Big Game Illustrated - Issue 17

Midwest Monster Whitetails PRAIRIE ELK AND MOOSE

MEGA WESTERN MULE DEER

BIG GAME

ILLUSTRATED

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EcoImage Media & Design, Lindsay Wilkinson

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BIG GAME BIG GAME ILLUSTRATED LLUSTRAT-

06

Volume 5 Issue 1 | Summer Edition 2017

14

In This Issue...

6

Big Dan by Chris & Shawn Danychuk

14 The Junk Buck by Ashley Klyne

26

34 26

16

Elliot the Moose by Ashley Klyne

20

The Pontier Buck by Austin Pontier

26

Starting 2017 off with a Bang!

30

Pleasant Surprise by Dylan Dobmeier

34

Dreaming of Big Bucks by Emily Martin

38

Cloaked Prize on the Mountain by Chris Maxwell

42

Mountain Mule Deer Dream Hunt by Flint Smith

46

54

by Cauy Burns

When it all Comes Together by Kristofer Skelly

50

Saskatchewan’s Top Typical Mule Deer of 2016 by Tysen Smith

54

Thanks Dad! by Brandon Dropko

60 Saskatchewan 10x10 by Clay Day 64

Opening Day Family Buck by Kimberlee Staley

70 Once in a Lifetime by Phil Miner 64

80 Beast Mode by Mitch Keeley

Contact Big Game Illustrated: www.biggameillustrated.com Phone: (306) 930-7448/(306) 960-3828 Email: info@biggameillustrated.com

By Mail: 28-2995 2nd Ave W. S6V5V5 Prince Albert, Sk, CANADA

Like us on facebook!

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Don’t miss the story of Dane Hildebrand and his incredible 2016 mule deer in an upcoming issue of BGI.

37

Shared Vision

58

by Chad Wilkinson

Time Well Spent

When my Grandpa was Young

Times and reasons for hunting has changed, but the bond formed between family members sharing a hunt has stayed the same.

by Chris Maxwell

Field scoring your quarry is often difficult and challenging, but with Chris’s tips, your accuracy will improve

We are very blessed at BGI to have contributors who share our vision of promoting hunting through sharing stories.

68

Campfire Chronicles

78

The Future of Hunting Dedicated to all the young hunters.

BIG Dan

By: Shawn & Chris Danychuk

Shawn and Chris Danychuk with one of Saskatchewan’s top mule deer of 2016. Shawn had captured pictures of the big deer in 2015 and when Chris pulled a draw tag in 2016, the pair spend hundreds of hours in search of the giant, passing up opportunities at mule deer that most hunters only dream of. Their patience and persistence paid off when Chris tagged the buck they called ‘Big Dan’ on one of the last opportunities he had to get out hunting. The official score on the buck came in at a huge 268 5/8” gross and the buck loses very little netting 261 2/8”!

Shawn’s Story

moved out into the crop. I took a few more pictures as they stood in the flax and crawled back over the edge and headed n another cold, windy Saskatchewan winter morning, back to the truck. From that day on I was there on the hill, I sat on a big hill waiting for the sun to rise over a watching him every few mornings, until he shed near the standing flax field that bordered a string of never end- end of March. As hard as we searched, we never were able ing pastures. I was hoping to find some potential bucks for to locate the sheds off the buck we had now named Big Dan. next season and to watch for when they dropped their horns Fast forward to summer of 2016 and my little brother Chris so I may be lucky enough to scoop up some sheds. With the had been the lucky one to draw a tag for the zone big Dan was sun just coming up, does started to filter across the field to- in! I started my search mid-June and right away lots of familiar wards the hills to bed for the day. Two coyotes worked their bucks were showing up, but I could not find big Dan. I was foway towards a slough in the center of the field, as they neared cusing mainly south of where he had wintered hoping he was the slough edge, four mule deer bucks broke out the other side out there in one of the lush canola crops for the summer but and ran a couple hundred yards into the crop. From where after two and half months of searching, he never turned up.

I sat I could tell one of the bucks was worth a better look. Archery season started and deer were slowly showing The coyotes went on their way and the mule deer cautiously back up near where they had wintered and I ended up findmoved back into slough. After all of the deer had cleared out ing one buck that had four drop tines, we talked about him of the field, I packed up and headed towards the spot that I but Chris decided to continue to wait and hold out for Big last seen the bucks. Crossing the flax was like walking in tan- Dan, knowing if he was alive he was going to be something gled barb wire, loud and time consuming, but I slowly made special. With it being a wet September, most farmers were my way to the highest edge I could find. From here, I could not able to get into the fields so most of the crop was still see the downwind side of the willows surrounding the fro- left out, making it a buffet for the deer. With them not havzen water and willows. As I got to where I could see into the ing to travel far to eat, it was making it difficult to find them, center of the slough, I noticed the bucks bedded up against but it was obvious that the easy winter prior and good feed the willows so I got down into the crop and set up to try and all summer and fall meant that everything was healthy and take some pictures of the biggest one. I managed to get a few had put on great antler growth. September slowly drifted by good pictures of the bucks bedded before one of them no- and with October came the start of muzzleloader season. ticed me, or the glare off my camera lens, and once again they October fifth brought an early snowstorm, dumping a foot of

O

Big Dan in 2015.

Shawn Danychuk Photo.

wet, heavy snow on the countryside and deer really started to feed heavy. One evening, while overlooking a volunteer canola field, Chris and my middle brother Mat spotted the large buck with four drops making his way across the pasture.

Looking tempting, they started a stalk.

Following a ridge they came to where he should cross in the next ravine to make his way out to the fields for the evening.

They were just setting up as he came up at about 200 yards. Chris decided to try for him, but a little buck fever meant that the dropper ran off untouched!

It was October 26th when I decided to hike in and check a pasture off to the north of the canola. After sneaking along a few bluffs, I found a herd of about 15 does moving towards the crop land along the pasture. I followed them until they made it to the edge, hoping they would turn up some bucks, but no luck. I turned back towards the truck and started the trek back. Coming to the original bluff the does had come from, I went south of it as it was a straighter route and easier hiking. I was just passing a small red willow bluff about 50 feet across when I heard a branch snap.

Instantly, one of most amazing bucks I had ever seen busted out from the bluff! It was obvious I had just found Big Dan! I scrambled to get pics but was unsuccessful. He was headed in same direction as truck so off I went, more excited than ever and calling Mat and Chris to tell them what I had found.

I was about 200 yards from the truck and still on the phone with Mat when I stopped because I was losing service. As I turned around to look back, there behind me in the silver willows he was bedded, chin almost on the ground trying to hide.

I quickly got on my stomach but it was too late, he was locked on to me. I got a few pics before he jumped the old barb wire fence and took off back into the original pasture he came from.

Now that we had found him the hard part was over, it was time to sit back and watch from up high and hope for him to be in a good spot for a stalk. This turned out to be easier said than done. That evening I went back and found a nice high hill, overlooking most the area he was in. As soon as I got there, I noticed some bucks sparring on a hillside across the pasture.

Setting up the Vortex Kiabad binos, I could see it was just two younger bucks. Back to the search I went, finding a few more does out browsing as they headed to the farmland for the night. Just as the sun set, out from the center of the pasture Big Dan appeared! He had now found a big typical friend, and they moved to the top of the hill and surveyed their surroundings before heading out for the night. They quickly moved off as it got dark and I headed home, smiling as I had accomplished my goal of finding him again and had not spooked him.

The next day I had to work, but Chris and Mat went to the hill for the evening sit. They got setup an hour before dark and with the wind howling, nothing showed itself that evening. Rifle season opened in two days which would greatly extend his range and with all the does around and rut nearing, he was not going far! On the evening of the 28th it almost came together, and we almost ruined it all at the same time! I had got off work an hour early and me, Chris, and our good friend Dueker headed for our “sitting spot” on the old gravel pile. It was a beautiful evening and there was already a big herd of does about 1500 yards away, out feeding in some alfalfa. Once again the young bucks

were on the same hill way across the pasture and I was focusing on them when I heard Chris say, “I found him!” He was 100 yards into the pasture, right by the does, keeping guard.

With a bad wind, we sat their wondering what to do as Chris and Dueker had their first looks at the giant. After watching him for about 10 minutes, I could hear a large truck headed our way. Here the gravel pit operators decided it was time to start hauling out of the gravel pile we were sitting beside! This spooked all the deer off. The does headed one way and Big Dan walked off over the hill by himself. I looked at Chris and told him we were going to make attempt at this now. We let the does move off, out of the way and left Dueker on the hill to keep an eye out in case he reappeared while we were out of sight.

The stalk was fairly open and with a big hill between us we were able to cover ground fast. As we reached the base of the hill I noticed antler tips at the top of it so we quickly got down in the knee high grass and buck brush. Chris quickly set up just as the big typical walked over the hill. He locked onto us, and after a 10 minute stare down, he had enough and walked back over the hill out of sight. We slowly started making our way along again and I could hear Chris say, “The typ moved along the fence.” I thought to myself, “Good he's out of the way now,” so we pushed forward. About half way up the hill once again I heard Chris say, “There he is!” I looked up and realized the buck along the fence was not the typical but was Big Dan and we had just spooked him! He slowly trotted off and stopped at 250 yards to give the classic mule deer look back. He was at the edge of muzzle loader range but with the sun setting it wasn't worth risking the shot.

I had pushed us to fast and I blew it. We slowly made the hike back to Dueker, not saying a word to each other the whole way.

The next few days I had to work, but Chris and Mat were able to get out to the very loud and busy gravel pile to watch

for him. It seemed as though the new traffic, plus our blown stalk had turned him nocturnal. October 31 came and I decided to go for a drive after work to check my yard out at the farm. I stopped to glass where he usually fed in the evening as I went by. With only 20 minutes of daylight left, there was Big Dan, bedded in the middle of an uncut wheat field! There was no time for Chris to get there so I just watched him until dark and went on my way. The next morning Chris and Mat were set up but again, the thick fog had visibility at a hundred yards or less. He was not spotted but at least we knew he was still there and had not completely left the country side.

Rifle season opened November first and so did new hope. The rut was starting and we were hoping it was a matter of time until he slipped up. Chris was busy around the farm, so we were only able to sit at sunrise the first two days, and Big Dan was a no show both mornings. Lots of bucks and does were out moving and chasing, with the big typical seeming to be the boss of the pasture. He would run off any other buck that came near him.

It was November third, my first day off. I planned to sit all day on the hill, as with the rut action you never know when he would move. The morning started off as usual with the big typical rounding up the does off the wheat and heading them into the pasture. They bedded in the big poplar bluff in the center of the pasture and everyone settled down for the morning. Around 11am, I noticed a quad going back and forth on the grid and before I knew it they were in the pasture driving around all the bluffs. Soon bucks started getting up that I had not known were there. I kept a close eye in front of the quad, thinking it was a matter of time before he jumped Big Dan, but he never did and after picking through every bluff he took off to parts unknown. Well that was it, I was stumped and thought he was gone. That night me and Chris discussed what to do and we decided Chris would go watch the canola to the south in the morning and I would once again go back to the gravel pile, hoping that if we split it we might find him again.

In the morning I arrived at the now too familiar parking spot and got dressed for the day. As I headed in I could not get over how calm it was out and how I could hear Chris's truck almost three miles away, coming towards me. I got to my makeshift chair I had now dug into the side of a cliff and settled in for another morning. The typical put on quite the show at first light and chased another good buck around for a couple miles them came back to get his does. Chris called at about 9 to say he had seen nothing and was going to head home because we had to get ready to combine later that day. I was going to spend another hour watching so got up to stretch and go look at some areas behind me that I could not see from where I sat. As I looked over, I noticed a deer moving along the bottom of a hill. I grabbed the binos from below me and ran back up to the top and set up. I only saw him for a couple seconds before he worked

behind the hill but it was enough to know it was him!

Chris’s Story

I was headed home from another morning sit and could not help but think how time had ran out and we probably were done for the year. With the delayed harvest and now nice weather, it was going to be hard to find time to get back out at all. I was about half way home when Shawn called to say he had found Big Dan and had an idea where he was going. Instantly I turned around, headed back, and quickly parked and grabbed what I needed. I headed off to where he waited for me to start our stalk. We met at the base of the gravel pit and we discussed what was going to happen. He had gone behind the same hill as when we stalked him in muzzle loader season so the first part went quickly, knowing the best route. As we peaked over the top he was nowhere to be seen along the two large willow bluffs below us. We figured splitting up was the best idea, so I stayed up high while Shawn went low to push out the bluffs to me The first bluff had nothing so we were sure he must be in the next one. The excitement was overwhelming just thinking about seeing him again. Shawn worked his way through the

next bluff with the same results as the first one! “What had just happened”, I thought as I stood there feeling beat, as once again he was gone. I looked over at Shawn to see him on his phone frantically waving me over. I started his way, realizing Big Dan must be in the tiny bluff below Shawn. As I got to 100 yards from the bluff the wind blew my scent into the willows and Big Dan busted out the far side! I took a quartering away shot as he went up the hill and he kicked hard but kept going. Regrouping at the top of the hill we watched him run into the next bluff and not come out. We slowly made our way towards the bluff and as we got close we could see him walking along in the center of it. When he hit an opening, I took the shot and once again he took off, instantly out of sight. We were up high so could see all the escape routes out of the willows so we knew he never left it.

I had only grabbed a few bullets in the excitement as I left the truck. I was now down to only one left

so we had a problem. Shawn made the long hike back to grab more as I sat and watched to make sure the buck wasn't able to sneak off on us. Returning with the bullets after a long half hour we split up with Shawn on his blood trail while I stayed to watch the escape routes. As I watched I noticed movement off to the left as the big typical walked over the hill and down into the willows, soon after I heard Shawn yelling at the top of his lungs, not making any sense at all! I could hear a loud crash and the typical busted out. Shawn was still continuing

to scream and now I could make out, “Get over here!� with a sense of excitement like I have never heard. I quickly made my way around the bluff and could see Shawn sitting on the edge of the hill, looking down into it. I made my way over to him and sat down beside him, looking 25 yards below us. There he lay, it was over. We sat there for a while, just taking it all in before making our way down to him. Neither of us could believe our eyes as we knew he was going to be big, but to finally get to see him up close left us both speechless.

By: Aimee Murray

J unk Buck

The

BY: ASHLEY KLYNE

T

he first sighting of this beautiful buck was in 2014 on one of our trail cameras. He posed well for the camera, showing us the shedding of his velvet. He was no more than a 130� buck, but still had unique horn character. The following year, he showed up on another one of our trail camera photos, except this time he showed massive growth! My husband and I were amazed at this stunning creature and spent many hours pouring over the pictures and making plans on how we might get a shot at him!

Our sights were set on him for bow season. We had a plan and knew the area well, but with big deer you just never know so we were not going to waste any time. We made plans to

be setup and make sure we got out to hunt on opening day. I rushed home from work and quickly got ready to head out. My husband and I parked the truck at the beginning of the trail into our blind and began walking silently down the trail, with our bows in hand. As we came to end of the trail my husband, whom was in front of me, held his hand up in a stop motion.

The junk buck was already standing in front of our blind! It was exciting but also disappointing knowing that may have been our chance, and we may have already missed it!

However, we knew we would scare him if we walked into the blind so we turned around and headed home, hoping we didn’t spook him and he would return.

The next night I got home and we headed out again. This time we were able to make it

Ashley Klyne with the beautiful southern Saskatchewan whitetail she took in the early season with her bow. It was her first archery whitetail, and a tremendous animal at that! The big deer has long tines and great character which give it an impressive score of 173 3/8”.

low the blood trail. The blood trail faded as we entered the tall grass where he ran into and my excitement faded to disappointment, as there was no sign of him. I thought, “This is it, we won’t find him now” as the rain started to fall. My husband was a little more optimistic than I, and continued walking as I followed with little hope. We didn’t get much farther and my husband spotted him lying in the tall grass!

Walking up to him was an incredible experience as this was my first buck I had ever shot with my bow and he was absolutely stunning! I couldn’t have done it without all my husband’s hard work and encouragement! He was a dandy buck indeed, grossing 173 3/8” with loads of character.

I would like to say a special thanks to Vivid Taxidermy for doing an amazing job on the mount! into the blind. “Hopefully he will show up again,” my husband and I repeated to each other a number of times, trying to reassure ourselves that he would.

Luck was on our side. Not long after we got settled in the blind, he came walking right down his regular path to the food plot! My nerves kicked in instantly, and really cranked up the moment my husband said, “Get ready!” After what felt like an eternity, he finally stopped to eat and I drew back my bow. Trying to steady my breathing, I pulled the trigger on my release. The arrow flew towards him and with a donkey kick, he took off running in the field, did a loop, fell over, got up started running for the bush again. Excitement filled the blind as adrenaline raced through us!

We waited a few minutes and then quietly walked down to find and fol-

Elliot

Moose the

By

BY: ASHLEY KLYNE

Ashley Klyne with the once in a lifetime moose she took with a 2016 Saskatchewan draw tag.

Her and her husband passed many tremendous bulls holding out for this one, which they had spotted prior to the season. It was their third encounter with the monster, and Ashley made sure it was their last! His antlers are 54� wide and have long points and paddles, giving him a spectacular look.

T

hird times a charm. That is exactly what this situation was all about. We spent countless hours pre scouting and finally spotted and videoed a magnificent bull moose four days before opening day, running in a swathed canola field, on the search for a cow.

Running away, this animal looked gigantic and we knew he was the one we wanted to harvest. We named him Elliot.

The second encounter was opening night, with a half hour left of legal shooting time he stood in a slough at about 70 yards with a cow for 20 minutes, taunting us from behind the fence with the “no hunting” sign. As the darkness approached, we left and feared that this would be the last time we saw him because let’s face it, who gets lucky enough to see the animal you want multiple times during a once in a lifetime draw moose season.

Sunday we scouted around the area we’d last seen him in hopes of getting another glimpse of him, or better yet to see him standing in an unposted field but we had no such luck.

Elliot eluded us. We continued on with our drive and we spotted another decent bull, along with a smaller bull and cow in a nearby field and figured we would try and stalk them with my bow and a cow decoy to call him to see if he would come in. My husband called for about 30 minutes but the moose was obviously preoccupied and wanted nothing to do with us. We packed up everything and headed back to the truck and didn’t see a thing after that.

It was a frosty Monday morning and my husband woke me up early to head out before work. Driving to our spot, I was tired

and grumpy because, one, I am not a morning person and two, because I didn’t think we would be lucky enough to see him again but, I was wrong.

Heading down

the dirt road where our first encounter was with him, we approached a bush covered fence line and as we crept passed I noticed a few moose standing in the open field. My husband took one look and got excited as he knew instantly it was him! Out in the wide open field was this beautiful giant along with another bull and cow. I instantly started shaking with nervousness and tried to take some deep breaths!

I finally got a good look too and said, “It is him!” We got in position to get ready to shoot. My wish was to take him with my bow but there was not enough coverage in the field to try and stalk him and I didn’t want him to get away so that took the option out of my hands. I took the first shot and he walked around like nothing but a mosquito bit him.

The second shot took me awhile to steady myself and my breathing. I pulled the trigger and he started to stagger over to a small patch of cattails where he laid down. Adrenaline rushed through my body! The gun had kicked back from the shots and the scope hit me in the forehead but thankfully didn’t draw blood, just a bruise formed later on.

Walking up to the giant beast was amazing! In the small patch of cattails laid Elliot, the giant Bull Moose! We stood and stared for a few minutes, taking him all in before my husband and some of our friends helped to pull his head up for me to take some photos with this big guy. Just holding up the beast’s head was a task in itself. He measured 54” across.

We saw some stunning moose this season and I am truly lucky to be able to hang this mesmerizing giant in our home! Thanks again to my amazing husband on another exciting hunting experience!

P ontier Buck

The

BY: AUSTIN PONTIER

Austin Pontier’s field pictures blew up the internet in the fall of 2016, with rumours swirling about the amazing buck. And why wouldn’t it!

The Iowa whitetail is a typical 7x7 with beams over 25”, an inside spread of 22 2/8”, and almost 45” of mass. All of it adds up to a world class gross score of 202 3/8 and a net score of 194 1/8”.

N

ovember 6, 2016 is a day I'll never forget. It all started in July 2016 when I first laid eyes on the deer that would forever leave an imprint on my mind. At that time of the year, I had been putting out trail cameras to figure out what bucks had made it through the winter and spring.

From July to the first of October, I had been watching many large mature bucks on camera. I had several different bucks on my hit list. At the top of the list was OG, the Freak Nasty Twins, the Jacked Eight, and Lucky Number Nine. I had spent many hours in the summer and fall developing new areas to hunt. I had hung two new stands on the farm that had the best-looking bucks based on trail camera pictures.

Opening weekend of bow season came fast and I was pumped to get in the stand, even though the temperatures were very high for that time of year. The first weekend of bow season was rough because I didn’t see any of my shooters. In fact, I didn’t see much for deer activity at all, until mid-October, but I knew it was a matter of time before the weather would turn cold and the bucks would be on their feet looking for does.

On October 22nd, I made a rookie mistake by leaving my stand six minutes before the end of shooting light. I was busted earlier in the day by a couple does and didn’t see anything the rest of the night, so I packed up and left the stand. The following afternoon I checked my trail camera cards and saw that Lucky Number 9 had walked right under my stand two minutes after I left. If I had been in the stand, I would have most likely had a clear shot on him with four minutes left of shooting light. This was a good lesson for me. From there on out I sat in the stand until the end of shooting light to ensure that I was taking advantage of every second I spent in my stand and not missing any opportunities. I learned, from this experience, that at any given time, any of my hit list bucks could show up, even with four minutes of shooting light left.

November snuck up on me fast, as I was balancing both college classes and a full schedule of college wrestling, both of which kept me very busy. Whenever I could catch some free time on the weekend, I was in the deer stand, especially the first part of November. To me this is go time, because the bucks are all on their feet, seeking out does and are more daylight active. I knew if I was going to kill my number one hit list buck, this was going to be the best time of the year to catch him moving during the day.

The first five days in November I was not able to hunt at all.

I had been preparing during this week for my collegiate debut.

All week I was cutting weight and preparing for the first tournament of the year. All I could think of that week was getting in the stand. My buddies had made me jealous all week by telling me what all they had been seeing and all the buck activity had me going crazy. I couldn't wait until Sunday when I was finally able to crawl up into one of my treestands!

The week slowly went by but Saturday was finally approaching. After I got back from the tournament I packed up my stuff and went straight home. That morning I followed a friend into the stand hoping I could film him kill one of his hit list bucks.

I didn’t have the right wind in the morning for my stand so didn’t want to risk going to my spot. After passing a few small bucks we crawled out of the stand to get some lunch and eventually I split off to head to the farm I was hunting that afternoon and evening. Before getting into the stand, I stopped at an area where I had put a trail cam to see what was moving through that piece of the property. Shockingly, my number one hit list buck OG was there the night before! This was a big surprise to me because I had not had any pictures of him on that piece of the farm. I headed straight into the stand. It was one that I had not hunted all year and was also the stand where I had many pictures of OG. I had the perfect wind that night and with the rut starting to kick in, I knew I had a good chance at seeing him.

After putting on my scent lok clothing and spraying myself down with Scent Away, I gathered my stuff and headed to the stand. I crawled into the stand I call the Rootball at about

1:30pm. This stand had been on the farm for many years and it is the stand that I shot my first deer out of. I have had a lot of good and bad memories in this stand, from shooting some very nice bucks to missing some absolute giants. The afternoon slowly passed without much activity. This was a total surprise to me because this is one of the best stands on the farm. Around 4:45, two does and their fawns came out of the timber from my east and they went straight to the field to feed. After watching them for about 15 minutes I tried a grunting and rattling sequence. Shortly after that, a small six point came out of the timber from the west of me and he made his way right under my stand. At that moment, I looked up and glanced to the east from where the does had come out and standing there was OG! He was standing on the edge of the field in some tall grass, staring straight at the six point under my stand. He had his ears pinned back and looked like he was on a mission to see what was going on! Â After a couple minutes, which seemed like hours, OG started to step out at 60 yards and make his way across the field.

The six point ran and headed back into the woods and this made OG stop at 55 yards. I wasn't panicking, for some reason and all I could feel was a steady heartbeat in my chest. After OG stopped, Lucky Number 9 stepped out at the opposite side of the field at 45 yards and they stared each other down for a couple minutes and started walking straight towards each other. I raised my crossbow and rested it on the railing of the stand.

As the two giants walked toward each other preparing for battle I could hear them both breathing very heavily. It was an awe inspiring sight and one I had been waiting my whole life to

witness! Finally, OG stopped right in front of my stand at 20 yards broadside, and Lucky Number 9 had stopped about 25 yards from me, quartering away. I took aim and sent the arrow flying, then watched it hit right behind OG’s shoulder.

I heard a big thump and saw him run about 35 yards and stop on the edge of the field. He stopped for 20 seconds and fell over. I knew at this point it was over. That is when all the adrenaline hit me. I could barely put together what just happened. I was shocked!

After crawling out of the stand and finding my arrow, I was finally able to put my hands on my number one hit list buck. All the hard work and money I put in during summer finally paid off. Moments like that are what I live for. A lot of people say it was pure luck, but they are wrong. It was the matter of putting in my time, checking trail cameras, hanging stands, scouting, Â the countless hours of hunting, using the right calls, and quality deer management.

Two things run in my blood and that's hunting and wrestling. These two things are what I have grown up around and loved doing ever since I could walk. I would like to thank my Dad, Uncle, Brothers, Cousins and friends that have helped achieve this buck of a lifetime. I would like to thank my taxidermist Malin Hoch from Dallas, Iowa, and my photographer Kayla Pontier Photography for helping me preserve the memories of this buck of a lifetime.

Starting 2017 off with a

BANG!

BY: CAUY BURNS

Cauy Burns pulled a legendary Alberta draw elk tag from Suffield for the three-day season early in 2017. He had help from his Dad and good friend Josh Schuett to maximize his chances on the short hunt. The group took a different approach, heading to little used areas in search of a big bull and it paid off big time! Cauy instantly knew the exact bull he wanted and was eventually able to tag the old monarch. His bull has the characteristics of an old animal, with a giant body, long shaggy hair, and incredibly massive antlers scoring exactly 360”.

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inging in the New Year for 2017 was different than any other. While many were out counting down the last final seconds of 2016, I was counting the hours of sleep I got the next day. Although I didn't get to celebrate 2017 like I anticipated, thinking about my Suffield Bull Elk Draw, was enough for me to forget about being in bed by 9:30 the night before. The highlight of the summer of 2016 was finding out I had been awarded the draw on a Priority Two for the January 9th-11th season. Thinking about this hunt made me very anxious, considering the hunt could make or break my year.

Although I was beaming with excitement for both ice fishing and hunting. On the seventh, my father Dallas Burns and I set out on the long trek down South from his place up in Northern Alberta. After twelve solid hours of nothing but songs that had been way overplayed, and lame jokes made by radio broadcasters (and Dad), we arrived at our good buddy, Josh Schuett’s place. We were very thankful to be accommodated by his world class pike fishing know how, as we iced several twenty pounders the day prior to my hunt. Josh is an incredible fisherman, and has got it down to a science! We were very blessed to come home to Josh's wife's world class cooking, where we devoured her amazing elk lasagna, elk roast and the best homemade baking around!

The next morning Josh was up by 4:30am with coffee on and ready to walk out the door. We were granted six inches of fresh snow that morning, which was very convenient for tracking elk but a little less convenient for driving at 5:00 am. The roads were snow covered with no plowing done, and it was very icy, so sliding into the ditch was a minor setback, but luckily we got out fine and were back on our way to what would soon be considered my best hunt yet! By the time we got to Ralston for the Daily Safety Briefing, it was already starting to fill up with hunters from all over, and you could just feel the anticipation in the room.

The Safety Meeting started roughly around 7:00 am. In a total of twenty five minutes they refreshed our brains of common sense rules, and some new rules we were happy to abide by. Once the meeting

was finalized, hunters rushed out of the building pushing and shoving to get ahead. Luckily, our vehicle was the second one to set out, so we had good chances to be the first one in certain areas. During the meeting, all the hunters were told about a big herd of elk towards the north end. Fortunate for us 90 percent of the hunters took off to the north end, while we made our own adventure and took the road less traveled, thinking all the elk couldn’t be in one place. So we ventured into the middle of our hunting grounds.

The terrain out there is remarkably breathtaking. One minute it’s completely flat ground and you can see forever, then there is miles of rolling hills and coulees. We had multiple glassing occasions where one of us would get all excited and, yell, “ELK!!” only to scramble to put the binos up on what turned out to be herds of antelope, migrating to their wintering grounds. Before

we had our eyes on any elk, we had spotted multiple herds of antelope, and a few coyotes, none of which helped us out any.

It wasn't too long into the morning when we spotted a small herd about twenty cows and calves, but no shooter bulls, which again didn't help us very much. They were about 900 yards away, running to the east, cresting a hill in a huge cloud of steam and snow! It was the most elk I had ever observed together while I was hunting them. “Hunting elk at home is nothing comparable to this!” I thought. It was remarkable! I

wasn't trying to be too picky, but with only a three-day hunt, where you aren't granted access in the early season to scout for bulls, you have to make your decision quickly on a herd that you have likely never seen before! I decided to pass, and not even think about pursuing this herd because there was nothing special in it. We traveled along many different trails in the base, and to our surprise still thankfully hadn't seen many other hunters.

Very mischievously, a herd happened to appear from out of nowhere. We could see a massive cloud of snow forming as they were running in the distance, and could instantly tell that this was a much larger herd. They were moving at a very quick speed, perpendicular to us, so something or someone had most definitely spooked them at one point or another so we decided to let them do their thing and cool down as to not stress them out. We watched them pass by at 1000 yards, glassing and noticing multiple large bulls!

But there was one bull in particular that stood out above and beyond the others. This bull was huge, at many points he was running in the middle of the herd and all we could see were the tips of his tines above any other bulls. It was at this point that I fell in love with this bull, and it was game on. We let them settle down, and get grouped up. While they were doing that we got set up way ahead of them, unnoticed,

and planned to let them come to us. It didn't take long and the herd was getting into shooting range. Once the herd got closer we could really tell how big this bull truly was. I never believed

in love at first sight until I saw him! He was an old weathered bull with long shaggy hair and incredibly heavy bases! It was true love. I finalized my decision to take this bull and did just that with one well-placed shot. The herd dispersed after the gunfire as we began to party like rock stars!

He ended up scoring exactly 360". In this herd there were bulls that would have scored more than this old boy, but the character and spirit of this bull was surreal. I would not have had it any other way, and am glad I made the split decision to take the shot. We got the bull loaded and checked out of the base, and then it was time for some pictures.

We commenced the photo shoot outside of the base as photography is not permitted there. Josh also happens to be a world class photographer as you can tell by the beautiful photos. All in all, I am very happy to have participated in one of these hunts for these elk that are considered problem elk. I am glad to have contributed to the conservation, and population control of these elk. Getting a trophy like this was certainly just a bonus on a hunt like this. I would like to thank Josh and my Dad Dallas, for everything. As a first time elk hunter I would never have been able to pull anything like this off, without the help from them. These are memories that will last my lifetime!

P leasant Surprise BY: DYLAN DOBMEIER

Dylan Dobmeier had a slow start to the 2016 season before catching up to a great buck that he had alot of history with, including some shed antlers from previous seasons. Dylan calls Muenster, Saskatchewan home and spends every spare minute hunting or shed hunting. .

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he 2016 season was one filled with ups and downs, but started out largely uneventful with two months of frustration through the unsuccessful archery and muzzleloader seasons. In all honesty, I headed out with no real game plan on the opening day of whitetail rifle season. Although I continued to run several trail cameras leading up to rifle season, they had not been showing anything that I wanted to chase. To make matters worse, the target buck I was after during archery season seemed to have disappeared.

I decided to head out and scout a different area that I knew well, and often spend time in the spring looking for sheds. Only a few minutes into the hunt, I spotted a group of deer across a field at a distance that I judged to be 800 yards. I watched them through the binoculars and saw some does out feeding. Then some larger deer caught my eye but I could barely make out antlers as a few different small bucks walked around, nose to the ground. The deer were coming out of a creek line and there was a thick tree line that ran the opposite direction of the creek. They were only about 100 yards off from that tree line so I figured I would try and sneak into it. I got around and down the line from where the deer were coming out and felt confident on a potential stalk, especially with the perfect wind in my face. I worked my way down the line towards the deer. I made my way quietly through to where I could see some of the deer and right there was an old, downed fence stump and a fallen tree which together formed the perfect back and gun rest. The does were feeding their way out towards my position and the waiting for the bucks began! I waited for awhile and begun to lose hope because not a single buck had stepped out yet when suddenly, as I glassed the creek line, a deer emerges from the shadows! Immediately, I notice that it looked to be a decent buck. I shifted slightly to get a better look, and while I did that the buck turned around and walked deeper into the bush line and back out of sight!

I was pretty bummed out but didn’t take my eye off that area, hop-

ing that perhaps he would make another appearance! A few minutes later, I saw a buck, but something about its antlers looked strange. It basically looked like a spiky club, moving through the brush walking down the bush line. Finally, he turned around and headed the other way and I could make out a clean five point on the other side! I was very excited and confused as I had never laid eyes on such an odd deer. I had

not seen anything like it on any of my trail cameras or from the sheds I had picked up over the years. The buck slowly observed his surroundings, then finally stepped out into the field. That was the moment when my heart really started to pound! He was maybe 200 yards out and was walking straight out to the does, who were only 75 yards in front of me! I studied him through every opening of trees as he made his way into the open and finally decided that despite it being opening day, he

was most definitely the one. He continued, finally stepping into a clear opening at only about 100 yards, and I took the shot!

He stumbled, took a few steps and dropped on the spot! The route he was on would have brought him right into bow range on me, but I could not wait that long and took the clear shot as soon as I had it.

As I walked up to him, I was extremely excited and couldn’t believe just how unique the deer was! As fate would have it,

it turned out that I did have one shed off him, from his five point side and I also had him on camera in his younger years, appearing as an average, small 5x4. Just this winter we came across another old shed antler off him and picked up the match side that was found in the same tree line I was in when I took

him! I had no idea he had so many unique points coming out of the base on the previous year’s antler, and to find the shed was a huge surprise. It is very nice to have both sides now to go with the mount and every time I look at them I think back to my opening day success of 2016.

Dreaming of

Big Bucks BY: EMILY MARTIN

Emily Martin decided to set up her own spot for hunting in 2016, and it paid off big time, as she tagged a bruiser 190� Saskatchewan whitetail! Her Dad helped her convert her old playhouse into a hunting blind, and her Grandfather spent many hunts with her waiting for the giant buck. Despite heavy deductions, her buck still easily made it into the record books with a huge net typical score of 175 2/8�! Photo credits to Steib Commercial Photography.

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ike many other individuals, I carry with me a passion for the outdoors, for adventure, and above all, for hunting.

Growing up on my family farm near Shellbrook, Saskatchewan has been a huge motivation to continue our family tradition of spending hours outside, and hunting a variety of animals. I’ve learned over the years that whatever animal I choose to hunt, it pays to try to be as creative as possible.

After a few unsuccessful years hunting whitetail, I decided that I would try to direct my own hunt this year. I drove out to the family farm in late August, and asked my parents if I could set out my own camera site. I had a spot in mind that would be perfect, so we packed up the cameras, gear, and everything we needed, and headed out on our quads. My mom and I spent nearly an hour picking the perfect tree, and perfect angle to put the camera on. Once I was finally satisfied that we had got it just right, we made our way back home with high hopes.

With the cameras out, we waited two weeks to go out and check the cameras. On Saturday morning, we headed out to swap the memory cards. When we got there, we could tell there was lots of activity, which seemed very promising! When we put the memory card into the computer, it showed a total of only 34 pictures. After the activity on the site, the lack of pictures was somewhat disappointing. As we started flipping through the pictures, most of them were of us setting up the cameras, and leaving the site. As we approached the end of the memory card, I got up to make some coffee. While I was in the kitchen, my mom continued flipping through the last few pictures. Then, as I was in the kitchen, I heard her gasp in disbelief. I came running over, and my jaw hit the floor. “IS IT A BOONER?” I squealed with excitement! I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; a MONSTER buck! We had never seen this deer before, and I knew that I had a challenge on my hands.

The hunt was on.

The next morning, I went to my grandparents’ house to show them the trail camera pictures. My Grandpa, an avid hunter, agreed that it would be very close to making the books. We were discussing what I was going to use for a hunting stand, and we agreed that a pop-up blind would not be warm enough for our frigid Saskatchewan winters. With harvest just around the corner, I knew there wouldn’t be time to build a new blind.

As I was driving home from my grandparents house, pondering my dilemma, I came up over the hills of our driveway when a bright yellow slide caught my eye. Our old playhouse,

that my Dad built for my brother and I as children, would make a perfect repurposed blind! My Dad and I went out to the bush that it had been sitting in for years, to check the condition it was in. After agreeing that it would work, we didn’t waste any time!

We got the tractor and some tow straps and pulled it out of the bush, up to the shop. We replaced a couple boards, cut out a shooting window, and, unfortunately, got rid of the slide. I was all for shooting my dream buck and sliding down to retrieve it, but my Dad had other plans. We painted some camouflage on it, and it was ready to go! My Dad strapped it on to the front-end loader, and we drove it out to the bush.

There was no better way to spend a Sunday than spending time with my family and preparing for my hunt! I wanted to harvest my buck, but waiting until the end of November for rifle season was going to be a challenge. I looked up the season dates one last time and the early muzzle loader season caught my attention. Muzzle loader season began early, and would give me a few more weekends to sit out in the stand.

I had never shot a powder gun before, but I knew this was an opportunity that I couldn’t pass up. After a quick trip to Cabela’s, I learned that muzzleloaders had come a long way from what I knew about them. I picked up a Traditions Buck Stalker muzzle loader. With my new gun and ammo in tow, my next call was to my brother Kenny. He is the guy everyone calls to sight in their guns, so I knew I was in good hands.

After my gun was sighted in, I was ready to hunt! Every weekend, I drove an hour and a half back to my family farm.

At night, I had dreams about my buck coming into the stand. I knew I had picked a great spot, a real Saskatchewan deer paradise. Every Saturday morning, we would head out and swap out the memory cards, and without fail, every single Friday night he would show up on my camera.

Opening weekend, the excitement may have gotten the best of me. At 3:30 in the morning my alarm went off, and my Dad and I headed out to sit in the stand. As the hours passed, and the sun rose, we saw no sign of the buck. We eventually packed up, and went home for some breakfast. My Grandpa offered to come with me for the evening hunt, and I happily accepted.

Grandpa is full of old traditions, which include taking a picture on the first day and calling your lunch “growlies”. So, with my “growlies” packed, away we went. We sat for hours, giving me a chance to hear some of my Grandpas hunting stories, gathered

over years of experience. Every hunt I go on with my Grandpa, I always learn some new trick or strategy.

Even though we only saw a few does that day, I still enjoyed the hunt. Sunday evening, I convinced my mom to come out and sit with me in the stand.

We saw a few does but no sign of the monster buck I was after.

I knew that if I was going to get this buck, I needed more than just the weekends to hunt.! After using up the remainder of my holiday time at work, I was able to leave early Thursday and hunt straight through until Tuesday. That week went by painfully slowly. I even found myself googling buck fever to see if it was a real sickness. I couldn’t wait to be sitting in the stand again. It was storming most of the week and I knew the bucks would be moving.

On October 6th, I drove back to the farm, for what would be the final hunt. Little did I know that today would be the day I finally got to see my buck! With my tag in my pocket and my “growlies” packed, we headed out to the stand. It was snowing lightly, and was much colder than the weekend before. The wind was in our favor, and as we waited anxiously, three does walked out from the bush.

The oldest doe in the group did not seem as relaxed as the other two. She was on edge, and kept looking into the bush that they had walked out of. Slowly she walked back into the bush, with the smaller does trailing behind. About 45 minutes later the same three does appeared,

this time with a fourth doe as well. They didn't stay long, and walked right through the site and made their way to an open pasture just north of the playhouse. It was almost supper time, and my Dad and I were getting cold and hungry. Even though we wanted to go home, I refused to give up on my buck. We ate all our “growlies”, and waited some more. Finally, I heard twigs breaking in the distance and got excited! I was positive that it was my buck, I got my gun ready.

As it got closer and closer, I began shaking with excitement!

The animal finally came into sight and it was...a prairie chicken. Even now, I am continually amazed at how such a tiny animal can make such a big noise!

After watching the chicken do a mating call, I was sure that it was the end of the day’s hunt. My toes and fingers were freezing, and I couldn’t wait to get back to the house and warm up.

However, we knew that the last 20 minutes of the hunt were what we waited for all day. We decided we would wait it out until legal light, so we stayed in the blind despite the freezing weather. I was looking out the side window of the blind when my Dad nudged me and whispered “buck”. My heart started beating a mile a minute in my chest. I slowly put the primer in my Traditions muzzleloader and got into position. As we watched him walk out of the bush, our jaws dropped. He was even bigger in person. This is what I had been dreaming about!

I knew it was him as soon as I saw the split brow tine. My Dad whispered, “As soon as you have a clear shot, shoot!” He turned broadside and gave me a perfect shot. I had my scope on him, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. The buck didn’t

even stumble as he took off into the trees. I asked my Dad if I got him, and he said he wasn’t sure. My heart dropped. “How could I miss that shot?” I immediately thought. We packed up our backpacks and started walking towards the kill spot, hoping to find a trail, blood, or hair, anything to give us hope. We scanned the ground for couple minutes when my Dad shouted my name, followed by, “You got him!” The little blood trail grew bigger as we followed it into the bush. My Dad spotted him laying less than 40 yards away. I ran up to him and couldn’t believe my eyes. He was a monster! After exchanging hugs and high fives, we settled down to do the work ahead of us. I ran up a nearby hill to get cellphone service, and called home. My mom instantly knew what I was calling about. “I GOT HIM!” I yelled into the phone. She said she would send my brother out with the quad to help us. After hanging up the phone, I made a call to my grandparents to tell them the great news.

With lots of fresh, heavy snow on the ground, it was a challenge getting my buck back to the truck. As we were pulling up the truck, my mom and a family friend met us on the driveway.

They were both in shocked silence at the size of the deer. Once we got him loaded into the box of the truck, the family friend, Cody, said “You know it’s a BIG deer when the antlers stick out of the truck box!” We had an idea that it would be very close to making the books. After a seemingly endless wait, the official Boone and Crockett score on my typical whitetail was declared to be 175 2/8. Even more exciting, the gross score came out to 190 4/8!

I am so grateful for this opportunity to harvest the buck of my dreams. Best of all, I got to share this hunt with my Mom, Dad and my Grandpa. I will cherish all the memories I made forever. And one thing is for certain; “I will never apologize for being a hunter”

Shared Vision By

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BY: CHAD WILKINSON

he guiding principal that all of us at Big Game Illustrated share is the belief that the best way to promote hunting and in turn help to ensure the future of hunting, is to share all the good things about hunting, the outdoors, and spending time with friends and family. This is always front and center with everything we do. It is a difficult time to live in when it comes to finding time to spend outdoors. With all the pressures involving work schedules, kid’s sports and school, family life, and the ease, convenience and explosion of indoor activities like TV, video games, mobile phones, social media and all the other tech devices, it can be very difficult to find any time to connect with nature, the outdoors, and wildlife.

Hunting provides that opportunity, but it is also a very easy activity to misunderstand because the ultimate goal is to kill an animal. This is where sharing stories around hunting becomes so critical. If people are exposed to the realities of hunting, and even better, if they try it themselves, they are more likely to support it.

Everything we do at Big Game Illustrated revolves around this idea of promoting hunting. We do get some pushback from those who want to keep all the good things about hunting secret, so that they can have it all to themselves, but this attitude does nothing to help ensure the future of hunting is secure. We continue to be pleasantly surprised by all the people who share this vision, and who eagerly share their stories with the world, sometimes choosing to do it through the platforms of Big Game Illustrated. The contributors to Big Game Illustrated are truly what makes it great, and it is because the vast majority of the contributors to the magazine share this vision.

They just want to share. Most are very excited to see their story shared in a high-quality format that they can put on their wall beside their mount, and give copies to their friends and family.

It is never about showing off, it is never about the individual.

In fact, most stories have a tribute in one form or another to a friend, a spouse, a landowner, a group of friends, or even the animals themselves.

We spent the spring of 2017 on the trade show tour in western Canada, talking to hunters from all over and sharing stories, looking at pictures, just talking about the outdoors. The pure joy on people’s faces is obvious. When hunting stories begin, and you can tell the other person is interested, there is a transformation that happens, an understanding that you both know something special, and have shared experiences that so many people miss out on because they do not hunt. It is difficult to explain, but it’s there, and most hunters know it well

and crave it. It has nothing to do with bragging, it is all about sharing. We put a huge amount of effort into the trade shows, making sure to always have a lot of people available to talk hunting, and always packing the booth with some of the top animals from past years.

Many of the stories in the magazine are once in a lifetime, so the more we can do to help people share their stories, the better. I personally want to thank Kyla and Marty Krushelniski, Darryl Wolfe, David Lockie, Dayne Wilkinson, George and Kyle Galambos, Doug Broich, Myles Thorp, Rob Hanes, Lane Hodnefield, and Chaydin Inverarity for sharing their animals with the attendees at the trade shows and helping out in the booth. There are countless other people who contribute as well, so a huge thank you to all of you, and everyone who chooses to share. It is always a great time talking to hunters and sharing stories, hopefully some of which we can capture in the pages in Big Game Illustrated.

We are always looking for stories to feature in the magazine and to share in our online magazine and social media pages, so if you are interested, please let us know by emailing them to info@biggameillustrated.com. It really is the sharing of hunting stories that will help to ensure the future of hunting. We absolutely believe that here at BGI and are committed to doing our part through as many different platforms as possible. We hope you enjoy seeing and hearing all the stories as much as we do!

www.biggameillustrated.com

www.biggamemagazine.com

Cloaked Prize

Mountain on the BY: CHRIS MAXWELL

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obacco smoke hung heavy in the night air. The glow from his predawn cigarette illuminated unkempt hands stained from time in the wilderness, callused by rough use they told of life on the mountain. A beard to match, undoubtedly months since it had encountered a razor still dark but whispers of grey were now telling of his fading youth. The red kerchief was double wrapped around his neck tied with a luck knot. This was his talisman. It had seen many successful days; it had brought luck when no luck was to be found. A true mountain man in every sense of the word; no impractical movements came from his body, no wasted words adorned his lips. Every action spoke of purpose and intent. His name is Derrick and he was my guide.

“Coffee’s up!” he shouted. There is nothing like the first sip of a fire brewed camp coffee. My senses were awakening as we discussed the coming days plan. Packing a small spike camp with two or three days of provisions consumed most of our morning. Every pack box was carefully weighed; horses were wrangled and methodically saddled. It wasn’t long before we were heading down a well-worn trail known by few but traveled heavily by those who sought the bounty waiting at trails end.

We were heading to an area known to hold rams but with every days optimism also comes it disappointments. On the trail as remote as it was we came across two hunters who were packing a ram out. Although I knew there are always more sheep on the mountain every hunter dreads seeing one leaving in a backpack while they are just arriving. Undeterred, Derrick said not to worry “plenty more where that came from”. His reassurance was out of habit, no doubt many a hunter had seen this scenario before and had become disheartened. I had hunted sheep long enough to know the mountain changes every day. One less ram today makes way for one more ram to move in tomorrow, I remained optimistic and undeterred.

It wasn’t long before we arrived at a small bench on the valley floor with good grass and water close by. Protected from the gusts of mountain wind with a good supply of firewood at hand made this an ideal spot to unsaddle our horses for the night. Our camp took little time to set up; everything was arranged strategically and for efficiently. Our horses tended to we still had an hour until dinner would even be a thought. Climbing

A stone sheep is known to be one of the hardest sheep to kill, but Chris Maxwell tagged his impressive specimen on the first day of his hunt! The incredible animal has a striking black shale coat and Chris’s ram carries great mass with 17.5” around the curl and 14.5” bases!

just above camp we sat down and began to scan the alpine with our binoculars. It didn’t take long, five minutes to be exact and we had located a likely suspect. Derrick brought out the spotting scope for a closer look, it was a ram!

We had to make a decision with only had a few hours of daylight left we would have to make a move now or wait until the morning. I decided I wanted to make a play for the ram then and there. Derrick conceded and said if I was his typical client we would have waited until morning, but that he thought we had a shot if we hurried. Dehydrated from sipping coffee most of the morning while packing for our spike camp I quickly drank a cup of water knowing it was not enough. I knew better than to go traipsing across the mountain not fully hydrated but we had an opportunity and I didn’t want to squander it!

So it began, our death march crossed trails so rugged we could not use the horses. Climbing over a waterfall we crossed a small creek, forcing our way through mountain willows was sucking every ounce of energy from me but every step was one closer to the ram. Sweat dripped from my face as the slopes disappeared behind us one after another. I began to question the wisdom of going after the ram so late in the day,

there was little time left and so much climbing yet to be done.

Finally we arrived. Through the miles beads of sweat dripped, lips swelled from dehydration, trembling with fatigue at every step legs faltered, it all vanished with a single glance. This is the pinnacle for every mountain hunter, especially the sheep hunter, the moment you set eyes on your quarry and realize the shot is imminent. The instant I set eyes on the Stone ram I was mesmerized. A big bodied beast, as black as the shale he dwelled on, perhaps the most handsome of all mountain sheep, his horns stood in deep contrast to his ebony cape. Difficult to find in my binoculars, even though he postured at only 150 yards I eventually located him. Derrick was already counting growth rings on his horns. Every inch was being thoroughly scrutinized through the spotting scope every turn of his head revealing deep rings telling of his years on the mountain. He was a legal ram of that there was no doubt, when Derrick asked if I wanted to take him there was no hesitation. A black cape, long twisting horns and the perfect set up for a shot I would have been foolish to turn this opportunity down.

Cross hairs carefully examined the ram’s shoulder eventually landing on their mark. In an instant the evening was interrupted by the sharp crack of my riffle. It was a perfect shot; however the ram did not succumb to his fatal wound and began to walk. I could not relocate him, panic set, I was sure the first shot was good but the ram had not reacted like the other rams I have taken before. Forced to set my rifle down I picked my binoculars back up and relocated him. The ram had only walked ten yards however the dark cape blended in perfectly with the black shale mountains. Nature has given these sheep a cloak that makes them one of the most difficult animals to locate in their environment. Picking the rifle back up I prepared to take a finishing shot but it would be one that would never take place. The ram was now bedded with his head gazing into the sky, almost as if he was relinquishing his soul back into the universe. It was over in an instant as he came to rest on the alpine slope. We would soon discover the original shot had been a perfectly placed heart shot. The fatal bullet had done un-survivable damage even though this

animal continued on as if he was not injured.

Derrick congratulated me with excitement. I was numb.

This was the first ram I have ever killed that I had not been outwardly ecstatic about. I was exhausted, dehydrated, drained.

This was perhaps a blessing in disguise, when it came time for the shot there was no energy left for nervous excitement.

Derrick congratulated me with excitement. I was numb. This was the first ram I have ever killed that I had not been outwardly ecstatic about. I was exhausted, dehydrated, drained. This was perhaps a blessing in disguise, when it came time for the shot there was no energy left for nervous excitement.

Derrick took the first few pictures and stopped. Setting the camera aside looking a little confused he said “Why don’t you smile, you just killed a Stone sheep!” It was true there was no smile on my face, I was that tired. Forcing a smile I had little energy for, we did a few field photos but it was getting late and the pictures were not giving this incredible ram his due. The next morning found us back on the mountain to take some daylight photos and to begin the long pack out.

Packing this ram off the mountain it seemed surreal, it had been 1021 days since I had booked the trip and it was over on the first day. As we got back to camp excitement built. I could not believe the prize the mountain had forfeited. It was sinking in I had just killed a Stone Sheep! The Stone Sheep should have been the most difficult ram to kill but for me it had come easy. I have never been a lucky hunter but that day I cashed in all my chips and was rewarded.

I would like to thank my guide Derrick as well as Leif from Stone Mountain Safaris’ for helping make this dream a reality. I can’t say enough good things about my guide or the outfit. He was 17.5" around the curl and had 14.5" bases. I also took a mountain goat on the trip.

Mountain Mule Deer Dream Hunt BY: FLINT SMITH

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very year we hunters wait for the tag drawings, but very seldom do we ever draw the low percentage tag we put in for. This year was different. I drew the coveted late season trophy deer tag on the Wind River Reservation here in Wyoming. After getting the news that I had drawn this great mule deer tag, I started planning my hunt for the November rut.

After archery hunting in September and the hunts in October, the November rut was finally here. On November 5th, I headed west to my favorite hunting grounds located in the high elevation of the Owl Creek Mountains. Arriving early enough for an evening hunt, I started glassing a rough canyon in search of a muley worthy of this tag. I glassed for about 20 minutes before I saw one of the best typicals I've ever laid eyes on! Even though he was a shooter in anyone's book, my standards were set high for at least a 190 inch buck. I took some Phone Skope pictures and video of the deer, then moved on.

I saw a few more deer that evening, then started planning my

next move for the following day.

Morning arrived with me glassing the high country in hopes of finding a shooter. Twenty minutes into my morning hunt I wasn't disappointed when I glassed up a 30 inch buck with 10 does! Sadly the deer was a big 3x3 with brows, not quite what I was looking for. While scanning the closer ridge in front of me with my Vortex Razor 65mm, I spotted a lone buck headed towards me a half mile out. After looking him over for a minute and taking a few pics, I decided this buck was definitely a candidate for this tag. I made my way down the ridge towards the deer. I made it to the bottom of the ridge near the mouth of a small canyon, and I immediately saw the deer straight across from me, around 300 yards away. I quickly shouldered my rifle and got a rest on my bog-pod. When I got the crosshairs on the buck I had second thoughts, “Is this buck really as big as I think he is? Should I shoot?� I thought. While I was debating, he stepped behind some pine trees making my decision for me.

I went back and looked at the pictures I took and I was sick.

Flint Smith drew a special tag in the Owl Creek Mountain of Wyoming and had a hunt that any seasoned hunter only dreams of, including one day when he passed four trophy class mule deer waiting for ‘the one’. Finally, he found the one he was after, tagging his best typical mule deer to date. The buck has incredible backs and a huge frame with a gross score of 187 4/8”.

I definitely shouldn't have second guessed myself and took the shot. So my plan now was to wait him out all day until he stepped back out. While waiting most of the day, another buck showed up travelling for does around 2:30. At first I thought it was the buck I was waiting for then I got a closer look and realized it was a different deer, not a shooter, but a darn nice buck.

I began documenting this deer also using my Phone Skope and Vortex spotter. After a couple more hours of waiting the big deer never did show up. I started making my way back up to the top of the ridge when I came across another great buck! He had very long points all the way around, but still not the trophy I was hunting for. This was a day to remember. I had watched

four great bucks, all in a close proximity, in one day. With the day coming to a close I camped out, had a mountain nap and talked to a couple buddies, Garrett and Austin Nimmo. They would be meeting me on the mountain the next morning.

Morning arrived with very cold conditions, perfect for mule deer hunting. That morning we saw a lot of deer and a hand full of great bucks, but still not the buck I was after. Later that morning while glassing I came across fresh grizzly tracks in the snow. I can tell you, I hate looking over my shoulder when hunting because there are so many grizzlies in the area. Our morning was over by this time, so we started making plans for the rest of the day.

That evening we decided to go back into the area I had seen the big typical the first afternoon. I was thinking something big might have shown up with all the does I'd seen earlier. We glassed the big canyon and saw a ton of deer. The bucks were rutting hard! I soon glassed up the big typical I had seen before and my two buddies were very impressed. After saying I was going to pass this deer again they could not believe it. This was the biggest mule deer I'd ever passed in my life and I was starting to think I was a little crazy myself, but this was a top quality tag. Another day came to an end without pulling the trigger.

Garrett and Austin headed back home, leaving me in the high country to keep searching for that trophy deer. After getting some much needed rest, I was at it again early the next morning. I started glassing a few open areas, seeing a few deer and elk. I decided to move a mile down the ridge to one of my favorite glassing points. As soon as I got up and started looking into the sagebrush treeline, I spotted an absolute giant mountain buck chasing does. This buck was a heavy typical with huge back

forks and great fronts, everything you look for in a big muley!

I watched him for around 20 minutes, waiting for him to make a mistake so I could go in after him. This buck was very smart and actually left his does and stayed in a patch of pines, staying alert while a smaller buck ran off with his does. I watched him for a while longer raking the trees and browsing. The buck started to move off slowly with his head hanging like he was

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about to bed. I watched him until I couldn't see him anymore in a thick line of timber. I quickly made a plan to intercept the buck and made the half mile hike down towards the big deer. When I got to where the buck could possibly be, I took it slow and started glassing. With no luck locating him, I slowly started working my way down the treeline, glassing into the thick timber every few steps, like I was still hunting for whitetails. After a half hour of this I finally caught a glimpse of a deer. The deer was 60 to 70 yards away and raised his head in the thick brush, looking right at me. At first I couldn't tell if it was the buck I was after. Then he turned his head to my left and I could see the deep forks. “It’s him!” I thought. I had one opening to shoot through, so I settled the crosshairs on the tip of his shoulder and slowly started to squeeze the trigger.

The buck moved and started to walk to my left, deeper into the thick trees. I started to panic and made the only move I really had. I moved a couple steps to my right to where I had a shot, exposing myself to the buck. I shouldered my rifle off hand

and put the crosshairs square on his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The buck immediately hit the ground. I bolted in another round just in case, but another shot was not necessary.

At this point I was shaking uncontrollably, as I made my way to the deer. As I walked up to him, I realized this was not just a big buck, but by far my best typical I've ever taken. The thing I noticed right off was how deep his back forks were, unbelievable! Very excited I hiked to where I had service and called Garrett Nimmo to come help get my deer out. After he arrived, we took care of my buck and took many photos to finish documenting the hunt for my trophy deer. As soon as we got home I caped the buck out and did a rough score on him. With 14 inch deep forks and 19 inch G2s He would score well at 187 4/8 gross and 185 4/8 net! There's nothing like hunting these high country mountain bucks. I can't wait to do it all again. Special thanks to Garret and Austin Nimmo and to the Tribal Game & Fish for giving us enrolled members the chance to draw such an amazing tag.

www.saskbowhunters.ca

When it All

Comes Together BY: KRISTOFER SKELLY

Kristofer Skelly of Beaumont, Alberta, with the huge framed mule deer he anchored in 2016. The frame is very impressive on his buck with an inside spread of 25 2/8”, backs of 19” and 16 3/8”, and main beams of 24 2/8” and 26 3/8”. Even though it is basically a 3x4, it still comes in with an impressive gross score of 182 6/8”!

T

he past two bow hunting seasons have been extremely successful for me, thanks in part to luck. On one piece of private property I have harvested a Pope and Young bull elk followed by a great eating, mature cow elk. Both animals were harvested on my first sit of the season. This past season, I had aspirations of keeping the streak alive and sure enough, on the first evening after setting up camp, I sat for 45 minutes in my tree stand and called in a 5X5 bull elk that I made a perfect 40 yard quartering away shot on. After getting set up and ready to hunt elk for a week, I had once again completed the task on the first sit of the season, but I was not complaining!

After sharing my Cloud 9 success story with friends, I needed to find something else to hunt for the rest of the week. My good friend Clint asked if I would like to come and hang out with him for a few days to see if we could fill his elk tag. Of course I obliged because elk hunting is something I love to do.

I pulled into Clint’s place on September 11th. Clint had a few spots scouted out and had decided on a particular place that we could also have an opportunity at some deer.

Arriving at the spot just before first light we parked and started walking into the foot-access-only property we had permission for. Early season mornings are cool and calm but the forecasted high for the day was 26 degrees with winds increasing, a pretty typical early September prairie bow hunt. We sauntered along the trail, beside a rolling hill pasture looking for a good spot to setup and call elk. We were not more than 200 yards down the trail when we spotted some movement.

Travelling left to right, across the trail 300 yards ahead was a bachelor herd of three mule deer bucks, the smallest still in velvet and the other two rubbed clean. We watched for a little and then lost sight as they crossed a fence into the pasture and behind a knoll. The wind was blowing towards our faces and the deer had no clue we were in the vicinity. We continued along the main trail until we got to a spot where we could see where the young bucks were headed, only the herd had increased from three to seven! Glassing the herd of seven, we spotted two very large mule bucks in full velvet casually feeding. Clint and I marveled at how tall and wide they were. Of the two large bucks, one was a 3X4 and the other was a 4X4 with possibly a few extra points. I asked Clint, “Where do we want to setup for your elk?” With little hesitation Clint said, “Don’t you want to shoot one of those mule deer?” I replied, “We could try but we are here for your elk”. He said, “Take the bird in hand! I have a couple bucks around home I am after so if you want to try for one of those go for it!”. I did not need any convincing to alter the morning hunting plan.

With the wind still in our faces and the deer feeding 300 yards away we skidded under the fence

and used the landscape contours to head them off. We got to a spot where we could cover some ground quickly and not be seen. Then we hit a low spot and crept to the top of the hill that we were using as cover. The deer were moving faster than we had expected, grazing as they covered a fair bit of ground. We moved cautiously to a scrub bush line that provided us some cover. Sunrise came and went and the cool morning was a thing of the past. We stopped to discuss the next move and noticed some movement back where the three young bucks had crossed the trail when we first spotted them. It was another smaller buck on full alert, bounding in our direction. We hung tight so that this buck that had been pushed by something didn’t spot us or blow our stalk on the two larger deer. He ran behind a knoll and must have veered off course because we never saw him and he did not join the bachelor herd of seven.

We entered the scrub bush on the hill side and slowly walked around it, trying to get closer to our group of deer. Taking very careful steps, the wind was steady but not strong and not enough to muffle the noise. We got to a spot where we saw a couple bucks walking and feeding in the silver willows. We ducked back down into the bush where we noticed there was a slough bottom bowl. The bush had a couple of dirt cattle trails

which we followed parallel to the deer’s movement. I had to see if the large bucks were feeding in the valley where the silver willows were. I removed my pack and Clint held back. Slowly and quietly, I crawled along the top of the bowl to see where all the deer were headed. I got to another vantage and scanned the area. I saw three deer looking for a place to bed in the silver willows about 150 yards away, across a small valley and I noticed a small velvet buck feeding 60 yards from me. “Where are the big deer?” I wondered. Slowly edging my way back to Clint, I let him know what I had seen. We decided it was best to head down into the bowl we were on the edge of and try to head the deer off. We wanted to stay ahead of them because of the wind direction. Just as I started to put my pack back on, I heard Clint, “Psst”. Clint was lying on his back, pointing back over his shoulder. Not 40 yards away was one of the big boys! He was feeding up on the top of the bowl and there was a lot of thick bush between him and us. I literally crawled over top of Clint to see if there was a shot window. Back and forth I was swaying, trying to find a window, but nothing was large enough to make a good shot. Now we had to wait for the deer to do something. Unexpectedly, instead of continuing to feed along the top of the bowl, he started to walk down a trail heading for the bottom of the bowl, perhaps looking for a place to bed. By a stroke of luck there was a well beaten cattle trail that ran parallel to where he was walking. There was a lot of thick brush between him and I and he was 30 yards away. I started to slowly walk parallel to him in hopes that when he got to the bottom of the bowl, which was wide open, that I would have a shot opportunity! What seemed like an eternity, but was likely 20 seconds later, the deer slowly and without a care walked to the bottom of the bowl, as I mirrored his every move. Then

it happened, just like out of a horror movie when someone is trying to be sneaky, I stepped on a twig and heard a loud snap!

The buck stopped immediately, and I saw his antlers turn towards me. The thick bush provided cover for both of us, yet a perfect six inch window between two trees showcasing his vitals provided a shooting opportunity. I raised my Bowtech Invasion and slowly drew and, I thought, split the uprights. Intently focused on the hairs that I picked out, I anchored and released. The sound of a solid hit and the 100gr Grim Reaper Razor Tip broad head opening up on impact was unmistakable! The deer ran down into the bottom of the bowl in the wide open, and I let out a small bawl attempting to stop him.

He stopped and looked back again. I saw a red patch a bit back of where I like, but the dark blood told me liver hit. I nocked another arrow, picked my 60 yard pin, and released. I lost sight of the arrow in flight and did not hear a hit, figuring I shot low.

The deer took off through the slough bottom and up the other side of the bowl 100 yards away, heading left, then right, then circling back.

As we walked up to the initial impact location, we found my arrow covered in blood. We did not have to walk far to find a decent trail of dark blood. Normally, with a single arrow and a liver hit we would likely consider backing out because we did not see him drop in sight. We walked to the second impact location and noticed the blood trail was significantly larger, however, we could not find the second arrow. Clint and I discussed what to do as the sun continued to raise the temperature. We concluded that, because the second arrow hit, we should press on. We followed the blood trail in the direction

of the last place we saw him and he was lying no more than 10 yards from that spot with my second arrow still sticking out from his side and buried into his brisket!

This is by far the largest mule deer I have taken and the first velvet deer I have shot. It did not take long to decide that we needed to save his cape. I field dressed him and started to cape him out while Clint walked back to the vehicle to move it closer, shortening our dragging distance. With no mechanical help and a lot of work, we managed to get everything out in one trip. I am very grateful to have a friend like Clint who, on a moment’s notice, was willing to forego the reason we were out there, to chase his elk, and go after this mule deer. I am also very lucky and fortunate to have had such a great three day start to my archery season.

Tysen Smith calls Waldheim, Saskatchewan home and he tagged the largest typical mule deer from Saskatchewan in 2016. His buck has everything needed to score very high, and must have looked truly huge on the hoof. The buck has an inside spread of 26 3/8” and a greatest spread of 32” even. Longest tines of 19”, 13 3/8”, and 12 7/8”, and no abnormal points all help the rack reach a net score of 197 1/8”.

“I just knew he was one of the biggest mule deer I h the buck that I realized just how big he really was, a every see, let alone have the privilege to put my tag

Saskatchewan’s Top Typical Mule Deer of

2016!

BY: TYSEN SMITH

F

inally, after four years of waiting my Dad, brother, and I finally got drawn for the 2016 mule deer rifle season!

Thankfully, my boss has as much of a passion for hunting as I do, so as soon as I found out I was drawn, I immediately planned to take a lot of November off work to go hunting with my family. In addition to being drawn at all, we also got drawn in the zone my Dad grew up and had hunted in for his whole life. Needless to say, he knew the area very well and we had high hopes of getting onto some good deer. With most of November off work and my Dad as a guide, in his home stomping grounds, I was confident we would see some big deer. Based on some of the huge muley bucks we had seen in recent years while whitetail hunting, we knew they were there and it was just a matter of finding them. With good reason, my standards were very high for the season and I couldn't wait for November to come.

After missing the first two days of the season, we were finally heading out on November 3rd. We started out right at legal hunting time and within the first fifteen minutes, we had

already encountered several mule deer and even a few nice bucks! After some long looks, we passed them up waiting for “The big one.” For the rest of the morning, we walked six kilometers of valleys and coulees. We saw lots of mule deer but mainly does and a few young bucks. The big boys did not seem to be moving much.

As the morning came to an end, we decided to check on an alfalfa field at the edge of a small valley. Luckily, we had friends in the area, and they had told us about two huge bucks they spotted there earlier in the summer. As we arrived at the alfalfa field, we spotted four mule deer does followed by a huge buck walking through some thick caragana tree rows! My Dad and brother went to the far side of the field, which was the direction the buck was heading, while I started at the close side of the field with plans to slowly push the field and bluffs towards my Dad and brother. As soon as I set off, I watched the buck bed down on the edge of a caragana row. Suddenly, the four mule deer does changed direction and began running toward me! It was at that moment I laid my eyes on him, an abso-

had ever laid eyes on. It was only when I walked up to and he will likely be the biggest typical mule deer I will on.”

lutely huge buck was following behind them.

I could see the buck coming from a few rows over, so I ran to the nearest bale and waited for him to come through the clearing. It was only a moment of waiting, when almost immediately, the buck came running right through the thirty-yard clearing, approximately fifty yards from me. It happened so fast, but I was ready and I made a running shot on the buck.

He continued to run through the next row of trees and I lost sight ofSkullHooker him. I ranAd_Consumer.pdf through to the2 next clearing 5/4/16 4:27 but PM thought he must have made it through already so I took off to the next clearing. Just as I started to move again, something caught my

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eye and I realized it was a set of antlers poking up through the grass! The buck had bedded down again on the edge of the tree row. I waited awhile before approaching the buck, and when I got within twenty yards of him, he got up and I made the second and final shot. Everything happened so quickly that I did not have time to consider the size of the buck, I just knew he was one of the biggest mule deer I had ever laid eyes on. It was only when I walked up to the buck that I realized just how big he really was, and he will likely be the biggest typical mule deer I will every see, let alone have the privilege to put my tag on.

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Thanks Dad! BY: BRADON DROPKO

Bradon Dropko and his father from Calgary, Alberta, hunted hard throughout the 2016 season, passing numerous great bucks until Bradon finally had an opportunity at the one he wanted. Bradon’s father had just dropped him off to walk through a bluff, when only a few seconds later this buck came running right towards him! Bradon’s buck has big bladed tines, dark chocolate antlers and long beams and tines for a total of 173 7/8� of antler. It was a hunt Bradon and his father will remember forever!

T

he 2016 whitetail season in Alberta was coming to an end. The rut had still not kicked in due to unusually warm weather and the big bucks simply were not moving. It was Thursday evening, we got into camp late and only had an hour to do any hunting and spotting. We got to a viewpoint that overlooked three different fields surrounded by bush. As darkness began to fall, a few does stepped out into the field. Watching their behavior, it was evident that a buck was near. Sure enough, five minutes before the end of legal light a 4x4 stepped out into the field and started chasing the does around. I watched him closely for a minute and in my mind decided I would take him. I turned to my Dad who was sitting next to me “I think I’m going to take him, he looks decent”.

Immediately my Dad started to convince me out of it saying, “No, just wait. It’s only Thursday, we still have lots of time.”

Reluctantly, I put down my gun and watched the buck chase the does off the field and into the bush. Little did I know that in a few days I would be thanking my Dad for convincing me not to shoot him.

The next two days were pretty slow. We were seeing mainly does and smaller bucks and nothing I wanted to put my tag on.

We did see one nice 5x5 on Saturday morning, walking across an open field ten minutes before legal light, but somehow in that ten minutes he managed to escape us and vanish, and we never saw him again. By the end of the day, I was starting to get discouraged and wishing I had shot the 4x4 on Thursday evening. I just kept thinking to myself, “You don’t shoot records by shooting the first animal you see”. Sunday morning we were out once again at the crack of dawn, hoping to see a decent buck.

I started out the morning by walking and still hunting a big

block of bush. In previous years, it had held some great bucks.

My tactic was to walk 50 yards, stop, glass, listen and repeat. It has worked for me in the past but as morning ended, I had yet to see a deer. There was lots of fresh sign but not a deer to be seen. Around noon I met up with Dad who had been sitting watching a field and cut block all morning. We warmed up in the truck and started to figure out a plan for our last evening of hunting. We had covered so many areas over the past few days it was hard to decide where to go. We came to the conclusion to head to the spot where we saw the 4x4 on the first evening.

Upon arriving at the spot, we noticed a vehicle driving all around the field and bushes we had planned on watching.

“Great, now what are we going to do” asked Dad. It was getting too late to go to a different area so I came up with a plan.

“Drop me off at the edge of the bush and I’ll walk through very slowly and come out on the other side, you go to the other side and sit, watch to see if I push anything out” It was a good plan and had been successful for us in the past. There was an old, overgrown cutline running right through the bush I could use to walk down and be quiet doing it.

We got to the edge of the bush, I got my pack on, loaded my rifle, lowered my scope power to 3x magnification and set off. I walked a few feet into the bush and waited for a few moments to let the sound of the truck fade off as Dad drove away. I was just about to start off again when I heard something breaking through the bush and coming towards me. I raised my rifle and waited. My first thought was that it was going to be a moose.

I knew a family of six or seven moose resided in this particular bush. I continued to stand still, with my rifle raised and suddenly out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of antlers. I looked and it was a really nice whitetail barreling straight towards me!

I settled my cross hairs on him and just waited for him to stop. Finally, he got to 33 yards and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at me. I placed the crosshairs on his chest and squeezed the trigger. “BOOM”, the shot echoed through the bush.

The buck didn’t even move; he fell right in his tracks!

I was in a state of disbelief and shock. I didn’t know what to do. Everything happened so fast, only two minutes ago I was in the truck getting ready.

I grabbed my phone and called Dad. He answered, “What’s wrong, what did you forget”. “I need your help, come help me drag out my deer” I replied.

“What are you talking about, how could you shoot a deer, I’m still within 100yards of you” was his answer. “Just hurry up come back, I’ll show you” I said ecstatically!

At this point I had still not seen the buck up close and had no idea how big he really was. I took a breath, gathered my thoughts, came back to reality and started to walk towards the deer. As I got closer I could see the rack, his mass was starting to show, then his bladed brow tines, then his sticker points!

By the time I got up to him I was jumping up and down in excitement. I had only dreamed of shooting a buck like this, never in a million years did I think today would be the day. I counted the points. It was a heavy, old 5x6. I didn’t know what to do, I was still in shock. I started contemplating who to call first! I heard the truck arrive at the edge of the bush and rushed out to lead Dad back to the deer. “Hurry up hurry up you have to see this deer, it’s huge!” I exclaimed as he got out of the truck.

He was still skeptical that I even shot a deer. I led the way back to the buck, Dad telling me to slow down the whole time. As we got to the buck, Dads first reaction was disbelief. “How in the heck did you shoot that within two minutes of dropping you off? I can’t believe it, it’s a monster!” After collecting our thoughts, we dragged the buck out to the open field to get some pictures! I

started texting everyone I could think of that was interested in hunting, my phone started going nuts with phone calls and text messages. Field pictures have always been an important aspect of the hunt for us so we took our time and set up everything. After taking multiple pictures and field dressing the deer we headed back to camp and started talking about the events of the day.

I want to thank my Dad, if it weren’t for him convincing me not to shoot the original 4x4 I would have never had the opportunity to shoot this buck. To end the season off my Dad ended up shooting that same 4x4 the next weekend. Dad, next year we’ll get you a monster! The official score for my buck was 173 7/8”. It will be a while before I shoot another buck like this, if ever, but I am extremely thankful for the opportunity to harvest such a magnificent buck. If I can give one piece of advice to anyone reading this. Don’t be afraid to get out and walk. Deer don’t get big by wandering around fields all day. Not fifteen minutes before I shot this buck a road hunter drove around the entire bush and saw nothing. All the walking will eventually pay off and when it does you’ll be extremely satisfied!

Campfire Chronicles BY: CHRIS MAXWELL

Field Judging Its more than just inches of bone By now most of us have long been out of the field. The show season has wound down and there are only a few months until most of us start planning for the fall hunt.

Although in the hunting world it might seem like things are in a bit of a lull this time of year it is the perfect time to sharpen your skills. Shooting bows and riffles, scouring maps and trying to identify the next honey hole are often at the top of a hunters list during this period however there is another skill that many hunters don’t think about; that is field judging.

While many people may think field judging is only for trophy hunters this couldn’t be further from the truth. Field judging an animal is about more than inches of bone it is also about knowing what you are looking at. Identifying young animals with impressive head gear versus an old monarch with diminishing growth, a young healthy female versus a dry doe, maybe it is identifying a nanny versus a billy when it comes to mountain goats. Different species need to take different criteria into consideration however there are some universal tips that can be applied across all species.

Body Characteristics Body Size is a good gauge of maturity, a large bodied animal with pot belly and seemingly narrow hips is a common trait of an older age class animal. A greying face or fur coupled with battle scars on the head and body is another good indication of an animal that has made it through more than a handful of rutting cycles. An animal with a swayed back and slow deliberate looking movements verses the playful leaps of a young animal is also another good indicator of maturity.

On the flip side identifying the characteristics of a young animal may be just as important. A light bone structure, slender head and the lack of mass are almost exclusively reserved for young animals.

The most important thing to do when it comes to field judging big game is spending time in the field looking at animals and comparing them next to other animals in the herd if possible. A young animal with better than average head gear will look enormous as its body has not fully matured but as soon as it steps beside an older age class animal you can quickly identify it as an up and comer versus the monster you thought it

was. Flipping through magazines and seeing what larger older age class wildlife looks like will also help you in your efforts to identify mature animals.

Age Above all else for me the age of an animal is where it is at in terms of “score”. In most instances with age and maturity comes an impressive set of head gear but not always. In areas with poor habitat or less than superior genetics an animal can get very old without ever growing an impressive set of antlers that others areas would have produced.

To me however the age class of the animal is more important than the inches of bone, it is far more difficult to harvest an old mature animal well past his prime. While younger animals may be tastier these older mature animals have already had time to spread their genetics and in some instances may be out of the breeding cycle all together. Often an older animal will have more difficulty surviving the winter than the 2 or 3 year old up and comers especially in the harsher climate like we have in Canada and the northern States. Letting the young ones live and targeting the least likely to survive is a key step to ensuring the future of a healthy ungulate population.

Targeting older age class animals will also enhance the experience of your hunt. Pursuing an old animal that is overly massive, elusive and educated is not only a challenge to hunt but is also rewarding, this age class of animals is not around every corner and you will need to hunt hard to find one and get the drop on him. When you are successful at harvesting one of the older monarchs there is a huge sense of accomplishment especially if you have been at it for some time or have followed a particular animal for many seasons and have a history with it.

If you truly believe that hunting is a critical part of conservation and game management you will ultimately come to the conclusion that only the oldest animals should be taken. If you are a pure meat hunter consider looking for the aging dry doe or cow.

Horn/Antler configuration Depending on the species there are all kinds of techniques that go into determining an animal’s score when looking at inches. For the purposes of this article I am going to keep it

simple and discuss horned vs antlered game configuration and characteristics to look for primarily focusing on the age and maturity of an animal versus the number of inches on his head.

When it comes to North American horned game the sheep is often the first to mind. For sheep broomed horns and mass is a good indicator of maturity. The curl of a horn alone can be misleading as often young rams will be at full curl but have no brooming and very light mass. Chipped and battered horns with double brooming are almost always an indicator of a mature ram. In general the mass of a horned animal will account for 60% - 65% of its total score and in my opinion is the best indicator of maturity on horned game when looking at horns alone. After harvesting a mountain goat as well as a Muskox I would conclude that mass of the horn itself is the best indicator of age class as a rule of thumb (considering horns alone). From what I have seen horned game can often grow long horns in a very short period of time but it takes age to build mass.

When it comes to antlered game there are several tell-tale signs of a mature animal. Bladed tines, mass, spread, length of points, and number of points all come into play. I have yet to come across a young deer that sported bladed tines or mass of any significance. Length of tines and number of points can be a little trickier. For deer I have generally found that after about four years old genetics starts playing a larger role in antler size

(assuming available forage is good) I have harvested a few deer now that were older mature deer with wider antlers and good mass but the tine length never exceeded 5 inches.

Animals like the elk however seem to correspond a little more directly with age and number of points. You will never see a mature bull elk sporting a 3 point rag horn set of antlers and you will never see a young bull with a 6x6 or a 7x7 configuration. With elk in particular older animals generally have more points and longer tines and of course significantly more mass.

For antlered game non-typical points, drop tines or other antler anomalies can also be indicators of older age class animals but not always. In some areas genetics play a huge role whether or not animals will have these characteristics.

At the end of the day all of an animal’s characteristics need to be considered when field judging. While you may get tips on how to evaluate an animal it really comes down to experience and time in the field behind the spotting scope. Once you know what to look for your eye will naturally start to pick up on these cue’s and it will become easier.

Until next time!

There are no hard and fast rules, but mass, bladed tines, and abnormal points are all good indicators of a mature animal.

Photo by Hamilton Greenwood

Saskatchewan

10x10 BY: CLAY DAY

A

s the whitetail season of 2016 began to draw near, I found myself counting down the days until opening morning. I spent every spare moment scouting and spotting for the fast-approaching season, trying to come up with a game plan. As opening morning arrived, I eagerly gathered up my gear and headed out for my highly anticipated hunt. I arrived at my morning hot spot early enough to get into position. After I arrived at my spot, I began to see that I was not the only one hunting in the area, but I decided to stay put and see what the morning had to offer. After sitting on a high ridge for a couple of hours and seeing minimal movement, I decided to take a little walk to a different location and see if there is any more action at that spot.

I hiked over to my new spot and settled in, but it wasn’t producing either and there were other hunters in the new area as well. After a while, I headed back to my original post only to see that deer movement was down to pretty much nothing. Despite that, I decided to wait it out. When I sat back down, I could still hear distant vehicles making their way through the area, trying to find a buck. I thought I’d sit tight and see what would eventually stir.

After sitting and glassing for about an hour, seeing very few deer, I was starting to get restless and frustrated with the amount of traffic. About the time I was going to head for home, something caught my eye and I could not believe what I was seeing! It was a massive 10x10 whitetail buck! He casually decided to stand up and have a stretch. He was standing no more than 200 yards out from where I had been all morning. Still in shock, I pulled up my binoculars to get an idea of how big he really was. It didn’t take long for me to decide that he was definitely a shooter, so I reached for my rifle. As I did that, he did as big deer always do and trotted off into the thick brush. Disappointed and

frustrated, I took off on foot in the direction he headed, but after walking countless bluffs and patches of brush, I had only

Clay Day of Kyle, Saskatchewan tagged the third biggest whitetail entered into the Saskatchewan record books for 2016. His buck is a once in a lifetime animal, with 10 points on each side, dark and massive antlers, and a net non-typical score of 216 2/8�!

spooked a few does and some smaller bucks, with the big guy nowhere to be seen. I could not believe that I had missed the opportunity of a lifetime, so I headed back for home with only a story to tell. I still planned to come back and try again in the evening.

After spending the day replaying my morning and thinking the odds of getting a second chance at that amazing buck was pretty slim, I headed back to my mornings post.

When I arrived to my spot I was again able to see other hunters not too far away. I was thinking I wasn’t going to be very successful, but the image of the big 10x10 kept me in position. I sat for almost an hour, glassing and looking for any sign of movement. I could see a few does and the odd small buck off in the distance. After sitting for more than an hour I was getting close to the point where I had to ready to leave. I was just thinking to myself, “I will never see that buck again,” when suddenly he stood up again, only 200 yards out! He was less than 100 yards from where he had been that morning! In absolute disbelief, I grabbed my gun, knowing I wasn’t going to let him get away this time. He gave me a standing broadside shot at 200 yards, so I took it, but nothing happened. My gun went off, but he never moved! I sent another one his way, but still nothing. Finally he seemed to sense something was wrong and turned to head for cover. I sent another shot, finally connecting and immediately putting him down! With the adrenalin

pumping and in complete disbelief of what just happened, I ran down to get a look at the trophy of a lifetime. I was blown away at what I saw, but could not even guess what he would score so I took him down to our local official scorer.

The final tally resulted in a score of 220” gross, and 216” net non-typical.

After a hunt like that and results that surpassed my wildest dreams, I know that I may never experience harvesting a deer like this again. Even with that in mind, I am already anticipating whitetail season 2017, with hopes of another amazing experience. Even if it’s not a record setting deer, my passion lies with the experience and not just the results of a great hunt. I grew up with hunting and gun safety as a family affair. Its more than just trying to find the biggest or the best deer, it’s really about spending time with family, connecting with nature and always ending up with a great story no matter the results.

Family Buc Opening Day BY: KIMBERLEE STALEY

ck

Kimberlee Staley calls Blackie, Alberta home and took a heck of a mule deer buck on opening day of 2016. She spent a good part of the summer and fall scouting, and zeroed in on this one particular buck. Despite a massive setback when the buck gave her the slip earlier in the day, she managed to close the deal that same day and tag the 194 7/8” bruiser, filling the freezer for her family over the winter.

F

inally, after a long wait it was my favourite day of the year. The archery opener was here and I was dressed in full camo with my mule deer tag in my pocket! I headed out, full of excitement to get the season started.

I first had to drop the kids off at the school bus and of course they wished me luck. I’ll admit it, I was a little sad they couldn't come out with me. I've always had one or both with me and they love coming out hunting. I said goodbye and was off. It was a cool morning, with just the right amount of morning frost on the ground but the wind was blowing hard. I could barely contain my excitement! I had been watching and scouting up and down the river on horseback, taking pictures and keeping track of which bucks I’d seen and where they had been calling home for the past few months. I thought for sure that this was the year I was going to get my moose draw. But my ninth year wasn’t successful and I didn’t get any draw tags. Fortunately, I had a mule deer tag and planned my hunt on the family farm. Living on the river and down in a huge canyon, we always have a lot of muley and some whitetail deer around us all year long. This made it easier to keep a close eye on what was moving and where they would hangout. There was five really nice 4x4 muley bucks and a few smaller ones I'd been watching but was hoping for one that had something unique about him.

Non-typicals have always been my favourite. The day before opening morning, it finally happened and I spotted the buck I really wanted to shoot. He was thick, tall and had a little point sticking straight out of each side of his back tines, there was something special about him. He had everything I wanted in a big mule deer buck! Using the spotting scope, I took a couple pictures of him and knew that with more than 20 muley does around him and the rut just beginning, he wouldn't go far.

Back to opening morning. I set out with my husband who had a whitetail tag to fill. We were loaded up and set out with our eyes peeled. With the sun just peeking above the horizon, we had come across two whitetail does in a small coulee, where they always seemed to be hanging out. After watching them for 15 minutes, sure enough an average size buck had let himself be seen. With few whitetail bucks around the area, my hubby whispered, “He’s mine”, as he begun to set out, sneaking down along the side of the coulee in pursuit of his buck. I wished him luck and started off in the opposite direction. I had one thing on my mind and was headed back to where I had seen the muley I wanted the night before. After reaching the top of the hill, I began looking down into a patch of brush that turned into trees. The buck had been calling this area home and I had cover from the blowing wind. I found myself a nice seat and started glassing the trails in and out of the trees. After awhile I spotted some movement and it was the group of muley does with a couple bucks trailing behind them as they made their way out of the trees for some breakfast. Just then my phone vibrated with a text and picture from my hubby with the news he had downed his whitetail buck! Excited for him but not ready to leave my post, I stayed for a few more minutes until I was certain my buck wasn’t there and headed over to help him. With our first deer down and only an hour into opening day we were

off to a good start!

After finishing up with his deer and a trip into town and back from the butchers, we thought we would spend the rest of the day trying to find my muley buck.

We went back to the patch of trees where I had seen the does earlier that morning and they were still there with same couple bucks. After watching them for awhile, we were sure he wasn't there, so we headed up to the top of the tree line and started walking across the top. Hoping that if he was bedded down in the trees, it would spook him and he would come out the bottom and into the opening. As we were slowly making our way across, peering down through the thick trees, something stood up and started

crashing through the trees. I was startled at first but looking hard to see what was causing all the commotion. THERE HE WAS! He stopped and stood completely still, watching my every move. He was no more than 75 yards straight below me.

Being down wind he could smell us and knew we were a danger to him. Scared to breathe, I slowly and as quietly as I could, raised my Remington 30-06, which was my favourite gun and now considered my lucky gun! As I flicked off the safety and took aim through the scope he bolted and I mean fast! Crashing through the thick trees, I couldn’t get a clear shot. I took off across the top of the tree line and hoped he would come up at the end of the trees and we would meet. By the time I reached the end and looked down, I saw he had come out the bottom, crossed the field and was making his way up the other side toward the river. My heart sunk, it was too far for me to take a shot at him. I felt defeated and still vibrating from the feeling of being so close to him and seeing that he was way heavier and bigger than I had thought he was, just a beast of a deer!

After gathering ourselves and thanks to some sweet encouragement from the hubby, we headed back to get the truck because by this time it was almost time to pick up the kiddos from the school bus. As we were heading down the road, I thought maybe we should take a quick drive down to the river and check if he had stopped there. I was hoping he was and didn’t cross the river and off our land. As we came to the other side of hill where the river was, I couldn't believe my eyes, THERE HE WAS AGAIN! He was just standing still in some thin brush and tall grass! My adrenaline started to pump again!

This time I told my husband to drop me off and for him to pick up the kids. I wasn’t going to let him get away again! Getting out where the buck couldn't see me by some thick brush, I was now down to the right and in front of him and the wind was blowing straight at me in the right direction. I was hoping the buck would watch the truck driving away and think he was safe. I could not see him from where I was but as I walked slowly through the brush toward the direction I last saw him, I caught a glimpse of him. He hadn't moved a muscle and didn’t notice I was there. As I got closer to him and where he was standing, I started to stop and walk with the wind gusts to cover any sound I might make walking through the branches. Finally, I made my way through the end of the brush. Just in front of me was a barbed wire fence that I knew I could get a good lean on. Trying to control my excitement and having no cover between the brush and to the fence. I got down into a crouch position and with my hood on and hat pulled down as far as possible to hide my face, I made my way as slowly as I could to the fence. Behind a post on my knees, I raised my head enough to be able to make eye contact with him. As I looked at him, he was looking back at me but didn't seem to care I was there and he started chewing on some tall grass. Trying not to spook him, I raised my range finder and he was now only 142 yards away, standing perfectly broad side up on the side of the hill.

My gun was ready on the wire of the fence and I had a solid rest. I took off the safety, took a deep breath, aimed and fired!

He fell hard down but stood up again! Looking through the scope I saw that I had made a great shot so didn't have to wor-

ry. He began to sway back and worth, took a step and dropped again, sliding a bit down the hill. I let out a, “YES” to myself in excitement as I walked up to him.

I couldn't believe I just got this amazing buck!

Feeling proud, I sent my husband the same text as he sent me 6 hours before, simply, “Got him” and a picture of him laying there. As I drug him the rest of the way down the side of the hill, my hubby and two kids drove up with HUGE smiles on their faces. Clearly he had shared the news with them. As they came racing towards me, full of hugs and questions about my deer, it made getting this awesome buck mean so much more. They kept telling me how proud they were of me and already asking if we could get some jerky made. I couldn't help but think that days like this are one of the many reasons why I love hunting so much! I am very grateful to be able harvest this incredible buck and to fill our freezer for my family makes me feel truly blessed in life. What an unbelievable opening day we had this year!

When my Grandpa was Young BY: KAARE GUNDERSON

W

hen my Grandpa was young, he and his brothers would, in the fall, go by horseback into what they called the Brazeau Country. It involved many days on the trail camping out in the high foothills between Drayton Valley and Rocky Mountain House, along the Brazeau River which is a main tributary of the North Saskatchewan River. The older boys were responsible for the younger ones and their goal was to bring home food for the winter. These trips were a right of passage for them. They had earned the trust of their parents and went there prepared to do the job that they were given.

I did not learn this information myself from my grandfather but instead in a letter that my mother sent myself and my son Reid after he was successful in shooting his first buck. My mom enjoys writing letters and notes and I suppose as I am writing this article, that I inherited that particular trait.

Aside from the nostalgia I found within her letter I feel that the underlying tone of it would have been that of pride. I had given her grandson his own right of passage, the same one her father had been given, the ability to put food on the table and the skill of feeding himself. In her letter she stated, “Hunting nowadays is not needed, in most part, to put food on the table, but for you two it is.” She was correct as despite the fact that it is large antlered bucks that we pursue, we love the meat that they provide. There is something special about properly field dressing, skinning, cutting and wrapping your own game. The whitetails that we hunt are special creatures and we owe it to them as well as ourselves to not waste any. I take extreme pride in teaching that to my children.

She also stated that when she was young she was bothered by the time that her Dad and brother spent together outdoors. It was not a girl’s place in those times to be involved in the hunting aspect of a family and she is thankful that those ideas have changed, but she was envious of the companionship and friendship that they had, the challenges the faced together, but most of all, the inherent nature of joy that they found in being together in nature. Her words made me stop and consider how fortunate that I am in life to be able to share those things with my children.

Years from now, when they are raising a family of their own, I know, that the influence and impact of so

much time together outdoors will have shaped who they grow up to be and the relationship that we have with each other.

I have at times been mocking of my mother’s notes. My siblings and I like to joke about how the date of purchase is written on every can of coffee or tub of margarine, or how a week’s worth of meals may be pre-planned out and stuck on the refrigerator like a menu, when we return to the home to visit. But her letter actually stirred some deep thinking within myself. I wondered, “Should I be worried that I don’t ride horseback into some location and camp out while trying to bring home meat like my grandpa did?

Is it an adventure like that I should be attempting to share with my kids? Is what we experience in hunting less exciting and impressive than such a situation?”

“Duh, of course it is,” I contemplated, but after some time I decided that I was inaccurate in my thinking. It is not worse, only different. In fact, I find it a blessing that I do not need to go horseback after the game I pursue. My truck intimidates me far less than horses do and to get to most of our hunting locations we endure a whopping 15 minute round trip and the closest we get to tenting is occasionally sitting in a ground blind on the edge of a field. At the culmination of our day we do not need to start a fire to cook supper, in fact it is often waiting for us when we return to our comfortable abode where the rain or sleet or snow is never a threat to the sleep we get. There is little pressure on us. Yes, we like the meat, but it is never a dire situation that we return home with it or else fall on hard times for the ensuing months.

I admire my Grandpa for what he and his brothers did but cannot help but think how much of a downer on the trip it would

have been had someone had a terrible allergic reaction like both of my kids have had when handling dead deer. It has not been each deer but it has been each kid, sneezing, wearing a blotchy face, with eyes near swollen shut. Some blame deer dander, I am going with a plant as it happened to one while shed hunting as well, but any way you slice it, such a thing would have seriously stunk if the only possible remedy would have been a dip into a chilly Brazeau River and a whole bunch of grinding knuckles into closed eyes. For us, it was as simple as a quick rip home, propelled by 315 horses, a hot shower and some Benadryl. When it comes to our hunting, “Awe-inspiring” it is not, but comfortable it is, and unlike with my Grandpa during his youth, it is something that we work it into our each and every day life. Impressive? No. Adding to quality of life? Absolutely!

And even though we hunt in a fashion likely deemed monotonous by many, under the surface, there is actually much to be impressed with, like the land for starters. Fringe country of the boreal forest is beautiful and we explore it, simple as that. There are mixed woods of spruce and poplar, mature jack pine stands, river bottom, swamps and high ridges choked full of hazel brush under story as thick as the raspberries that grow within during the month of July. The Labrador tea grows knee high in places and can seem to come alive while tripping one up during spring searches for shed antlers. It tends to grow in the darker wetter areas of the forest, the places I always seem to locate the largest rubs of the year, almost always on spruce trees, lower branches smashed from their trunk, sap doing it’s very best to heal their massive wounds.

Something else impressive you ask? How about all of the game that call those woods home too? I wonder if my Grandpa would have felt the same or would he have been too immersed in a duty, camping in that Brazeau country to take too much note of things that had no bearing in his success? In our house, success is not dependent on fresh meat so we are able to view how things go while hunting deer through a more rose tinted glass. We like the bears. It’s okay when two big bruins converge on the field you are hunting deer on, slowly approach each other, and grapple from their hind legs while every whitetail on the scene heads for parts unknown. We like the moose too, even when pre-rut cows get tired of being pestered in the big timber and choose to use the field we are hunting as a practice field for running sprints back and forth, we still find success.

Even the coyotes, that prey on the game we pursue, gain our admiration as we watch them methodically attempt to create situations that benefit their own survival. In these woods surround-

ing our little tributary of the Beaver River, there are just so many different kinds of critters to see and respect.

It’s special as a father, to see positive character traits emerge in your children. A love of all things wild is one I have been blessed to watch emerge.

At the heart of all of our time outdoors however, remains whitetails.

After all, it is them that lead the charge in getting myself out in those woods. I’m enamored with them. Will one day, someone a few branches down on my family tree ever learn that about me? Will they even care? I could not help wonder that after reading my Mom’s letter. Will the knowledge I have been trying to share continue to be passed along? Things such as, “A big buck spot is a big buck spot”, or “Alfalfa is king.” Messages like, “Old bucks can pattern you”, or “Some mature bucks will just up and leave an area if there is a strong population of upper age class bucks calling that place home”, “Whitetails like edge cover”, “Some deer are homebodies while others are wanderers, and the ones that wander, they go much farther than you would guess they do.” I spread ideas like, “The best bucks to hunt are ones that you have followed for years,” and facts, like “Whitetails are tougher than nails.” Much of this I learned on my own, my kids have not had to. This year, I learned even more, and that’s perfect, for when I stop learning is when I may as well give hunting deer up.

I’ve never seen or been to the Brazeau River. My Grandpa did not see eye to eye with his Dad, left the farm and ended up in Biggar, Saskatchewan working on the railroad for a living. I do not know what the future has in store in regards to where my kids and their kids end up in life. As the saying goes, “the only thing that stays the same is, everything changes.”

Maybe, even likely, three generations from now, my descendants will say the same thing about the riparian area surrounding the little river we like to hunt, “I’ve never been there.” They will however, for I’ve been collecting shoulder mounts and shed antlers, inherit a piece of it. And they’ll know I knew whitetails, and I knew whitetails, because I loved them, and that’s better than because I had to!

I

t was the end of July 2015 and I had put in for the Mountain Goat draw in area "C" in the Willmore. I went into the system that holds our individual accounts for hunting draws. “What the heck, I could still have a chance at a draw, even with the other 5000 guys with their name in for the same tag” I thought. I punched in my numbers, and up popped my draw information so I scrolled down the list, Mountain Goat - Awarded!

“Wait a minute, hold on, how am I going to get there?” I thought, as I was originally going with someone who had some knowledge of the Willmore and I have never set foot in the place.

I logged onto and Alberta message board. “Maybe I should put up a thread of looking for a Willmore packer to take me and buddy to share the adventure,” I thought. This tag in Alberta is "Once in a Lifetime" whether you filled the tag or not, it’s a one season deal starting September 10th until October 31st. It wasn't long and my thread was started.

Then the congratulations rolled in, wishing me the best. Requests that I share the story and photos when I get back, successful or not followed.

The planning had started and I was waiting to hear back on leads of different Outfits, Guides, Packers and just general people who rode the area a lot and were ordinary Joes just like you and I. August rolled around and still not a lot of calls back from the men that spend their summers and falls riding the backcountry of the Willmore and I checked the online posts again and left my two cents, as does everyone else, wishing they had this rare tag.

Half the fun is in the planning of our Dream Adventures, and once in a lifetime hunts, along with the friends you make along the way. In all the planning, I also needed to be prepared should that moment come that 165 grains of 300 WSM hit its mark and after giving thanks for this opportunity, I would now need to be prepared to cape the Billy for a full mount. “Better give my Good Friend and Taxidermist Marco Pilon a call,” I thought. I dropped by his studio for a visit and some professional advice for measuring and recording lengths, girths etc. This would ensure we can recreate this trophy to its original size and eliminate the guesswork.

September arrived and so did a response from a Native guide who knows the Willmore Wilderness inside out as this is, and has been, his backyard for generations. I had a few recommendations from this man and his knowledge of the area was invaluable.

Not a man of many words, we talked over the phone and he told me he was booked for all of September but could arrange something mid-October. We discussed having two riders in and out and agreed to talk later in September when he would be back out from his last pack trip, which usually lasts around ten days.

Once in a Li BY: PHIL MINER

ifetime

Phil Miner with the culmination of an incredible series of events which included a life-threatening situation that he and his son Blaze endured on the mountain when their camp caught fire.

Phil thought his hunt was over, until the Alberta hunting community stepped up and helped him to fulfill his dream of taking an Alberta Billy. It is a story of hardship, family, endurance, and the giving and sharing attitude of hunter.

With some options in the works and the prodding of my 24 year old son Blaze, I was all set for the hunt. The only issue was he had to complete the sales of the litter of nine pups and have them gone to their owners by the end of September. With the extra help of my wonderful wife, we could do this.!

It was now August 30th, and we worked around both our work schedules that would give us eight days to do this hunt together. It couldn't get any more perfect. An Alberta Goat Hunt with my strong, youthful hunt'n crazy son, on horseback.

“What a Lucky Father I am!” I thought Curtis, my guide called me back first and had the beginning of October open. His offer was sweetened with the offer to supply the wrangler. It would take two days. At the end of day one there was a Forestry Cabin that we could stay in providing no one else is. The rest of the trip we would stay in his Wall tent camp, along the river with facilities, Coleman stoves and the Goats could be viewed from his camp as well, so we could hunt from there. I knew through other communications that he had taken the lucky "Goat Tag" holder the prior year. The ending wasn't so great for them as they dropped their goat into a hole they couldn't retrieve him from.

Fast forward to September 30th and we were leaving in two days. I thought I just better double check everything is in order with our Packer/Guide and it’s a good thing I did! “Hey, just checking in that everything is a go, we leave in a day and a half as soon as my son is off work,” I said.” Ya everything is set,” was the reply. Great, our bags were packed, groceries bought, and we just needed to pack the truck and we were on our way. It all sounded great. I was then informed that we needed to bring a tarp for a fly camp, as there were two ladies riding with us now and they are staying in the wall tents. They were heading in for a “Healing Quest”. I’ll admit it, I was a little upset about this as it was not the original agreement I was offered, but how could I back out now and go with someone else. “Oh well, we are tough, we can set up our little 2-man nylon tents, or I may know someone who has small wall tent,” I thought. I also had a custom made collapsible stove made of stainless steel we may be able to bring.

Day 1. We arrived a little before 8:00 that morning, excited to toss our packs and duffle bags on the Horses and hit the trail.

There were a few young people gathering some horses ready.

We went to the house with the light on, met our Guide for this trip who was still cooking breakfast, as well as waiting for the babysitter, as well as a load of Hay from the now extra rider that was paying for his trip with it? Another change but we rolled with it, after all what choice did we have? Blaze and I made some introductions. We met Darryl first, unknown to us yet, he was going to be our Wrangler, only catch is he was still learning the ropes, and the important ones, especially the ones like making the Diamond Hitch. Then we met Matt and Eli who would later split off the trail and take the elk hunter in and stay at our guides main camp. We introduced ourselves to the young ladies with the coach purses, running shoes, light jackets, a sleeping bag each, duffel bag and cooler of food that have never ridden horses before. With big smiles and all giggles and joking, these two were so excited for their horsey ride.

As we discussed the adventure ahead, making small talk I realized these two are greener than grass on the ground. They are, however on a Healing Quest in memory to their younger sister they lost to substance abuse. They went through their belongings and were now looking very stylish with their sealskin mitts, cashmere neck scarf and hat, camo bibs, jacket, hikers and gloves. It was noon before we finally hit the trail and this late in the year the days were short and daylight was valuable.

The most important thing missing though is, the meeting before we all leave. Some advice from the Guide that we would trust our transportation and safe keeping with, and it never happened.

So, we hit the trail without any briefing. With an hour of daylight left and two worn out ladies, we came upon a vacant wall tent camp, we were told we could stay here since our Guide knew the owner, or we could ride another hour then set up tents. The girls picked a tent, and the four of us men unloaded the horses and got the hobbles on so they could go feed, then we set up our gear in a wall tent with a wood stove. We enjoyed a big dinner that night with steaks I provided and cooked over

the fire. We then pieced together the stove in the wall tent with spare pieces we located behind the tents and settled in for the night.

Day 2. The next morning I inquired how long of a ride this day should be and was assured we would arrive to our drop camp. This was now the plan, to drop us where last year’s goat hunters stayed, with their wall tent. It was real close to where the goats lived but not as far as the packer’s base camp. We should make it no problem but we needed to make better time and pushed the horses a bit because we were taking the long way in, the “scenic tour”. We also had to take a detour to pickup the guides moose rack, which he did not have room for the week previous. With Blaze and I helping, horses were saddled, loaded up and tied down. We experienced all four seasons of weather that day but there were still giggles coming from the two young ladies with us. Six hours or so later and after gaining lots of elevation we came to the meadow where the moose kill was. There also was someone else that had claimed this spot we had to push off. We estimated it to be a 6 year old grizzly.

Before long were making the steep, winding climb into Zipper Lip pass. It had been manageable up to now, adjusting packhorses, but there was one trouble maker and time after time our packs were upside down with the horses stepping on them in a tangled mess of gear, rope and horses. We were losing daylight and could have made better time and if the packs stayed upright. It was beautiful sheep and goat country we were riding through and it was about now I was thinking, “Sure wish I had put my headlamp in my pocket.” We dropped back into the bush and it was now dark. It wasn't long before we popped into a small opening along the horse trail with no level ground anywhere when our packer said, “Ok you’re here.” “There is no camp but there is the mountain the goats live on,” was the reply I got. “Where did the guys that you packed in stay last year, can’t we stay in their camp?

“It’s not much of a camp,” we were told, but there should be poles for the wall tent. “Ok let’s go there,” I requested.

We descended for another three kilometers or so and were now in the bottom of

a steep valley with tall old growth spruce and a trickle of a stream with fresh water in it. “Ok you’re here boys,” we were told. So, in complete darkness, two packhorses were unloaded and the guide was antsy to get these tired, sore, achy ladies to his camp which is somewhere beyond us. “When you coming back for us?” I asked. “Friday night or Saturday Morning,” he says. “Ok, where’s your camp at anyway,” I asked. “Keep following this trail you will eventually find it but go left, not right,” was his reply.

We bid the worried girls a good trip and said good luck. Now it was time to set up camp, in the dark! Blaze found his cell phone and used the light to find branches for starting a fire.

With this done, it was time to figure out this last-minute wall tent we borrowed and have never set up before.

We found the poles for the wall tent but there was no level ground anywhere. We cleared a spot that should fit the tent. It was about an hour later and we had it set up and thank goodness because it was getting cold out! At least we had all our gear inside now and bedrolls laid out. We struggled with the assembling the stove but we did it, then wrestled with the stove pipe.

There were two varying pieces but we managed to get four sections together. Those kind goat hunters from last year had left some unburned wood and before long the tent was toasty and warm. We heated up some food and had a drink then put our tired asses to bed.

Day 3. It was already daylight when we awoke. The skies were not overcast, and things were looking great. Blaze started working on breakfast and I gathered more water. Packs were loaded and away we went up the snow-covered slope. It took about an hour to reach the crest before we could look over.

Inching our way along, we were awarded with the surrounding view. We spent a good deal of time enjoying the view but we were here for a goat so kept going. We had found many beds in the shale but they were from months prior, and these beds were empty and no fresh tracks. We were careful not to sky line ourselves as we looked over the edge to the rocky outcroppings below. Yes, this was goat country and were seeing sign at least. It wasn’t long when I realized I was looking down onto a young three year old billy all by himself. We watched him for a while, then decided to poke over the opposite side of the mountain where the goats were spotted a week before. It wasn’t long when Blaze said, “Dad, get over here I found some goats.”

Sure enough, there was about a dozen nannies and kids making their way over onto the grassy slope to feed. Not seeing any billy’s, we kept our distance. Glassing them over, there was one exceptionally larger with at least 10-inch horn length. We took advantage of the terrain and cover to close the distance for a closer look. We got within 80 yards when it was obvious this was a huge nanny that had a kid tagging along. We had lots of photos and lots of footage on our best video camera. The goats started to make their way back to the rocks and to safety, for us, we knew the trail back.

Back at camp it felt so good to shed our packs, take off the sweaty clothes, cook some pork chops and have a coffee. We pre-packed our stuff for the next day’s hunt. We stoked the wood stove, zipped up the down bags and it was lights out.

Day 4. We awoke earlier today because we set an alarm, Breakfast and coffee were done then we started our accent up the mountain, taking the same trail as yesterday we made our way to the top in hopes of seeing a billy this time. We went back over to the hillside where the nannies and kids were, they were out again but no billy. We decided to climb the west facing slope that was a playground of cliffs and steep drop-offs. As we sat on a hilltop peak covered by some junipers, we enjoyed a mid-day snack, drink of water and a rest of the sore legs. It was around 2:00 when I was checking out the distant rugged mountains for sign of a billy when, with the naked eye, I spot him, bedded in the black shale. A look through the binoculars determined it was indeed a large male and those scent glands made his bases look like pop cans. As we continued to glass we found two more billys above this one. We could do this!

We would have to descend this mountain, cross the creek drainage below, follow it down then get in range for a shot. We weighed out our options, wondering if we could we do this or should we tackle this early tomorrow. It looked simple enough drop down the ridge in cover, just follow that stream out to the Sulphur River where there would surely be a horse trail that would eventually intersect with the trail we rode in on. Just simply take it back to camp. We had a plan and by 4:00 we were getting into ethical shooting range of around 500 yards when pop-cans decided it was supper time, left his bed and vacated the area.

Bummed out about this, we headed back to camp but the creek drainage turned out to be full of boulders and fallen logs, slippery rocks and willows. 5:00 or so we connect to the horse trail. With three hours of daylight left, we head for camp which should only be about 10 kilometers away. At 8:30 pm we were back at our wall tent camp exhausted and grateful. The security of the wall tent and our gear, along with a wood burning stove was like staying at the highest end hotel that night. We feasted like kings and over a few drinks, discussed what tomorrows plans would be. We could sneak in behind pop cans as we knew now where he was hanging out.

We put an extra log in the wood burning stove and it was lights out for both of us within seconds. It was somewhere between 12 and 12:30 when I awoke that night. My first thought was, “What a Nightmare I was having, it was very bright inside the tent and very much on fire.” I quickly realized it was no dream, and 1/4 of the tent at the opening by the wood stove was gone already! It was really happening right now! “Oh My God, Blaze wake up, our tent is burning” I yelled. I will never forget as he looked at me quizzically and pulled the ear plugs out, realizing what was happening.

We don't remember unzipping the sleeping bags, just somehow we were not in them anymore as we frantically searched for water to put out the fire. Ka-Boom! one of the Isobutane cylinders exploded, followed by some Bear bangers with us inside, one hitting Blaze in the chest, one in the back of his head. We jumped out of the burning tent trying to frantically put it out from the outside when the green propane bottle blew its top and an 8-ft. flame was roaring right over where we had been sleeping two minutes before, followed by another

Isobutane and then ammunition started going off. We hid behind the trees and each time we tried to go back in to salvage anything, we were unsuccessful. The trees above us were now on fire, “This can’t be happening, no one is coming to get us for three more days,” I thought!

Within five minutes our camp was destroyed. I was still trying to put out spot fires with my fuzzy socks that were now like slippers with hardened melted bottoms. We both had some burns on our hands but Blaze was the worst. I just kept yelling this can’t be happening, not like this. The reality of our situation had sunk in, we were in trouble!

Pack boxes, sleeping bags, backpacks, rifles, food, camera gear, clothes, boots, eyeglasses, tents were all gone. Everything except the long-sleeved shirts and underwear we were wearing was gone. Confident nothing else would blow up, we finally picked through the hot carnage looking for anything of salvage. Thankfully, the top part of my pack was laying outside the burnt-up tent. In the remaining fire light I opened it and found my cell phone, part of a spare headlamp and the satellite phone that I had rented. This was something I had never done before, as I had an I-spot that was working great up until now for sending my morning and evenings OK signal to my wife back home. Well that was now melted as well! The sat phone had plastic burnt out of the corner of it that I chipped off so I pulled out the aerial which I managed to get to work then I hit the power button and it lit up! I dialed those three numbers you never want to. 911.

A 911 Operator, from Corpus Cristy, Texas, answered, “Can I help you?” I gave our names to him and told him we were in the Willmore Wilderness. He asked me if I could send a pinpoint from the phone? I just rented this thing I didn't think I would have to use it for help, even though the rental company employee showed me in his office. My bad, was not practicing with it to get familiar. I gave him my wifes name and phone number right away. He then told me how to send my location, when I heard a voice say, “We got his location, oh we’re losing him,” and they were gone.

They knew where we were at least. We sat on that steep hillside in the cold, watching the remainder of the flames of burning plastic and nylon that everything is made of these days.

This was real and this just happened! The realization choked me up, “How could I have let this happen?” I said, “We better try to call home and let Mom know what happened to us.” I successfully dialed out and a sleepy voice came to the phone, I was kind of choked up when I said, “Hi, Hon, just need to let you know we’re in a bit of a pickle…” when the satellite was lost again!

We then built a lean to and used a Horse tarp to give us shelter as it was spitting some rain now. Stumbling through the dark without glasses to see and a weak headlamp, we made another attempt to call home and got through. My wife had talked to the RCMP of Grande Cache and said they won’t be out until daylight hours. Since I had been sending spot locations from our camp she could provide that through e-mail to the RCMP. We told her we loved her and we were going back to the fire and would contact again when we got to civilization again.

We covered ourselves with part of a burnt down jacket and part of a pair of pants and spooned by the fire that night, taking turns to stoke it and listen for Grizzly Bears.

It was about 9:30 A.M when we heard the Chopper coming into the valley. They came directly to our location. I looked up into the cab of the helicopter and gestured asking which mountain top did they want us to climb to.

Without glasses Blaze had to follow close behind me to the adjacent mountain top where the rescue helicopter had arrived.

Back home, after an exhausting drive and emotional reunion with our family, I posted the conclusion of the hunt on the message board. Long story short. We escaped with what we were wearing and lost everything else, everything! We were Heli rescued out and thank God for the burned Sat phone that still worked. Please always make a preplan with your loved ones before you go in the backcountry and hold them close every time you get back home.

Oct 14th - It’s been an emotional week and a very thankful Thanksgiving. I had received some amazing messages with offers to go back in, for gear, and to just say sorry how it turned out. I shared on the forum that I want all of us to focus on the positives. Positives that we are all outdoorsmen and women that share the outdoors passion and this is what sharing and working together is all about with our brethren.

I tipped my hat to those people and again would like to say a thank you for what I have received and for the good things you have done for others. With an overwhelming amount of support from my hunting family and friends, we decided that we would point the truck toward Grande Cache again tomorrow to meet up with Mark Enstrom. Mark had offered to take me back in, and out, to get another chance at the goat.

Not only is it rare to get drawn for a goat tag in Alberta, it's

even more rare to take a unicorn, although that’s not how it started when I saw him. Mark schooled me on teeing on our gear with a diamond hitch because it was just him and I put a lot of responsibility onto him, which he thankfully had the patience to endure.

We set out onto the trail headed west for the Willmore once again. It was a great day of riding and in the back of my mind I kept worrying that the weather would change for the worse but that day we should have worn sunscreen. With evening approaching, we found a reasonably level spot to set up the Teepee tent and hobble some horses.

Morning arrived quick and we were greeted with sunny skies to continue our journey. I tried my best to help saddle, Bridle and assist packing the horses and off we went again. We arrived at Big Graves Cabin that afternoon and no one was home. It belongs to Alberta Forestry service. The horses were unsaddled and a couple tied while the rest were hobbled to graze. I washed the mice poop off the counters, got some camp water and we enjoyed a meal in the cozy cabin. Mark showed me the visitor’s log book which I got lost in for a couple evenings enjoying the stories in there. It wasn't long before we were both asleep.

Light started coming through the window so it was time to get up, make breakfast and hit the horses. The stove was lit for warmth and cooking some bagels and my one-man wrangler, guide and new best friend tended to the horses. After Mark went over our horses, he recognized my horse Newt had a sore back. It turned out this green rider never did a thorough inspection of the saddle pad and there was a stick wedged into it when I set it on that big rock to air out the night before....

So, with this under our belt and hopes he would recover, we spent the day fueling up the horses. It was a good day to just take in the outdoors and do more glassing. The day eventually ended and the sun settled. Newt was looking better and I had a lucky feeling about the next day.

As the light came through the cabin windows, on came the slippers, and I sent my morning co-ordinate location back home via the Sat phone that was loaned to me, something I do morning and night so my family can be rest assured everything is ok. Coffee was made and breakfast started. Mark gave thumbs up, as Newt was better and I made damn sure his saddle pad was free of sharp sticks. We found the trail that Blaze and I walked out on where pop cans lived.

Memories poured through my head of this trail and how knackered we were walking back on it that same evening when we walked back to camp for the last time on trip one. I couldn’t believe how far we had gone after climbing two mountains that day and how proud and privileged I was to have Blaze sharing this once in lifetime hunt with me. Eventually we came to the drainage we walked out on the prior trip. Mark took responsibility for the five horses and I headed out to find pop cans.

Knowing you must count on each other out there and how fast events can change, we came up with a game plan. I would start up the rocky, fallen tree covered drainage and I would put a pink ribbon every 100 yards as I went so Mark could find me. Once at the bottom of the Mountain I intended to climb, I

would stretch out an 8-ft. length of ribbon and start my ascent. It was more challenging than I thought but the weather was good, the day was young and I attached the ribbons as I went every 50 yards or so now. Eventually it opened and I was on the lower edge of the grassy slope I had observed from the adjacent mountain with Blaze 10 days earlier. “Time to have a good drink of water and a rest,” I thought. I knew it wasn't too far now, after all that had happened, and with all the people that were encouraging me to get back out and I needed my wits about me. I dedicated this hunt to Blaze and had to make it happen.

As I quietly made my way along that steep edge overlooking the rocks below, goat tracks and poop all along it, had my adrenaline pumping. I covered 100 yards and still no goats. I made the decision to drop my pack and go a little further. I looked over the outcroppings, across to the next mountain and down onto the shale bed where pop cans was when we saw him. Nothing! My heart sank but I was still thankful for the opportunity to do this hunt. I decided to go back and get my pack then come back and carry on further up the trail. When I returned to the spot I just was, I went a few more steps and

in awe at the sign I was seeing, when BOOM there was a goat not 75 yards away, bedded and overlooking the cliffs and rocks below! I dropped on my back and quickly took off my pack and pulled out my rifle and put a shell in. I rose to my knees, with a strong wind directly at my back. He rose to his feet, looking my way from 80 yards no doubt about to get my scent.

I can't believe this is now happening so fast, I slowly jacked in a 165 grain 300WSM into the chamber. My heart is pounding in my chest, my mind is saying, “Keep it together Phil, don't mess this up.” I rose on my knees then Kapok! I let one fly, and he stands there with his ears perked up staring my way.

I jack another one, lower the crosshairs this time behind his front shoulder, knowing my borrowed rifle is shooting high at this distance, pull the trigger. Whop, it connects, he kind of humps up in his front end but does not drop! Whop, I connect again, as he spun around like he may fall over on that grassy plateau. “Yes.” I think, and then “No!” as he turns around and drops out of sight over the edge of his lookout. I pull another shell off the sling, slip it into the chamber and walk up to his bed. There is beautiful white hair but no blood? I looked over the edge, but can't see him anywhere. I start to climb down, holding onto small trees as I do, but I can't find him. This can't be happening, there’s no way, I climb back up top.

I heard rocks falling below me as I walked back and forth along the overhang, looking to see where the sound is coming from. Finally, I spotted him 100 feet below me in the steep cliffs, still walking! He is stumbling along, as I place the crosshairs between his shoulder blades and let shot number four on its way. He dropped, but then he rolled over and started rolling to the bottom towards the creek drainage. I let out a whoop to ensure my partner below hears me.

I made sure my rifle is empty, picked up my empty casings, got my back pack on and started heading back. As I reach the lower edge of the trail that drops into the bush line, I saw Mark.

Of course, he has a "Great Big Smile" across his face and says,

“What’s all the shooting!”

“We got him Mark, we got him, except he's now back at the bottom of the ravine,” is my reply. We picked our way along the boulders, back to where I recognize the dark shale. I start the steep climb up, then across the shale as Mark walks below me, looking up for the downed billy. Mark spotted him first so I headed over to him. His face is buried in the rocks. I closed my eyes, saying, “Does he still have both sides of his horns Mark?”

“Nope he doesn’t,” is the simple reply. Immediately, I head up to look for his broken horn. I started the steep sketchy climb up the vertical slope scanning the path he came down. Up I go until I get into the vertical layers of slippery rocks. Part of me says keep going, the other part of me says, you have been damn lucky so far with all the events, your wife, kids, and grandkids would like to see you come home safely again to tell the story.

Common sense prevails and I descended to the bottom, dropped to my knees to admire and show respect to this magnificent beast with his thick, long snow white hair. I looked onto " My Alberta Billy" that rose from the ashes and he is here and I have my hands on him. I have never caped an animal for a life-size but Marco had me prepped with instructions written onto his business card and a piece of paracord to tie knots into

for him to get the proper life size form.

6 o'clock rolls by as we slowly grunt our way back down the drainage. As we reached halfway and collected our belongings we left behind earlier, Mark says, “Hey Phil, check out that Billy!” Across the other side and above the sheer drop off, another billy watches us from high above and in the safe zone, possibly for the next lucky guy to draw a tag in this zone.

It was an early morning the next day with hotcakes made in a cast iron frying pan on the wood stove, coffee was poured and pack boxes weighed. I donated lots of food and batteries to the cabin should the next people need it or a stranded person in a winter storm, maybe a trapper. It doesn’t matter who, I felt good about it and a little gesture to pay it forward like so many people had done for Blaze and I after the first tragic events we went through.

Just as we were about to hit the trail for the nine hour ride out, the cabin was double checked to be closed, the fire out and floors swept. Mark said to me, “Did you read that plaque back behind the Cabin?” I can hear him chuckling as I head out to look. Mark showed yet another of his many talents and left a memory behind for others to enjoy.

I hope you all enjoyed the adventure. Take the time to pay it forward when you can, enjoy and respect the outdoors for generations to come. Our most important message of this hunt is to make sure you’re prepared everything you can think of and what your plan is if you get into trouble or seriously hurt and how you will handle it mentally and physically. Ensure you take the time to prepare for anything and everything that could possibly happen.

When Sugar Creek completes this life-size mount, it will hang with my other memories In the mancave. Mark did a heck of a job dealing with this greenhorn and his limited knowledge of horses and packing. Mark, I am forever indebted to you as well as all the people that offered me gear, a ride in and the inspiration to get back in the saddle.

The

Future of

Hunting

???? Weste

Embrie Wilkinson

Sophie Sturko

Dylan Kirzinger

Tyson Krpan

Madison Harrel

Carson Kirzinger

Nikolai Sturko

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Email your photos along with name to: info@biggameillustrated.com

Mitch Keeley with the beast of a whitetail he took near his hometown of LaCrosse, Kansas.

He also put in the time needed to find sheds off the incredible animal. The 6 ½ year old buck has a world class frame with beams over 30”, a 28” spread and a gross score just over 200”.

BEAST mode By: Mitch Keeley

T

his story begins in February of 2010. I was riding my ATV on the edge of a wheat stubble field and glanced down to see a matched set of shed antlers lying side by side. They were small sheds, most likely from a two year old deer that was already a 5x5. Little did I know this would become my buck of a lifetime. That summer of 2011, my mind was on bigger and better things. I had been watching a deer that was consuming me in every way possible. I ended up killing that deer in September! I was ecstatic, and relieved! If you have ever hunted a monster whitetail you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Fast-forward two years to the summer of 2013. I knew in the back of my mind that if that little two year old I found the sheds off of was still around he could be something special.

Every evening that summer was spent scouting specifically for him. Finally, around the middle of August, I was on the highway driving towards his core area and I caught a glimpse of his rack on the horizon, right then my heart skipped a beat and I was consumed yet again. I had the same feeling as last time I was on a big deer. I slept very little, always thinking of the giant buck. I devoted the next few weeks of scouting strictly towards this deer. I saw him approximately four times in the next 30 days. As the season arrived, he was so nocturnal that I knew I was losing the early season battle and would have to hope for a late season duo. In the meantime, I ended up killing a different deer but still was trying to keep tabs on the big boy.

Gun season rolled around and I knew exactly where the buck was calling home. My Dad, who is an avid coyote caller and not much of a deer guy, asked me jokingly if I was going to put him on a giant buck. I showed him a few pictures of the buck and he suddenly became interested in deer hunting!

Go figure, Dad hunted the buck a couple evenings that season but with no luck. February 12th of 2014 found me walking a small barnyard looking for sheds. My cousin was walking alongside me when I spotted one of the sweetest sights for a shed hunter! It was a huge single, lying 80 yards ahead of us, tines up. It was him! I looked at my cousin and said, “This is why we’re here.” Three days of intense looking later, I found

his match lying 300 yards away. I knew right then he was my number one deer for next year. His sheds, given the inside spread, would have scored around 185”.

When the summer of 2014 rolled around, there was only one thing on my mind, and I was on a mission to find him.

I knew where his core area was, but sometimes summer months tend to put them elsewhere. My first sighting of him that summer was in mid-July and did he look impressive!

He was literally a ¼ mile from where I had found his sheds the winter prior. I kept a close eye on him for the next couple months, only going near him one week to get trail cam pictures. Other than that, I was watching him through the spotter half mile away. As season approached, I knew that if I was going to kill this deer it would have to be in early season, that’s when he was most vulnerable. The year before he had become more nocturnal as the season went on, like big bucks so often do. He was bedding in a feed patch in the middle of a section and walking out of it to feed. I hung an observation stand about 400 yards away so I could get a birds eye view of the field he was calling his bedroom. I would sit in my perch for two weeks leading up to opening day, and I saw him three times. He was walking out of the feed patch into a small milo field. I was so excited and couldn’t wait another moment to start the hunt!

Opening day arrived and I was mentally ready with high hopes. However, after the first four nights in my perch I had not seen him and was beginning to get doubtful of my chances. A couple of my buddies doubted that he was still there and kept telling me that he must have moved. I knew in my mind in the last two months there was only one place I had seen him and that’s where I was going to devote my early season.

September 19th was the fifth day of our season that year; I headed back up to my observation spot. I was scanning

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the feed patch with my binoculars and I saw what looked like a monster frame. I watched the frame for 30 seconds before it moved. I felt overwhelmed and excited at the moment I saw him. It felt like a small victory to just capture a glimpse of him. He was slowly walking towards the small milo patch on the edge of the feed. I quickly got down from my perch and grabbed my CVA muzzleloader and starting closing the distance towards the milo patch. I knew I had to get there before he entered or I would be toast. I beat him to the patch and patiently waited for him to enter. After what seemed like a lifetime, I saw him stick his head out of the feed and slowly walk towards me. I was feeling waves of nerves, but fought them off by determination. I ranged him one time at 87 yards, slowly brought my gun and sticks up and squeezed on his shoulder. I heard the bullet hit and the buck sort of let out a growl; it was the most eerie sound I’ve heard while hunting. I hit him high in the shoulder and my quest for this animal was over! I remember calling my brother Kip right away and telling him I got him, he asked if he was big? I said, “He is a beast and certainly lives up to his nickname we gave him, “Beastmode””. He scored over 200” gross with over 30-inch main beams and a 28” spread at 6-½ years old.

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