HD55

I finally got around to writing the story of my first hunt ever! Hope you enjoy. The Miller Chill Javelina Prologue: This is a tale of the beginning and where it all started for me. It still amazes me to this day that youngsters everywhere, are asked regularly to make decisions that shape the rest of their lives. We go from the trivial questions of the high school age, where for most, our biggest decisions were who we should date, what extracurricular activities we should be involved with or what we should have for lunch. And upon graduation are immediately thrust into making pivotal decision such as deciding to go straight into the workforce or go to college, move away or stay close to home and these are all things that can really alter the course of one’s life path. My decision was to go to college and to take the middle ground of not leaving out of state, but giving myself enough distance to explore who I truly was. Therefore, what better city was there to discover myself than in the city in which I was brought to life? So, I enrolled at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, AZ approximately two hours north of where I grew up, on the way to the Grand Canyon, and the city in which I was born. Amongst my many reasons for selecting NAU, were that it is the alma mater of my parents as well as other members of my family, the campus, city and surrounding area are gorgeous, and giving me enough distance to explore while still being in relative close proximity to my family. Flagstaff has always been near and dear to my heart. However, little did I know, in the end these reasons would all pale in comparison to the two main reasons I now look back and deem this one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life. Those two reasons which truly shaped my life, are that it is where I met my wife, and I had the opportunity to establish a relationship with my cousin / best man / the man who introduced me to archery and the hunting way of life. That being said, my first toe dip into hunting was not in the form of an archery hunt; but rather, a rifle Javelina hunt. This hunting experience has all the makings of a great story and fortunately for you this tale is chalked full of opportunities to laugh at me/with me. I try not to take myself too seriously but I hope you are at least able to take me a little bit seriously still after you read the tale of the Miller Chill Javelina. The Tale: It was the autumn of 2009 and my cousin called me one day out of the blue and asked me if I was interested in hunting stinky pigs with him. With an offer that enticing how could I have turned him down? I hastily accepted the invite and he proceeded to do all the leg work of setting up this adventure by putting us in the draw and planning the trip. Since this was the first draw cycle I had ever been a part of, the day of the draw arrived seemingly quickly. Unbeknownst to me it would be the last draw cycle that I would ever endure without great and almost at times unbearable anticipation. I drew a February 19A rifle Javelina hunt, a unit in which my cousin grew up hunting as a kid. As I recount my cousin took me out a number of times to shoot his 22-250 to ensure that I wasn’t a completely horrible shot and with no prior experience this was about the extent of my preparations for this hunt. Much like draw day, February rolled around rather quickly and next thing I know the hunt was upon us. I remember my cousin and me flying down Oak Creek Canyon in his lifted truck, driving way too fast, and hours before dawn even considered waking. I recall my cousin being so pumped up and enthusiastic, a joy and excitement that I couldn’t yet identify with. Don’t get me wrong I was grateful he was taking me out, and I was looking forward to camping and quality time spent together. But as for excitement towards the hunt itself, I had no basis for comparison, by which I could truly appreciate the events to come. Flashback to a couple days before we had left for the hunt and I was talking with my cousin about what gear I needed. What items I should acquire and what stuff he had for me to borrow. During the course of this topic amongst the items on the list he asked me if I had a hunting hat. I told him no, to which he quickly replied stating that he had one for me, so that was covered. On our way down the canyon my cousin took one had off the wheel and said “oh hear I almost forgot, here is your hunting hat,” reaching behind my seat he unveiled a Miller Chill branded sombrero! We had a good laugh about this and eventually I said “yeah right!” That’s when my cousin informed me that he was serious and that I had to wear it for this hunt otherwise he wouldn’t take me. So…in good fun…I wore a Miller Chill sombrero, the entire time! For the first leg of the hunt we drove to the high desert below Sedona and set up camp. Our camp set up consisted of a wall tent a couple cots, a table, some camp chairs and a fire, nothing better. After he taught me how to set up the wall tent, my first clue into what this all meant and why he was so excited about was revealed as we installed the stove pipe. In side of the tent next to the chimney pipe outlet hole is red and black writing, chronicling all the hunts the tent had been on, with the format of hunter name, hunt unit, method, animal, and year. Red ink for a successful hunt and black ink for unfilled tag. This was my first glimpse into the meaning, great tradition and memories gained through hunting. I immediately felt honored, one that my cousin wanted to make those memories with me and two that I had the opportunity to make my mark on the wall of fame. The next morning we woke before the sun and set out to get to a vantage point high above the desert floor, a spot that my cousin has used many times before to spot pigs. As the sun rose we sat patiently glassing for Javelina. As I remember I was full questions. What does a pig look like from this distance? Black dot? Easy to spot? Should I be looking high on the mountains? Down in the valleys? Where should I concentrate my looking? I recall erratically moving my binoculars from spot to spot in hopes spot a Javelina at random. I remember thinking I would be able to pick one out in my field of view quickly like “oh there are some pigs.” Little did I know the painstaking process this truly is, requiring focus, thorough attention to detail, and patience. We continued glassing for quite some time until changing locations to another spot where we diligently scoured again with no pigs spotted. I could tell my cousin was surprised that we did not find any pigs, and laughed to myself thinking well it might help if more than just one of us knew what we were doing. We went the rest of the day checking a few other areas, but turned up nothing, yet it was still a joy just being in the outdoors with my cousin. With the arrival of day two of my hunt, my cousin got a call from a dear friend of his, who knew we were in search of some of Javelina and lived near the segment of the unit we were hunting. He told us to come pick him up and said that he knew where a bunch of pigs hang out. The confidence with which he spoke ensured us that this herd was a sure thing and so we drove to the nearest town and picked him up. During a discussion on which of his spots we wanted him to guide us too, my cousins friend asked me a question, that to this day is still good for a laugh, he looked me dead in the eyes and said “well young man, do you want a sure thing? Or do you want to sting this hunt along?” I hesitated with my answer, as I tried to figure out for what profound reason he would ask me such a question, and eventually replied “let’s go with the sure thing.” Now here is the reason I laugh…we ended up trying out both of his spots, the “sure thing” and the “not so sure thing” and again turned up nothing. Despite his assurance enroute to both locations, that all the conditions were just right and the areas were prime for putting a Javelina to rest. The areas didn’t live up to the hype, but boy did we had a great time hunting them. With one day left to hunt, my cousin called up another friend who owns and lives on a piece of land in another area of our unit and asked him if he had seen any pigs on his property as of lately. The man couldn’t recollect seeing any recently, but ensured us that they were there if you looked for them and invited us up to his property and also offered us use of his ranger. We packed up camp and headed out. We arrived and briefly chatted before he sent us on our way in his side by side. We drove to the highest point on his property and set up to glass. Using my cousins 15x56 kibab swarovskis binoculars my cousin spotted pigs, tiny black dots moving in a group, almost instantly though they were approximately 1.5 miles away. Excitedly we jumped into the ranger and took the shortest distance between two points. I remember yelling “hey I would like to live long enough to harvest a pig!” as we flew down the mountain, at times making our own road. Once again probably going way too fast, stopping only once long enough for me to jump out and grab my sombrero, which had flew off from in our haste to get to the Javelina. Before I knew it we arrived at what seemed about a half a mile away and began hiking to where we last saw them. Moving at a rapid pace up and down over a few hills and before long we were on them. We watched them feed briefly and my cousin set me up for a shot. At this point we were a little over 200 yards away. Once I was all set up and my cousin got the camera in focus he asked if I was good, and I asked if we could get a little closer since it didn’t seem like they were aware of our presence. So we suck up to about 150 and decided that was a good point to shoot from as they were feeding directly across and away from us. Once again I situated and my cousin steadied the camera zoomed in and ready. I settled in the crosshairs on one towards the back of the herd as my cousin was discussing which one I should shoot. He began to tell me how the one in front was the biggest and I should shoot him before he goes behind…before he could finish I cut him off saying “should I shoot? I have one in the crosshairs?” My cousin didn’t even hesitate, trying to convince me and responded simply saying “go for it!” Before he could ask which one I had settled in on to refocus the camera the crack of the rifle sounded. The herd dispersed running every which way as one pig, clearly wounded ran off into nearby brush. Ecstatic we ran over to the bush and my cousin said “well crawl on in there are claim your kill.” I looked at him unsurely and said “what if he is still alive and runs out, I will need to make a follow up shot,” further justifying this by explaining that it would be difficult to do if I was crawling around in the brush. Thought truly this was only half the reason why I was trying to convince him he should be the one to go in. I’m sure you can deduct the other reason I did not want to be the one crawling around in the brush with a potentially live, wounded and cornered Javelina. With my convincing argument and being the awesome cousin he is, he went in wading hip deep in the thick brush. And sure enough, it wasn’t long until he flushed the pig, startling us both as it ran out from the brush and into another nearby thicket. Happening all too suddenly and all too quick to execute another shot. Though we were almost certain the animal was fatally wounded neither of us were willing to chance another encounter. Luckily this time the ticket was smaller and a little less dense to the point of where I could visibly see the animal as I stood on the outside. My cousin hollers at me, as to whether or not I know where he went. I respond saying “yeah I can see him.” He says “well shoot him!” I say “all I can see is his eye and part of his face...he is looking at me.” My cousin says “well shoot him in the face.” And…well…let’s just say that did the trick. I crawled into the thicket and retrieved the stinky pig. My cousin taught me how to gut my first animal and we had a quick little photo session. I asked how we were going to carry it out and he quickly informed me that “WE” weren’t going to pack anything out, but rather “YOU are going to pack it out yourself” he explained. He helped me throw the Javelina over my shoulders; this was certainly the least pleasant part of the whole ordeal, but necessary. We began our hike back to the ranger. To this day I don’t know if it was just me or if the events that had transpired carried us further away from the ranger, or whether my cousin just decided to take us the long way back, but I swear we must have been 5 miles from the ranger. While packing it out the ranger was always seemingly “just up over this next hill.” Finally we arrived, threw it into the back of the ranger and headed back to the house. When we arrived back at the house we got to tell our story and show off the pig. We chatted a bit and headed back up the mountain on our way home. On the way out of town we stopped at the gas station to refuel the truck and to grab a celebratory drink. As my cousin headed into the store he looked back and asked me what I would like to celebrate with, not being much of a drinker I responded “I don’t know, I’m not really a fan of beer,” which has long since changed. This was apparently a sufficient response as he headed into the store…Shortly thereafter he emerged with the biggest Smirnoff Ice you have ever seen. He thought it was particularly hilarious and I just thought it was rather tasty, though looking back on it now I am embarrassed to admit such. Till this day we laugh about it, and after each harvest he asks me if we should go grab some Smirnoff Ice. When we got home and unpacked the truck, we unfolded the tent and I proudly recorded, in red ink, Benjamin Alonzo, 19A, Rifle Javelina 2009.

Were you able to see the photos?

Thats why my cousin wants to talk to him. My cousin is the one who is married to the lady you saw on the News! MARK F I sent you a PM look in your inbox.

Hey My cousin and his wife are the ones who this car belongs to. His computer was stolen in the burglery, which is why I am messaging you not him, so he needs you to call him immediately to discuss the car...623 910 2974

Late Archery Bull Elk: A Bull Named GASH Friday 11/11/11 was a unique date and the beginning to a very special hunt. In the spring I found myself standing outside of my undergraduate biochemistry class, placing call after call to AZ Game and Fish Draw HOTLINE, after a receiving several texts saying results were out. After who knows how many calls, I found out that I had been drawn for 1 of 25 bull elk tags in the Nov Archery hunt. I was happier than I ever thought I could be. (LITTLE DID I KNOW!!!) Half a year later I found myself trying so hard to focus on studying for the final in my graduate level biochemistry class, because of the opportunity that awaited me on the other side of that test. After I bubbled in the answer to last question on my scantron, I ran down, turned in my test and ran out the door to my car. I packed all the camping gear in my truck and headed up the hill to try and meet my cousin to hunt the evening of opening day. As I got going on the I-17 I was meet with a discouraging roadway sign that read “accident up ahead,” while hopeful that everyone was ok, it was looking even more hopeless that hunting this evening was going to happen. After I passed what appeared to have been a lettuce truck crash with lettuce heads and lettuce boxes strewn about everywhere I received a call from my cousin saying he was glassing a canyon, with a good tank. Approximately 40 minutes, I receive another call from him telling me that he was watching two herds of Elk with several spikes, a two pointer, a two by spike and a three pointer water at that tank. I was excited that he had found elk, and even more importantly bulls, but bummed because I knew there was no way I would make it in time. I arrived in camp that night, after dark. My cousin had to go home and couldn’t hunt the morning with us, but would be back in the afternoon. So my girlfriend and I set up camp with our tent in the only spot not covered in snow, while temperatures continued to plummet and wind speed continued to pick up. In the morning my girlfriend and I climbed a snow-covered mountain, shivering, we anxiously awaited the sun. With the light, we glassed the canyon and hillsides of which were also covered in snow…no elk. Shortly after we decided that we were too high and needed to go to a lower elevation. (I think our decision was partially influenced by the fact that we hadn’t seen any elk and partially because we wanted to get out of the snow). We went to lower elevation and soon found out we were correct, being confirmed by very fresh elk tracks and sign everywhere. We parked the quads and decided to follow the tracks through the dense Pinions and Junipers. As we were getting our gear ready, my girlfriend tapped me on the shoulder and I raised my head, only to meet the eyes of a cow elk walking out from behind a juniper less then 15 yds away. She was just as startled as me and took off, as did the Rag horn behind the tree to the left of her. I made a circle trying to cut them off but figured they were long gone. We then followed the heavy tracks we had originally seen for a few miles before we decided that we would be better off getting up on a hillside to glass this thick area and try and see where they were headed. Once on the hill we found out just how thick this area was, as we didn't see anything. We headed back to camp, where we meet my cousin, we made some lunch and headed out to set up our blind on the tank he had seen the bulls the night before. We set up, brushed in and sprayed down our blind and then left. We came back around 2 pm and sat the tank in the blind until there was no more shooting light the only thing that came in, to water, was a crow. We headed back to camp and made dinner and went to bed. After another freezing night we woke up in the morning to the sound of my cousin, who decided to sleep outside next to the fire, trying to get into the tent because it was raining. Tired, cold and not looking forward to being out in the rain, we broke a cardinal rule of hunting, and slept in through the early morning hunt. When we decided to go out around 10 am it was still raining and rather cold but we packed some lunch and decided to go glass that canyon my cousin had seen elk in on Friday. When we got there we glassed for about 40 minutes before my girlfriend spotted a fox that curled up under a tree in the sun 85 yards away, down in the canyon. So I drew back, let one fling and I missed him by a few inches! He ran away and about 15 minutes later another larger fox came the same way, as the first but did not stop long enough for me to get a shot. I informed my cousin shortly after that the fox was the first animal I have ever shot my bow at. After this we directed our attention back to elk. On a distant hilltop we saw a big metal tank and decided we would check it out and glass the next canyon over. We got to the tank and started glassing the thick canyon and within 5 minutes my eagle-eyed cousin says, “there’s an elk” to which I responded, “is it a bull or a cow?” He tells me he doesn’t know yet because all he can see are its legs. As he begins to orient me as to where this elk is, he suddenly informs me with excitement like I have never heard “dude it’s a big bull!” I responded “seriously?” not because I didn’t believe him, but because I was in disbelief that this could really possibly be my time. I was now looking through my binos exactly where he told me the bull was. I don’t see anything until a couple of large, what I thought were tree branches, move and I realize just how big this guy is. He is a mile away bedded down on the opposite canyon wall, about 20 yards from the top of the ridge and half way in. We set my girlfriend up with the tripod and binos and tell her to keep an eye on him and to not lose him (no pressure haha). Then we take off to the other side of the canyon, to go find the bedded beast. We hike quietly along the top of the plateau of the about 60 yards from the ridge, all the way out to the tip, in order to get good wind. We then start slowly working our way back to him along the ridge, moving about 20 yards at a time, and then peaking over the edge, every so often checking in with my girlfriend to find out the status of our bull. Each time she informs us that he is still laying there. At one point my cousin turns around and tells me that it was the perfect scenario. It was at that point in which I realized I was about to get my first shot at a bull elk. The next time my cousin peaks over the edge he is looking about 20 yards up the canyon until he realizes that the bull is directly below us about 19 yrds from the top of the ridge facing with his rear to us. He retreats back and we whisper/mouth the plan less than 25 yards from the bedded beast. He tells me the next time he puts his head down to close the 5 yard gap between us and the ridge, and when I get there, to shot him between the shoulder blades to the left or right of the spin, due to the direction the bull was facing and the steep downward angle of the shot. I pray to God asking him to steady my hand, and guide my arrow home with good shot placement to make a quick clean kill. The bull turns his head and I being to make my move. I take two silent steps crouched down and he looks back. I freeze and try not to make eye contact with the beast. After several minutes the bull turns his head back forward and I take another step. He looks to the other side but not completely backwards and I crouch down even further as I can no longer hold this standing crouch position and wait for him to look away. Again after what seemed like and eternity he looks away and I take the last step forward and then one to the left, behind a small bush, to use for cover as I draw back. While I begin drawing all 75 lbs the beast looks all the way back as I reach full draw, and I am forced to stand behind the bush at full draw for several minutes. Finally, the bull looks half forward, leaving just one eye on the bush I am behind. My cousin who is still 5 yards back can only see his antlers and is under the impression that the bull is standing and ready to run, so he is whispering at a barely audible level “shoot! shoot him! shoot!” 1000 things are running though my mind, anchor point, take your time, don’t watch your arrow, is this really about to happen, wow he is beautiful, but despite the pressure from behind to shoot and the noisy mind, I still felt calm and decided it was now or never. I stuck my right foot, which was behind me, out like a feeler, searching for the rock I know is in front of me, so that I can lean out from behind the bush. Still at full draw I find the rock and begin to lean out, I keep leaning and leaning and leaning just a little bit further to make sure that I completely clear all the little branches. At this point, I am in one of the most interesting shooting stances my cousin says he has ever seen. I place my 20/30 pin high on his 4th rib imagining the arrow coming out on the opposite shoulder. I don’t even remember pulling the trigger of my release, but the next thing I know, through my peep sight, I watch the the bull leap out of his bed with the momentum of my arrow and rage broadhead. My cousin immediately runs up, in time to see the elk’s only and final bound before he falls into a tree less then 5 yards from where he was bedded. We started going crazy and radioing to my girlfriend, “did you see that!! Did you see that!!” A rush of emotion, excitement and joy overwhelm me, as I cannot believe what just happened. I just killed my first bull elk at 19 yards. We went down and claimed this beautiful 6x6. We also discovered it appeared as though he had been in a fight earlier in the season judging by the gash on his neck (that’s how he got his name). I lay my hands on his rack, with the unreal feeling that he was mine. My girlfriend drives over, finds us, and runs up to me with tremendous excitement. I know that my success is only by the Grace of God, but I also want to give special thanks to my Cousin Ted Babbitt IV, who introduced me to hunting and has guided me in all of my hunts since. I also want to thank my girlfriend Elizabeth Lindahl for keeping an eye on my bull and walking us into him so precisely and also my dad for lending me all his camping gear.

I don't mind sharing the broadheads I used....I should just show you a picture of the exit wound and you should be able to tell. LOL Yeah they are that devastating. I use RAGE two blade broadheads!

Good Ol Chip New rifle in hand and bags all packed I arrived at my cousins house. We threw everything in the truck and hopped in and headed on our way. Little did we know that we were in route to one of the best hunts either one of us could ever imagine. The hunt was the UNIT 21 general Coues Deer in October. We arrived in camp where were met up with my cousins father-in-law. We set up camp and hung out by the fire before hitting the cots to lay in bed sleeplessly all night sleep anxious for what the light would bring. Early Early we woke up and hit the mountains to glass. My cousin from his scouting had seen a particular buck he was after. Our morning glass session was all doe and a (rather large) bobcat. After lunch we headed back to the same mountain were my cousin spotted a buck of which he was about to let me shoot until I told him that it was his buck that he had seen. I watched my cousin stalk and while keeping an eye on his buck (Cactus Jack). He narrowed the gap from about a mile away to 450yds where he took a shot of his knee. I was ecstatic after I see the buck drop after hearing his shot. My cousin gutted him and we meet about half way where we traded carrying this massive buck back to the quads the long way (we didn’t know at the time). In camp we caped him, as he was surely going on the wall. Another night of little sleep for many reasons… in the following days we did some more glassing in the same area as we had seen Cactus Jack. During one glassing session I spotted a couse skull across a deep canyon directly across from me. I decided to traverse the treacherous canyon to get this skull, have been fascinated with collecting skulls since I was a little boy, so the massive amount of energy this took was well worth it. We decided that for the evening we would try a different area so we drove through a wash, our camp neighbors told us would take us all the way over to where we wanted to go much faster. It was a ways to another area, but it was know to produce some nice bucks. Once in this new area we glassed several hillsides and talked to a few other hunters who had tagged out during that day. We continued on in this area until my cousin spotted a this draw in the distance, of which he told me “that draw is going to be detrimental to a bucks health!” That being said we flew down the roads and hiked up the mountain opposite of this draw. It took all of 15 minutes of glassing until my cousin said the magical phrase I that never gets old, “There’s One!” He directed me so that I could find them. Then he told me to grab my gun and leave my other stuff, as I proceeded to empty an entire box of bullets into my side pocket, to ensure I had enough to get the job done. My cousin laughed at me and had me empty my pocket due to the fact that I sounded like I was wearing sleigh bells (adrenaline will have you do some crazy things). We stalked in a little closer to make my shot about 300 yrds. Using his pack for a rest I readied myself in the prone position and took a few breaths. With the buck in my crosshairs I squeezed the trigger and with the sound of the shot my buck dropped and with I follow up shot I grazed the top of his head doing a number to his eye guard. Through this whole process he also managed to CHIP off the tip of one of his points (that’s where his name came from CHIP). My cousin taught me how to gut a deer and then I had the pleasure to pack him out. Luckily the pack out was an easy downhill hike to the wash were we followed it to the road. I stayed roadside with my first ever deer as my cousin went to grab the quad. In the mean time a group of hunters passed by congratulating me as well as a family who stopped to take pictures with me. I was on cloud nine and felt like a celebrity. Back in camp I learned how to skin a buck. This was one of the most memorable. He was definitely going on my wall being my first deer ever and a respectable one at that. What an amazing hunt! To tag out and to do it with family means more than anything.

BEAUTIFUL!! Man what a great BULL!

Tag soup for me brotha.. Stuck one Saturday quartered away, 50 yards, hit right where I wanted, but barely any penetration. Blood stopped after a few hundred yards, bumped him 3 times after that, finally gave up... Never gonna use those broadheads again.. Had quite a few chances after that, but some VERY bad luck left me with nothin to show for. Sorry To hear! You still have another week though. Can you now go out because of school!?

WOW I love the character of your bucks antlers they are gnarly. I would love you Kill a buck like that! Nice job way to put in work!

I hope you are successful also! Let me know how it goes...I am no hunter extraordinaire but I can give you this advice: GO LOW!

I am glad you were a part to Ted. Anyone would be so lucky to have you as their guide. Couldn't have done it without you! P.S. In my opinion leading countless hunters to trophies pretty much count as your trophies also.

I didnt do too bad on it!! I am glad you enjoyed my story I sure enjoyed living it.

Good Ol Chip New rifle in hand and bags all packed I arrived at my cousins house. We threw everything in the truck and hopped in and headed on our way. Little did we know that we were in route to one of the best hunts either one of us could ever imagine. The hunt was the UNIT 21 general Coues Deer in October. We arrived in camp where were met up with my cousins father-in-law. We set up camp and hung out by the fire before hitting the cots to lay in bed sleeplessly all night sleep anxious for what the light would bring. Early Early we woke up and hit the mountains to glass. My cousin from his scouting had seen a particular buck he was after. Our morning glass session was all doe and a (rather large) bobcat. After lunch we headed back to the same mountain were my cousin spotted a buck of which he was about to let me shoot until I told him that it was his buck that he had seen. I watched my cousin stalk and while keeping an eye on his buck (Cactus Jack). He narrowed the gap from about a mile away to 450yds where he took a shot of his knee. I was ecstatic after I see the buck drop after hearing his shot. My cousin gutted him and we meet about half way where we traded carrying this massive buck back to the quads the long way (we didn’t know at the time). In camp we caped him, as he was surely going on the wall. Another night of little sleep for many reasons… in the following days we did some more glassing in the same area as we had seen Cactus Jack. During one glassing session I spotted a couse skull across a deep canyon directly across from me. I decided to traverse the treacherous canyon to get this skull, have been fascinated with collecting skulls since I was a little boy, so the massive amount of energy this took was well worth it. We decided that for the evening we would try a different area so we drove through a wash, our camp neighbors told us would take us all the way over to where we wanted to go much faster. It was a ways to another area, but it was know to produce some nice bucks. Once in this new area we glassed several hillsides and talked to a few other hunters who had tagged out during that day. We continued on in this area until my cousin spotted a this draw in the distance, of which he told me “that draw is going to be detrimental to a bucks health!” That being said we flew down the roads and hiked up the mountain opposite of this draw. It took all of 15 minutes of glassing until my cousin said the magical phrase I that never gets old, “There’s One!” He directed me so that I could find them. Then he told me to grab my gun and leave my other stuff, as I proceeded to empty an entire box of bullets into my side pocket, to ensure I had enough to get the job done. My cousin laughed at me and had me empty my pocket due to the fact that I sounded like I was wearing sleigh bells (adrenaline will have you do some crazy things). We stalked in a little closer to make my shot about 300 yrds. Using his pack for a rest I readied myself in the prone position and took a few breaths. With the buck in my crosshairs I squeezed the trigger and with the sound of the shot my buck dropped and with I follow up shot I grazed the top of his head doing a number to his eye guard. Through this whole process he also managed to CHIP off the tip of one of his points (that’s where his name came from CHIP). My cousin taught me how to gut a deer and then I had the pleasure to pack him out. Luckily the pack out was an easy downhill hike to the wash were we followed it to the road. I stayed roadside with my first ever deer as my cousin went to grab the quad. In the mean time a group of hunters passed by congratulating me as well as a family who stopped to take pictures with me. I was on cloud nine and felt like a celebrity. Back in camp I learned how to skin a buck. This was one of the most memorable. He was definitely going on my wall being my first deer ever and a respectable one at that. What an amazing hunt! To tag out and to do it with family means more than anything.

AHHH yes paydays what a great suggestion!! They are an essential good tasty source of energy and they don't melt!

I would love to do a hunt like this someday! I bet it really added something to the pleasure of the success to know that you put in a lot of hard work and were rewarded in the end!!