Coues whitetail hunt this week.
In Arizona, we get tags by lottery, and it is it unusual to get a hunt during an inconvenient time, or to not get a tag at all. Bucks only for deer, except for the Kaibab youth hunt.
Our herd management might be a little off.
Anyway. I got the late November/early December hunt this year. The last time I connected on a deer hunt was in 2015, but I have gotten a couple of tags that went unfilled in between then and now. One was during grad school, and I got out to hunt one day that year. The other, I also wasn’t able to get out too much and just never saw a buck. Except for one smart old guy hanging out in someone’s yard.
This year, I got a new M70 Winchester, and used it.
The hunt started the day after Thanksgiving, and all of my planning went out the window because of the holiday. Instead of camping in a distant area of the hunt zone and starting hunting before first light, I stayed home Thursday and did the things SWMBO needed me to do. So I went Friday to a canyon I love near our home. It was slammed with hunters. I left and went to another canyon. Much less pressure, but still a lot of hunters. I saw does.
Saturday, I felt lousy, so I didn’t get out till the afternoon. I hiked a mountain in another favorite canyon. I saw a lot of does, and only a few hunters.
Sunday I stayed home, Monday I went to work. Tuesday, I went back to the canyon I’d seen so many does in, but there were a lot more hunters and they were already hunting where I’d been before, so I went to a different branch and hiked a mountain.
I saw a few does, both while feeding and in shelter belts. Just in the last few minutes of shooting light, I finally saw a buck, but he was small and far away. I relocated twice to get closer, but he moved into a shelter belt and I didn’t see him again.
Hiking down that mountain in the dark was a little bit treacherous.
Today, I went back to the same place as Tuesday, and saw a couple of does. But then one of them had a spike buck following her up a wash and into a saddle. I tried to get an angle to make a shot, but it wasn’t to be. Momma wanted him off that ridge and into shelter - she knew I was there.
20 minutes later, he was back out eating, and I made a shot I’ve never had an opportunity to make before while rifle hunting in Arizona: 130 yards, animal broadside and motionless, me standing with my rifle resting on top of my binocular tripod.
Slam dunk. 110gr Sierra Prohunter cut his heart, shredded lungs and part of the liver. He ran 8 yards, spun out, and was laying on his back tangled in some deadfall.
Yeah, he’s a spike. Any Coues is a trophy, though. They’re hard work. I hiked a lot of mountain miles to get him, and had a long hike down a mountain to get him back to the Durango. His momma was calling for him while I was carrying him out. That was a little bit strange feeling.
Taking a break from cutting to rest my back.
Entry