Three Bucks Down in a Day

The sun never broke over the mountains on this chilly day and we were left to shiver in the shade all morning. We were content at this point of the trip, all of us having harvested at least one buck in the six days we had been on the island. But now that we all had at least a little taste of success, we couldn’t help but hit the frozen muskegs that morning with the goal of hanging more meat on the pole at the cabin.

Our morning started out slow as we crunched our way through the frozen tidal zone of the bay. We hiked around to the backside, crossing creeks that trickled from the old growth that towered above us. The three of us quietly slipped into the trees, the moss absorbing all sound. We watched a crisp opening in the trees for several minutes before crunching our way through the middle of it.

Upon reaching an opening in the terrain, we sat down and started calling. Not long after my hunting partner Kyle let out a call, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and saw him putting in his ear plugs and racking a round into the chamber of his rifle. I twisted my head around to see movement behind me.

Instantly I knew it was a doe. With the experiences we’d had in the days prior, I was fairly confident that a buck would be behind her. As she moved in closer to us, stomping and blowing while looking for the supposed fawn, I waited for her head to disappear behind a tree and quickly grabbed my rifle, put in my ear plugs, ran the bolt and twisted 180 degrees pulling the gun to my shoulder and waiting to see what happened next. The doe would end up milling around for several minutes, coming as close as 31 yards. A buck never materialized from behind her and she eventually lost interest and moved on.

Moving along the ridgeline, we stopped for lunch overlooking an interaction of several small valleys. We split up again and I sat where I could see new terrain while also having visual contact with Kyle. I enjoyed eating some backstrap from the buck I had harvested the day before and had cooked the night previous. A buck would end up slipping behind us only for a brief moment that none of us had an opportunity on.

With only a couple of hours left in the day, the three of us slipped through the muskegs with the goal of reaching a series of terrain features that laid out into a large bowl. We were happy to be up and moving again since we had been shivering in the shade all day. Kyle was ahead of me when he quickly dropped to a knee and racked a round. He turned to us, telling us he was going to shoot the buck ahead of him. I never saw the deer, but watched as Kyle stood back up and shot. We walked up to the deer and celebrated the moment. We positioned his buck for a great backdrop and began snapping some quick photos when Kyle’s dad tapped on our shoulders and pointed 400 yards behind us at a group of deer walking into a distant muskeg. We immediately dropped what we were doing, grabbed our rifles and took off in that direction.

We cut the distance by a couple of hundred yards, crossing two small creeks before emerging at the base of the hill where we had last seen the deer. I found a depression below a stunted spruce and laid down in it, my gun positioned uphill and resting on a mound in front of me. I found the buck quickly and got behind the scope as he was beginning to follow his doe uphill again. I fired once and missed. The buck seemed unphased and continued following his doe, head down and neck craned forward, as she began tromping out of the muskeg. Neither Kyle or I had a shot with the buck and the doe standing in line with each other. Just before the buck would disappear into the thick brush, he stopped to look slightly to his right. With the doe out of the way, I put my crosshairs on his neck and touched off the shot. For the first time ever I scoped myself, and when I acquired my sight picture again, I couldn’t see my deer. It took me several seconds to see an antler laying straight up in the snow where the buck had been standing. I had dropped him in his tracks.

The three of us walked up to my buck and took some photos and enjoyed the double we had just capitalized on. With only an hour and a half of light left, I quickly retrieved my gear and got to work skinning and quartering my deer while Kyle and his dad worked on the other buck. Not long after starting, I heard something running through the snow in my direction. I dropped my knife and picked up my rifle, shouldering it just as a brown wad of fur ran into the muskeg. I shouted loudly and had my finger on the trigger, anticipating a large angry brown bear ready to take my deer. At just ten yards the charging doe swerved around me, never breaking stride. It took me a few moments for my heart to slow down and get back to work.

As I was nearly finished breaking down my deer, I heard a gunshot below me. I picked up Kyle in my binoculars and saw that he was holding his rifle up to his shoulder. He turned to me and pumped his fists in the air and we each let out a whoop of celebration. Another buck had walked up on Kyle and his dad as they were finishing cutting up the first one. I laughed at the thought of the work that lay ahead of us, each packing out a whole deer the two and a half miles back to camp.

I finished my deer and took a quick snack and water break. I caught movement again where the doe had charged me before and watched as another buck walked to within 20 yards. He stared at me while I grabbed my rifle and pulled it to my shoulder. I put the crosshairs on his chest and felt my finger on the trigger. I let out a breath and pulled the gun down. As awesome as it would have been harvesting four bucks in one day, I decided we had had enough excitement for the evening and enough work ahead of us. I let the buck walk away and told him how lucky he was that I already had his buddy in my pack.

I humped my deer back to Kyle and his dad and assisted them with finishing up on the third deer. The three of us shuffled the rest of the way back to camp in the dark, our headlamps bobbing and reflecting off of the frozen grass ahead of us. It was a heavy load and the trip would take a couple of hours, but the reward of dropping our heavy packs and walking around seemingly weightless in the cabin was worth the work. The prize of fresh tenderloins that night sizzled in the frying pan and helped us to fall into a well-deserved rest. It was an incredible day and one that will remain hard to beat for the rest of my life.