Big Game Illustrated - Seventh Issue

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Big Game Illustrated Media 28-2995 2nd Ave West Prince Albert, Saskatchewan Canada S6V 5V5 (306) 930-7448, (306) 960-3828 email: info@biggameillustrated.com www.biggameillustrated.com

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Chad Wilkinson & Devin Gorder

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Copyright: All photographs, articles and content appearing in this publication may not be reproduced without the permission of Big Game Illustrated Media

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BIG GAME

ILLUSTRATED

Publisher:

Big Game Illustrated Media 28-2995 2nd Ave West Prince Albert, Saskatchewan Canada S6V 5V5 (306) 930-7448, (306) 960-3828 email: info@biggameillustrated.com www.biggameillustrated.com

Senior Editors Chad Wilkinson, Devin Gorder & & Circulation: Cody Forsberg Production Team:

Kaare Gunderson, Shawn Dany- chuk, Phil Webb, Adam Deutscher, Rob Hanes

BGI Field Staff:Stu Christensen, David Lockie, Lane Hodnefield, Cheyenne Passey, Brad Shaw Final Proofing: Carol Wilkinson, Kaare Gunderson Creative Design & Layout:

EcoImage Media & Design, Lindsay Wilkinson

Customer Chad Wilkinson (306)930-7448 Service & chad@biggameillustrated.com Advertising: Devin Gorder (306) 960-3828 devin@biggameillustrated.com Subscriptions: Visit www.biggameillustrated.com to

subscribe via paypal or credit card order.

Or simply send your name, address and phone number and cheque or money order to the address above.

Change of Address:

Subscribers notify us of your old and new address in order to ensure uninterrupted delivery.

Subscription prices:

Canadian - $21.00/1 year, $38.00/2 year, $54.00/3 year (+ tax) US - $24.00/year, $44.00/2 year, $58.00/3 year (price does not include tax in Canada)

Printed In Canada GST: 831836135RT0001 Copyright: All photographs, articles and content appearing in this publication may not be reproduced without the permission of Big Game Illustrated Media Big Game Illustrated magazine is published four times a year.

BIG GAME LLUSTRATED

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42

Volume 2 Issue 3 Winter Edition 2014

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In This Issue...

06 My Quest for the Mystery Buck by Dean Varga 12

Yukon Moose Adventure by Myles Thorp

18 My Lucky Day by Cole Stark 22 Big Heavy by Eric Payne 12

27

What a Way to Start! by Mac Fingerhut

28 Kansas King Buck 32

Two for Two

by Shane King

by Connie and Dean Lasko

38 Double Header by Tristan Wiley 42 The Newest Alberta Legend by Chad Wilkinson 56

As told by Jason Buchanan

50 Mass Adds Up by BJ Hunt 56

Back in the Game by Nina Forsberg

60

Last Minute Monster by Bradon Dropko

64 A Shot at the Ghost by Jayson Ness 64

70

Bighorn Dreams & Lessons Learned by Heather Wilson

74

An Alberta Secret 55 years Later by Brad Shaw

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

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

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An am surviv The ol an an Devin

An amazing picture of a true survivor from Northern Saskatchewan.

The old buck has a broken pedicle and an antler that grows the wrong direction!

Devin Gorder Photo

FEATURES...

49 The Soul of a Big

26 Looking Back and

Game Hunter

Ahead

by Cody Robbins

by Devin Gorder

No matter the situation, a true Big Game Hunter always uses all of their kills to success, regardless of the prey.

Using what you have learned this passed season to make you a better hunter in future seasons, learning from the lessons and successes.

an

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‘My’ Buck

78

by Kaare Gunderson

Everything Outdoors

by Kevin Wilson

Going through the journey of targeting your game and having those special encounters.

A different perspective on what is a trophy animal.

Wilson

m

strated

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The Future of Hunting Dedicated to all the young hunters.

My Quest for the

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Big Game Illustrated

Dean Varga with the triple droptine whitetail he harvested on the east side of Saskatchewan in the fall of 2013. Dean had three years of history with the big deer, and actually passed him the year earlier as a 190 class monster. His decision paid off as the next year the buck blew up and he was able to close the deal. The gross score on the buck is 213� and he easily made the record buck with a net non-typical score of 202�

BY: DEAN VARGA

I

t all started in the 2011 rifle season. A dandy young buck showed up at the spot where my 13 year old daughter and I were hunting for an old 5x5; which we have been watching for years. This new buck already had a lot bigger antlers than the one we were hunting, but he only hung around for a couple days and then disappeared. It was enough to pique our interest and start planning my 2012 season The next fall, I had this mystery buck on my mind when I started putting out my cameras. I moved some cameras around to try and find him, praying that he survived the fall hunting season and the winter. To my surprise in August, 2012 something amazing showed up on my trail camera.... there he was, only this year he had double drops and a much bigger frame! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I continued to get amazing pictures of this buck well into September, but this is when the story takes a turn as I made a fateful, albeit risky decision.

After studying hundreds of pictures of this buck I was convinced that he was only 5 1/2 years old; and if he made it one more year, I thought that he would have the potential to be a 200 inch deer. So against my hunting buddy, and my wife’s advice, I chose to pull my camera out of the area in October because he had not been on it for 10 days, and I decided to wait one more year to try and put my tag on him. Now I could only hope that he was still in the area and that he would make it till next fall.

The harsh winter of 2012/2013 came along and I tried to find where he was feeding, hoping that I would be able to pick up his sheds. Despite putting in a lot of time, I didn’t have any luck finding any deer sheds. I searched all over the area close to the area where the buck was in the fall. This had me wondering “Where was he? Was he dead?” I began to second guess my decision, while also really looking forward to the fall of 2013.

My obsession on this deer grew throughout the winter and in March of 2013 I even got my first tattoo that included a portrait of my mystery buck’s horns to symbolize my passion for whitetails and my belief that passing on bucks of this caliber is required to ever get an opportunity to harvest a truly legendary buck.

I got a camera out early in 2013 in hopes that this massive buck was still alive, hoping he was the monster I thought he could be. August was a long month, checking the camera every couple days, only getting pictures of a couple does and a few small bucks. At this point, I was pretty sure he did not make the winter. I was very disappointed and began to move on from the idea of tagging him, so I went archery elk hunting for a week. After hunting elk without any success, I had to go back to work for four days. I got off work the morning of Friday, September 6, 2013. I packed up my clothes for a weekend get away with my wife. We planned to head up north Saturday morning for a weekend away from the kids, to enjoy the outdoors, do some elk calling and whatever else a free weekend brought us.

Around midday on Friday, I headed out to check my trail cameras before we headed out the next morning. I was patiently waiting for my wife to get off work, excited for our weekend ahead and not really thinking about the memory card in my

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hand. I literally walked around our packed bags to get to the laptop to check my camera card. WOW!!!!! There he was, he was alive, and he was back. He was heavy, high, with four drop tines! I could not believe my eyes! I immediately called my wife and filled her in on the news. “We aren’t going up north, Big Buck on the trail camera!” I blurted out as soon as she answered the phone.

Needless to say, my wife was disappoint- Dean had a tattoo done of ed that we had to the bucks antlers after the cancel our private 2012 season, before he even get away, but she was killed the buck! also excited for me to hunt this buck.

The next day I hung a tree stand and spent the next seven days patiently perched, bow in hand, dreaming of the buck. Despite my best efforts, I did not have any luck.

My plan was to go up rifle elk hunting September 13-29, 2013. Even though I had the buck of my dreams in the area, I decided to still go.

the giant that I was after was nowhere to be found, or seen. I had two weeks of holidays remaining to sit and I was prepared to sit every day if I had to, despite mountains of yard work that had to be done. I thought surely he would show one of these days. I didn’t think there was any reason for him to leave the area, but I could not help thinking that maybe he did?

On October 2 after sitting all afternoon and seeing only one doe, I was getting pretty discouraged. There was approximately 15 minutes left of legal time on the chilly evening. My Just imagine finding a picture thoughts were already drifting to the like this on your trail camera, warm supper that I hoped would be what a buck! waiting for me at home. I took a final look down the fence line and seen some movement, “could it be?” I put freezer for the long winter ahead. The morning before I went up my binoculars and through the bush I could see his right to go up north rifle elk hunting, I decided to set up another antler and one drop time.

“Oh my goodness, it is him” was camera. I tried the video setting. It was my hope that this may all that I could think.

I brought the TC to my shoulder; put give me a clue as to the direction that the big buck was coming the cross hairs on him as he stepped out in the opening. He from. I was already looking forward to checking the camera upon my return. While up hunting elk I dreamt every night of stopped to look the opposite direction. I pulled the trigger the giant whitetail. The thought raced through my mind dai- and heard the smack! When the smoke cleared he was gone. ly, “He may be standing under my stand right now, in broad However, I was fairly certain that I heard him go down about 30 yards into the bush. I called my buddy and said simply, “He daylight.”

On the evening of September 29, 2013 I returned home is down!” My buddy said that he would be there in an hour. I from elk hunting. I was feeling good after taking my biggest decided to wait and make sure that I gave him enough time. I bull elk to date. I wasted no time, and I immediately checked went home and broke the news to the family. Everyone was so my camera. I was pleased to discover that my dream buck was excited and couldn’t believe it, and his time neither could I. In there every night. However, as I scrolled through, I realized that dreaded time between the shot and the recovery, I started that after the 20th of September, he disappeared and had not thinking about all of the ‘what ifs’, and trying to tell myself that been back since. “Where was he? Did something scare him?” it was all going to work out. Finally my buddy showed up and

I wondered. My second camera confirmed the same; but boy did I ever have some fantastic video of my mystery buck prior to September 20. He was cautious and majestic, posing for the camera. Amazing!

The camera showed me that he was circling around and always coming from the south.

This helped my set up; I decided to set up a ground blind 150 yards from where he was crossing through an opening. This was 200 yards from where my camera was capturing him. Even though he had not been back for ten days, I was banking on him still being in the area and hoping that he would show up again, during muzzle loader season.

I sat in the blind on the evening of October 1. Sure enough, all of the bucks that were still showing up on the camera every day made their way passed me. However

Big Game Illustrated

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we headed back out to look for him. We walked up to where he was standing when I took the shot and immediately found blood. After that it was an easy track job – 30 yards and there he was. Perfect shot! We were both in shock. As we lifted his head, he was way bigger than we envisioned he was going to be. The buck of my dreams was finally, truly a reality.

We headed home with the buck. As I walked in, my daughter, being an avid hunter, was so excited to see me smiling when I came into the house. My wife was relieved that it was finally over and my son said “good job Dad” and continued to play Xbox.

Just like every other hunter, I always dreamed of harvesting a buck like this and truly did not think I would even see a buck of this caliber, never mind harvest one. Hunting this deer has confirmed my belief in only harvesting mature bucks.

When in doubt, let them live another year. Letting a good buck go is one of the hardest things you will ever do, but it will be worth the wait; and this deer proves it.

M E E E E E E E

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Big Game Illustrated

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BY: MYLES THORP

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ORP

Myles Thorpe of Sylvan Lake, Alberta with the monster Yukon bull he took on a dream trip with friends and family. His moose is a true once a lifetime trophy with a greatest spread of 61 4/8� and a net score of 222� B&C. Myles is also part of the Darktimber Outdoors team based in Alberta. Make sure to check them out.

Big Game Illustrated

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I

have to admit it was a strange feeling to walk into an airport with a rifle case in my hands. This was the first time I had ever traveled by air with a rifle. It went a lot smoother than I had anticipated which I took as a good omen for the next ten days. Finally, the day I had been waiting for had arrived; I was flying to Whitehorse Yukon for a moose hunt. The excitement for this trip had been building for weeks. Keshia, my amazing wife, had just dropped me off at the Edmonton airport. I know I am blessed to have a partner like her who encourages me to pursue my passion for hunting.

It was September 19, 2010 and I was going north to hunt with my Dad, uncle Wayne and my cousin Nick. The day was cold and clear the kind of day that has ‘Go Hunting’ written all over it. When I arrived in Whitehorse, the late fall colors and the feel of the air confirmed that it was on.

My uncle and cousin drove up from Peace River with their jet boats. The plan was to attempt running some smaller tributaries off the Yukon River.

By four a.m. the next morning our group was on the road.

As the sun came up, it was obvious we were passing through a lot of moose country. We arrived in Dawson, the heart of the 1898 Klondike gold rush at around noon.

With a last minute stop at the general store and launching the boats my excitement was increasing by the minute. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun was reflecting off the water, the air was cold and crisp as we roared up the river. Nick and I were too pumped to duck below the windshield so we stood, keeping our eyes on the back channels and river banks speculating on who would see the first moose.

We located our camp spot and set up on a wide inside corner gravel bar. It was pretty basic as we were thinking that if the area did not pan out we would want to break camp with the least amount of work possible. Once camp was in place there was still two hours of daylight before dark so we decided to head down stream for a short hunt and to scout the area while Nick and Dad’s friend who was guiding him went upstream with the boat. We all found incredible sign, and it was clear that we in a great area. Although no moose were spotted that evening, we were encouraged and had a plan in place for morning.

It was cold the next morning without a cloud in the sky, no one had thought to bring a thermometer but we all agreed it had to be at least -13C. After a quick bite dad and I headed down to our spot, we set up about 150 yards from a large rut hole. Looking out over the creek, Dad made a cow call then a soft bull grunt, sure enough it didn’t take long; there was the faintest grunt. It was repeated every couple of seconds. My thoughts instantly started going a mile a minute, “I wonder if it’s a shooter; hope I can make a good shot and I hope dad and I can judge this bull correctly!” The grunts got louder and louder, pausing only every once in a while, we would cut the silence with a quiet bull grunt, so the bull could pin point us, and he would continue his grunts that were slowly getting louder and more clear.

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After about ten minutes, a great bull stepped out 300 yards downstream! I was pretty excited, only an hour into my Yukon hunt and here was a good size Yukon Alaska bull coming my way; I had to calm my nerves and slow my breathing. Dad and I had talked a lot about what kind of bull would be a shooter for this trip. Dad was a meat hunter since his younger days and me looking for a huge rack to put on the wall in addition to filling the freezer. The adrenaline was pumping so hard it would probably have paralyzed most, while dad and I did our best to field judge the bull as he slipped in and out of our sight along the bank of the river.

At about 100 yards out I decided this bull was not quite what I was looking for and dad turned to me and said, “You sure?”

That little comment had me second guessing my decision again, but it was only day one of a ten day hunt, so we chalked it up as a great encounter and moved on. I hoped I would not regret it and the best was yet to come.

At this point the bull decided to head further upstream and moved off the gravel bar into the bigger timber. We thought this was a great opportunity to practice our calls and grunts and see if he would come back out. The bull instantly started coming back, quickly closing the distance with his massive antlers swinging back and forth as he walked across the river to us. Dad and I took in the show but at ten yards we chose to bring the show to an end. We had a good laugh later when we realized we both had a tree picked out to climb just in case.

Especially if this guy didn’t listen when we shouted, “Hey bull, that’s close enough!” He stopped and looked right at us and stood there trying to decide what to do. We spoke up again louder with a hint of desperation “hey bull that’s close enough” I picked up a stick and threw it in his direction and it hit the water right in front of his nose. He shook his head as if he was suddenly waking up to what was going on. Then he shook his head again and slowly turned walking away grunting. The rut was definitely in full swing! This encounter, even without a kill is one that Dad and I often talk about, and was just as rewarding and memorable as any kill.

When we arrived back at camp at about ten a.m. we all shared stories and enjoyed the beautiful country, Nick and his guide were the last pair to get back and by the look on his face when he walked into camp, we could tell he had something to say, “Moose down”! That morning back in the same area as he was the night before, he connected on an absolute beauty of a moose. It was 65” wide and had lots of points! We spent the rest of the day hauling the moose out of the bush and later that night we celebrated with a moose heart pan fry.

Day two dawned much like the day before, cold and clear.

It looked like it was going to be another perfect day! The plan was for Nick to take Kirk, Dad and I up river to a spot above where his moose was taken. My excitement meter was rising the further we went. Nick had a moose down and I knew I was in the hot seat if we did see a moose, and I was ready! We had our eyes peeled for moose or sign on the banks as we made our way up to a spot we had found using Google Earth. I had every turn memorized from studying the river valley leading up to the hunt. As we rounded a sharp corner, Nick pointed and asked, “Is that a moose?” He was pointing at what appeared to be a big log jam until the whole log jam appeared to move, it was a moose! It looked like he was carrying part of the log jam on his head and he was making tracks for the timber.

Nick instantly came off the throttle and because of the shallow water we skidded to a stop, Beached! We hopped out of the boat and put out a cow call right away. We made our way over to see if we could get our eyes on him. The willows meant we were in for a close encounter if we did make contact. My heart was racing and my adrenaline pumping! As we peeked

over, there he was at 40 yards, but all we could see was his hind end thundering off. He was big, taking out trees as he went! I lifted up my gun and tried to get on him for a shot but it wasn’t there. Disappointed, I watched as he ran off with his two cows.

I decided to head downstream and see if the bull would circle back. I took my time working my way along the bank to where I could see around the corner I started to do cow calls.

I didn’t want to call to aggressively off the start just in case this bull was hunkered down fifty yards in the bush. As I sat listening for any noise that would reveal his location. I glassed the river bar and bank in front of me trying to see if they had

Caption

Big Game Illustrated

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had come out and crossed over while we were at the boat after our first encounter.

After a while in that spot, with no results I turned around and slowly took a couple steps back so I could see into a little back eddy between me and the boat. At almost the same instant, as I brought up my binoculars up, I heard a grunt. There was no doubt! It was coming from my original set up. I quickly ducked down and quietly moved back just as the huge bull moose took two steps out of the brush and onto the gravel bar. He was at about 200 yards; he turned away from me and started walking down stream, grunting with every step. He was looking for his cows.

I desperately needed him to turn and every step he took he was adding 10 yards between me and him. I grunted, nothing, no reaction he was now 210 yards. I grunted again, louder, still nothing; 220 yards. In desperation I half grunted and half yelled in an attempt to get him to turn, that finally got 16

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his attention. At about 230 yards he stopped and in slow motion his head dropped and started to turn my way, his semitruck sized body followed his head around., He stood there looking in my direction…….this was it…the crosshairs of my 30-06 behind the shoulder; exhale, steady…and squeeze.

The bark of my 30-06 thundered and echoed across the valley, letting the guys know that it was going down and going down now! The moose jolted as the 180 grain Speer boat tail hit its mark. At this moment I thought back to what my dad has always said, if you are not positive it was a lethal shot and you are positive you hit the animal, follow it up with another shot. I didn’t want this bull to run back into the bush. I quickly reloaded and let the 30-06 bark again, by the jolt I could see it was a hit. Now the bull was making a bee-line for the timber.

I reloaded got the cross hairs on him and pulled the trigger in a desperate attempt to knock him off his feet. He crashed out of sight obviously hit but still up right and moving. He disappeared and silence descended on the valley. I did not want to push this moose any farther so I turned back to the boat. The boys had stopped working and were waiting to hear what was up, my heart was pounding out of my chest and I was praying that this bull was down just inside the tree line.

It took about half an hour to get the boat off the gravel bar and afloat, and I was still vibrating with anticipation as we pulled up to the spot where he went. I knew he was big, but I didn’t want to talk him up too much, so when they asked me how big I replied, “ I think he’s decent” but in my head I was thinking, “I think he’s really big!”

We walked down the gravel bar and I explained the story as we passed the marks in the gravel. I had my game face on as we approached where he was standing when I shot. We could clearly see his tracks where he came out of the brush and walked away from me. Then there was the blood trail and it was clearly originating from one side of his body; no pass

Myles is also an avid whitetail hunter, and harvested this velvet whitetail early in the 2014 Alberta archery season.

and it was clearly originating from one side of his body; no pass through. I was growing more positive and less doubtful with the evidence on the gravel bar. As we approached the spot where he had jumped into the trees, the sun was coming up over the high valley sides and shining hard into our faces.

With some difficulty, we spotted him laying down about fifteen yards off the bank in some thick spruce. Now everyone saw what I was all jacked up about. He was a big, tough old bull and still had some fight in him, so I delivered a kill shot, and it was done!

It’s hard to explain how I felt, I was so happy to have a big Alaska Yukon moose on the ground and to share it with my dad, his good friend Kirk and my cousin Nick, there were some high fives and few shouts of celebration. Now that he was down I walked over to him, soaking in every minute of the experience. The sun had lit up his magnificent antlers and every detail of his mass and size was magnified; with lots of cool character. He was the exact bull I was looking for, truly a dream bull. His tops were rounded off, some of his points were busted off from dominance fighting and his fronts were huge with six points on each side.

I tried to pull his head over to get a better look and realized right away that I wasn’t just going to roll this moose over.

These Yukon Alaska moose are huge, he was bigger than any animal I’d seen before; his hooves were bigger than a Clydesdale horse hoof.

The hard work was about to start and we decided to build a fire and dry out our socks. As we worked, dad all of a sudden said, “There’s another bull coming!” We could hear grunts and Dad started cow calling. It was only seconds and a second 60+” bull came out! Kirk had a tag but we decided we had one down and there was plenty to do for this day. This new bull came out of the willows and stood on the opposite bank staring at us as we called and grunted.

It was definitely a trip of a lifetime and I could not be happier. I love the hard work it takes to retrieve these animals and it is very rewarding. However, I won’t lie to you it feels a little bit better to work that hard when you know the trophy rack is coming out with you as a reminder of all the good times.

There were some pretty heavy loads of meat to be packed to the boat but the last load was the best and probably the heaviest, the angel winged antlers on my pack.

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M

y Lucky day began just like any other day. My good friend Lane met me at my house. We geared up, got my bow ready, put my camo on, and headed out.

Our plan for the day was to go out to Lane’s whitetail blind. We were going to settle in for the afternoon and evening, hoping a big whitetail would find his way within bow range of us, or at least spot a good deer or two to get us more excited for the season.

We very slowly made our way out to the blind, hitting a num-

ber of good areas that we know often hold good deer. We glassed a few fields and some big coulees looking for a mule deer in addition to the whitetail we were going to sit for. We parked the truck, got ready, double checked that we had everything we needed and began the trek into the stand. Lane had a homemade tree branch blind that we sat in. We climbed into the stand, which overlooked a heavily used trail between the bedding and feeding areas, and began the long wait.

Time ticked by as we sat there. After a few hours we still hadn’t sighted a single deer, and I was beginning to get impatient.

I couldn’t help but think about what was going on at home when I left. My dad was making ribs for supper so we decided to call it a day and head back to make sure that we wouldn’t be late. On our way out, we saw a little buck in some hills but we passed him up.

‘Of course, as soon as we leave’ I thought to myself. However, the little buck reenergized us and we decided to scout our way home again, searching and glassing the fields and coulees that had so often held deer in the past.

We made our way down a steep slope and into a deep coulee. As our eyes strained to see if anything was in the heart of the coulee, we spotted were two deer. They were in the wheat field at the bottom of the coulee, but we could not tell what they were. All we knew for sure was that we had to get a better look. The ribs for supper at home were now the furthest thing from my mind. We made a big loop around the deer in order to get behind them where we could sneak up and over a hill to get a good look at them while keeping the wind in our favor. We got out and crawled up the hill to get a better look at them. As soon as we crested the hill, we saw him and we knew he was a shooter, with-

Cole Stark with his velvet mule deer he anchored in the early archery season in Saskatchewan, while hunting with his good friend Lane Hodnefield. Needless to say, Cole’s archery career is off to a great start! The gross score on the brute is 186 7/8”.

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MY “LUCKY” DAY BY: COLE STARK

out a doubt! There was a little rock pile that they were feeding towards; I thought, ‘There is our chance, that rock pile would work great for a stalk with some cover for us!’ We backed off and made it to the other side of the coolie so that the wind was just right, and we could stalk the bucks while staying out of sight.

Once we were sure that we were in the perfect spot, we both took our shoes off because we knew we would need to be silent in our approach. The hill was on a down slope so it was easy sliding to where we needed to be. The wind died down to a whisper so we had to really take our time and watched our every step, being careful not to make any noise or crack a single branch. We slowly crawled up to a trail of trotted down buck brush. We thought we must be getting close to the bucks, but being so focused on staying quiet, and staying hidden, we hadn’t been able to see them during the entire stalk. We were now on a small hill where we thought that we could see so Lane slowly peaked out and over the brush. I saw his eyes get big, and then he looked back at me and whispered, “20 yards right there! Get up and shoot now!”

My heart dropped and things got very serious all of a sudden. I drew back and crept up, as I peeked over the brush, the buck was staring right at me so I knew I had to shoot or he was going to bust. I took a deep breath and ever so slowly squeezed the trigger on my release until the arrow shot off my string and out my rest. The buck kicked and he was off with a green fletched Gold-Tip arrow right behind his front shoulder! We watched him run off 70 yards into the field before he stopped. He started to wobble and tipped over, Lucky was down! We decided to give him some time so we went back and got our shoes.

After a couple minutes we started walking up to him, that’s really when reality kicked in. We were about 30 yards from Lucky and all I could see was the big right beam sticking out of the wheat stubble.

When I finally got my bow laid down and hoisted his massive head up I was the proudest 15 year old on the planet. With his two stickers on the left back fork and a big extra point coming off in the middle of his right front fork that we didn’t know he had, made my blood pump that much harder.

It was a special moment I will never forget and was happy to share it with Lane.

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BY: ERIC PAYNE

Eric Payne of Lethbridge, Alberta, with the incredibly massive buck he harvested on a trip to Saskatchewan. The buck is uneven, and shows the typical characteristics of a ‘bush buck’, but makes up for it with great mass throughout the antlers and a dark chocolate color that northern bucks are known for. Bases over 5” and H3’s of 5 1/2” give the old warrior the stocky look of a tough old survivor af a buck.

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“ I will never forget the feeling when I bent down, placed my hands into the willows, and put my hands around his main beams. At that moment time stood still and I knew in my heart I had harvested a great deer.”

I

f you were to ask me why, year after year, I spend countless hours in the field spotting, shed hunting, checking trails, looking for fresh sign, and honing my skills on my bow and rifle, it’s a simple answer – whitetail deer. I have been hunting for over 15 years now and can say with no question that these animals drive me to do what I do every year in hopes of one day harvesting that once in a lifetime animal.

The first time I heard about hunting in Saskatchewan was from a good friend of mine. For the past couple years, he had been going there to hunt during the non-resident season. He told me about all the buck sightings, wicked types of terrain, and friendly people. I knew I needed to go there to experience all of this.

Plans were made to hunt the non-resident season. Along with me on this trip would be my two best friends. Over the years they had helped me advance in the sport of hunting and fishing to a level I never imagined. November could not come soon enough. Even though we were busy with hunting and fishing in our neck of the woods, Southern Alberta, I just could not wait for our trip to the land of giants.

Finally, the end of November had come and we headed out with high hopes. The truck ride was great. Conversation filled the truck about who would shoot first and what we would hold out for. Before we knew it we were there.

The first day of hunting had us doing some scouting in the area and had the three of us looking at what was a very nice 5x5. We looked the buck over. No one was itching to spend his tag and we let the buck walk. I might add that this deer was pretty nice. Dark rack, nice frame, good mass. It would have been a nice first Saskatchewan deer but with the chance of a giant around the next corner, the deer would live to see another day.

A couple days later found us hunting a nice area that we had found. The terrain was wicked. It had thick bush cover with lots of nice openings to catch deer travelling through.

The three of us had spread ourselves out on the property for the morning hunt. By the afternoon, my good friend had harvested a very respectable whitetail. After field photos and some work getting the animal out, we took it to a local friend’s house to hang.

The next day found us back in the same area. Now we only had two tags to fill. The method we were hunting was on the fringe of the feeding area at first light. We then slipped back into the thick cover and sat and rattled. This method worked well and soon my other hunting partner had another deer on the ground.

With both of my friends filling their tags the pressure was now squarely on me.

Over the next few days my friends put me in the best situations they could and even though I tried as hard as I could, I just could not make it all come together and I was not going to tag a young deer. Sad and a bit discouraged, I would be travelling back to Alberta without a deer. The trip was still a great week of hunting whitetail with my two best friends and I could not ask for anything better. As any seasoned hunter will tell you, shooting a mature whitetail doesn’t happen overnight.

The next year my two friends travelled back to Saskatchewan but because of school commitments, I could not go. I would have to wait for the next year.

The next season came pretty fast and I thought that maybe a new area would help and give me a fresh start on my goal of shooting a big buck. After many phone calls and some great advice from local farmers I had a good idea of where I would be hunting. So far, things were looking good. I had managed to talk with a local farmer who said he could show me some good areas to hunt. This trip was going to be myself and one of my friends from my first year trip, and we were very excited to get there.

We had high hopes that this new area would be a good one.

Our trip up was good. Our first stop was the farmer who offered to help show us the area.

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After a short visit with his family we changed into some warm clothes. It was very cold, with lots of snow on the ground.

The conditions were perfect for the bucks to be moving. We arrived a day early to scout the area before opening morning.

The land owner showed us an area that was crown land. As we travelled, he explained the details and where we could hunt, it was nothing short of amazing. Miles and miles of great deer habitat and we could hunt it all. As we came through our first gate and around a short corner, a doe ran in front of us. We slowed down to wait and see if a buck was following. All of a sudden the biggest whitetail buck I have ever seen came out and right passed the truck. This deer was huge. It happened so fast all I remember was lots of points, wicked mass and the biggest frame I have ever seen. A true deer of a lifetime and everyone in the truck could not believe their eyes. I looked at my friend and suggested one of us hunt here in the morning and he agreed. I picked out a spot on a hill that was in the middle of the area. From there I knew I would have a good vantage point and be able to see any deer moving the next morning.

We also found a nice area for my friend to set up just to the north of me.

The next morning we woke to one of the coldest days I have ever hunted in. The truck would barely start. I literally had on every piece of clothing I had brought. I could barely walk. My friend dropped me off in the dark and he headed to his spot.

I was so excited and could not stop thinking about the deer I saw the day before. I got set up on my hill. First light came

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Eric lives to hunt whitetails and has taken many other great bucks (inset and below). and it was a breathtaking sunrise. I almost forgot how cold it was. For the first hour I saw nothing. I could not believe it.

It was so cold that I wasn’t sure what the deer would do. I sat a bit more then decided to rattle. I had just finished putting my horns down when I looked up and saw a deer at 200 yards come out on a small hill. As I studied him, it was hard to stop shaking. I wasn’t sure if it was the cold, or buck fever. As the buck slowly walked down the hill I was able to get a good look at his head. I saw a huge body, chocolate antlers, good mass and two stickers on his g2. I didn’t have much time to decide because the buck would soon move down and into a slough. “What a tough decision on the first morning of a six day hunt” I thought to myself. Everything felt right and I decided to take the shot when the buck stopped at the bottom of the hill. I fired. My gun rang out, shattering the morning silence. I knew the hit was good and saw the buck go into some willows and not come out. I was shaking so bad. I could not believe what had just happened. I waited for a bit then made my way down to see if I could find him. As I approached the willows I saw him lying there but I could not see his head. I was hoping that I had made a good decision and that there would be no ground shrinkage. I will never forget the feeling when I bent down, placed my hands into the willows, and put my hands around his main beams. At that moment time stood still and I knew in my heart I had harvested a great deer. I pulled him out and just about lost it. He was a huge mature deer with dark horns, bladed points, stickers, and huge mass. I sat for a half an hour just admiring him and taking it all in.

My friend had heard the shot and came to see what I had down. He could not believe the size of the deer either! We celebrated and took some photos before loading him up and taking him back to show the farmer that had helped us out. What a great feeling it was, riding back to that farm with a deer like that in the back of the truck.

In a lifetime of hunting, this was truly my favourite and most memorable. My friend was also able to tag out on a great buck the next evening and we both left feeling great and excited to return again.

This buck is my favourite deer and though he is no record breaker, he is everything a mature whitetail should be. I would not trade him for anything, and often think back fondly on that freezing, snowy morning when he made an appearance. Thank you to all the land owners who allowed us on their land and my friends and family who helped to celebrate our success. Without them it would not be the sport it is today.

www.saskbowhunters.ca Big Game Illustrated

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Looking Back and Ahead

I

am not quite sure what the most important component of a hunt is, or of a hunting season for that matter. Is it the pre-season scouting? Upgrading some gear? Tree stand placement? Shooting distance? Area hunted? Maybe it is a combination of all of these factors? Regardless, it is all important to those of us thinking ahead.

Now as I think about it more, I am not only thinking about it for this season, but also thinking about what I would change for the next one. I think back to what I did in the previous seasons, what worked or did not work, and how I can use that to my advantage this year.

It is almost like a ‘hunting manual’ that I am constantly trying to write and rewrite and that I use every year. I believe trying a few different things is worthwhile, in addition to sticking with what has worked in the past. After all, if something is ruled out, then there is no wondering about it again. Reflection on everything is very important and can help us be successful in whatever we do, whether we are after that first white tailed deer, some mallards, or a fall lake trout.

Being outdoors, hunting is such a dynamic, ever changing path of chasing, waiting, and watching, and eventually taking the final crucial steps in order to harvest that animal from the wild. Each step affects another and the one after that. I believe that many of us have yet to see this and to actually comprehend all that has happened for that final result to occur.

While many things are purely out of our control such as the weather, the temperatures changing, even birthday parties and family commitments to attend. If we have taken the proper steps and done the best we can with the things we can control, it will give us a chance to be successful.

We have a good three months to hunt here in the Canadian Prairies, depending on what species and type of weapon. So that gives us lots of time to plan, to look back on what worked or did not. It also is a great time to prepare and practice the skills that we take to the fields and forests. What was the key for the successful people that have much more experience than I do? What can I learn from them? These people all have had a plan, perhaps multiple plans for the season ahead and the many curve balls that will come. After all, if it was the same

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By: Devin Gorder

year after year, and hunt after hunt, then it would be much less of a roller coaster ride. Perhaps the constant ups and downs are what we love, and we would miss the roller coaster ride if the season was easy. I have experienced firsthand the downright frustration that one feels when that buck vanishes, when that shot provided is not the shot you know you can make, and also the elation of hard earned success.

We can reflect back on the season, and back on the hunt and learn an amazing amount of information from it. I've done this time and time again, but this year will really put it into action and see what difference it makes.

We all learn lessons every year that make us better hunters. They key is to implement these lessons, and not forget or ignore them. For the next season I plan on checking trail cameras less. The cameras have power, are pointed in the right direction and the animals are moving through so there is little reason for me to check them more than a couple times a month. In my opinion, the less traffic in the area the better and I would rather just have the game pass through and see what is there, without having them on high alert from the human scent in the area from spending too much time there.

I also plan on trying some new areas; some places I have been meaning to get to but have been putting off. Trail cameras are a great way to gather information on a spot that you have not hunted before. Something new is always a challenge.

I recently walked into an overlooked area and in a few minutes found some great sign. After a short walk, I was greeted with a huge, old, rubbed down fence post and some heavy game trails crossing close by. Instantly I had that feeling that this was the spot. Time will tell, and it is always exciting to see what a new area brings.

Another goal moving forward will be to include new hunters whenever possible, especially youth hunters. It is very rewarding in many ways. Seeing them interact with the outdoors, and learn a thing or two from what others have taught you is a great way to pass on our traditions and heritage. They are always ready to go and full of energy. Even if they may be too young to legally hunt, they can help check a camera or even tag along for a walk in the forest.

WHAT A WAY TO

START! BY: MAC FINGERHUT

On November 28 around 10 o'clock in the morning my uncle Terry and I were hunting Peace Country, Alberta, looking for a last minute whitetail. We knew the rut was on so headed out onto some fields where the deer liked to feed. We hoped that a hot doe may pass through or a buck would visit the area, looking to pick up a trail. It wasn’t long until we spotted a buck hot on the trail of a doe! I knew instantly it was a great deer, so I got out my bi-pod on my Browning X-bolt chambered in 270 wsm. and laid prone. My uncle whistled in an attempt to stop him, but he was so focused on the rut he wouldn't stop!

We thought we knew where he was going so we circled around and setup to wait. We lost him for awhile until finally we noticed he was in a little swamp on the adjacent quarter of land.

He disappeared into the swamp and would not come out, so my uncle decided to walk through. The buck came out running full speed, and he wouldn’t stop no matter what I did! In desperation I yelled, "Hey you !" as loud as I could. The buck stopped on a dime offering a good angle for a shot. When he turned, I realized how big he really was, and I focused and squeezed off the shot. I saw the buck jump and run, but he looked like he was hit good! As my uncle walked up, the smile on my face was enough for him to realize I'd got the buck. It was a short tracking job and I had my tag on him. The buck grossed 157 3/8” and netted 149 6/8”. I am extremely happy and proud to have taken such a great buck at 12 years old and already can’t wait to get out again next year!

Caption

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Shane King with one of the top bucks taken in the midwest in 2012. The central Kansas monster had a huge gross score of 223 6/8”! Even with heavy deductions, the buck still netted 209 6/8”. The score was bolstered by 52 2/8” of abnormal points, as well as 43” of mass. Shane also has sheds off the big deer and self-filmed the hunt so he can watch the events of that fateful day over and over again. The buck put on quite a show, working a scrape on the way over, but somehow Shane was able to keep his composure.

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KING

BY: SHANE KING

M

y hunt began with the 2012 Kansas archery season.

The pre-rut phase was well underway so I began my season scouting out the ground for deer trails, scrapes, bedding grounds, and the best places to hang my tree stand. While scouting, in the farthest southwest corner of the wheat field, I came upon some of the largest deer tracks I had ever seen. Comparing them to my size 13 shoe, they stretched half the size of my boot! I knew that this was surely going to be a promising place to put my tree stand. I had no idea what kind of headgear the animal leaving these monster tracks would carry, but my imagination ran wild with the thoughts of what he may look like.

From this moment, I knew that there had to be a mature buck living in the area and it became my mission to find him. I was determined to pass every deer that walked under my tree stand until I knew that it was that one particular deer, and I knew that I would have no doubt it was him. Little did I know, on November 2nd 2012, the deer later known as Blade would walk 15 yards underneath my tree stand and present me with a perfect broadside shot.

Hunting every evening and weekend that I possibly could, I spent hours upon hours waiting for that one opportunity that I dreamed of. I pictured the huge, mature buck walking under my tree stand 100 times. I waited patiently for that one opportunity. I hoped that is was only a matter of time until the one I had been chasing all season would make that arbitrary appearance, and fulfill my dreams.

November 2nd started like any other weekday. I spent the day in school, dreaming of that evening sit, and wondering what I might see just a few hours into the future. The day went by slowly, but finally the bell rang and I rushed out of class and straight into my camouflage. I stopped to pick up my video camera, not knowing that I

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would self-film one of the largest whitetail deer kills in 2012.

Once in my stand, I began to doubt my chances of success. I was one of those roasting 75-degree Kansas evenings where nothing moves. The evening was hot, muggy and there wasn’t a deer in sight. What a disappointment, but it still felt good to spend time enjoying the outdoors.

I began to think that “even if I do not see a deer, it still beats sitting at home watching TV.� Just then, as the sun began to set and the temperature began to drop, the activity began to heat up! Deer started coming out of bedding grounds from the east of me and, at the same time, out of the creek to the west of me. With the pre-rut in full swing, I decided to throw out a few rattles and grunts hoping to draw in some curiosity. As I turned back to hang my pack rack into the tree behind me, I caught the sight of what would later prove to be a world-class whitetail buck running straight towards me! Frantically shaking, I locked my video camera onto his every movement and hoped that he would keep coming.

As he began to change his path away from me and into the creek line, my heart sunk with the thought of failure. Somewhere, somehow, I thought I must have done something

my movement, if only I had done something a little differently.” As different thoughts and scenarios kept replaying in my head, I grabbed my grunt call. “It’s worth a shot,” I thought to myself, as my last hope of catching his interest began to fade.

As I blew out a snort wheeze followed by a couple of grunts, he instantly turned to me, making scrapes and kicking dirt as he slowly made his way down the tree line! My heart instantly began pounding out of my chest. I could not believe it worked and he was on a string towards me!

As he approached, it took every ounce of my strength to draw back my bow. I could not believe how weak and weary I felt from the stress and excitement of the hunt. He made his way under my tree stand until he was 15 yards, right in my shooting lane. I lined up my first pin right behind his left shoulder and pulled my trigger with anticipation. Instantly I knew that I had just shot the biggest deer of my life!

I climbed out of the stand and headed home to review the shot footage. I began to worry that my shot was not going to be good enough. After a three-hour wait, we decided it was time to track him. I became more and more stressed as we followed the blood trail back and forth across the creek line and into the neighbors’ property. Finally we decided to end the four-hour long search, hoping to pick it up again in the morning. Determined to find him, I went through a sleepless night, once again reviewing shot footage over and over a million times in my head and in my dreams. As doubt began to sink in, my fears that I had wounded and would never recover such an incredible animal began to haunt me, as they do every hunter in this situation.

As the morning sun peeked over the horizon, we set out on another search with permission from the neighboring

landowner to search his property. After hours on hands and knees, searching for blood in the dewy wheat field, my worries and fears melted away as the search ended in a successful recovery! We successfully found and retrieved my whitetail buck, ending the story of an utterly unforgettable hunt.

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Two BY: DEAN & CONNIE LASKO

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FO

FOR

Two

Dean and Connie Lasko had incredible back-to-back seasons in 2012 and 2013, anchoring two Saskatchewan bruisers on the east side of that province. Dean’s buck is a perfect 6x6 with split brow tines, while Connie’s carries amazing mass throughout the velvet covered antlers. Dean’s buck has a gross non-typical score of 184 1/8” while Connie’s had a net typical score just under 160”. Both of the bucks were shot out of the same stand!

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M

y husband Dean and I have only been hunting together for a few years. He's been hunting for many years, but only started archery hunting a few years back. I started going with him when he started archery hunting, but I'd just sit with him. I really enjoyed it, so we bought a bow for me too. Since then we've both spent many hours in the field with archery tackle, together and separately, patiently waiting for our deer. The waiting has paid off because we managed to harvest two amazing deer in the last two years! Dean tagged his in 2012, and I managed to tag mine in 2013.

Archery season 2012 We're lucky enough to live in an area where we have wildlife close to home and regularly see a tremendous variety of game. Deer, moose, foxes, coyotes, and even wolves, pretty much all kinds of wildlife call our area home.

Going into the 2012 season, we knew that there was a nice deer in the area, so we set up the game camera and blind in a five acre wooded area that we hoped the buck would visit. Dean was away working, so I'd check the camera every day. The day I saw this deer on the camera, I was shocked at his size and instantly knew that Dean would be very excited. It was August 28th, the deer was in full velvet and he was awesome! The next time he was on camera was August 31st, and his velvet was completely gone. When the season opened on September 1st, Dean was home so he sat in the blind most of the weekend. The deer never came in. So when Dean went back to work on September 3rd, I started to sit in the blind every chance I could. He never showed up for me either. He was on the camera a couple times, but always in the middle of the night. I named him Lucky Seven, because he had seven points on each side, counting the double brow tines, and he was lucky

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because he seemed to know to come only in the middle of the night. Later that week, Dean took a couple of days off to come home and hunt. He ate an early supper on September 6th, and headed out to the blind. It was about 5:30 pm when he texted me and told me “Got him, bring the camera.” I texted him back and said, "Yeah, right?" I honestly didn't believe him, because of the buck’s nocturnal habits. However, he kept insisting so finally I thought maybe he was telling the truth. I grabbed the camera and headed out. I met him coming back.

He had been telling the truth! The deer had come in to about 20 yards. Dean said he was just sitting, starting to get bored, just watching the magpies hovering around, when he suddenly noticed the deer coming in. He was very excited once he realized it was the deer he had been waiting for, but he still managed to make a perfect kill shot. The arrow passed right through and the deer ran about 25 yards and dropped on the spot! Lucky Seven’s non-typical score was 184 4/8 as a clean 6x6 with double brow tines.

Archery season 2013 After the excitement of the 2012 season, I shot my bow all summer long and could not wait for the 2013 season to open. I did not have high hopes of another huge buck showing up, but didn’t care too much; I was just excited to get out hunting on my own. I had not hunted on my own very much, but the little bit I had made me realize that I absolutely love it. I work about 40 minutes from home, so I'd change into my hunting clothes before I left work and head straight out to my tree stand on my father’s land where I'd hunted a couple years before. I'd been sitting for a few days, but was not seeing much. Dean came home on the weekend and said we should set up the camera where he'd shot his deer in 2012. I didn't think it was much use because I didn't think there was much chance of another nice deer coming to the exact same spot where he got his. We set it up anyway.

After a few days, I checked the camera, but this time Dean was at home when I checked. I put the card into the laptop, saw the picture, and completely freaked out! I composed myself and then said to Dean, "You're not going to believe it." He said "Yeah, right!" Then I turned the laptop so he could see the picture. I thought he might have a heart attack when he saw it! It was an amazing sight. A heavy, amazing buck once again, in full velvet! I immediately said, "This one is mine!” He laughed but I was serious.

He was working, but I was in the blind every chance I got. I'd change into my hunting clothes at work, come home, and head out to the blind. I'd sit in the blind until it was too late to hunt.

Then in the mornings, I'd get up at 4 am, get ready for work, put on my hunting clothes, and be back into the blind by 5 am to wait once again. One morning, well before legal shooting time, he came in....and then just as quickly, he disappeared without hanging around until legal shooting time. He hung around for about 20 minutes but it was too dark to see well.

Despite that, his massive frame left little doubt that it was him, and gave me the hope I needed to keep putting in the time. It was almost like he was a ghost. I kept hunting and kept my routine: getting up 4 am, getting ready for work, letting the dog in, getting out to the blind by 5 am, sitting as long as I possibly could, getting back to the house in time to change for work, working until 5pm, changing into my hunting clothes, getting home, getting out to the blind, sitting and waiting.

Dean was still away working and I was hoping to get this deer while he was gone! I wanted to be able to text him a photo of my success. I kept picturing it over and over in my head, but it didn't work out this way.

I was the morning of Friday the 13th, and I was in the blind at my regular time. I scanned the area and once again there was no sign of him, and then like a ghost he just appeared right in front of me! I saw his head as he walked out into the open and my heart almost beat out of my chest. He came in to 22 yards to a perfect, easy shot, or so I thought. This is where my inexperience reared its ugly head. I drew back, aimed, released...and totally missed! “How could I miss a shot like that?!” I thought to myself. He jumped a few feet, stopped, looked back and calmly walked away. Looking back, I think if I would have stayed in my blind, he may have come back, but I got out of the blind, went and found my arrow and headed home.

I called Dean, devastated, and we agreed that I must have just been too excited. I thought I'd blown my only chance. Friday the 13th will forever be a bad day for me after such an awful experience. I was determined to redeem myself.

The next morning I was in the blind by 5:10 am. I'd cut it close because at 5:13, I heard something making its way out of the tangled brush and towards the blind. I thought, "Oh no, not again, it's too early!" It was still dark so I hoped it was not him. I could hear something coming closer, but it was moving so slowly that for the next hour, it stayed hidden in thick brush and well out of my shooting lane. Then at 6:10, he came out! This time, he came in slowly and very carefully. He did not present a shot for more than 15 minutes so I had time to watch him, play the shot over and over in my head and calm down. As he finally turned and gave me a good angle, I drew back but he turned and then another deer came walking out right in front of me!

He stopped only eight yards from the blind and then turned and stared at me, in the shadows of the blind, still at full draw. I thought for sure that he had busted me and was about to take off with the big guy. However, he just looked at me, tried to figure out what I was for a few seconds, and then continued passed the blind. Finally, my target buck turned back to where I had a shot. This time, I took my time to be sure I was looking through my sights and locked on to the big deer. My arrow found Big Game Illustrated

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its mark with a SMACK. “I got him!”, I instantly thought. I just sat in the blind and waited. Dean texted me and asked if I'd seen him. I told him “I got him!” and I could instantly tell he was just as excited as I was! I met Dean and we went and found my deer. He'd gone about 70-80 yards and died right there. Not a perfect shot, but a nice shot that did the job. My deer ended up having a typical net score of 159 7/8” as a mainframe 5x5. I received an award from the Saskatchewan Bowhunters Association for the Best Velvet Whitetail and Best Overall Whitetail for 2013!

Looking back, I know we may never have two years like the last ones ever again, but we already have our trail cameras up trying to find that next buck to once again spend the fall chasing!

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BY: TRISTAN WILEY

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Tristan Wiley of Lacombe, Alberta had an amazing day on November 17th, 2012, shooting his first mule deer and following that up with a very old, rutting whitetail buck. It was a day that Tristan will never forget and has the young hunter on a path that will almost certainly lead him to some great days of hunting in the future.

T

he 2012 season was already well underway. My family and I had a great summer of scouting. Stunning Alberta sunsets filled our evenings as we scoured the blooming canola, and green hay fields for velvet covered antlers.

Although we put in a lot of time, and spent some quality time together, we did not nail down a target buck. Despite that, I was still incredibly excited for the upcoming hunt.

I was confident that this season was going to be the one when I tagged my first ever deer! I thought of it every day as the fall hunting season grew closer and closer. One of the great things about Alberta hunting is that you just never know what may show up, especially once the rut heats up in mid-November.

With this in mind, we packed up and were on the road for our annual hunting trip with family. It was November 17th, 2012, and, based on past experiences, we thought that the whitetail bucks would be running around like a five year old in a candy store. I arrived in Wainwright, Alberta, on November 18th to start my hunt. I had school on Monday, so only had two days, but I was committed to putting everything I had into it! I had a whitetail tag and a mule deer tag burning holes in my pockets. I knew that my chance of harvesting two bucks was pretty slim, but I was still hyped up with the possibilities.

On the morning of the 18th, we setup in a big willow valley between an alfalfa field that was obviously being hit hard by feeding deer throughout the night, and the bedding area of thick willows behind us. We setup on a high vantage point where we could see down into a cutline through the willow valley. After a few minutes, we spotted a few deer working their way through the cutline into the depths of the valley. We knew

they were going to bed for the day. We continued to watch a convoy of deer cross the cutline until something caught my eye. I strained for a better look through my binoculars and said “buck, buck, good buck!� Just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared down into the same valley where the whitetail does were earlier in the morning. This sighting lifted my spirits and had me watching closely for any signs of movement. I watched the willow valley like a hawk, but there were no signs of life. I turned back towards the field and something caught my eye. I spotted a big mule deer buck. His antlers were clearly visible without any need for binoculars. The best part was that his path was going to take him within 50 yards of us! My heart began to pound in my ears when I imagined him walking past, oblivious to our presence. Then, as if he knew exactly how to escape, he cut a doe track, turned 90 degrees and quickly trotted down into the valley, out of range and following the other deer who earlier gave us the slip.

From our vantage point we could see into, and completely across the valley. We knew there were now two big bucks holed up in this deer fortress. The wind was good so we decided to Big Game Illustrated

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just wait them out. With the ongoing rut, we knew that they could come out and give us a shot anywhere, and anytime. I dared to let myself think about potentially filling both of my tags in one day!

I quickly shook that idea out of my head, knowing that the chances of that happening were very slim. Just as I began to doubt my chances, a few does popped out of their safe haven and ran right passed us. We immediately turned to see what they were running from, and sure enough a good size whitetail came out right on their trail, also running full speed. I got the cross hairs on him, but he refused to stop, and I wasn’t sure how big or old he was, so I decided to pass. After all, it was only 9am and we knew there were some good deer still in the willow valley below us.

The action then pretty much stopped as we sat for about 2 hours without seeing a thing. Then we saw a big grey shadow, sneaking along the edge of the willows.

My heart skipped a beat when I got him in the binoculars and could see a mass of antlers flashing through the willows as he worked his way towards us. He then stopped, and walked right out in the open. At about 175 yards I took the shot and smoked him! It was the big mule deer buck and the first deer I ever shot! I was extremely excited, but the hunt was still on, so we quickly and quietly retrieved him, field dressed him and got setup for the evening hunt in the same spot. It was early afternoon when we got settled back in for an evening sit. We talked about the chances of seeing anything else considering what had taken place, and decided that, we still had a good chance, especially with the rut making the big bucks careless and bold. It had only been a few minutes, when I looked back into the field to see a big whitetail buck, and he was coming right at us! As he committed to the trail that we were setup to watch, I knew that I would get a shot. Sure enough, he stayed on the trail and passed us at about 60 yards. I saw a huge body, sagging neck, and big framed antlers and I knew with the limited amount of time I had to hunt, that this was a deer I wanted to take. It all happened so fast, that I wasn’t sure if I had made a good shot or not. He was moving when I shot, but it was also at close range 40

Big Game Illustrated

and I was confident in the shot. I had marked in my head the trail that he was on when I shot to make sure that I could find it. I headed over and began to look for a blood trail in the snow but I couldn’t find a single drop! I did find his big track though, so after a short wait, I began to follow his tracks. I kept walking and walking and there was no sign of any blood. Finally, about 150 yards from where I shot him I found one small speck of blood. I knelt down on one knee, to inspect the blood. My eyes naturally moved forward along his tracks scanning for more blood but not seeing any. Then, as I looked up further, I saw him lying there!

As we walked up to him, we couldn’t believe the size of his body. He was a very old buck, with a gigantic body, no teeth left and very cool looking, unique antlers! I could not believe that I was able to take my first mule deer buck and whitetail buck on the same day. I was extremely happy and excited with how the day worked out, and I can’t wait for every new season to come so I can get back into the outdoors and try and have another day like that fateful one when I filled the freezer and cut both my tags!

THE NEWEST ALBERTA LEGEND BY: CHAD WILKINSON AS TOLD BY: JASON BUCHANAN

D

Chris, Mike and Jason with the giant whitetail that they spent every waking moment hunting in 2014. After capturing trail camera pictures of the amazing buck in velvet, and having numerous encounters in the early season, the group became obsessed with their mission to tag the buck. The big deer has everything needed to score high and will rank very high in the Alberta archery record books. With a gross score of 192 4/8� and a net typical score of 186 2/8�, there is no doubt it will be one of the top archery typicals taken anywhere in 2014.

T

he story begins two years ago, with a solid 170 class whitetail that showed up on our trail cameras but proved to be a wary, mature buck. The season came and went without so much as a glimpse of the big deer. The next year, he was a ghost, and only offered my hunting partner Mike and I a single, blurry, trail camera picture. The picture appeared to show that he had grown matching G5’s and put on a lot of inches, but the picture was just not clear enough to be sure. In the peak of the rut, I swapped out the batteries in the camera with high hopes of having him cruise by on the trail of a hot doe. A few days later, the brutal Alberta winter came roaring in, with deep snow and brutal temperatures. The result was the area was completely inaccessible meaning I could not get back to check the camera until the next summer.

Mike and I headed back to the spot in mid-July, with big plans to scout the area, find a few spots to setup stands and trail cameras. After a long and productive day, we were confident that we had some great setups and hoped that this would be the site of a successful archery kill later in the year. On the way back to the truck, we pulled the trail camera that I had filled with fresh batteries back in November. As soon as we got back to the truck we began to scroll through the pictures. We started at the end, and were pleased to see the camera had snapped our picture as we picked it up, meaning we had eight months of pictures to go through! One of the first pictures we came to showed a blurry shadow of what appeared to be a good 6x6, but again it was blurry and we could tell it was a nice buck, but that’s about it. We scrolled through and noted a number of solid 140-150” class bucks, mule deer and a few moose. As we flipped through the pictures, we came to one that instantly left both Mike and I speechless. There, clear as day was a giant 6x6.

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We were completely blown away by the size of his brow tines, G2s, G3s, G4s and he even had G5’s coming in! His spread and beams were equally incredible and we knew we were looking at a world class, once in a lifetime deer. We immediately looked up pictures of some of the top typical whitetails ever killed and were blown away that we were looking at a deer that had the potential to grow into this category. We had no idea what he was going to score, but we knew he was a special kind of deer. We spent the next few hours sitting in Mike’s truck going over different scenarios and making game plans find out everything we could about the buck, his patterns and habits, while making sure not to spook him or let him know he was being hunted. Finally, after midnight, we headed home.

The next morning we went out and purchased another five trail cameras to cover as many trails as possible. We went out the following morning with our good buddy Brian Moore, spotting scopes in hand to attempt and find the monster buck.

Again, we were pleasantly surprised when we immediately located him in a hay field! Unfortunately he moved over onto the neighboring property to bed for the day. The next few weeks found the three of us in the area every morning, trying to pattern the buck from long range, and just enjoying seeing such an incredible deer. We found him about 80% of the time, but we were a bit concerned that he seemed to usually bed on the neighboring property. We carefully juggled our trail cameras, trying to piece together the puzzle and find a location where we may be able to locate him during the season. Finally, one of our cameras on a fenceline captured a few pictures of him.

These were the first clear pictures of him where we could really see what he had to offer, and it was absolutely incredible! Once again we were speechless. He truly had everything you could

ever ask for in a whitetail deer, with amazing length everywhere and perfect symmetry.

We were very relieved to see that he would occasionally cross over onto our property. We discussed our options and decided to setup more treestand and another ground blind, so we would have more options and could make sure to only hunt any specific location when conditions were perfect. We knew we would only get one chance and if the smart old buck busted us once, it would all be over. Brian, Mike and I got together the night before opening day and made a plan. The generosity of my two friends was incredible, as they had put in hours and hours of scouting with me, and spent a pile of their own money on cams, stands and gear, but still wanted to put me in the best position to kill the buck on opening morning.

Opening morning was a bust, Brian and I sat in my ground blind, with Mike in a treestand deeper in the property. The next morning Brian and I headed back to the blind while Mike headed off to scan the hay field and try to locate the buck. The buck had moved off the field early, so Mike didn’t see him, but Brian and I got a great look at him as he crossed the fence onto our property, 200 yards from the blind. We were not sure exactly what he was doing in the evenings as we had very few encounters with him then, so we decided not to hunt any evenings and risk bumping him. The next few mornings the wind was the wrong direction so we stayed out of the area. Finally, the wind was perfect so we headed in. This time, Brian offered to watch the field while Mike and I headed in to sit where we had watched him cross the fence. We sat for a couple hours and hadn’t had any action, so I decided to sneak across to a trail camera we had 80 yards from where we were sitting. I made my way across, grabbed the card and headed back to join Mike. As we flipped through the pictures, we saw that it captured him and he was heading towards my brother’s treestand. Encouraged, we thought about calling it a day, and were about to get up when we saw a couple does coming our way off the hay field. They passed by without incident, but we decided to wait a while. Ten minutes later, I looked over at Mike and he whispered “Buck, buck, there is a buck coming!” I peeked over the long grass with the binoculars to try catch a glimpse

of the buck. I am sure my eyes looked as big as saucers when I realized it was our target buck, and he was coming right for us! I peeked again and saw that his path would take him over the fence and perfectly into our shooting lane at 20 yards. I was in complete awe of the amazing animal, as I had spent every waking moment for two months thinking about him, and every spare moment scouting for him and chasing him. He did not appear where he should have, and then we realized he had taken a turn and now stood at the fence, looking at us from 55 yards away. As we stared back at him, it was difficult to believe what we were seeing. Finally, after what seemed to be 10 minutes, but was likely more like 20 seconds, he jumped the fence and moved quickly towards a second fence line. I realized he was not going to cross our shooting lane so scrambled to get into position, ranging as may trees and fence posts as I could so I was ready for the shot. He jumped the second fence and then trotted across all of our lanes at 50 yards. It is amazing what goes through your head at a moment like that, “I have a shot, and I could kill him now!” However, I knew there was no way I was going to attempt such a risky shot. I could not risk wounding an animal, all the animals we hunt deserve respect, and just because he was such an incredible deer was no excuse to take a risky shot. We backed out and met with Brian. Surprisingly, he had not been able to see the deer in the field. We realized then that the buck could hide in a few low spots in the field, and our vantage point to spot him was not as perfect as we had thought. As we discussed the events of the day, we realized he was beginning to spend more and more time on our property and we were all getting very excited at our chances.

As usually happens with mature deer, just when we thought we had him, he began to change his pattern and we hunted numerous times without any luck. At this point we decided that we had to change things up. We all agreed that we needed to try everything we could to swing the odds in our favor, so the next couple times out we all split up, all with bows in hand covering as many trails as possible and not worrying about pairing up to video the hunt. Despite our best effort, the next few hunts were also uneventful with no sightings; although we did see him numerous times out in the hay field. Somehow he Big Game Illustrated

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After Chris’s shot, the buck dropped in front of one of their trail cameras, capturing the final moments and the recovery of the buck!

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was getting around us without being detected!

The following weekend Brian had a family function to go to, so Mike and I were headed out to go try our luck again. I had been talking regularly with my brother Chris about the hunt, and invited him to join us on the weekend, with Brian away. My brother began bowhunting before me, and when I first started he really helped me out by putting me in his best stands and giving me the best chance at the bucks he was after. He set me up on my first archery buck and I will always be grateful for that. In addition, he is always there to help field dress, process, and really offer help with anything I ever need when it comes to hunting. The evening before, as we discussed the hunt, he asked me if he got a chance at the monster buck, if he could shoot or if we would rather him pass on it. I told him absolutely take it if he got the chance, after all you simply do not get many chances at a deer like this, as we were finding out.

The morning found me in the ground blind, Mike in his treestand about 200 yards away, and my brother Chris in a treestand another 150 yards further than Mike. As the sun rose on the horizon, I hoped that one of us would get a shot at the big deer, but time ticked by and, after about a half hour, I had not seen anything. I decided to sneak up onto the edge where I could glass the field. As I glassed the field, I saw a few deer moving, and sure enough the one in front was the big 6x6! He was heading for the exact same area where he had jumped the fence earlier, so I pulled out my video camera and filmed him jumping the fence and moving onto our property. As he moved through the area where Brian and I had encountered him earlier, it all of a sudden clicked in that he was heading straight for my brother’s stand! Just as I was thinking that, my phone buzzed with a text from my brother saying, “I got him, he’s nice!” I texted back "He's nice? Are you sure it's the same deer?" After a couple of texts back and forth we decided to meet over at Mike's tree and

tell him what happened. Mike couldn’t believe what happened.

He said he heard something crash but didn’t know what it was.

“I heard deer crunching in the grass then grabbed my bow out of the tree. Right away I saw it was the 6x6. He circled around me and came in at 30 yards. I drew my bow back and he stepped out from behind the bushes and started to walk towards me and stopped at 20 yards, quartering towards me. I waited a couple more seconds for him to take another step, so he was broadside and I set my pin on his vitals and sent an arrow on its way. He didn’t go far and I watched him drop!”

We tried to wait a few minutes, but could not wait anymore and headed over to where the buck went down. As we approached the buck, I noticed his dark face

and knew it was him, even before we pulled the antlers out of the brush. It was truly a surreal experience to actually put my hands on the buck. Even though I had imagined it a thousand times, I did not think it would ever actually happen. The experience of hunting such an animal was like nothing I have ever experienced, it was a crazy addiction that took over our lives and now it was over.

We brought the deer back to my place and dressed him in my shop. Mike and I were unable to stay out of there. We must have gone back at least 50 times just to look at the buck in pure amazement. There were numerous times when I had to stop and just give thanks to that animal for letting us be a part in such an amazing hunt. He was a once in a lifetime deer that we were fortunate enough to be able to spend a lot of time admiring. Although we were overjoyed, we all felt a little lost with ourselves. We didn't know where to go to hunt or what to do. All our energy had been going into hunting this buck and he was all we ever thought about and planned around. A lot of people say that a truly big deer changes people and I think in some cases it's too true, but in this case it really showed the true character in everyone and I was amazed by the support and generosity of everyone. It was an amazing experience and one that I hope to come across again in the future when we find the next giant of our dreams!

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THE

SOUL OF A

BIG GAME HUNTER

S

BY: CODY ROBBINS

eptember 2006, moose camp, 8:20pm. My client I was guiding was a first time big game hunter. His name was Ken Striet.

A duck hunter at heart, that came to the Canadian north with a friend from home that had a dream to hunt the largest of all the antlered game.

I had just finished up dishes from supper, and it was just about time to hit the hay. Once the clanking of tin cups, pots and pans came to a halt, the silence was broken with faint scratching noises.

I didn't even notice it until Ken asked, "What’s that?"

As my senses tuned in to the sound that seemed to be coming from outside, presumably from the front porch, I answered Ken’s question, “IT’S A GRIZZLY BEAR!" Ken's eyes nearly popped out of his head, as he looked at me with a look of terror! "ARE YOU SURE?!"

Not wanting to give out any vibes that I wasn't a competent guide, I snatched my rifle from the corner, slammed a shell in the pipe and and calmly whispered "It's a grizz, he's probably gonna rip the door right off the cabin, and pounce on us, but not to worry, you're safe with me bud!"

The old duck hunter slowly laid back on his bunk, and muttered something about god helping him. I on the other hand was manning a full on investigation. I peaked through the crack of the door frame, giving me a 4mm view of the porch… Nothing. I leaned over and scanned out the side window… nothing. I stood motionless in the centre of the the room, waiting for the noise to continue, so I could pin point exactly where our intruder was… Nothing.

After half an hour of silence I decided to lie down in my top bunk, and keep a watch out the small window by my head. I was horizontal but was still very much in the game! I had my crack stalk single shot in hand, laying alongside my leg. My thumb was turning a pale colour with the pressure I was applying on the hammer, in case of a quick draw.

Slowly fading, my mind drifted off; I was home for the first time in six weeks. My girlfriend was lying beside me, rubbing my arm with her fingernails, telling me how much she missed me… I came back to… My mind returned to darkness of the cabin, and the "grizzly bear" lock down. The funny thing was, I was back in moose camp, but the feeling of my girlfriends fingernails were still running up my arm? I opened one eye and patiently waited for it to focus in the dim light that was coming through the window… A GIANT FIELD MOUSE WAS CHARGING UP MY ARM! I roared like a lion, and did a full on reverse cartwheel in my bed! Again silence.

“Where did he go?” I thought. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I'm somewhat intimidated by the thought of a grizzly bear sniffing around home base, but I am PETRIFIED OF MICE! A minute passed before the silence was broken by Ken's voice in the bottom bunk, "Did you just scream like a girl?" I shamelessly claimed whatever sound that came out of my mouth and brought him up to speed that our focus had turned from the minor threat of a grizzly bear to the biggest mouse I have ever seen! One more time I heard him mutter something about the lord and helping out.

As the night rolled on a pattern developed. I would start to doze off only to be interrupted by scratching noises coming from the

base of the front door, at the other end of the cabin. My eyes would pop open; the ray of my head lamp would shine a beam towards the door! The mouse would drop the hammer running straight in my direction! I would come flying off the top bunk, with my best attempt at the peoples elbow! A huge crash wouldJONES be folCAM lowed by me shaking my head in disgust at the fact that I missed and the mouse made it under our beds, into Ken's laundry. I would go back to bed, and repeat the whole cycle a half hour later.

If we were ever going to get any sleep, something had to be done differently. Just like the challenge of killing a nocturnal buck, I had to adapt to this creatures behaviour. I had to cut him off somehow half way between his bedding and staging area.

I climbed out of bed, grabbed the broom from the corner, and set up shop on our two foot square countertop. I squatted down in a stealthy like "READY TO POUNCE" position. I was wearing nothing but my headlamp, my coke bottle glasses, and my lucky moose hunting gotch, which I had been wearing for a solid ten days, still waiting for some luck to spill out of them. Speaking of spilling out, they had developed a hole right in the most supportive area, giving my left "Ventrical" a chance to step out and see the world.

I would hate for anyone to see me in such a vulnerable outfit, but didn't have to worry about Ken anymore as he blindfolded himself, and applied ear plugs to the situation, to get some sleep.

An hour passed. I was focused and ready to flick my headlamp on and strike all in one motion, but no sign of the mouse. The silence was finally broken with some scuffling coming from Ken's bunk. In the darkness I could barely make out his actions. He sat up, swung his legs out and yawned. His face was now literally 14 inches from mine, I could feel his breath on my knee. He removed his eye covers and pulled his head lamp down on his fore head and went for the power button! In the few seconds before it actually happened, I tried to imagine how someone would react waking up from a deep sleep, turning their headlamp on to realize there was a naked man perched over him with two hands on a broomstick in the full attack position, with his manhood hanging out. His light came on! As fast as a primer ignites a rifle shell KEN SHREEEKKKKEEEDDD AND FELL BACKWARDS INTO HIS BED! I knew it was coming and still scared me so bad, I SCREAMED TOO!!!

Ken YELLED, " WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?!?!"

As if it wasn't obvious. I was a serious mouse hunter putting in time, doing what I had to do to get the job done. I explained my plan to Ken and informed him that it just hadn't come together, but I was going to continue waiting until I got him. He stared at me in disbelief, slowly shook his head from side to side, then rolled over in his bunk and went back to sleep.

I guess that's the difference between a duck hunter and us BIG GAME hunters. We are wired a bit differently. We just can't walk away from a challenge.

Just for the record, I got that mouse. Ken got a giant moose, and we are still great friends to this day. That's what hunting does.

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MASS

ADDS UP BY: BJ HUNT

BJ Hunt and his incredibly massive 2013 southern Saskatchewan mule deer.

Although the antlers do not have the sky high tines that mule deer are known for, they make up for it with incredible mass, palmation, and abnormal points.

The most impressive feature of the antlers has to be the 48 2/8” of mass, including circumferences of 6 7/8” and 7 5/8” on the left antler. The rack also sports 35 6/8” of abnormal points, that when added to a net typical frame of 181 3/8” result in a net non-typical score of 217 1/8”.

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After a lengthy phone discussion with my hunting partner Justin in early August of 2011, I settled on the spot I was going to sit for the evening hunt. I made my decision based on a typical mule deer Justin had mentioned was worth looking for.

As per usual, when Justin gives advice on a spot, neither a description of a deer nor the exact location was mentioned. After talking with Justin, I went to pick up my friend Evan at his farm. From there we made our way to a bale stack overlooking a vast coulee and set up. About an hour later I had seen several deer working their way out into the fields up top, one of which appearing to have 4” brow tines and a drop tine off the left side! I quickly called Justin to see if this was indeed the intend-

ed deer. He lightly chuckled and told me that it just might be!

Evan and I started working our way back around to the other side of the coulee, hoping to get a better look at his frame. It took a few minutes to get eyes on him again but only a quick glance to realize that this was not the deer I was looking for.

“What exactly was I looking for out here?” I thought. I started panning the field with my spotting scope hoping to see another set of horns hiding in the standing crop. Shortly after, a conglomeration of mass and tines stood up only a couple hundred yards away! At first glance I didn’t have a clue as to what he might break on the score sheet. I honestly wasn’t convinced that this was the deer Justin had seen earlier, having what apBig Game Illustrated

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peared to be short tines and an average frame at best.

I knew from where we were, that a stalk for video was not an option. I quickly set up the tripod and mounted my video camera on the spotting scope.

It seemed as though only a few minutes had passed before losing enough filming light to head back to town for the evening.

During the next few weeks I had spent every available waking hour trying to capture him on film.

A few weeks before the archery season opener, I was fortunate enough to sneak into the field early.

To my surprise I found him lying on the side hill only two hundred yards from the fence line I was using to break up my outline. I set up in a nearby rock pile and grabbed the tripod and video camera from my backpack. He gave me a great show. It was as if he had read the script, and proudly displayed all of his best features, now permanently etched in the back of my mind. After several hours I decided I had best work my way back to the truck before the deer would start moving into the field I was already in.

Unfortunately for me, I was so enthralled on recording this deer I hadn’t even noticed that several were already on their way. Just as I removed my video camera from the tripod, I noticed horns quickly approaching and ducked down as best I could. Within seconds I could feel the grass moving beside me as his typical companion rushed by on his way to the lentils behind me. Knowing that I was only a few feet from his chosen path into the crop land, I had to move quickly. The typical that had rushed passed was now a hundred yards away as I quickly glassed the draw to see that my non-typical was already sauntering his way up. I hunched over between the fence line and standing crop and put my moccasins to work. I stopped alongside a Caragana row, not far from where I had been laying, to see if I had gotten away with my spontaneous exit. With the typical facing the other direction, and the relentless west wind that plagues the prairies, I had escaped unnoticed.

Immediately after returning to the truck, I called Justin to see if he could meet me at home to review the footage. He agreed to stop in on his way back from watching another non-typical.

After reviewing the video more times than I could possibly count at every speed my computer could manage, we could agree he would gross score between 195” and 220”. Each angle made him look as if he had the innate ability to shape shift his

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magnificent crown.

As the pre-season progressed, I found myself compelled to keep returning to his area. Every night as the sun would set, I would aim my truck in the direction of his favorite lentil field, just to see if he was changing routine. I had found several other deer by the time September neared, but nothing nearly as unique as him. Knowing I hadn’t seen him for two days, only catching a glimpse as he walked over a hill several miles from where I thought he hailed, I was in need of some advice.

As per our yearly ritual, the night of August 31st, Justin and I discussed our following morning’s plans. Hoping that Justin was going after his non-typical acclaimed “fliers”, I planned on searching for this heavyweight. After telling me that he would be heading in the opposite direction, I asked Justin if he had any suggestions on where I should start my search the next day. The consensus was that I should search from the best vantage point possible and so back to the bale stack I would head.

I woke up the next morning fearing a long day behind the spotting scope in an attempt to locate him in his bed. To my surprise, however, shortly after sunrise he appeared in an area I was more familiar with than where I thought I would find him.

He moved down the side-hill to a draw I had been through many times in the years prior, only to bed in an optimal spot. I could see my route to him within seconds of him laying down, knowing that both the wind and neighboring deer would be of no concern. I quickly grabbed my cell phone and called friend Jasen to see if he would be willing to come run a camera. Having two doe tags to fill before being able to arrow his buck, and buddy Clint riding shotgun, they agreed to head my way.

By the time they arrived, I had the spotting scope on the tripod and locked onto his location. Jasen took one look at where he was laying and claimed, “That’s where he is? He is dead!” I quickly came to the deer’s defense reliving the previous season when I missed my first velvet deer at what can only be described as “rake distance”. Statistics were not on my side when combining accuracy and buck fever. I knew that the potential stalk would seem like a breeze in comparison to the moment I anchored into full draw.

The thought of full draw was a long distance away from the spotting scope and bale stack, so Jasen and I worked our way to the opposite side of the coulee.

Clint agreed to stay with the spotting scope alongside

the comforts of a DVD player and thermos of coffee.

Not long after, I found myself covered in camouflage and doused in a scent masking agent.

The beginning of the stalk seemed almost too easy.

Fresh earth under my feet and plenty of good wind carried my scent beyond the nose of our intended target. As we crept down the draw I looked back to see Jasen chasing a frog, intent on catching it for his daughter Navy.

Soon after he had successfully captured and imprisoned the frog in his cargo pocket, and we moved further upwind. Within what felt like seconds we were less than a hundred yards from where we wanted to set up. Jasen grabbed the camera and started to record as we came to the crest of the ridge ahead. After surveying the area we could see his typical companion within twenty five yards, but no sign of him. Knowing he wouldn’t be far, we set the tripod and camera up and bided our time.

As time passed, the typical stood and milled around the draw. Several minutes of great footage later and Jasen leaned in to suggest I take the shot. I nodded my head, not knowing his sarcastic intention. As he moved back to the camera all we could hear was a low grumble from the frog attempting to escape his pocket prison. We both froze in complete fear having forgot about the frog, and realizing how loud the noise actually was. The typical had heard it as well and was focused intently in our direction. Believing we had been busted, I felt myself collapse even further into the ground. I didn’t move a muscle until I heard Jasen whisper that he could see him on the camera’s viewfinder feeding again. I kept low and found myself almost falling asleep as Jasen quickly whispered, “He’s up!” I slowly started to seat myself upward as I panned through the grass trying to catch a view of him before he caught one of me. I quickly found his rack off to the left behind

some sage slowly working towards the bottom of the draw. I didn’t realize how deep the grass had grown that summer until watching him work his way towards the typical. I could barely see the outline of his back as he slowly closed the distance to within fifty yards. Suddenly, out of nowhere something caught his eye. He was fixated on something in my direction. I looked over slowly to see a slight reflection on the case of the video camera. I froze and waited for several minutes locked in a stare down with the biggest velvet deer I’ve had within range. As he slowly looked away and started to high step towards the opposite draw I took the only chance I could and came to full draw. Again something caught his eye and he stopped to see what had moved on the suspicious hill. Just as he turned his head back to look, Jasen settled the camera in as I released my arrow. I could clearly see the arrow as it passed through the dark spot my 50 yard pin had previously occupied!

Chaos ensued as we ran towards the top of the draw to see how far we would have to pursue. Just as we crested the peak, he stuttered slightly in his step and Jasen dropped down the tripod in attempt to get him back within frame. As he started staggering, Jasen focused the camera in time to capture one of my most inspiring moments as we watched him hit the ground. After watching for several minutes I asked Jasen to borrow his cell phone. He reached down to realize that the frog had escaped!

Not only was his daughter Navy going to be devastated, but the Big Game Illustrated

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cell phone was in amongst the gear we had slowly been removing during our stalk. After retrieving his phone, he started to laugh reading what Clint had been texting from the opposite side of the coulee. The texts started out questioning why we couldn’t shoot him in his bed. Apparently, from his point of view the deer was right in front of us. Soon after the texts became: “He’s up!” and “He’s dead!” I grabbed his cell phone and called my father to tell him what had just happened.

His first question was, “Well, how big is he?!” I didn’t know how to respond. How big was he? “We haven’t yet walked up to him. I will call you back!” Jasen hit record on the camera once again and I started walking towards this conglomeration of

mass, tines, and chocolate velvet. As I got closer, I could see he was growing with every step. I had known that he was heavy, but not to the extent that he is! As I grabbed his horns and lifted his head up, Jasen and I muttered obscenities under our breath. It wasn’t until this point that I could truly appreciate the giant I had brought down with a single arrow.

It’s astounding to relive any successful hunt, but an entirely different feeling to watch it at your own convenience. I can’t thank Jasen enough for giving up his opening morning to help share in my success. I still owe him and Navy a frog though…

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BY: NINA FORSBERG

Nina Forsberg from Macrorie, Saskatchewan with her big 2014 mule deer. The buck has a number of interesting features including ‘double split’ backs. The gross score on Nina’s buck is 186 2/8” with long backs of 15 2/8” and 16 2/8” and a greatest spread of 26” even. The two double splits are 10” and 11 6/8” long, and along with a sticker on the left antler, add a total of 24 4/8” of antler to the final score. Nina was hunting with her cousin Beau and brother Cody who picked up the matching set of sheds from the previous year off her buck.

T

he fall of 2013 brought great things for me. With my nursing degree complete, the priorities I had become accustomed to were finally allowed to change and I knew that I would have more time for other things. Moving closer to home, starting my career, and making more time for the things I love were now at the top of my list of “things to do”. With the outdoors being a deeply rooted passion of mine, the thought of getting the chance to harvest another Saskatchewan mule deer was something I couldn't keep off of my mind. After being out of the Big Game Draw for four years, getting such an opportunity seemed like a long shot.

As it worked out I ended up being drawn along with my brother, Cody Forsberg, and the waiting game began. Months passed and rifle season approached. What once was excitement had been replaced with nerves and I had begun to wonder if I still had what it took. However, after being alongside Cody in pursuit of his 2013 trophy mule deer, I was quickly reassured and ready for it to be my turn. Willing to return the favor, the day soon came when Cody and I, along with my cousin Beau Stewart, headed out in search of a brute that I would be proud to hang my tag on.

Nina’s cousin Beau (above) picked up many sheds during the hunt, and her brother Cody helped out with the recovery and getting the huge bodied buck out of the rugged country they were hunting.

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The first few hours offered us only a handful of mule deer bucks, none of which were Mr. Right. So with half of the day behind us and nothing to show for it, we sat down for lunch at a small town kitchen and mapped out a new plan. In a bit of a last ditch effort we decided to head to a spot we were certain housed a few big mule deer bucks.

Years of shed hunting in the area was enough evidence we needed, leading us to a vantage point along the edge of a well known bluff.

With my 243 and a set of binoculars, Cody and I sat while Beau agreed to walk down the center of a valley run, infested with a thick maze of trees, the perfect habitat for a big mule deer buck to spend the day hiding out. A short while later, Beau emerged from the brush with an arm full of sheds! A small reward for the work he had done but still no visual of anything that would have me thinking of raising my rifle.

Debating whether or not to continue our hunt, a short conversation with Cody was all it took to keep us on our feet. Just north of where we were, another area where he had spotted several big bucks over the years waited for us and we decided a visit to the area was warranted. This was one of his secret “hot spots” and a place I was very willing to go. After following a prominent ridge line for over an hour on foot, I looked around and knew we were exactly where we wanted to be. From beds and big scrapes, to endless trails, we were in a deer hunters' paradise! I looked down and a 170 class mule shed lying on the ground added to the positive feelings about the spot and acted as welcomed encouragement for tired legs.

Once we were able to establish a good lookout and glass our surroundings, we soon spotted a small herd of mule deer browsing the south side of a ridge in the distance. While using the lay of the land to our advantage we were able to lessen the gap by a total of 800 yards in a matter of minutes. Yearning for a closer look at the herd and only 150 yards away, we

crawled with caution to the crest of a hill. With excitement we watched as two huge bodied mule deer bucks circled each other on the brink of a heated battle over a hot doe. Preoccupied and in a dead stare down, I was given what seemed like seconds to catch a glimpse at the dark, huge typical frames and lengthy non-typical tines! This was enough to spark my adrenaline, making what happened next feel like an eternity.

As I readied my 243 with two beautiful bucks in my scope, I had to choose, and quickly. Given this amazing opportunity, I struggled to decide between inline tines and four-inch flyers. Left, Right, Left, Right, Left, Right – time stood still. I’m not embarrassed to admit that my entire body felt numb in this moment. All noise had been blocked out and I could feel Beau on my right, shifting his gaze back and forth between myself and the deer. Cody's eyes had long been burning a hole through me as he waited for me to shoot but I had only JUST made my decision. Able to calm my breathing and steady my hand, I slowly squeezed the trigger, releasing a shot that culminated my 2013 hunting season. An obvious hit had us celebrating and excitedly running to get an even closer look at the mule deer buck I am proud to have harvested.

Grossing 186 2/8 with a total of 24 2/8 non-typical points

I could not have been happier...until our trek back to our the truck that is. Nestled in a bed of creeping cedar we stumbled across the other side to that 170 class mule deer shed we had found earlier. But this wasn't just any mule deer shed, it was the previous years set off of the deer I had just taken, turning the entire experience into some kind of fairytale a hunter dreams about, or at least I did. The memories we shared are ones that can never be erased. I'm sure Cody and Beau can attest to this as well. Hunting has an uncanny ability to unite our family and ignite a friendly competition we can laugh about when we got home. Mom and Dad included, a love for the sport and an unmatched respect for wildlife is seemingly ingrained within us.

So, as I left that day with a beautiful mule deer buck and a set of his antlers from the year before, I couldn't help but think that I'm FINALLY, Back In the Game.

At this moment I would like to thank my father Hugh and my mother Colleen for introducing me to the great outdoors. I also need to give some credit to my brother Cody for inspiring me throughout an exhausting hunt for a trophy and my cousin Beau for working in the trenches pushing bush for me. Thanks to Bentley Coben for scoring my buck and Prairie Wildlife Taxidermy for mounting it.

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BY: BRADON DROPKO

Bradon Dropko of Didsbury, Alberta is all smiles after achoring a tremendous typical mule deer in that province. He was hunting with his dad, and passed buck after buck, waiting for something special to finally show up. In the last minutes of the hunt, it finally did and he was able to take home a fine specimen. The big deer had a final net typical score of 174� even.

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“Just as everything seemed to be going perfectly the wind swirled and started heading right for the deer. Within seconds they were up and looking around. We were caught in the wide open!�

“Dad, Dad, Dad we got drawn!!”

It was July 12th, 2013, I was up late, waiting for the Alberta hunting draws to be released. I kept refreshing the page, over and over again. My anticipation building with each click!

Then finally it changed and what appeared on the page was long awaited success. Four years earlier, Dad and I started applying for antlered mule deer in the badlands of Alberta. It was my first time putting in hunting draws, but was a wellknown process to my father. As every hunting season passed we would see huge buck after huge buck, but were only allowed to “shoot” them with our cameras. Although it was painful watching them lie on the side of coulees or graze in cut barley fields knowing that they were safe, it gave us time to observe them and pattern their habits and the trails they travelled. It gave us a chance to find where the big deer hid and determine the best ways to stalk them. I knew that when I finally got drawn I wasn’t going to settle for an average deer, I wanted a big, mature buck!

Finally, I had been drawn, and the whole summer was spent scouting and getting permission from more landowners, expanding our hunting area every trip out. November 6th came fast but we were prepared! I planned to take four days off school so that we could hunt for the maximum amount of time. Dad and I both agreed that he would take his deer first.

The first day was spent glassing and finding out where the big bucks where.

During the morning of the second day we started walking draws and coulees. At first light, Dad passed up on quite a few smaller bucks. During mid-morning as we were getting ready to head back to the truck for lunch, two nice sized bucks

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bounded out of their beds and up the other side of the coulee.

Not in any rush, they stopped on the other side and stared at us. I was trying to film and get a good look at them with the binos at the same time. After studying them for a short time I told Dad that he should take the second buck. It was a nice 6x6 that we had spotted the previous evening. He got down onto a knee, while I ran the camera, and he took the long 310 yard shot across the coulee and the buck starting stumbling! After the heart pounding excitement, some hugs and congratulations we made our way to the opposite side of the coulee where the buck lay. “No ground shrinkage here”, I said to my Dad. We admired the buck for a while, took some video footage and pictures and made some phone calls to family and friends. We then came to the realization that we had to somehow get the deer from the bottom to the top of the coulee. This was no small deer and with steep elevation and two feet of snow, it was no simple task. I made a phone call to my hunting buddy Parker who lives in the area. He was more than happy to come out and help us get the deer out and load it in the trailer. The rest of that afternoon was spent hanging, and skinning the deer.

Later in the evening we went back out, it was now my turn to hunt and Dad was the cameraman. I had a few opportunities on some smaller bucks but my heart was set on shooting a monster or nothing at all. As day two faded away, I was happy to go back to town, eat supper and talk about the day’s events.

The next morning we were up bright and early, heading out to our hunting area. As dawn slowly broke the skyline I could see silhouettes of deer still grazing in the fields. We got to the area that I wanted to be at during first light. Right off the bat we started seeing deer, lots of little 3x3’s and 4x4’s but noth-

ing that I wanted to shoot. Everywhere I went, dad followed behind with the camera. After doing a bit of glassing we spotted a super, wide 7x7 with a group of smaller bucks and does. We planned a stalk. The wind was in our favor and it seemed like it was going to work out perfectly. The first 150 yards was an easy walk on the side of a coulee, but the last 100 yard stretch to get close enough was on the wide-open prairie with very little cover. We were approaching from the backside, while the deer were facing away from us. Just as everything seemed to be going perfectly, the wind swirled and started heading right for the deer. Within seconds they were up and looking around.

We were caught in the wide open! I tried to get down on my bipod and get a shot, but it was still 175 yards and the deer were in the wrong position. Right away they started bounding away and we could do nothing but watch.

After getting back to the truck and going over what went wrong, we ate some lunch and figured out a plan to try and cut off the wide 7x7 and his harem, but somehow they evaded us and were nowhere to be found for the rest of the day.

When day four eventually came the pressure was on as it was our last day to hunt! Right off the bat, just after first light I peered over a coulee and saw a decent 3x4 lying on the side.

Dad kept reminding me that it was our last day to hunt and encouraged me to take him, but he still wasn’t quite big enough

for me. Once again, we spent the rest of the morning seeing lots of does and small bucks. One field we came upon had 34 does in it! Dad was getting frustrated with me for passing up all the deer I did, but I knew what I wanted. We didn’t have many areas left to check and to be honest I was getting worried as well. The last spot we decided to check out was back where Dad shot his buck a few days earlier. I started walking along the coulee, peering over at every chance I had. About five minutes in, I spotted some movement across and a few does bounded out and up the side. I glassed them for a few minutes then, just when I was about to move on, a gigantic 7x7 barreled out and stopped about ¾ of the way up the side of the coulee! I instantly got down on my bipod and ranged him at 350 yards. My first shot hit him in the lungs, and my second shot in the neck and dropped him! It all happened so fast I didn’t know what to make of it! Dad, who was filming from a distance, came running over and congratulated me. I was speechless! Once again I called my friend Parker to come and give us a hand, this time it was going to be even harder to bring the deer up a deeper and steeper coulee, but it would be worth it. As we made our way to the other side and down, I started seeing the mass and width of his antlers! I couldn’t have been any happier. We took our time taking lots of field pictures and footage. It was a hunt I will never forget as long as I live.

Bradon and his father with the two bucks taken on the same hunt. Needless to say, it was a great trip!

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BY: JAYSON NESS

Jayson Ness of Drayton Valley, Alberta hunted the amazing buck for many years without hardly a sighting. Finally in 2013, he got his chance and didn’t make a mistake! His long tined, dark antlered buck scored up nicely stretching the tape to 193 4/8� SCI.

This story begins way back in September of 2009 when I received a phone call from my aunt saying that she had taken a picture of a 'nice little buck' walking through her front yard that morning. Thinking nothing of it, I told her I would check out the picture the next time I was in the area. A few days later I stopped in and asked about this nice little buck she had seen.

She handed me her camera and my jaw dropped, a gorgeous 160 class 5x5 with dark chocolate antlers and two forked G2's stood less than 100 yards from her front porch. I was in awe at what I was seeing! I sat there stunned. At the time I was a 15 year old kid, ready to take on the world and do anything I possibly could to shoot this buck of a lifetime. My Aunt then went on to tell me that since she found the deer, she got to decide who to let hunt it and she elected to choose my baby sister who had just finished her hunter training course and was eager to down her first buck. I nearly cried. After the initial excitement, the entire season went by without a glimpse of the buck.

The next season also went by without a glimpse and I began to wonder if the buck had been taken by another hunter, or succumb to the harsh winter. I had given up on him and ended up tagging a gorgeous 162" white-tail on the morning of November 17, 2010. He had one split G2 which gave me reassurance that the strong genetics lived on.

Fast forward through an uneventful 2011 season and slow 2012 archery season, and my hopes for the 2012 season were low. It seemed as though the population had plummeted and sightings of deer were few and far between. We started seeing some does and even small bucks, and with some snow falling in the first week of the season, my hunting partner Eric and I noticed a drastic change in deer movement. We figured our season might not be so bad after all. On November 9th our area was with a deep layer of snow. While everyone else was miserable about it, I was already planning my morning hunt with renewed excitement!

I woke up the morning of November 12th excited and ready to head to my honey hole. I looked at my watch and it was already a few minutes before legal light when my phone rang. Eric was supposed to join me on the hunt, but he had a miserable cold and said to go on without him. Without hesitation, I grabbed my rifle and headed out the door. I was cursing my late start, rushing to get to my secret hotspot when I glanced off into a field to see a herd of deer way off in a snow covered hayfield. I was not prepared for what was about to change my life forever. Peering through my binos, scanning the herd, an absolute giant of a white-tail stepped out from behind a hay bale.

When I say GIANT, I mean the most spectacular buck I had ever laid eyes on! All I could see was mass and walls of tines. I didn’t even bother counting;

I threw down my binos and got out my cell phone. I quickly dialed the number of the landowner to be answered by a sleepy voice asking me what it was I needed at quarter to seven in the morning. In the heat of my excitement I had forgotten that it was so early. After a short excited explanation, I had the green light to head off after him. I made a plan and reached for my bullets to get a few into the rifle. However, it quickly became apparent that I had forgotten my backpack, including all my gear and bullets! There was no way I was letting the buck out of my sight, and I desperately searched all my pockets, thankfully coming up with three bullets.

I began the tricky stalk, trying to navigate my way across a fully cleared quarter section of land, sneaking from hay bale to hay bale. I closed the distance to 350 yards. I loaded a shell and steadied myself on a bale. A few seconds later he turned perfectly broadside, I took a deep breath, settled the crosshairs on his spine and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. He didn’t move a muscle! I quickly reloaded, settled slightly above his spine this time and squeezed again. Nothing happened, and still he had not moved an inch. I had one shell left and really needed to make it count. I loaded my last shell, thinking maybe I was shooting over his back, settled in on his vitals, took two deep breaths, got extra steady and squeezed the trigger. He still did not move.

I sat there, disgusted. There is no way I could have missed all three shots. I was in shock at what had just happened.

Not long after he went back to feeding on a bale, as though nothing had just happened. All I could do was sit there and watch. 10 minutes went by and an obvious hot doe took off for the treeline, with the massive whitetail hot on her heels. I sat and watched him trot away and out of my life. I was sick, seriously ill when I thought about what happened. How could I have missed? The rest of the deer left the field and I started my hike to where he stood. On snowy ground it didn’t take

long for me to determine that there was no contact with the deer what so ever. The long emotional walk to my truck seemed to take forever, but I was already planning the rest of my November, dedicated to one deer and one deer only.

To say I was angry would have been an understatement, but I knew that wouldn’t help. I tried to turn what had happened into a positive for the rest of season, motivating me to put all my effort into the hunt. The next day at work I worked out a deal with my boss that allowed me to come into the shop a few hours late every day until the end of November so I could hunt the mornings. An entire week went by and the rut was at its peak. There were deer everywhere! I was seeing many good mature bucks and turning them all down, all for the slim chance of seeing my monster again. Every day at 3:00 pm I was due at the hockey rink for practice with my hometown AJHL team, the Drayton Valley Thunder. Now let me say this, playing in the AJHL really cuts into my hunting time, between practices, games, workouts and a part time job, it left little time to hunt. I found myself sneaking away at every possible second to check the fields in the area. Our team was scheduled for a double header road trip up to Fort McMurray that weekend and was I ever bummed out about it. Six hours away for two whole days. The two days went by slow, the only break my mind had from obsessing about deer was during our games. After our Saturday game, the bus was heading straight back, meaning we would get into Drayton valley at 4:00 am. My hunting partner Eric and I knew that we would need a few solid hours of sleep on the bus to get ready for the morning hunt. I didn’t sleep a wink the whole way home.

With the entire day to hunt on Sunday, I knew this was my chance. On November 26th, after a sleep that felt like it was 10 minutes long, I shot out of bed to my alarm clock reading 6:30 AM. It was -2 that morning and our deer movement was bound to be slow. I packed all my gear and headed out to my truck with Eric pulling up not long after. We rubbed the sleep out of our eyes and sipped on coffee to try to wake up while we drove. Finally we arrived and glassed a few different areas. Then we hiked through some bedding areas to see if we could push something out but were unsuccessful every time.

It was getting to be around 9:00 a.m. by this point and we were both growing impa66

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tient about the lack of deer activity so we elected to go back to my place for a late breakfast. We began to make our way out of the area when I spotted a tiny 4x4 white-tail in the same field as my big guy from earlier that season. As I was watching the smaller buck Eric screamed, "LOOK AT THAT MONSTER MULIE!" I turned and could see the deer he was looking at and there was no question he was a giant buck! I pulled up my binos to have a look and once again couldn't believe what I was seeing. The bucked turned his head ever so slightly to reveal a wall of tines on both sides. I immediately knew this was the deer we were after. I immediately began moving away from the deer to get around to a spot I could get a shot. "What are you doing? Why can't we stay and watch him?!" Eric blurted out. I replied with a soft, quiet voice, "Because that is not a mule deer. That my friend is the monster whitetail I have been telling you about, that is the ghost that you thought I was lying about!" We snuck along the trees bordering the lease. After 60 yards, I found a fencepost to steady myself. It was a surreal moment, peering through my scope at the majestic deer that haunted my dreams for the past few years. In the time it took us to get there, both bucks had moved even closer to where I was. At less than 80 yards there was no guess work needed. A calmness came over me, I settled the crosshairs on the monarch for the last time and squeezed. The shot hit him like a ton of bricks, he wheeled around and I instantly knew I had him this time. I watched as he ran and began to grow weak, his legs getting shaky as he tried so hard to keep up with the other buck. He slowed to a walk as he entered the edge of a small bluff and disappeared inside, once again walking out of my life.

Only this time I knew he wouldn't be going any further. I start making phone calls. The first call was to my dad. He was busy at work and said to send him a picture as soon as I could. The

I could. The next was to my mom who was just waking up and she said to stop yelling into the phone, followed by a congratulations. Everyone else was going to have to wait!

Eric and I could not stand there any longer; I needed to get my hands on this beauty! After a very short walk to where the deer stood, we were both greeted to the heavy blood trail, confirming the hit. We continued on our way another 50 yards and I saw what looked like an overturned tree root in the middle of a poplar tree bluff. We were both shocked; there was definitely no ground shrinkage as we closed the remaining 10 yards to where he lay still. I pulled his right antler up, revealing a buried, even bigger left side in the snow. That’s when I noticed two large forked G2's.

It was him all along. This deer had gone into hiding for three seasons, never making a mistake until now. After three years of searching and scouting here he was, in all his glory, with me holding his dark chocolate antlers in my hands. After many pictures and high fives we started the long drag back to the truck. We both collapsed into the truck exhausted, not necessarily from the drag, but more from the amount of adrenaline that coursed through us both in a short period of time. What an unbelievable day it turned out to be!

I would like to thank my hunting partner Eric Sieben for sticking it out with me till the bitter end, this is a memory we will share for the rest of our lives. I would also like to thank Coby Mahan of Trails End Taxidermy for doing such an amazing job on the mount and bringing back to life the true beauty that this buck has to offer. After the 60 Day drying

period I had the antlers scored by an official measurer of Safari Club International in Drayton Valley. All said and done my buck scores 193 4/8 with both G2's reaching over 12 inches and both G3's reaching over 11 inches.

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‘MY’ BUCK

BY: KAARE GUNDERSON

I

read a lot of outdoor publications. Many magazines of the outdoor variety get wore out from the flipping of my fingers. I dissect both hunting and fishing themed pieces for many reasons. I like the information offered by some. I always enjoy the ones with a humorous twist to them and I find myself rereading ones that challenge me to think deeply.

In the summer 2014 I found myself rereading the piece by Cody Robbins, "Going Back." Cody is a great writer and that one was very well done. I found myself chuckle as I always do when I read his pieces. I don't know him personally, but he's funny. There is always valuable info and within that particular bit of writing, there was some stuff that allowed me to think a bit more deeply into a current hunting situation that he discussed. A topic he discussed was a scenario involving another hunter taking what someone may consider "their buck".

Those few well written paragraphs got me thinking. Well they alone didn't, but they became part of my thoughts. In July a conversation I had with another hunter played a role too. I can safely say that I took the impression from the chat that hunting was not as enjoyable to him as it once was. I think there are likely many just like him. Hunting has been gaining in popularity, or trophy hunting sure has. More guys are concentrating on certain deer , sometimes following them for years hoping to one day take them. I'm one of them. Things have changed out there and matter of perspective is what says if it is better or not. It depends on who's perception.

Each year, for some access gets tougher. Permission seems harder to acquire. Some guys think that the guy with the "My Buck" mindset is one of the major evils of why permission may have been lost to them on some properties. But he isn't any more to blame than the

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person who bought a quarter section to live in the country and post their 1/2 mile by a 1/2 mile. Nor is it any different than the hunter or hunters whose sloppy hunting practices caused a landowner to post their property, to everyone.

I know that the aforementioned person from my discussion in July perceives the guy like me as part of the problem.

I am the guy that has chosen to take hunting to a different level in terms of what I look to get out of it. Targeting specific animals is something that I have grown to enjoy immensely and it is something I am grateful to have to opportunity to do in wonderful Saskatchewan. It's the major reason why I have chosen to reside in a portion of the world where winter is so damn long. And he basically straight out told me he didn't really like the fact that guys didn't want someone to shoot "their buck". And you know what, he does have a point. Even if I said to him that I thought that despite that being the occasional reason someone would lose access to hunt a piece of property that pretty much any and all hunters in Saskatchewan should feel extremely blessed for the opportunity they have when it comes to hunting. Even if I had pointed out that it does not get any better than things are here for us as hunters, I'd still have had to agree with him on that stance.

Fact of the matter is, a buck can't be anyone's until he is dead and he definitely won't be yours unless you kill him. So to me it would seem a waste of thoughts to try and worry about anything I cannot control. And as I write this I am doing what I can, and that is plotting for what may one day be "my buck."

It is mid-September and by the time this prints maybe I will be so fortunate to not even have a whitetail tag in my pack any longer. Maybe the years of watching a certain deer, allowing him to grow, secretly hoping nobody else will kill him will pay off and I'll have "My Buck". Though he's easily won the first two weeks of this season, I know right now who I would like that to be.

Though he is willing to walk by a camera he won't be a gimme. He seems to be one of those bucks, the kind that is always around, but never there. I could say that I have simply let him win the last two weeks, it wouldn't totally be a lie. Despite knowing his general whereabouts, I have not really dove in to where I think he is. I think part of it is afraid because of what I am pretty sure the outcome would be if he gave me an opportunity and that would be him taking a ride home with me in my truck. It'd make me pretty darn happy and that is what hunting should be about. It would also likely leave me wondering “what if I had left him for one more year?” But it wouldn't just make me happy. Unlike all of the others, he would be the first one in which my kids had been able to tag along in a jour-

ney of pictures, sighting and sheds over a period of a couple years. He'd be the first buck they knew well.

"Devil Points" first showed up on one of my cameras a couple falls ago. At first I though he may be older buck for he was huge in body. He was full of character with a split g2 and some big stickers at the bases, hence the name Devil Points. Some guys make fun of naming deer, but I don't care. It makes referring to them easier and I hunt for me and that's something I enjoy. He kind of shook me as fall wore on and I tucked him in the corner of the whitetail room of my mind until my friend found both antlers one January day. By then I had decided he was more than likely only a 3 1/2 year old buck with a large body. Older deer simply have a different look and he didn't have it. Sure he was big, but he was fat, not deep chested with legs appearing too short for his thick brisket. He wasn't wearing a coat seeming grey beside that of a reddish looking young buck. He was reddish and he was interesting.

He was even more interesting in the fall of 2013. He was easy to recognize when I first found him in full velvet. The 4x4 frame was the same though he had lost the split g2. However, the stickers were back, they were longer, and there were more of them. And with those first pics last summer began the first journey of following a deer with my kids. As fall wore on, they would sit beside me while I checked camera cards on the computer. Through the cameras they watched him go from full velvet to hard antler. They saw how his neck swelled leading into the rut and how he would look post rut when he became a daily fixture on a trail camera set in a December bale stack.

He became the target of many shed hunting pursuits. He became the topic of many questions and first buck that they would follow through a full year with their dad. He was a cool buck. Not a giant, but cool enough to have their attention, and mine. And he became a part of special memories for me.

I can still picture how things were that winter day last year when Tait walked up to his left antler. I will never forget it and I doubt he will either. He so badly wanted to find one of his antlers and that special day, he did. It was a special moment for me. That shed sits right beside his bed.

And so passed winter. As did spring and soon it became summer. It was then I learned Tait had not forgotten about him. In the summer his brother gets a pretty big case of fishing tunnel vision, but Tait may just have a bit more of the hunting bug. He began asking questions.

"Do you think he is still alive?" "How big do you think he'll be?" And then came the day when his questions were answered. Right where I had found him the previous two Augusts, he would show up on a camera and I'd finally have some answers. He's a talker, that Tait, and I didn't get many words in edgewise as we viewed the images. "He's massy." "Look how long his stickers are." "Is that an abnormal?" "You should try kill him." He's cool." Tait was right, he was cool.

Which leads me to the present. Sometimes when you follow deer you don't know when the time is right to really pursue them. I think he is a 5 1/2 year old buck and where I live and hunt, bucks are often bigger after that. The same could be said if he were 6 1/2. But I know he might not make it that long either. So does Tait, because we have had that discussion too. He knows another hunter could easily kill him. He knows that winter has a habit of snuffing out many whitetail lives. He knows there are many things we cannot control and that there is no point in worrying about them. I'm happy to have been lucky enough to have had the chance to teach him that. And what we're doing, just trying to hunt a certain buck isn't hurting a soul, except maybe that buck.

Maybe it is a good thing that the only way to know what the right decision is, is to be forced to live that moment.

To have that potbellied, greying, dark antlered combination of something so graceful yet powerful and raw step out in front of me. Only then will I know if I'm rolling the dice that he evades other hunters, predation and winter or if I'm taking him home to both admire and enjoy on the table. If I choose the latter, he'll be "Our Buck", not mine.

Until then he'll just be a buck, a great buck, a buck that I realize I have been lucky to have had the chance to get to know.

And with that I'll focus on what I can control and that's what I do, not others. I can't worry about the other guy, or the landowner who posts land. I can't concern myself with who the landowner allows on or where a deer may go. To do so takes away from the entire outdoor experience.. We need to realize how very fortunate we are to do what we love in a place second to none. Saskatchewan hunters have been and are still, spoiled.

Despite what we view as negative from a personal perspective, there are millions and millions of hunters in North America who would give their left you know what to walk in our shoes for a year. I've been trying to teach my kids that and in doing so, I think I've taught myself some things as well.

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BIGHORN

DREAMS&LESSONS LEARNED

BY: HEATHER WILSON

In her fourth year of hunting bighorn sheep, Heather Wilson was finally able to connect on a good ram. Sheep hunting is an incredibly taxing activity, both mentally and physically, and Heather’s 4 year quest was no different. It is hard to deny that the rewards are that much sweeter after such a grueling journey.

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“In awe, I kept repeating … “I just shot a sheep, I just shot a sheep!” He was gorgeous, beyond anything I

could have ever imagined. Over 100 miles later and I had fi-

nally taken my bighorn ram. To this day I smile every time I think about it.”

A

s the eastern horizon began to illuminate, we shouldered our backpacks and began making our way up a steep draw. It was the third week in September and bull elk were bugling with enthusiasm. Eyes watering from the cold, crisp wind reminded me that winter was just around the corner. Not far from our truck, a giant bull could be seen ghosting across a distant ridge. I remember the indelible image as steam wafted from his nostrils … it was breathtaking to say the least; a sight not soon forgotten. Little did I know that this on this day I would finally fulfill my dream of shooting a bighorn ram.

My husband Kevin, and I, had already enjoyed a great start to the season. Ten days earlier, our first sheep hunt of the year, although unsuccessful, was thoroughly enjoyable. High up in the alpine, the weather had been perfect. On that hunt we managed to integrate into a band of ewes, lambs, and young rams, several of them within 15 yards of us. Holding a ram tag, it just wasn`t meant to be. On that hunt we also watched a lone black wolf descend from a high peak and ultimately chase, catch, and kill a marmot. He then devoured it, had a brief nap, and promptly exited back over the mountain never to be seen again.

A Dream Comes to Fruition Today was different. On our second trip of the year, seemingly alone on a mountain, I was calm and very much at peace with where we were. The weather was great, and the promise of adventure lay ahead. There is something very special about the mountains and Kev and I really enjoy our time in the high country. I can’t explain it, other than to say that we were doing everything we could to get a sheep. In my mind, if God wanted me to get a ram, it would happen sooner or later.

As we made our way up the mountain the wind picked up.

Breaking from tree line, the powerful gusts reminded us yet again that alpine environments are anything but hospitable.

Carefully navigating our way over a high ridge and around a peak, we eventually sat down several hundred yards above a saddle. Our chosen perch afforded us a great view of four different ranges and two pristine drainages. Nestled into the rocks, spotting scope in hand, and with the eyes of a hawk, we carefully scanned and dissected every rock and crevice in sight. In short order, we spotted a small band of ewes and lambs on a distant ridge … but again, no rams. The day was still young, so we settled in to continue monitoring the distant ridges. Barely more than an hour passed and, as if on cue, it happened. As we huddled in the rocks, doing our best to stay warm, suddenly and enthusiastically Kev whispered, “there’s a ram!”

After all of our different hunts, I honestly thought he was messing with me … I looked at him and said, “Yah right!?!”

With an intent look in his eyes, he quickly responded, “no, I’m serious!”

It was go time. As quickly as I could, I shuffled into position. With wind gusts up to 50 mile/hr, the ram was oblivious to our presence as he crested the saddle below. He was moving fast and I did everything I could to take the shot.

Problem was we just couldn’t get a proper profile view to determine if he was a legal ¾ curl sheep. With every step he took at a hard quartering away angle, my heart sank.

My opportunity was quickly slipping away. Then, finally he stopped and turned, just long enough to allow us to properly assess his horns. Indeed, he was legal! In fact he had nearly a full curl on the right side – the one that we couldn`t see properly! By this time, the marginal shot opportunity was well over 400 yards, and at a severe angle. To top it off, the strong wind was too harsh for an ethical shot.

Although I had made many long-range shots in the past, I just didn’t feel right about potentially wounding or even losing this majestic animal. Instead, we waited for the ram to disappear over a ridge and then grabbed only our video camera, EL Range binocular, and my rifle, then scrambled across the rocks as fast as we could.

After a 600 yard run, hyped on adrenaline, as we peaked over the ridge, there he stood on a rocky ledge. He paused to look back briefly and I knew I had to take the shot. Kev again reassured me that he was well over legal and, I dropped to the ground, braced myself on a rock, centred the crosshairs, and squeezed. As my rifle bucked, the sight was spectacular. In my mind’s eye, I can still see the vivid image. My ram reared up on his hind legs and, as if in slow motion, toppled backward, down the mountain, rolling 150 yards down the steep shale, eventually coming to rest on a pitch of alpine grass with his legs splayed to both sides. In awe, I kept repeating … “I just shot a sheep, I just shot a sheep!” He was gorgeous, beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Over 100 miles later and I had finally taken my bighorn ram. To this day I smile every time I think about it.

The biggest thing I want to clarify about this hunt, and really any sheep hunt for that matter, is that this ram is just as much Kev’s as it is mine. He walked every step I did and experienced everything right alongside me. I squeezed the trigger, but we both earned the sheep. The other thing I want to add is that chivalry is by no means dead. Allow me to explain. As soon as I shot my sheep we looked back to where we had first spotted him. There on the side of the mountain were three other hunters. After hiking back to get our packs, these guys were genuinely excited for me. They were very complementary pointing out that they rarely see women out sheep hunting. As we talked, they added that if they couldn’t shoot it themselves, they were very pleased to see that I was able to claim my first-ever bighorn, especially after hearing of all the miles we had put on during our three-year quest.

In my mind, that is true sportsmanship … and it didn’t end there. We still had to debone and haul the meat. The three hunters offered to take some of our gear and carry it back down the mountain. They would have assisted with the meat, but we had a couple hours of work ahead of us so they did the next best thing. Knowing how much weight we had to carry, we graciously accepted their offer. If any of these gentlemen happen to read this article, I want to thank them again and sincerely hope we can pay it forward at some point.

Lessons Learned Over the past three and a half years of sheep hunting I learned a lot; some life lessons and some related to survival. I learned how important good hunting partners are; which ones are trustworthy and which ones aren’t. Through our various sheep hunting adventures we have met some amazing people.

I learned that an almost empty pack on the top of a mountain, 72

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when you only weigh 130 lbs, can act like a parasail in 50 mile/ hr winds; one that can hurl you off the mountain if you are not careful. I learned that I don’t panic when confronted with a grizzly bear at five feet and reaffirmed why bear spray MUST be accessible at all times. I learned that if I put my mind to something, I don’t give up. We were both constantly reminded that although beautiful, the mountains are unforgiving and that waking up with your tent covered in snow is not only possible, but probable, in August. We also learned that having a SPOT Messenger and satellite phone can be a real comfort to loved ones at home. Most of all, it affirmed to me how lucky I am to have a husband who cared enough about me to give up his sheep season for three years so that I could achieve one of my own life goals. So, although this adventure has come to an end, another one has begun. I hope that in the near future you will once again see our smiling faces in the pages of BGI; hopefully with Kev’s next ram … and me as his faithful sidekick.

‘Early morning bugle’ Lindsay Wilkinson Photo

An Alberta Secret 55 Years Later BY: BRAD SHAW

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Wayne Smith and the gigantic Alberta elk shortly after he downed it in 1959. The antlers then hung in his barn until 2013, when Brad Shaw noticed them, scored them and did the taxidermy work for Wayne to enjoy. The long tined bull has an unofficial gross score of 408� and nets 402�!

We both got off a couple shots as he was running hard across the field. Untouched by our shots, the bull kept making his way for the trees. Remember this is 1959 and we didn’t have the fancy rifles with scopes that they have nowadays, I was using a Lee Enfield 303 British Army rifle with open peep sights that I had purchased for $20.00. It was the only gun I could afford at the time.

I

probably couldn’t find Waldo in a where’s Waldo book if he was dressed in Hunter Orange, but put a small elk shed in the middle of a thick stand of trees and I’ll find it! I have always had a knack for picking out antlers and so it didn’t surprise me when I noticed the tines of an obviously large elk rack poking out the back of a truck as I pulled into a gas station in Lethbridge, Alberta. I was on my way home from a northern whitetail hunt and in need of a fuel up for the home stretch. I parked the truck and walked over to the

tall gentleman standing by his truck. “Heck of an elk rack you got there,” I said. A quick smile formed on his face as he glanced at me and the rack in the truck. We quickly shook hands and introduced ourselves, looking back at the rack I couldn’t take it anymore. “I have to hear the story on this bull,” I said to Wayne, as I leaned over the truck to get a better look at the monster! It was obvious this bull was special to Wayne and he knew it was big by the smile on his face as he proceeded to tell me the story!

Sept 21, 1959. The elk season was not even an hour old and my friend Ardell Hartley and I had the huge bull on the ground! The location of our hunt that day was a long North to South running ridge in the foothills of Southern Alberta about five miles west of Twin Butte and about 3 miles east of Spread Eagle Mountain (I could find the same spot today 55 years later). Two weeks earlier, on one of my scouting trips I had found this spot and knew this is where I wanted to be the first day of elk season. An hour before sunrise on opening morning found Ardell and I snaking our way through the low country towards the ridge. It was a calm, cool fall morning and knowing it was the peak of the rut I had visions of bull elk chasing cows in the high country! The plan was to sneak to the tree line of the open fields at the base of the ridge, listen for bugles and glass the open ridge slopes in hopes of spotting elk as the sun rose. It wasn’t long after sunrise that we heard a few gun shots and some other hunter noise to the north of us; we were a little discouraged and were hoping that they hadn’t found the group of elk in the area. Focusing back to the ridge, I happened to look to my right and saw a group of elk coming along the fence line in the field we were in. Eight cows, one bull and they were on the move! The cows quickly jumped the fence, crossed the field and disappeared into the brush about 200 yards directly in front of us. The bull ran back and forth along the fence twice before deciding to jump. This gave us a little time to get a good look at the bull and we quickly realized he was a giant! As he jumped the fence, we knew we would have to shoot quickly as he was headed for the same patch of brush the cows had entered. We both got off a couple shots as he was running hard across the field. Untouched by our shots, the bull kept making his way for the trees. Remember this is 1959 and we didn’t have the fancy rifles with scopes that they have now days, I was using a Lee Enfield 303 British Army rifle with open peep sights that I had purchased for $20.00. It was the only gun I could afford at the time. Finally, I connected with my last shot and the bull went down! Both Adrell and I couldn’t believe what had just happened as we walked up and admired the downed giant. It wasn’t until I met Brad 52 years later that I considered getting the bull mounted. The Shaw Brothers did a super taxidermy job on him. The best I have ever seen.”

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What a pleasure it was to listen to Wayne share the story of when he killed the big bull as a young man. It was obviously a special memory to him as he told it like it was yesterday. Now I tend to have a bit of jokester side to me and so I couldn’t resist making a comment on the bull being in the back of his truck.

“So you shot him in 1959,” I said.

“Has he been riding in the back of your truck ever since?”

Don’t get me wrong if I shot an elk like that I’d probably let him ride in the back of the truck for 52 years too! We had a good laugh while Wayne proceeded to tell me that he had hung the antlers in his barn where they sat for 52 years until he retired from the farm and moved to town.

Storing them in his new home was going to be a problem so he left them in the back of the truck until he decided what to do with them. Now I had been formulating a plan in the back of my mind this whole time as this was a bull that deserved to be mounted and displayed on Wayne’s wall, not to mention my taxidermy shop was yet to be graced by a 400+ inch bull elk. Knowing this elk would more than fit the bill I mentioned to Wayne that I happened to run a taxidermy business with my brother and we just happened to have a spare early season elk cape in

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the freezer ready to go and that I would be more than happy to bring this monster bull back to life! Wayne was more than happy to accept and we quickly exchanged info and loaded the big rack into my truck. Now I was pretty loaded down as I was returning from a three week hunting trip and had my ATV and all my gear in the back of the truck. I’m pretty sure I almost caused a few accidents as I cruised down the road with a 400 inch elk rack strapped to the top of the quad! I would like to thank Wayne for taking the time to share his story and for allowing us the opportunity to do the taxidermy work on the bull. It truly was a great feeling to see how excited he was as we showed up at his house with the big elk and hung it on the wall! I hope each time he looks at the mount he will always remember the day he harvested one of the largest bulls to be taken in Alberta!

Everything Outdoors

...with Kevin Wilson

TROPHY HUNTING IN THE 21ST CENTURY

O

h, how hunting has changed over the past century!

Right or wrong, the almighty B&C score or measurement has become the comparative basis upon which we so often evaluate our success. Trophy hunting has become a complex, multi-faceted pastime. Motivations have evolved in both good and bad ways. No longer is subsistence hunting a necessity for most. Sure enough, with urban sprawl and human population explosions, game populations have diminished due to overharvest, but authorities have made incredible strides in bringing many of them back and, in turn re-establishing some amazing sporting opportunities. That said, some opportunities have diminished while others have expanded exponentially.

When we stop and evaluate why and how we as hunters do what we do, it quickly becomes apparent that we are taking more and bigger animals than ever before. We have become more efficient, more knowledgeable, and the opportunities are accessible.

If I’m honest, I know my own evolution as a hunter has taken me through all of the typical stages. Like many, it was initially about getting an animal, then the focus was on getting a male of the species, then using a bow, and eventually … almost overnight in fact, it switched to seeking out the oldest and biggest representatives of each target species with archery tackle. Over the past 14 years my own journey has taken me into the world of professional outfitting and guiding, and most recently into filming hunts for No Limits TV. Certainly I enjoy taking big gnarly antlers as much as the next guy, but I have come to realize that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. Each of us has our own definition of what makes a trophy. I recognize

that this is not the case for everyone, but for me, it’s much more than just an impressive set of antlers, it’s about the experience, the challenge, and the accomplishment.

What’s in a Trophy?

To discuss the topic of trophy hunting, we need to first clarify what it is. By in large, most hunters and non-hunters alike would define trophy hunting as a quest for an animal of exceptional stature. In most instances this might refer to those with larger than average antlers or horns. In very general terms, much of the non-hunting public along with a percentage of the hunting community sees the trophy as the antlers, horns, or hide alone.

Therein lies the problem. At a time when a sizeable portion of society deems hunting to be an obsolete pastime, the notion of hunting for antlers or horns with no desire to utilize the meat, is simply not palatable. While the eye-catching characteristics that make a given animal a trophy, are generally impressive, it is every hunter’s responsibility to respect and utilize the whole animal when it is fit for consumption. Thanks to the hard work of respected groups like Safari Club International (SCI), the Boone & Crockett Club, Pope & Young, and more, member-based agencies play an active role in demonstrating the value of wildlife and habitat conservation. By coordinating and seeing both public education and hands-on habitat improvement projects come to fruition, the public can see that conscientious hunters value conservation and preservation of biodiversity and the whole animal … not only the antlers, horns, or hides.

Commercialization & Media Messaging We don’t have to look far to see the enormous influence that professionally outfitted and guided hunting has brought to the hunting community. Small, medium, and large commercial operators have popped up around the globe. Historically, traveling to exotic destinations was only afforded by those with deep pockets. Unique species sporting eye-popping headgear, like Ibex, Marco Polo Sheep, Red Stag, and so many more are becoming common trophies in many hunters’ homes. Where hunting Africa was once thought to be a rich man’s game, it is more 78

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than affordable these days. Don’t get me wrong, there is still a hefty price tag placed on many of these hunts, but more of us are making this type of trophy hunting a priority, even if it is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. From commercial outfitters, to government-based tourism departments, and booking agents, many stakeholders are now actively marketing these once unheard of trophy hunting opportunities.

Add the constant flow of media messaging to the equation and we quickly see a shift in culture. Without a doubt, a majority of hunting shows on television and online, not to mention magazine articles, tend to show the biggest of the big because that’s what we all want to see. As a show host, I’m constantly reminded of the need to be selective in harvesting only trophy-class animals. On a very personal level I struggle with this and, in fact, I am frequently reminded by viewers that it would be nice to see average animals taken now and then, simply to convey that it’s not realistic to always taken giant trophy class specimens on every hunt. My point here is that there is an underlying pressure in our hunting culture constantly reinforcing the need to take bigger and better animals. Most viewers would be surprised to learn than a percentage of shows, particularly those produced stateside in fact showcase trophy animals taken in high fence penned hunting scenarios, again responding to the perception that viewers always want to see bigger and better animals.

Game & Land Management

are becoming more prevalent largely due to restricted hunting.

Alberta is now facing not only a rapidly growing bear problem, but a multi-species predator problem on the whole. From a trophy hunting perspective, should that province ever re-open its grizzly bear hunt, the trophy potential for big, old grizzlies will be outstanding.

Manufacturing Antlers Then there is the whole movement toward nutrition and antler growth. In no other circle is it as prevalent as with trophy whitetail deer hunting. Mineral supplements for baiting (where legal), and nutrient-rich seed for planting food plots (again, where regulations allow) that will bolster antler growth are no longer an anomaly. In many states and even a few provinces, they are simply becoming part of the way hunters prepare for, and hunt their deer … and all in the name of growing bigger antlers so that we can take home a more impressive trophy.

Ethics & Goals Whether you agree or disagree with trophy hunting doesn’t really matter. In the end, hunting is a personal thing. I’ve now been a hunter of most North American species and even a few exotics. I will never judge someone for holding a personal view or opinion of trophy hunting, as long as it’s based on fact.

Where I draw the line, is when it comes to ethics. Unfortunately the almighty score or measurement sometimes pushes individuals to move from hunter to poacher. Without exception, that is unacceptable and cannot, under any circumstances be tolerated.

To me, trophy hunting is about setting and achieving goals.

Antlers, horns, or hides are always a perk but where edible meat is available, it is as much a part of the trophy as the other.

Fish and Wildlife management authorities have learned a lot about game management over the last century. With many success stories, restricted harvests and habitat enhancement efforts have literally created an abundance of exceptional trophy hunting opportunities. Today, harvests are managed strictly; not always correctly mind you, but they are regulated. Consider for example, the free-range elk population in southwest Alberta. Some speculate that the new world record may well reside Kevin with a true ‘trophy’ elk, but a on the Suffield military base near Med‘trophy’ is much more than antlers on icine Hat. Only those residents with the wall, it is about the quest to obtain enough priority points to draw a permit the trophy. to hunt on private land outside the base can hunt these incredible trophy-class animals. Reintroduction and strict harvest management has been so successful in fact that the herd is projected to be the largest free-range population of elk in North America within a few short years.

On the negative side, take western Canada’s grizzly bear populations for example. Bowing to misguided pressures from anti-hunting groups, the Alberta government is now in a precarious position. With populations growing at alarming rates, dangerous encounters, attacks, and even fatalities

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The

Future of Hunting Kohl Bayer

Cadence and Dylan Knapik

Anthony Whitcher

Ethan Weste

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Allie Macdonald-Moffat

Carson Kirzinger

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

Email your photos along with name to:

info@biggameillustrated.com

The postseason is one of the best times to locate survivors, as they ‘yard up’ around food sources to try and survive the harsh winter.

Hamilton Greenwood Photo