Back from the Hunt - Hunt #1 Recap
Well, I’m back.
Here’s Part 1 of the Coon Camp Springs deer hunts! Part 2 is coming right up.
After a great inaugural year in 2007, the Coon Camp Springs PLM hunting program got underway in August as our Antelope tag holder set off on his self-guided hunt. Despite spotting a buck early in the week, the hunter was unable to close the distance on that one. The rest of the week was a fruitless search for another buck. With so much water still available across the highway in Grasshopper Valley (unusual for August), the speed goats just weren’t interested in the springs and ponds we had restored over on our place.
That’s the bad news.
The good news begins with the first of two weeks of fully-guided mule deer hunts, 11/02-11/09 and 11/09-11/16. I would be guiding two hunters each week. Armed with pre-season sightings and scouting reports from Coon Camp Springs President, Dave Allen and the foresters working on an adjacent property, I was able to spend the week prior to the first hunt scouring the property for sign of activity, trails, and actual deer.
I located one good buck right away. After watching a large group of does and young deer on a corner of the property, I rounded the end of a ridge and practically walked right into a good 4×4 buck. A quick, rough estimation suggested the deer would be in the 22-24” range… pretty good for a CA muley. 
The deer seemed only slightly fazed by my appearance, and jogged off to a distance of 154 yards where it stopped and stared back for quite a while… long enough, in fact, for me to unpack a camera and snap a couple of photos. The next day, while working from horseback, I spotted the buck again in the same general area. This was definitely a spot to watch when the hunters arrived.
The area in which the buck had been feeding was also being heavily used by a group of about eight does and a couple of yearlings. It’s a south-facing corner of the property that is covered in bitterbrush, with good cover on the surrounding ridges. This spot has consistently held deer, and the forage and cover seem to be doing particularly well since the removal of the juniper from much of the surrounding hillsides and flats has allowed the native plants to get more of the precious water during the dry, summer season. There’s been a resurgence in the number of cottontail rabbits and quail in this area as well… welcome sights on a ranch that has so much potential to become a real haven for wildlife.
By the end of the week, I’d identified several areas that showed promising signs of activity and feeding. There was, as yet, no sign of the rut. My biggest worry at that point was that we may have actually missed it this year. Regardless of that concern, the amount of tracks, scat, and deer I saw over the course of the week left me feeling really positive about the coming hunts. That confidence was bolstered on Sunday morning, a few hours before our first hunter, Bruce Einck, arrived from Red Bluff.
I was on an early-morning ride on Dolly, checking the area below an area I call Holly Springs. Dolly had been pent up for a day prior, due to the really nasty weather that had set in, so she was full of energy and kind of fighting the reins. We rounded a bend in the road and she snorted and tugged hard. Immediately afterward, I heard the crash of brush, then the familiar thud of mule deer stotting down the road. Before we reached the spot where the deer had been standing, I hit the first tracks in the wet road. My first thought was that this had to be a stray calf, left behind when the cattleman moved his animals off to winter pasture. But when we hit the place where the deer had exploded into flight, there was no mistaking the splayed track of an extremely large mule deer.
I followed the trail where it ran several hundred yards right down the road before veering off into a thick area of juniper and mountain mahogany. I decided not to go in there and risk pushing the animal anymore, so we stuck to the road. Shortly afterward, I saw an area of high activity that included tracks of all sizes. That buck was probably shadowing a group of does, waiting for the first whiff of estrus to perfume the high desert air.
I made my way back to camp, and helped Dave (Allen) get the place ready for Bruce’s arrival. Bruce would be hunting this week with his friend, Dale Delphia, but due to a scheduling conflict, Dale wouldn’t be arriving until Tuesday. Due to some physical issues, Dale would need to hunt close to a vehicle, so a good part of my scouting had been an effort to locate places where the vehicle could be parked and still provide a good shot opportunity. I knew that front corner, where I’d spotted the 4×4 would be the best bet. I had a couple of other places in mind as well.
When Bruce arrived, after greetings and some initial paperwork and rifle sighting, I took him out on a tour of the property. The plan was to help him learn the roads and landmarks, because he and Dale would be riding together in Bruce’s Jeep. Since the jeep only seats two people, that meant I’d be unable to travel with them. I could show them where to go, and be ready to help in the event that they got a deer down. I asked what else I could do to help, and Bruce replied, “well, you can give us about two inches of good tracking snow.”
I told him I’d see what I could do. In the meantime, I really wanted to show him that corner where I’d been seeing that buck, because I believed that would be the best place to get Dale on a deer, so I took him up on the opposite ridge where he could look down at the whole area. We decided to walk the ridge a little, to introduce him to the terrain. I told him he may as well carry his rifle, as who knows what we might encounter on our walk. As we rounded a hook in the ridge, he froze. “Deer!” he hissed. “Bucks!”
First day, the hunt not even officially started, and here we were looking at buck deer! Would the hunt end before it really began? I couldn’t quite see them from where I was standing, so I inched up. Bruce hadn’t taken his rifle off his shoulder yet, so I had a feeling these were not in the 28-30 inch class he’d told me he was hoping for. Sure enough, it was a pair of forked horns… one of which was fairly respectable with decent eye guards and a good-sized body. We watched them for a moment until they finally got uneasy and jogged up the hill and away. Not what we were looking for, size-wise, but a great way to start the week!
Monday morning, I was eager to get Bruce on the trail of that monster I’d bumped the previous day. I figured it was a good chance that the deer was still in the area, especially with all the other sign I’d found. The weather, which had been spitting rain since Thursday, turned colder, and as we set out from the truck, it turned to snow. It was still too warm for it to stick to the ground, but moving through the flurries really added an element of excitement to the morning hunt.
It was almost a very short hunt. I let Bruce walk out front, because I had a feeling we might get on deer quickly… but I had no idea how quickly. Not more than 200 yards from the truck, he stopped still. “A big animal just crossed that clearing,” he whispered. “Do you have bears on the property?”
I assured him that, while we do get an occasional transient bear, odds were that’s not what he saw. We started to move forward again, then stopped short as we could see the white rump of a deer protruding from a tangle of brush. After a moment, I could make out the big, blocky body of a good-sized deer. From my position, I couldn’t see the deer’s head, but could make out the white and black ring of its nose pointing directly at me. Bruce stepped up to a tree and glassed.
“It’s a buck,” he said, and then a moment later, “it’s a pretty good buck!”
I stayed frozen, as the deer was still looking at me, apparently not noticing Bruce. From the corner of my eye, I saw Bruce slip his rifle off of his shoulder and mount it against the tree. My heart jumped. Was this my monster? I kept the glasses trained on the grey body in the woods, only 103 yards away, while out of the corner of my eye I kept watching Bruce and anticipating the report of his .270. My heart sank again as he lowered the rifle.
I looked at him and mouthed the words, “Too small?”
He shook his head. “Can’t see it well enough. It’s a 4×4, but I can’t tell how wide.”
He crept forward slowly about 20 yards, then laid down across a stump. The deer finally seemed to notice him, and turned its head. I watched Bruce line up the scope again, and this time saw his finger slip the safety on the old Browning. I could practically hear a drum roll in my chest as I waited for the crack of a 130 grain bullet breaking the sound barrier that should come at any moment. My feet wanted to break into a dance, but I held them still, waiting for the shot.
It didn’t come. After several tense moments, Bruce leaned back, put the rifle on safe, and got to his feet. The buck had had enough, and bounded up the hill to sanctuary. As it left the cover, I could see the antlers at last. It was, I thought, a really nice buck… probably 20-22 inches wide, but really tall and dark. A lot of hunters wouldn’t have thought twice about taking that deer, but Bruce has his goals and I respected the restraint. That had to be a hard choice.
Just as we’d reached the edge of the thick stuff, we stopped again to watch two young forkies browsing their way into the mahogany thicket. There was no question of shooting these two, so we just stood and waited for them to clear out before moving on.
We made it back to camp a little before noon, and began the story-telling. Bruce was pretty excited. “Every deer I’ve seen has been a buck!” he exclaimed.
Monday evening we headed out for a hunt through the thicker timber, as the light snowfall was quickly becoming a real winter storm. With the roaring wind and blinding snow, I was pretty sure the only place we’d be able to find deer would be in their beds. Unfortunately, the weather was too rough and the thickets too thick. While we did bump a small group of deer, all we ever saw was tracks. I knew they’d be headed for the fenceline, and a thick growth of juniper and mahogany, so it was a fairly hopeless chase. Even so, with the snow starting to accumulate, we were feeling really positive about the prospects of Tuesday’s hunt. I turned to Bruce as we walked through the early darkness back to camp. “Well,” I said, “here’s your two inches of snow!”
Tuesday dawned cold but clear, and I was sure we’d be able to catch the deer as they came out of their storm beds to feed and warm up. We hunted the ridgeline where we’d bumped the big forkie on Sunday, but with the exception of one fresh trail leading into the thickets to bed, there was nothing to be seen. After working that area and a couple of adjacent ridges without any luck, we headed back to the jeep so I could show Bruce the rest of the roads and possible places for him to hunt with Dale.
The clear morning belied a second round of snow and sleet that set in as we returned to camp to wait for Dale’s arrival. Dale had opted to stay in Susanville, and drive out to hunt each day, so he called us from the motel to let us know he was on the way.
Dale pulled in around 2:30pm, and after chatting for a while we decided that he and Bruce should head out to that front corner and watch the bitterbrush patches in hopes that the 4×4 or another buck would come out to feed after the storm. The plan was that they’d hunt there until dark, then Dale would return to Susanville and Bruce would come on back to camp. I rode out on Dolly to check for fresh sign while they hunted.
Darkness came, and Dave and I sat in camp wondering where Bruce was. We figured he and Dale were just chatting for a while, so we didn’t really worry too much about it. Dave went to his camper to do something, and while he was gone I saw jeep headlights bouncing up the road at a pretty good clip. Dale swung into camp and bailed out of his jeep. “I need your help to get this deer,” he told me.
“Did Dale get one of those forkies?” I asked.
“No, I shot a 4×4. It may be the biggest one I’ve killed so far!”
I thought he was pulling my leg, but the blood on his hands and the shine in his eye told me he wasn’t messing around. Dave came in as I was pulling on my boots. “We’ll be right back,” I told him. “Gotta go get this deer!”
As we drove out, Bruce told me that Dale had decided to pack it in and head home, since he wasn’t really feeling well. “He just loves to get out and see some great deer country,” he said.
“I’m heading home in the morning too,” he continued. “I promised my wife I’d come home as soon as I killed my deer.”
I was shocked. Two days into the hunt, we were done?
We found Bruce’s deer, and it was indeed a fine muley buck. It didn’t quite go the 28” he was hoping for, but at 26.5”, it was still a really nice, mature deer… one most CA hunters would be proud to hang on their wall.
Next up, our second hunt! I’d need to get out and find two more bucks!
Great read and that is a fine muley buck. How many more hunts do you have lined up for this fall? Can’t wait to read about the next one!
November 19th, 2008 at 7:45 am
Thanks, Gabe!
We had two hunts (four hunters). The second one is chronicled in the next blog post (Coon Camp Springs - Hunt 2 recap).
It was a pretty good season this year.
November 19th, 2008 at 7:59 am
Man, you had some really good luck with all of your hunters… Just a few days to put them all on deer. Way to go!
November 24th, 2008 at 6:14 am