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The 2005 Deer Hunt - November & Part #2 “What the hell is that white stuff ahead”, FOG, since when do we get fog on opening day of deer season. I have been up for hours and have been traveling North West for 45 minutes with another 45 minutes left to ground zero, my hunting spot for the day. I will be hunting on Hutterite Colony land just outside of Harlowton Montana. I have a good spot next to a field in the river bottoms all picked out for the hunt. At this spot I have seen many dear and hope to get my dear quickly so as to end the misery of getting up at 3:30 or 4:00 AM every morning. The FOG is getting so thick I can barely make out the road and I know there are many deer roaming the highways in this neck of the woods. In fact it is soooo FOGGY I miss my turn off to the bottoms, not once but 3 times. “If I take the back road through the Hutterite Colony I can be sure to hit the bottoms” or so I thought. It takes me two passes to find the gravel road down to the colony and another 20 minutes to find my way to the river bottoms. It is still dark, cold and FOGGY as I cross the field to my sweet spot and I am sure today will be THE day. There is a downed tree just off the field and I am thinking that it is as good a spot as any. I am dressed to the max with winter duds that could keep an Eskimo warm, and am awfully glad I made the purchase of extra clothing. Just across the river I can make out deer movement so I watch them move West right pass me only about 200-300 feet away. Still to dark to shoot and the FOG starts to get thicker, not lighter. Great, now I’m in the dark and blind. The sun is slow to lighten the area enough to shoot as an hour passes by or in hunter terms, to damn long. Just as I watch another bunch of small deer pass by the river I catch a glance out of my left eye. 50 feet away is a grand doe. She is looking out towards the field and not paying any attention to the killer that lurks only mere feet away. I don’t shoot right away because she might be a female mule deer and I can’t shoot them in the district I am hunting in. If she is a White Tail deer, well, that’s another story. Pop goes the covers on my scope as the rifle gets ready for what is about to come. “Give me a little flip of the tail” and I’ll know if I can shoot or not. She is slowly moving off as she gives me what I am waiting for. “It’s a White Tail, I can take her”. The cross hairs draw a perfect bead just behind the shoulder where the heart should be and my finger starts to squeeze the trigger. Something is wrong; the gun does not fire and I let up on the trigger. For some strange reason I cannot shoot this fine specimen and let her drift off into the foggy stillness. “Get hold of yourself old man. You should have taken her” I think to myself. It will be a very long time before I get another chance like that. As I pack the gear into the truck for the long drive home I hear the crack of a rifle. “I’ll bet some other hunter took that deer” and “dumb ass” float through my thoughts as I finish loading up. No deer today… I hope you are still with me as I am now on day, Well, I can’t remember anymore, of the deer hunt. Greg, my hunting buddy, and I are pushing through the timber about 20 miles West of Billings. We have already seen some deer and hope that more are just ahead. Greg is going to push the brush while I take up residence on a hill overlooking an almost dry old river bed. Up here I can see all the action and have a great shot if Greg pushes something my way. Down go the legs’ of the bi-pod on my rifle as I find a nice cushy spot on the hilltop. I swear to God I wasn’t up there but a few minutes when I spot a deer right at the bottom of my 100 foot hill. I am going to take my time and squeeze off the perfect shot but once again, the gun does not fire. This time, I forgot to take the safety off. By the time I get it off, the buck is across the river bed and dancing his way through the underbrush. “Scratch another good chance”. Nothing to do now except wait till another one might come my way. 10 minutes pass and I cannot believe it. My buck has come back to me and does not appear to know I am above him. This time I’ll have to shoot across the river bed, not just at the bottom of the hill. Nice and steady now, line up the shot, take off the safety and BAM. The rifle jumps into the air as the bullet leaves the barrel at warp speed and from my perch, I can see the deer take the slug. He staggers into the brush where I cannot see him, and dies.
Field dressing the deer does not take long and it being the custom in Montana, I eat the deer’s heart. Greg wanted some but I was hungry and his heart was not that large. Ok-Ok, so I never ate the heart. It sounded good though. Now comes the task every hunter loves, dragging his dead game out of the woods. It only took the both of us a couple of hours to get him through the woods, up the hill and into the truck. Every bone in our bodies hurt and we both think out loud, “we are getting to old for this”. The hunt never ends as we are still on the look out for Greg’s deer and I have a Turkey permit to fill this fall. Stay tuned ................................. I told you to stay tuned and now comes part two of the story... A good friend of mine, Josie Skibstad, told me she wanted to go up to her brothers place outside of Columbus Montana and hunt deer. Naturally I was interested, what with hunting with a real wild west cowpoke woman and all. But wait you say, you already have a deer and can't shoot another one till next year. It just so happens Greg is still deerless and I have that wild turkey permit to fill. November 18th found the three of us traveling in the dark West down interstate 90 towards Columbus. I am feeling luck today and we all make some effort at small talk in order to keep the driver, me, awake. Just as it is getting light enough to see, the truck pulls into the Skibstad Ranch about 5 miles South East of Columbus. Josie makes a quick stop at the ranch to say "hi" while Greg and I sip luke warm coffee from our mugs. We will travel up a few coulee's on the ranch to see if we have any deer getting ready to bed down for the day, then travel up to the top of the hills to get a better view of the valley below. Deer are spotted grazing a hillside just inside the gate so we stop the truck and glass the heard looking for male deer, the only deer we can take in this area. Josie and think we see antlers but Greg is unsure so it's his turn to put the sneak on the heard in order to determine the sex. Josie and I wait at the truck while Greg sneaks up behind a stand of small trees. He did not indicate to us if there was a buck in there. Just in case Greg fell asleep, we fired a round at his feet to wake him up. You say "that wasn't very nice". I say, "This is Montana and we are burning daylight". No bucks in this heard so it's up the canyon we go. At the end of the road Greg and I decide we will climb up the coulee to see what we can spook up. Half way up the hill I start thinking of elk camp and how hard the climb was. My heart is racing, I can't breathe, I am overheating. Where the hell is the escalator. Greg and I spot each other on the hillside and both decide it is time to start back down. Climbing steep hills is a young mans sport. The outside temperature starts to climb while the frozen moisture turns to water. The dirt roads will soon become slippery and the two wheel drive truck will provide little traction in this gumbo soil. The tuck slips and slides as we head back and try to drive up to the top. No luck as the truck slides backward down the hill. The only thing left is one more canyon to check out. At roads end, Josie and I will walk the hillside while Greg waits to bushwhack anything we might push his way. 10 minutes into the walk, we spot a deer that heads towards Greg. We can't make out if it is a buck or not but decide to continue pushing the deer.
The kill is confirmed, a nice size buck and a clean shot right through the heart. Field dressing a deer is a medium size task that takes about 15-20 minutes to complete. All one needs is a chest saw and a sharp knife. The days hunt is over and its time to get some coffee and breakfast. Traveling down the road towards Billings we decide to stop at a place not to far ahead. As I begin to pull off the road into the parking lot, I notice a patrol car speeding down the highway and he pulls up right behind me. I am dumfounded, what does he want.
Well folks, that's about it for deer hunting in 2005. Kurt's Deer Hunt (11/23//2004) |
