Well, I’m back.

It was an eventful couple of weeks at Coon Camp Springs… too eventful, in fact, for me to simply summarize the hunts in a single post. Instead, I’ve decided to write up each hunt separately (although there’s a great connection between the first two).

Click Here to view Part 1

Click Here to view Part 2

Here’s the final part, then… hope you enjoy it!

The waxing moon was the biggest concern for our next hunt.  David Brown would be arriving on November 1st, and the moon would be completely full on the 2nd.  Way up in that country, a full moon lights up the night like daytime, and the deer stay active all night long and then bed up during the day.  The only bright spot was my hope that the moon would also help kick off the rut.  Nolan’s buck had been chasing does three days earlier, and on the Saturday before David’s arrival I glassed up a really nice 4×4 leading a harem of does, so things were looking really positive on that front.  As long as the moon didn’t screw us up, I had hopes that we’d see a pretty good hunt.

I was in Reno when David arrived on Sunday, so Dave (Allen) would take him on the tour, and go over to the shooting bench to check out his rifle.  I thought they’d also go ahead and hit the field for a little while before I got back, but they decided just to relax in camp and wait for me.  The hunt would start Monday morning.

Over dinner, we talked about the last couple of hunts, and I told David about the big 4×4 I’d seen.   I described what I thought was the best strategy to get on him, just sitting on a glassing point and waiting as long as we could stand to sit there.  A lot of western hunters can’t sit still for hours, but with the deer moving consistently over the same area, the longer we could stay put, the better our odds of getting a shot on that buck.  David assured me he loved glassing and sitting, so the plan was made.  We had a great dinner of elk and pheasant, and headed off to bed with visions of big bucks dancing in our heads.

Monday morning’s hunt was a guide’s dream come true.  

We rolled out of camp after a quick breakfast.  It was just after shooting light when we left the truck, and quietly slipped down the hill toward my spot.  As always, I was watching the ground as we moved, and noticed a dark spot in the frosty grass.  A deer track was cut sharply through the frost and the dirt… a big one.  I pointed it out to David and he nodded.  More fresh tracks were scattered around the area, and all headed in the same direction as we were moving.  We slowed the pace, and crept along with our senses on high alert.

As we reached the point of the little finger ridge, I stopped to answer nature’s call before we left the cover of the trees.  I mentioned to David to be ready, because I bet the deer would already be down here feeding.  Just as I started to step behind a juniper to tend to “business”, David raised his glasses and immediately hissed, “Deer!”

Basic needs temporarily forgotten, I spun around and raised my Leicas.   Sure enough, there were a group of does coming off the edge of a ravine at about 500 yards.  As I watched, I saw antlers topping the rise.  They seemed to keep coming, until the rest of the buck came into view.  There was no question here, this was a shooter buck!  I estimated him at around 26 inches wide.  David looked at me, and I nodded.  We needed to get set up quickly.

In speaking with David earlier, he talked a lot about shooting on elk and antelope, and I was a little concerned he was going to push to take the 500 yard shot right away.  I would push back, but I hate having to do that.  As it turns out, though, he was way ahead of me.  “I really would like to get within 300 yards at least,” he whispered.  “That’s too far for a good shot.”

I nodded.  “Let’s sit tight and watch them to see what they do.  They usually feed up that ravine, which’ll put them right under us.” 

I’d no more said that than the big buck suddenly started bee-lining away from us, heading toward the neighbor’s fence.  “Crap,” I thought.  “So much for that!” 

Then he reappeared, pushing a small doe ahead of him and herding her back to the harem.  I breathed a sigh of relief, confident now that they’d at least stay in the area.  David slid down the hill to a spot beside a little pine tree where he had cover and a good rest.  I eased out onto a ledge with a big rock for cover.  We were a little further apart than I’d usually like to be, because it was hard to communicate, but at this point I had enough confidence in David’s hunting experience to trust him not to do something foolish.

For a while, the deer gave us a show equal to anything you’d ever see on the Outdoor Channel.  The buck worked the does, harassing them and checking each one to see if they were ready for breeding yet.  The rut was just starting, however, and of course none of the does was receptive, but that didn’t stop that buck from checking and re-checking.  The whole time, he kept the little herd close together and within his sight.  “I think he’s keeping them away from another buck,” I whispered, but David was oblivious…totally wrapped up in the show taking place below us.

Sure enough, as we watched another big 4×4 came slinking onto the scene.  He eased around upwind of the herd, but as soon as he saw the big buck, he trotted off over the hill, obviously intimidated.   I could tell David was enjoying this scenario as much as I was, but I was also feeling the stress of the long wait.  The buck was still hanging out at between 450 and 500 yards, and while some of the does had moved closer up the ravine, the rest were still mingling up and down the hillside.  I began to think about other ways to move up and get closer for a shot, but the risk of spooking some of the does and blowing the whole thing kept me from leaving our spot.  Patience pays, and everything was looking like the deer would come to us if we just waited long enough. 

As if the current level of excitement weren’t enough, I caught a glimpse of movement above the herd of deer.  That other 4×4 had come back.  The does were too enticing for him to resist, apparently.  He began to circle around the herd, but this time the other buck spotted him and stepped up to the challenge.   In all my years of deer hunting, I’ve yet to actually see bucks fight and it looked like this might be my chance. 

Both bucks were fairly equal in antler width.  The dominant buck had a much larger body, and appeared to be a 3×3, but the challenger had more of a classic four-point configuration.  Either would make an excellent trophy, and I was hoping that the scuffle would drive one or the other closer to us for a shot.  The face off continued, but the smaller buck would not get close to the bigger one.  I could hear the snort-wheeze and grunting from all the way across the meadow.  Finally, the smaller buck  moved off about fifty yards and bedded down in the sage.  His head and neck protruded, but at 452 yards, it wasn’t a shot David wanted to take, nor was it one I’d have recommended.  We’d wait.

The big buck drove his does further up the ravine.  The closed deer were now within 350 yards of us, but the buck stayed down in the bottom of the cleft, always just out of sight except his massive antlers.  The smaller buck stayed bedded as the herd moved away, but we kept an eye on him.  Sooner or later, we both knew temptation would get the better of him and he’d get up to follow those does.  If things went well, he’d circle around the edges, and walk right under our position. 

Finally, with several of the does now grazing to within 275 yards, the 4×4 stood up.  Unfortunately, instead of coming directly toward us, he followed the path of the herd of deer into the ravine.   As I watched him, David realized he had a decision to make.  “Which one should I take,” he whispered? 

That’s a tough one.  “The big one looks like a 3×3, but he’s got a much bigger body.  The other one is smaller in the body, but he has a beautiful rack.  Tough choice.”

David considered, then made up his mind.  “I’m gonna take the 4×4.” 
The buck crossed an open spot at 375 yards, and for a moment I thought David would take the shot.  He held off, and the buck disappeared again.  Meanwhile, the other buck had driven his does up onto the dirt road, following a cattle trail that would take them up onto the ridge and into a bedding area.  Once they crossed the road, they’d be out of sight.  I took a quick range on the road.  250 yards!  David could make that shot.  I turned again to look for the 4×4, and spotted him in a clearing about 275 yards away.  He was standing broadside, stretching out to get a whiff of the does… a perfect shot opportunity.  “There’s your shot, David,” I hissed, and noticed that he was already settling in behind the scope.

I held my breath for the shot, but it didn’t come.  I looked down to see David’s head up off the rifle, and he was adjusting his hat.  The buck was still posed on the hillside, still offering a perfect, unobstructed shot.  Why wasn’t he shooting?  “Kill it,” I whispered, my patience stretched to the breaking point. 

The buck moved again, into the brush, and then stepping out into the open once again, even closer.  I saw David drop down to the stock and steady the rifle against the pine tree.  “Here we go,” I thought, and studied the buck, ready to spot the shot.

The .300 Weatherby Magnum cracked, and I waited to see the impact on the buck.  There was nothing!  The deer’s head popped up, alert, but he stood steady.  “Shoot again,” I said.  “You missed him!”

I looked down at David, and he was grinning up at me, giving me the thumbs-up sign.  It took a moment for it all to click.  The other buck had been out of my line of sight, but David had a great angle on him and took it.  “You shot at the other one, huh?” I grinned.  “Did you hit him?”

“He went right down!” David said, jubilant.  “I think I drilled him perfectly!”

I stood and walked down toward him until I could see the deer, stretched out on the hillside.  “Nice job!”

After high fives, we decided that David would walk over to the buck, to make sure he was down, and then I’d go get the truck and bring it around.  The deer was down within yards of the road!  “Just keep your eye on him when you walk over,” I warned.  “A lot of times, when you knock them flat, they tend to jump up on you when you get close.” 

“I think he’s dead,” David said, assuredly as he started down the hill.  “He’s not getting up.” 

“Well, just be ready.”

As David came to within 25 yards or so of the buck, I saw its head come up.  “Kill it!” I shouted.  “Don’t let it run!”

I doubt that he heard me, but he knew what to do.  The buck clambered to his feet and turned to run, and David shouldered his rifle.  I saw the muzzle flash and the bullet impact before the report reached me, and the buck went down again… for good this time.  I watched until David reached the deer and waved at me, and then took off to get the truck. 

When I rolled up on the spot, David was grinning.  “He was a 4×4 after all,” he told me.  “And no ground shrinkage here!”

Sure enough, the buck had a nontypical conformation.  His G2 and G3 were normal, but then he had what appeared to be a G4 and a G5 on each main beam, neither of which forked.  A check with the tape showed him to be 26 ½ inches wide on the outside, which is pretty darned good for around these parts.  We did some pictures, more high fives, and then I got him dressed and loaded into the truck.   By 10:30 on the first day of the hunt, I had the buck caped and ready for the butcher. 

My work was done!   Three hunters, three bucks, and all three were great stories in their own right… the epic trailing job, the father/son moment, and the great display of rut behavior.  With a self-guided hunter taking the field for the end of the season, it was time for me to pack my gear, clean up the cabin, and head for home. 

As I write this, we have a self-guided hunter at the property trying to fill the last of our four PLM tags.  Dave (Allen) is up there with him right now, showing him around and getting him oriented.  I’ll provide an update on his hunt as soon as the word comes in. 

In the meantime, we’re going to start planning for the 2010 season.  I know it’s early now, but for anyone interested in a private land, late-season, guided and outfitted hunt in the X3A zone, we’ve got just the thing for ya at Coon Camp Springs.  Drop a line for more info, and we’ll give you as much info as we can.  

Stay tuned for the 2009 Coon Camp Springs Mule Deer Hunts wrap-up.

Related Articles:

• Coon Camp Springs Mule Deer Hunts – Part 2
• False starts?
• Back in One Week!
• Back in Two Weeks
• Back in Three Weeks!
• Coon Camp Springs Mule Deer Hunts – Part 1
• Outta here!
• CA Mule Deer Hunt Opportunity
• Hog Hunting on Military Bases in CA – Fort Hunter Liggett
• Weekend Updates – Hard work, high temps, good times

Well, I’m back.

It was an eventful couple of weeks at Coon Camp Springs… too eventful, in fact, for me to simply summarize the hunts in a single post. Instead, I’ve decided to write up each hunt separately (although there’s a great connection between the first two).

Click Here to view Part 1

Here’s the second part, then… hope you enjoy it!

When Nolan left with his father on Tuesday night, his plan was to get home, visit with his family a little bit, and then come on back out to the ranch on Thursday afternoon.  Tom said he might come back as well.  Even though he already had his buck, he wanted to be there when Nolan tagged out.  In the wings of the plan was the possibility that Nolan may bring his six year-old son back up with him to enjoy the hunt and camp, and possibly to see his father take a buck, just as Nolan had been there 35 years earlier to see his own dad tag out. 

With these plans in our minds, Dave Allen (President of the Coon Camp Springs non-profit org), Kat (my girlfriend and camp cook for the week), and I decided to take our downtime on Wednesday to get out to town and pick up some supplies.  We did some work around camp and headed up the hill to the highway.  Just before we topped the last ridge, a black truck came up the road toward us.  Nolan just couldn’t stay away!  I bailed out and let Dave and Kat go on to town.  I’d spend the evening hunting with Nolan and his son, Tommy, and see what we could do to fill that tag. 

With a six year-old in tow, the cards were stacked against us on this one.  On this property, there are a couple of ways to hunt.  One is to sit tight on a high spot and glass, and then either shoot or stalk for the shot.  That requires quiet, patience, and sitting still… none of which are exactly common traits among the first grade set. 

The other method is to still hunt slowly through the juniper thickets.  This is slow, silent going, and is difficult enough for a solo hunter.  With a couple of experienced hunters, getting close to a buck is a real challenge.  With two hunters and a youngster, it’s almost a guarantee we wouldn’t see anything except tracks. 

There is a third method, of course… road hunting.  While I’m not against the practice, and will do it from time to time, it’s not really something we encourage at Coon Camp Springs.  The terrain is pretty friendly, and there’s almost no place the most out of shape hunter can’t go on foot.  Besides, riding around in the truck isn’t the kind of experience most mule deer hunters are paying for. 

I had some decisions to make, and none of them looked promising.  This was gonna be tough and no way around it. 

Fortunately, Nolan was fairly realistic about our chances, but what he wanted most was just to share the time and experience with his son.  If we got a deer, that would be ideal, but if not, then at least the two of them would have a great time in the field.   I could really appreciate that, as it reminded me of those early days in the field with my own dad… memories that will last a lifetime.  I was determined to make the most of this hunt, no matter how hard it would be.

I got a pretty good taste of the challenge later that afternoon, as I led the two of them down to my glassing rock.  I figured the odds were that if we saw deer, they’d be in the distance… far enough away so that maybe Tommy’s fidgeting wouldn’t immediately blow them out of the county.  We got out there with a relative minimum of noise, although at a couple of points I had to tell Tommy to slow down and try to be “more sneaky”.  However, we hadn’t been settled on the rock a half an hour before the boy had to go to the bathroom… and not the kind you can do standing behind a tree. 

We hiked back up the trail and I looked in dismay at the rapidly sinking sun.   Back at the truck, Tommy suddenly decided he didn’t have to go after all.  After a flash of impatience, I remembered why we were here and the fact that he is only six.  I adjusted my attitude then, and actually found the whole thing pretty funny.  Since we were in the truck anyway, I suggested that we drive up onto a saddle-back ridge, and just sit until dark to see what came out.  Nothing did, but it was better than bagging the evening hunt altogether.

Before bed, Nolan had a little chat with Tommy to remind him the importance of being quiet and still.  With a promise to be quieter tomorrow, they settled into the bunkhouse until the crackle of the morning campfire rousted them.  Over breakfast we went over options.  I tried to be as clear as possible with Nolan that we’d be fighting an uphill battle, but if he wanted to, we could go back and sit the rock again.  He said he was cool with that, and we headed out. 

The temperature had fallen pretty sharply overnight, into the mid-twenties.  On the hike down to the rock, I was impressed by how careful Tommy was to be silent.  Even so, as we came out onto the rock a pair of cattle on the adjoining property spotted us and bolted, from over 400 yards away.  I watched carefully, but it didn’t appear that the slow elk spooked any deer in their progress. 

Even after we settled down on the rock, Tommy was doing a pretty good job of being still and quiet… at least for such a young guy.  I was pretty impressed.  Unfortunately, he had a cough that overcame his efforts and in the quiet morning, the sound was pretty explosive.  At one point, as I was watching a line of does from over 1000 yards, he coughed and the lead doe raised her head in alarm, peering straight at us.  They didn’t spook, not from that far away, but it was a pretty good illustration of what we’d be up against. 

Nolan and I tried to show him how to cough into his elbow, but he didn’t quite grasp what we were after.  Again, I felt the surge of impatience.  We’d never see a deer like this, much less shoot one.  But I pushed those feelings down, keeping in mind that this wasn’t my hunt.  This was Nolan’s hunt, and if he wanted to spend it this way, then that’s what we’d do.  My job was to do the best I could with what we had to work with and show them a great time.

Besides the coughing, everything was pretty good for about two hours.  Then the cold started to get to the youngster.   To his credit, he maintained as well as he could, but he couldn’t take anymore.  With tears in his little eyes, he turned to his dad.  “I’m cold,” he whimpered.  “Can we go back to buck camp?” 

We picked up and headed back to the truck.  The walk helped to warm him up, and by the time I got the diesel running and the heat coming through, he was pretty happy again.  “What do you want to do,” I asked Nolan.  “We could take a little hike.”

“No,” he said.  “Maybe we should just drive around a bit.” 

I rolled down the hill, and poked along the ranch roads.  One of the cowboys who’d been out rounding up stray cattle had mentioned seeing a “nice buck” on a particular ridge, so I figured it would be worth driving out to see what was around.  Besides, we hadn’t really spent any time hunting that side of the ranch yet. 

As the hill came into sight, I mentioned what the cowboy had told us.  The words had no more left my mouth than I spotted movement at the base of the hill.  Deer!  I hit the brakes and grabbed the binos.  Sure enough, a doe was coming off the hill into the sage flats.  As we watched, we spotted two yearlings with her.  They trotted out into the open, and then stopped to look back.  “There’s got to be a buck in the trees,” I hissed.  “Get ready!”

A moment later, a three-point buck came bounding out of the trees, hot on the trail of the doe and yearlings.  Only a few days earlier, we were seeing bachelor groups, but this was a definite sign that the rut was coming on.  I turned to ask Nolan if he’d like to take this buck, but he was already out of the truck with his rifle.  I climbed up on the side of the truck to glass.

The buck was moving too fast for a shot, so I bleated at him.  It didn’t seem to have an effect, so I let out another loud bleat.   I didn’t account for how long it would take the sound to reach him, but he suddenly slammed on the brakes and looked toward us.  He stood broadside, like a target.  I ranged him at 430 yards, but with the open ground all around him and after having seen some of Nolan’s shooting on some coyotes earlier, I decided to give the green light. 

It seemed to take forever for the shot, and I actually thought Nolan was having second thoughts about the range.  Suddenly, the 7mm Mag roared and the buck jumped, kicked, and took off on what we thought was a death run.  He went about fifty yards in a half-circle, then tipped over under a patch of bitterbrush.  I saw blood on both sides as he ran, and it looked good, but I decided to wait a few minutes before going down to collect him.

Just as Nolan started down, the buck got his feet and trotted a few more yards before collapsing into the sage.  I told Nolan to go ahead, and be ready in case it jumped up again.  After the experience with Tom’s deer, I didn’t want to take any chances with this one.   Finding and collecting the buck in the high sage brush was a bit of a challenge, but finally Nolan called out over the radio, “I need packers and skinners down here!” 

I drove the truck down into the flat, bouncing over lava rocks along the way.  Tommy, bouncing around the back seat was giggling like crazy at each hop.  He’d come a long way since his tears and frozen feet earlier in the morning. 

On arrival, there were high fives all around.  Nolan had accomplished his ultimate goal for the week… he’d taken his buck with his son along to witness the event.  The buck, a 17-inch 3×3 wasn’t what many mule deer hunters would consider a trophy, but there was no question from the smiles on both of those faces that this was a memory that would last a very, very long time.

The final hunt is coming up.  Hope you’ve enjoyed so far, as I sure had a great time hunting with all of these guys.  I also know these write-ups are a little long, but I hope that the background I include provides more than “just another hunting story”.

Related Articles:

• Coon Camp Springs Mule Deer Hunts – Part 3
• Time to pay for all the play – Off to Coon Camp Springs!
• Coon Camp Springs Mule Deer Hunts – Part 1
• Outta here!
• False starts?
• CA Mule Deer Hunt Opportunity
• Hog Hunting on Military Bases in CA – Fort Hunter Liggett
• Weekend Updates – Hard work, high temps, good times
• Lead Ban Chronicles – A Different Perspective
• Tejon Ranch Hunt Wrap-up

Well, if I’m not back yet, I will be this weekend. 

What did you figure for the last question?  Did you check out the DFG site, or did you already know the answer?

The bullets that are not permitted for big game hunting in the CA Condor Zone are the Extreme Shock and the Ballistic Silvertip. 

“But wait,” you say!  “The Extreme Shock is a lead-free bullet!  Doesn’t that make it legal?”

Nope.  For two reasons.  First of all, if you checked the DFG list, you saw that Extreme Shock is not listed.  That means that, no matter what it’s made of, it’s not legal in CA. 

The second reason is that Extreme Shock is a frangible round.  Frangibles are not legal for big game hunting in CA, regardless of whether you’re hunting in the Condor Zone.  I’ve used these things in Texas, and they work fairly well, although I prefer something that doesn’t mush the meat so bad.  They are legal for varmints and predators, however, and would be a great choice on coyotes…especially if you’re shooting near human habitation.

Here’s the last question in our little quiz.  It’s an easy one, and I’ll answer this one when I get home.

True or False:  I pour my own muzzleloader bullets, so I’m not required to use lead-free ammo.

Related Articles:

• Lead Ban Quiz #5
• Lead Ban Quiz #3
• Lead Ban Chronicles – Lead Ammo Back On CA Fish and Game Commission Agenda
• Lead Ban Chronicles – Peregrine Fund Lead Ammo Conference
• Lead Ban Quiz #4
• Weekend Updates – Hard work, high temps, good times
• Lead Ban Chronicles – CA Lead Ammo Ban Updates from Fish and Game Commission
• Lead Ban Chronicles – Not just sportsmen after all?
• Lead Ban Chronicles – News Around the Country
• Lead Ban Chronicles – New Report on Lead Exposure from Venison

Well, I’m back.

It was an eventful couple of weeks at Coon Camp Springs… too eventful, in fact, for me to simply summarize the hunts in a single post.  Instead, I’ve decided to write up each hunt separately (although there’s a great connection between the first two).  Here’s the first part, then… hope you enjoy it!

The huge mule deer stood broadside… not 40 yards from where I crouched with my hunters, glassing the thick brush.   “I can’t see his head,” said Tom Henry, the senior of the father-and-son team.  “Is it a buck?”

His son, Nolan, whispered back.  “It’s huge, that has to be a buck’s body.”

“Does anybody see horns,” I asked? 

It seemed like we were standing there for several minutes before I was able to spot antler tines protruding well above the juniper branches that obscured the deer’s head.  Once I saw that, I was able to piece together the rest of the rack and head.  I had been looking too low… this sucker was big!  It was definitely what we were looking for. 

“It’s a really good buck,” I hissed. “Kill it!”

“Did he say it was a buck,” queried Tom?

“It’s a buck,” answered his son.  “He said, ‘kill it.’” 

“What,” said Tom?

“SHOOT IT!”

At the crack of Tom’s .270, the buck hopped and kicked out his back feet, then tore out through the brush.  His right leg was flopping.  To all appearances, it looked like a textbook shoulder/heart shot.  I breathed a sigh of relief, and started out to follow what I expected would be a really short blood trail to a really dead deer. 

The last time the elder Henry killed a buck with his son was almost 35 years ago, when Nolan was a youngster of around six.  They’d hunted together since then, but it seemed that Tom was destined to go home empty-handed every time he joined Nolan in the field.  This year he’d bought two of our PLM tags at Coon Camp Springs as a birthday gift for his son, both as an opportunity to spend that time together, but also as a chance to break that long, unsuccessful streak. 

This was the first full day of hunting with these guys, after spending the previous evening checking the zero on their rifles, touring the property, and scaring the coyote population with a few long shots.  Since we had a little daylight left, we even sat and glassed for a while before heading back to camp for a big dinner of wild boar sausage with apples and wild rice. 

At first light, we were back on that rock. Shortly after we settled in, I spotted some does off in the distance.  They were way off the property, but we watched them as they slowly worked their way toward our fenceline.  There were about eight or nine deer in the field, but no bucks that we could see (they were over 1000 yards away).  Suddenly, Nolan hissed, “deer!” 

I looked toward where he was pointing and saw the big bodies of two bucks on the ridge.  Through the Leicas, I was able to immediately make out a thick, wide, four-point rack on the lead animal.  The deer directly behind him was also a good buck, although his four-point antlers were a good bit thinner.  As the deer moved behind some brush, I spotted a third buck, not as impressive but decent.  The bucks obviously had an agenda to be someplace else, as they walked steadily across the hillside.  Nolan whispered back up to me, “I think I can take that front deer!”

I hit the rangefinder button and ranged the buck at 572 yards.  “Hold off,” I told him.  “He’s too far for a good shot.” 

Nolan chafed, but held his fire as the deer moved steadily along the sidehill trail.  “Come on,” I whispered.  “We might be able to close the gap if we go down this line of junipers.”

We slipped around, using the cover of the rock, and then the junipers to get closer to the ridge.  Unfortunately, by the time we got there, the bucks had reached the thick cover.  Since it was the first day, and the deer were unaware of us, I opted not to try to push into the thicket.  I’ve tried to stalk through that stuff before, and it’s almost impossible to be quiet.  If we pushed those deer out of the safety of their bedding area, I was pretty sure they’d just relocate across the fence onto our neighbor’s property.  If we left them alone, odds were good that they’d stay around and we’d get another shot at them later in the week.  Nolan and Tom agreed with my reasoning, so we decided to go back to camp, have a little lunch and then head over to another area that I knew usually held a buck or two. 

Nolan was eager, and we didn’t sit around the table for long before we loaded up and headed down the trail.  The mid-morning was warming up, and with the moon closing on full, I wasn’t really hopeful to see any deer on this little jaunt, but it was better than sitting around the cabin.  You can’t kill deer sitting by the fire.  Besides, a lot of great deer are taken when most hunters are napping the mid-day hours. 

As we moved down the logging road, I felt the wind shifting.  A look to the western sky showed clouds growing pretty fast, and the wind picked up rapidly.  My original plan had been to still-hunt about a mile and a half to the fenceline and then make a long loop back to the truck, but the rising wind and gathering clouds suggested a change in plans, especially since we hadn’t even packed lights or rain gear. 

With the wind practically roaring, and a definite feeling of rain or snow in the air, I decided to cut the “walk” short and head into a spot I call “Holly Springs.”  I know that there are good bedding areas there, and I usually see a couple of good bucks here every season.  The tracks around the road testified to the fact that there was something pretty big running around.  Usually, though, the area is too thick to try to stalk through, even hunting solo.  With two hunters in tow, I’d never even try to walk through this spot under normal conditions.  But with the wind making so much noise and blowing the perfect direction, I felt confident that we could work the area… as long as we took it slow and easy. 

Before we entered the thick stuff, I told Tom and Nolan to chamber a round and be ready.  Nolan declined and nodded to Tom.  “I trust you,” he said.  “You go first.”

I put Tom slightly ahead of me, and we started into the junipers and mahogany.  I think Tom thought we were just gonna cruise through to the truck, and I had to slow him down a little.  “We’re going to be right on top of them,” I warned.  “We need to go real slow.”

We hadn’t gone fifty yards into the woods when we encountered the buck, Tom’s shot, and the subsequent tracking job.  As I mentioned, I was confident that we were trailing a dead deer.  The shot had been so close, and the deer’s reaction was textbook.  The deer slipped over a rock wall, and I was sure we’d find him down in the tangled brush. 

But we didn’t.  What we found was a slight blood trail… very slight.

Tom was shooting a .270 Winchester, loaded with 130gr Core-Lokt ammo.  With a chest shot (which is what I thought we were seeing) there should be blood splashed all over the landscape.  The fact that we were only seeing drips and splotches made me a little nervous.  But I’ve seen weak blood trails on well-hit deer before, so my confidence didn’t wane too much.  We followed, but the blood got more and more sparse. 

Finally, about 200 yards from the shot, as we stood over a tiny blood droplet, I glassed the nearby trees and spotted the white face of the buck looking back at us from under a juniper.  He was only about 65 yards away at that point.  At first I thought his head was up, but then saw that the thick antlers appeared to be tangled in the branches.  Nevertheless, I told the hunters to be ready, and move up slowly while I moved around to the side for a closer look.  It was looking good, and I was happy for it to end this way… less than fifty yards from the road. 

You probably already know what happened next.  The buck wasn’t dead.   Nolan started to take a shot from head on, but before he did I made the mistake of asking Tom if he was going to mount this deer.  If he was, a shot in the forehead with Nolan’s 7mm Magnum would have been hard for a taxidermist to repair.  This made Nolan hesitate, and the deer lurched to his feet.  Before Nolan could recover, the buck was off on a dead run.  Even with only three legs, these deer can move! 

The escape told me two things.  One, the deer was definitely not hit in the chest… or anywhere else vital, for that matter.  The second thing was that we were in for one heck of a trailing job.

The blood-trailing job we did on this buck was worthy of the books, but since I’m not writing a book, suffice it to say that it was a real nightmare.  It was also a true team-effort, since every time one of us would lose the trail, we’d mark the last spot and the others would spread out until someone else picked it up.  We trailed through bunchgrass meadows, juniper thickets, and over a wide, lava bed.  For the most part, blood sign was limited to spots the size of a pencil eraser. 

When we finally came up on the buck again, watching his backtrail from beneath a juniper, Nolan didn’t hesitate again.  Before I was even fully aware of what he was doing, the 7mm roared and the buck slumped from his hiding spot.  There was much rejoicing.

It turns out that Tom had somehow pulled his shot badly, and his bullet went through the “elbow” of the buck’s offside leg.  It was a crippling hit, but very likely would not have been fatal in itself.  Had we not found him though, the buck would most likely have died at the teeth and claws of coyotes within a few days.  I was thankful that we found him, and especially grateful that this father and son are true hunters with a strong sense of ethics.  They stuck with a blood trail that many people would have abandoned long before.    Kudos to the both of them!

Tom’s buck was a classic 4-by-4 with a 23 1/2″ spread.  Completely dressed and caped, the carcass weighed 148 lbs on the butcher’s hook, and I’m pretty sure it was close to 250 lbs live.  That’s one buck tag filled.  The weather moved in the following day, and deer movement seemed to shut down.  At the end of the day, Tom had to get back to the city for work, so he and Nolan packed up and headed out.  Nolan said he’d be back as soon as he could to see if we could fill his tag.

Stick around.  Nolan’s story is coming next and it really makes for one of the most rewarding hunts I’ve ever been involved with.

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NO! 

(Did I scare ya, yelling and all?)

I may not use lead ammo in that .44, even if I am bowhunting. 

Think about it, a law enforcement officer isn’t going to know if you’re “secretly” planning to  drop the bow and hunt with the pistol instead.  And regardless of intent, the law is designed to keep folks from leaving lead-laced carcasses in the field.  Even if you finish a hog with the pistol, or kill one in defense, the end result is still the same. 

So, if you’re hunting big game or non-game, leave the lead at home.

So now, here’s an open book question (use the DFG website):

Which of the following are NOT approved for big game hunting in the CA Condor Zone (pick all that apply).

A.)  Nosler eTip

B.)  Extreme Shock

C.)  Barnes TSX

D.)  Hornady GMX

E.) Nosler Ballistic Silvertip

F.)  Lapua Naturalis

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How’d you do on that last one?  You had the whole weekend to think it over.  Or did you go out and get all sugared up on Halloween candy and forget all about it?

OK, so that one shouldn’t have been too hard.  Answer?  The law states that you may not possess lead ammo and the firearm to shoot it while hunting big game or nongame in the CA Condor Zone.  Since I was hunting with the 30-06, then the lead shotshells are not illegal for me to possess.  I would be perfectly legal.

This comes with a caveat, however.  It is possible that a game warden does not completely understand this law, and may decide to cite me anyway.  What do I do? 

What I don’t do is get all heated up with the warden.  Remember, their job is not to be the judge, but simply to act on their best understanding of the evidence and the perceived violation.  Arguing with them only makes things worse.

Instead, I wait and take it to court.  There is where the judge will review the law and the evidence. 

So, new question.

I’m bowhunting pigs, and want to carry my .44mag as backup.  Do I have to have lead-free ammo in the .44?

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Nothing here about hunting, I’m afraid… I’m still out at Coon Camp Springs, wrapping up the first two clients of the season.  By now, I sure hope we’ve got two big mule deer sent off to the taxidermist, as there’s a full moon rising and the next hunter will arrive tomorrow.  Anyway, hope this tides you all over… one more week before I’m home.  Enjoy!

Halloween was such a blast when I was a kid.  Between trick-or-treating, hay rides, and haunted houses, it was a pretty magical time to be a youngster.  Even into my teens, while there were more tricks than treats, it was still a lot of fun.  We tried to keep it harmless, of course, but we did get wild from time to time.

One of the big events in my little hometown was the annual, Halloween egg war. 

I spent most of my teen years in a little fishing and farming village in southeastern, NC.  The local high school I attended served not only our little community, but also the nearby beach towns of Surf City and Topsail.  I don’t know when this all started, but somewhere along the line the tradition of an annual egg war between the communities was born. 

Again, I’m not sure how it all began, but what I remember is that the beach kids would come riding into town, loaded with eggs, and begin the bombardment.  Tradition held that we’d be waiting in ambush, hiding along the highway or even on the roofs of the local businesses.  I don’t remember the exact layout now, but there were only about eight or nine businesses  in our little town… most of them lining Highway 17.  On the southbound side, the first building coming into town was the fish packing house.  Next door was the auto parts place, a shop, and the IGA grocery.  Across the street were a couple of other buildings and private residences…  it formed the gauntlet.  As soon as the “enemy” rolled into town, the eggs went airborne in a messy, exciting barrage. 

The battles often left the main drag, as we’d load into the vehicles and go “Mad Max”, with running egg fights down the highway or into the side roads.  The combatants generally kept the melee between us, but I know that innocent bystanders were occasionally caught in the crossfire… collateral damage, as it were. 

And, of course, the whole thing was done with one eye out for the local deputies.  Anyone who was caught (and someone was always caught) spent the next several weekends cleaning up the neighborhood. 

Eventually, the whole thing got a little too out of hand.  There were a couple of injuries.  One that stands out was a crazy friend of ours who decided he could leap from the fish house to the auto parts store… across a two-lane street.  He didn’t make it.  After he got out of the hospital, he was often seen using his one, good arm to wipe dried egg yolks off of the windows and walls of the IGA. 

Beyond that, some folks decided they couldn’t wait for the “enemy” to show up from the beach, and just started egging every vehicle that drove through town.  That didn’t go over well, as you might imagine.  By the time I was a senior in high school, the IGA and local convenience stores stopped selling eggs to minors for a couple of days leading up to Halloween.  The Sherriff’s Department and Highway Patrol stepped up their presence as well, and made the penalties tougher.  The fun finally went out of it, and the tradition died in a couple of years. 

What sorts of things did you guys and gals get into on Halloween?

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Well hey, whattaya know?  Here we are again, and I’m still out here at Coon Camp Springs.  If all’s gone well, I’m relaxing around camp after my first two clients have tagged out.  If not, I’m cranking this one right down to the wire, as we’ve got one day left to hunt and that danged old moon is getting awful big!

So anyway, how’d you make out on Lead Ban Quiz #2?  It was a little trickier, and maybe I’m splitting hairs here.  The statement was false.  For hunting big game and non game in the CA Condor Zone, you must use bullets containing not more than 1% lead.  The ammo itself is still not lead free, because there are lead stabilizing components in the primer.  At this time, there is no 100% lead-free ammo for big game hunters… at least none that I’m aware of in the U.S.  True “green” ammo is being developed and tested by various agencies, and there are a small handful of options available to target shooters and law-enforcement. 

OK, enough of that.  Here’s one that isn’t quite so tricky:

If I’m down in the CA Condor Zone, hunting hogs with my 30-06, and a game warden happens to stop me and find some lead shotshells in my truck, am I in trouble?

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Well, thanks if you’re still around!  Here’s the answer to Lead Ammo Quiz #1:

In California’s “Condor Zone”, lead ammo is banned for hunting big game and nongame animals.  Upland and small game are not included.  So from the list of answers, you should have chosen the following:

• Blacktail Deer
• Ground Squirrels
• Wild Boar
• Coyotes
• Tule Elk

Quail and tree squirrels are excluded from the list, because quail are upland birds, and tree squirrels are small game animals.  Likewise, you can still use lead ammo for cottontails, turkeys, pheasants, and doves. 

So, did you get it right?

Now, here’s a True/False question. 

To be used in the California Condor Zone, ammunition must be completely lead free.

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I’ve been kind of sweating about what to do for content this year while I’m up at Coon Camp Springs.  I figured there are a couple of topics that really don’t have to be all that timely, but that’s not much.

And then it hit me… I’ll quiz your knowledge of the lead ban rules.  Each post will ask a question about the lead ban or lead ammo.  Every question will have a right or wrong answer, and that answer will be provided in the following post.  I’m sure I can come up with some kind of prize for anyone who answers the most questions correctly.

So, with that in mind, here’s the first question…

Within the “condor zone”, non-lead ammo must be used for which of the following species?

• Blacktail Deer
• Quail
• Ground Squirrels
• Tree Squirrels
• Wild Boar
• Coyotes
• Tule Elk

 

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