Gerritt that morning, since there was a second good buck in the area. It rained more and more that morning as we took a long hike into the area that the bucks were using. Half an hour in, we spotted both bucks together heading to some short brush. We began creeping our way over a small hill beside the brush, when all of a sudden I noticed the tines. It was Triple H! We immediately froze; I ranged him at 41 yards. We couldn’t see the other buck, when all of a sudden he popped up and they both took off and stopped just outside of bow range.

They looked around for a minute, and then kept going. As we

walked back to the trucks we decided that the only reasonable explanation for the bucks leaving was that the wind must have swirled and they got a whiff of us. It was a rough morning, the deer busted us and almost an inch of rain fell on us. The fact that we were soaked to the skin didn’t make us feel any better about our unsuccessful hunting attempt.

The next morning I went out by myself, and things weren’t looking good. The fog was so thick I could hardly see 90 yards. I decided to creep through the hills slowly and undetected.

That didn’t work, and I didn’t see any deer at all.

At about 9:30 am the fog started to lift and I was heading back to my truck when I spotted Triple H working his way around a hill. I thought I knew where he was heading so I went to a nearby hill to watch for him in the brush and bushes that I believed he was heading for. He didn’t show up and the next day was another bust with zero sightings.

On the fourth morning I was headed in solo again. After walking about a mile, I got to the area where I wanted to try looking. Within five minutes I spotted the other big mulie. I watched him go into some willows so I decided to get closer and keep an eye on him. I was about 200 yards away, hiding behind some sagebrush. That buck was huge. As I watched, I figured him to be about 230 non-typical and he had cherry red horns, just freshly out of velvet. He was browsing in the willows when suddenly I felt the wind switch and hit my back right towards the giant buck. BUSTED! The buck took off and I began a two-mile disappointing walk back to the truck.

I couldn’t believe my luck with the wind again.

Later that day Gerritt phoned me and told me he

had heard that the buck that busted me earlier that morning had been shot. I couldn’t believe it. That buck must have gone straight to that lucky hunter!

The next day Gerritt and I went back to the same vantage point we were on a couple days previous. The day before was about as bad as it gets so we thought today had to be better.

Around 8:45 am we spotted Triple H with two smaller bucks as they made their way to bed down. Once he was bedded we made a game plan on how to sneak in. We closed the distance and peaked over the hill. It was 60 yards to the closest side of the bushes, 90 yards to the far side. We needed to get closer.

There was a flat spot half way down the hillside. We need to get there,” I whispered. Gerritt was suffering from a pretty bad cough so he decided that I should be the one to sneak in closer.

I worked my way down slowly and got set up comfortably for the wait. By about 10:15 am there was no movement at all, and it was about 3:15 pm before Triple H stood up and began grazing on some bushes. I got set up, ready for my chance to shoot. He began feeding right in the thickest part of the bushes. I could only see antler tips, and then he just laid back down! I didn’t even get a chance to shoot. I began to get worried thinking, “What if that was the only time he would get up until dark”.

As time ticked by slowly, I began feeling extremely uncomfortable. My legs and butt were starting to feel numb, I couldn’t go to the bathroom and I didn’t have any food or drink.

The little buck with Triple H got up a few times giving me chances to shoot, but Triple H stayed put. I wasn’t sure where the second little buck was, so I felt a little nervous about that.

At around 6:00pm I could hear what sounded like a motorbike approaching fast. I thought, “Oh great, now this hunt is going to get blown by some guy joyriding”. It wasn’t a motorbike after all, it was a drone! This small drone came over me and stopped. The little buck got up and looked nervously at the drone. I thought for sure the hunt was just about finished and knew nobody would believe that a drone blew the stalk.

That would be the most bizarre story, “Who would ever believe it?” I thought. The drone hovered for about a minute and then took off. I felt lucky the deer hadn’t taken off and later it calmed down.

A couple of minutes before sunset I began thinking the deer was never going to come out, but only seconds later he emerged from the bushes closest to me! I ranged him at 34 yards. I could definitely make the shot. Triple H looked right at me, and I was freaking out inside not knowing what was going to happen next. The buck took his eyes off of me, pointed his nose straight up and began feeding on bushes high up. This was my moment, I raised up a little higher as I drew back.

I couldn’t hold still, I was so excited! I settled myself a little and after a few seconds I let the arrow fly! The shot was a little higher than I had aimed but it dropped him and a second shot had him down for good!

It didn’t take long for it to settle in, as my excitement rose and I started talking a mile a minute about the hunt. As we approached Triple H, it was obvious this was the heaviest buck we’ll ever

lay our hands on. As we discussed the hunt later, we realized that we had both being praying with hopes that one of us would take the massive muley, and we truly felt blessed to see it all come together. A big thank you to Gerritt for guidance and

help. He taught me a lot about bow hunting, and I was able to shoot Triple H because of it. That was quite a deer for my first ever archery mule deer, and I now find myself addicted to this heart-pumping, bow hunting action!

Campfire Chronicles BY: CHRIS MAXWELL

TIME MANAGEMENT Making the most of your time in the field Hunting time management...why? Most of us live in highly structured environments in our day to day existence and the last thing most hunters want is to live by the clock when we are in the field. This is our escape, it is supposed to be enjoyable and for most of us it is the one time of year where we can organically choose our own schedule. An alarm clock doesn’t wake us up, breakfast isn’t necessarily at seven and you certainly don’t need to be in bed by ten. Why then does time management matter? There are plenty of reasons but when it all comes down to it hunting time management isn’t about packing more into a structured day it is about not unnecessarily wasting time that will take away from your actual hunt. Gaining just a small amount of efficiency can often be the difference between success and eating tag soup.

A week long excursion may seem like plenty of time but the days will evaporate quicker than you think. On more than one occasion I have made it to the last day of the hunt without having taken a shot, the week seemingly slipped by. Hunting is always fun but managing your time in the field will not only increase your odds but will in all likelihood reduce your frustration. Looking back on past hunts, even those that turned out successful, I have realized that time, and lots of it, was wasted unnecessarily. Here are a few considerations before your next hunt that will ultimately make your next outing more productive.

Time Saving Tips Hunt when the animals are hunt-able. Every species is different and must be hunted with these differences in mind. A species like whitetail deer is usually best hunted at dusk and dawn. Midday is usually not productive and more often than not results in pushing animals around with little opportunity for a shot let alone getting the upper hand on the trophy of a lifetime. Using the midday for a rest just makes sense; there is often little value in hunting when it is not prime time.

Other species like sheep have different crucial hunting times. Sheep typically bed down before dark and don’t get up until after day break. This species relies on its eye sight as its primary defence resulting in a

reluctance to travel during the night. With the best time to hunt sheep typically falling between mid-morning and late afternoon it makes more sense to sleep in a little and leave the mountain before dark.

Be in the field when it counts and balance your hunt with sustainability; burning yourself out going hard all day is usually not only a waste of time but is almost always ineffective.

Hunting during the right time, not neccasarily all the time, is what matters. Hunt smarter not harder!

Pre-plan your hunt. There are a lot of ways that hunters waste time once they are in the field but perhaps the most predominant is not getting sufficiently ready ahead of time. Before the hunt you should know how your camp is going to be set up, have a meal plan in place before you leave, and most importantly make sure you are taking everything you will need in the first time! Simple things like having the truck full of gas the night before and having tags purchased before the day you leave make a world of difference.

Be organized. Nothing will waste time faster than not knowing where gear is. Having your camp organized is the biggest

time saver ever that a hunter can immediately benefit from; tearing half your camp apart to find your Coleman stove or a book of matches in the dark isn’t fun, I’ve been there! Having your camp organized will not only save you time and frustration but will also make the whole experience much more enjoyable. I personally like to take a non-hunting tag along on trips when it makes sense. Someone splitting firewood, organizing camp, and having the occasional meal ready makes a huge difference. This all saves valuable time that can be spent hunting versus doing camp chores.

Get good gear. Having the right gear will not only save you

time and frustration, but will also make the whole experience much more enjoyable. I personally like to take a non-hunting ‘tag along’ on trips when it makes sense. Someone splitting firewood, organizing camp, and having the occasional meal ready makes a huge difference. This all saves valuable time that can be spent hunting versus doing camp chores.

Get good gear. Having the right gear will not only save you the time and frustration of trying to repair poorly made equipment in the field but will also be much more comfortable and will last longer. Good gear from backpacks to boots is always good investment in the hunting world.

Anticipate how the hunt will play out. If you are successful have a plan for getting the animal broke down and out of the field ahead of time. For a deer hunter this might mean something as simple as having a pickup truck but for a moose or mountain hunter the logistics are usually much different. If you pull the trigger then are asking yourself what next, your pack out may not go as smooth as you had hoped. Why waste three days to pack an animal out when it could have been done in one?

Know where water is. If you are on a hunt where water might be an issue make sure you know where to find it ahead of time. Hauling or purifying water takes valuable time but so does searching for it. Finding a clean and reliable water source is critical and known sources should be identified ahead of time whenever possible.

Let it rain. Rain days are considered by most to be a write off but they don’t have to be. Use this time to organize camp, get the next day’s hunt figured out and most importantly rest. A down day is often needed on a weeklong excursion, take advantage of it when the opportunity presents itself.

The bottom line is have a plan and be organized. The more organized you can be the less time you will waste and the smoother your trip will go. You have all year to get ready for the fall don’t try and figure it out once you have already left for the trip! Good luck this fall!

The

Future of

Hunting Shaelynn Russell

Easton Garland

???? Weste

Dylan Kirzinger

Dylan Kirzinger

Paisley Garland

Send us your photos of your favorite outdoor activity and you may be featured in an upcoming issue of Big Game Illustrated!

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DR Com

Jody Schmidt received a fresh shed antler from a family member during the 2015 season, which was the first step towards putting the monster whitetail on the ground. He immediately knew it was a tremendous whitetail and he and his son Hudson dedicated the rest of their season to finding him. The effort paid off as Jody anchored one of the top typical whitetails from Saskatchewan, a giant 6x6 that grossed 185 6/8� and netted 181 3/8� typical.

REAMS Do

me T

TRUE

he 2015 hunting season started out like every other year. My son Hudson and I applied for the big game draw with high hopes. The fateful day finally came. We found out that I had been drawn for elk in WMZ 33 and Hudson had been drawn for antlerless mule deer in WMZ 1. Both of us were very excited and couldn't wait for opening day. I was fortunate enough to harvest a nice 6 x 6 bull elk with the help of my good friends, Harvey and Dawn Holloway. Hudson tagged out on two nice muley does with his muzzle loader. It was a great start to the 2015 hunting season.

Our focus then turned to hunting whitetails, our favorite thing to hunt. With the muzzleloader season being so short, we only made it out of few times with no luck. With great anticipation rifle season finally came. The rifle season was only 13 days long so I was counting on the rut to produce some big deer sightings. Hudson and I had built a deer blind before the season in a good location. That's where we headed on opening morning. After sitting for a few hours in our blind with no deer sightings, we decided to go check out some other spots.

We spotted several deer but nothing that we wanted to pursue so we headed back to our blind. As we approached our blind, we spotted three does and a buck in the bush. Hudson went around the bush to the other side and I went after the buck through the bush. I had just stepped into the bush and I heard Hudson shoot. I rushed out of the bush and over to where he was shooting from. Hudson had just shot a nice 5 x 5 buck!

We were both extremely excited and I was a very proud Dad. After field pictures, high-fives, skinning and hanging his deer we were off hunting again. Hudson wanted to show his deer to his Grandpa and Grandma Victor and Celine and his Uncle

BY: JODY SCHMIDT

Garth Bert, so we hunted our way over to their farm. While we were there Garth mentioned he had found a whitetail shed, while checking cows a few days before that. He asked me if I wanted to see it because he thought it was a pretty big one.

When he brought it out of the Quonset my jaw hit the dirt. It was the biggest shed antler that I had ever seen in my life. It was a huge six point shed with mass, long tines and a 26 inch main beam. Garth said I could have it if I wanted. I was so excited with my new treasure that I immediately started a full blown interrogation on where, when and how he had found this awesome antler! That evening I continued my interrogation on Garth and Victor as to how I would go about bagging this monster. They pointed me in the right direction for the morning hunt. It was a long night and morning finally came and we were off to a high vantage point to glass for the bruiser.

Our glassing efforts only produced some mule deer and one small whitetail buck. After a couple hours we decided to go and check out some thick creek bottom in Garth's pasture. We made our way along the winding creek that was overgrown with willows, bulrushes and long grass. The creek bottom was dry so it was a deer haven. I rounded one of the corners of the creek when Hudson yelled, “Dad look at that!” I looked up to see the biggest whitetail buck that I have ever seen, running away from us in hot pursuit of a doe, and out of sight. Hudson looked over at me and said, “That was amazing to see!” He was right, it was a spectacular sight to behold. We kept playing it over and over again. He looked incredibly big and it was an experience just to see him. I was glad Hudson was with me because no one would have believed me. I even asked Hudson if we had really just witnessed that. We searched every nook,

cranny, bluff, boulder and blade of grass for the next few hours to no avail. We headed back to my in-laws to tell them we had seen the big guy and everyone was pretty excited. I had to head home to quickly do some chores and then we would get back to continue our search.

My plan for the evening hunt was to setup in the pasture and wait for the deer to come out and feed. I thought, “As long as he is with his doe we might have a chance at getting him.” As we were heading back to the spot where we were going to sit for the evening we met Victor on the road. He was heading home from his gravel pit so we followed him back to his place. On a dirt trail that leads through their pasture where we were going to sit Victor spotted a couple of deer. I pulled up beside him to talk and he asked if I had seen the deer.

I had only seen a doe but Victor said there was at least two deer that had ran over the hill. Victor said there was a small coulee over the hill and that we should go check it out. We made our way toward the coulee and a small buck ran out but no doe. I knew she had to be there somewhere, we continued on toward

the coulee. At 80 yards from the coulee I spotted a huge crown of antlers sticking up out of the grass. He was right in front of us I couldn't believe my eyes. I fumbled with my gun because my scope had hooked on my jacket pocket and sheer panic set in. I literally ripped my pocket off as I loaded my gun and slammed my bolt shut. I glanced at the bedded monarch as his head turned ever so slightly. I knew he was going to make a break for it. As I shouldered my gun he reared from his bed like a flushing pheasant. I swung through him and fired. He hit the ground and I could not believe what had just happened!

His antlers were bigger than I could have ever imagined. I dropped to my knees and thanked God for this amazing animal. With wide eyes, Hudson kept saying, “Dad you got him!”

Victor came over the hill to see if I had anything down and he couldn't believe it either. I hugged Hudson, Victor, the deer, the truck and pretty much anything insight. I even shed a few tears, it was a very emotional occasion for me. Luck was definitely on my side, to harvest an animal of this caliber. It was a great team effort with Garth finding that shed, Victor and Garth giving me some pointers on where to go hunting and for Hudson and Victor being there with me when I got him.

A big thank you goes to Celine my mother-in-law who graciously covered my kitchen shifts at our local arena, so I could go hunting. Another brother-in-law of mine Keith Fettes gave me some awesome trail camera pictures of my buck. This is an amazing addition to the whole story. I would like to thank my amazing wife Deanna for understanding how much I enjoy hunting. I'm sure she gets tired of me showing her pictures of deer and saying, “Holy look at that one!” I really enjoy the outdoors, especially spending time out in the field with my children Hudson and Ella. My deer officially scored 185 6/8 gross and netted 181 3/8 typical. After the sixty day drying period for Boone and Crocket it net scored 180 7/8. My deer ended up being one of the largest typical whitetails shot in Saskatchewan in 2015. Gene Gilmore of ProWest Taxidermy out of Radville did an amazing job on my deer. This was definitely a dream come true.

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