Twelve Days of Christmas: 34A Coues Hunt

[Red Rabbit]

The Sun Rises and the Sun Sets for Six Days of Before Christmas Hunting

 

After removing what could pass for slicks, newer treads were placed on the truck, Rica and I finally headed south to the Santa Rita Mountains to a Sunday morning glassing spot in the hopes of spotting the local 4 point. Not a deer was observed this first morning of my December Coues hunt. However, on the walk back to the truck, Rica did get birdy and pointed three Mearns by the side of the road under an oak. They flushed and went screaming down the steep mountain side, leaving us to go meet Scout'm at noon.

 

 

The wrongly-taken road into our chosen location was washed out in an uphill section, with one track being a two foot deep trench. Larry slipped a tire into the wash-out and had his Jeep teetering on two tires and ready to roll on its side. Thankfully, his pristine paint job was spared any further dents. We backed out and decided to glass a nearby peak and hills that evening and drive the long way around that night. Only a doe and fawn were spotted coming down from the top of the peak seen in the following picture.

 

 

Larry glasses the hills the first evening:

 

Some easy pavement and another hour of four wheel drive brought us to the destined campsite for a frosty night. The night's chill must have brought out the does and fawns, as we glassed up seventeen does and fawns that morning on the ridges and in the draws to the north of camp. That evening was cloudy and only a doe and fawn came out that evening around 5:20.

 

 

 

 

Monday morning was cold and windy as we glassed some hills and draws to the south instead. Was a morning for females as our pairs of 15x's only located six does and fawns again. Larry Bid his adieu at noon to head back to Tucson.

 

That Monday evening, Rica and I hiked to a hill to the northeast of camp and glassed to the ridges and hills to the north of camp. Finally, after four morning s and evenings during scouting trips, and another four with Scout'm. I had seen the FIRST BUCKS! A group of three bucks were roaming near the top of a peak to the west. Unfortunately, they were a spike, forky, and 70ish 3-point. Seven does were also located scattered on various hillsides. On the late morning hike back to camp, Rica again gets birdy, I give her the lead, and she points a covey of Mearns which we flush up the small draw.

 

For the evening glass, Rica pulls me to the same hilltop, as one can glass 360 degrees into good looking areas. This vantage yields a forky and 7 does to the south, another forky and 2 does to the northeast, and 6 does to the north. It is nice to finally see some bucks, but was disappointed in that they were all small and showed no rutting signs. With the does we had seen, one could hope that a love-struck buck would be nearby.

 

The south faces of a couple of round hills connected by a saddle beckoned the following morning. Camp is loaded into the back of the truck in the early morning darkness, and the 4-low creep to the new spot brings us to the east side of the eastern hill. Rica and I hike around the side so the western hill, the saddle and the ridges running southward beneath the glassing point can be scrutinized.

A couple shots are heard echoing from distant canyons, but nearby only one doe is seen nearby. Oh well, back to the truck to make the move to another canyon for the evening.

 

While back at the truck, Rica is set loose from the leash, and she does what she does best. She goes hunting on her own, finds birds and I see her flush a covey of Mearns only one hundred yards from the truck. They fly towards me and land about 30 yards from the truck. Not one to pass an easy opportunity, I pull out the O/U, put on the bird vest, and let Rica find the hidden harlequins. Two tasty quail fall from the sky, and Rica has earned her dinner that evening.

 

After cleaning the birds, we head to a good looking canyon that I had seen before the season. As soon as I open the cab door at the new camp spot, Rica bolts out, points then flushes another covey. With shotgun handy, we find the split birds and take another two juvenile males from the air.

That Wednesday afternoon, we hike up past several head of cattle towards the point that gives good vantage eastward into the canyon. After glassing 2 does and a fawn near sunset, we head back down the ridge.

 

Again, disappointed in not seeing any bucks and few deer, I decide to hunt Mearns the next morning, wake up late and follow Rica with the O/U. A nice walk with no birds found in an hour. Wanderlust has me heading to Squaw Gulch after the morning quail hunt. I find a small hill that affords easy 360* glassing. I figure this canyon is hunted hard, but a 105 was taken out last year, so maybe there is a chance. It turned into a fat chance, as I see one doe that evening and two others the next morning. One truck drives in after sunrise, and leaves a couple of hours later without firing a shot.

 

Sunrise in Squaw Gulch

 

Sunset in Squaw Gulch

 

Glassing at last light:

 

The time has come to head north to Phoenix to spend the Christmas Holyday with the family. Overall, I am disappointed in the number of deer seen, and especially the number (5 total) and quality bucks (0) seen. The areas have looked like great Coues habitat, but without the Coues. One can hope that after Christmas, Santa has returned some reindeer to the Santa Ritas to fill some Coues hunters' Christmas wish lists.

 

Six Days After Christmas Hunt.

 

After a nice Christmas with the parents, sisters, nieces and nephews, I point the Chevy southward again. As sunset approaches Wednesday evening, I drive into an area Casey and I looked at on a scouting trip. Parking on the side of a hill, I pull the Leicas, tripod and foam pad out to the pack to glass the last hour of light. While Casey and I had spotted nearly a dozen deer back over Thanksgiving, I see only two does. But, I do briefly see the reddish tan and white leg-insides of a MOUNTAIN LION taking a few steps before it goes behind some brush and oblivion. Not enough time to get my gear together and hike the mile over there before it would be dark. This is only the third lion I have seen in the wilds of Arizona.

 

 

Being that Sun Devil and I have arranged to meet on Friday for a few days of hunting near Lake Patagonia, I head over there to get some information about hunting behind the lake. Permit in hand from the visitor center, I spend Thursday hiking into this newly recommended area to find some hills from which to glass the grassy slopes and find/learn the trails leading into the area during daylight. I spot 6 does on a distant slope that evening and plan to head back in the morning's darkness.

 

Chris and I break a sweat during the hour-long hike and locate 12 deer total that day, along with a dozen peccaries. Chris walks to a nearby hilltop to glass another direction, and calls that he has jumped three bucks, one being a high 90's three-point. The group of deer ran over a few ridges and disappeared around a point.

Chris, seen here, had spotted several does inthe cliffs seen in the background:

With a few days left in the hunt, I decide to keep looking other places for a larger buck. We decide to hike further north to get some different views and perspectives.

Dusk comes with us finding a few mores herds of peccaries and the two hour hike back to the trucks. We meet Firstcoues/Casey at the lake, chew some fat, and Chris heads back to Tucson.

 

An hour hike to the glassing hill is rewarded with a crimson sunrise

and a long distance view of a good buck spotted by Casey, the first I have seen in 10 days of hunting the ghosts. At a distance of a mile and a half as the crow flies, we can see he is beyond the ears and has decent mass. An hour of brisk walking had us into position peeking over the adjacent ridge into where the buck and three other deer WERE. The deer had vanished, as had the cattle which were below them on the same slope. Possibly the cattle spooked the deer, or something spooked both away. Another gray ghost lives. We need to hike out to pay the park fees and get permits (Why are they not open at 4 am?) We figure 10 miles that morning, the legs won't do another ten back in and out in the evening, so we waste some time glassing Squaw Gulch that Saturday evening to no avail.

 

The big buck might appear again that next morning, but that hope was dashed by the presence of only a few does on the hill where the buck was. A couple of hours lapse without a buck appearing on the hill. Casey spotted a small 3 point on a different hill though.

 

I am seen here being towed by the GWP to distant glassing spots:

 

My constant glassing companion:

 

Reality and wanderlust call. Sunday afternoon finds Casey heading back to some chores in Tucson, and me to the area Scout'm and I had hunted before Christmas. To me, that area looked like it had everything a Coues needs.

 

Casey stirs up some lunch before heading back home.

 

Sunday evening, I spot 3 spikes together just a few hundred yards away. I toy with the idea of picking the smallest to enter into the contest's small buck category, but perish the thought. Behind me I spot another spike nosing the ground near a doe.

 

Darkness falls to usher in tomorrow's last day of the season. Have I made the right decision to hunt the last day where I have not seen a quality buck? Should I have stayed near the lake and hoped the big buck Casey and I spotted makes a final appearance? Second guesses they are, but I am here.

 

 

The Twelfth Day of the Christmas Hunt.

 

I head up the close by hill that affords the best all around viewing, and immediately spot through the dim light a spike and forky heading around the corner. The forky stops to rub an ocotillo. Should I end it here? I have read of too many last minute trophies taken, so I keep looking for bucks in all the wrong places (sounds like an old Johnny Lee song). 10 AM arrives with tired eyes and a power nap.

 

OK, back to glassing: maybe something is up from their nap also. Wow, a buck! He stops broadside to eat on a small oak tree, but his head is up in the branches and affords a poor view of his headgear. When he turns away, I see he is slightly wider than the ears. He puts his head back up in to the tree as he move behind the tree. Out comes the rangefinder to illuminate a distance of 955 yards. Too far for this shooter. When he comes out from behind the oak, I detect a three point with decent mass, long enough tines, and a yellowish tan antlers. Possibly nearing 100 inches of score for a wild guess. He walks behind a thick group of tree, but does not reappear. After 30 minutes, he does not show and I have not seen him walk away. I may have missed him, but do not see him elsewhere on the slope.

 

The buck is spotted on the center ridge.

 

I conclude the buck has bedded during the day's warmer weather. If I can get on the ridge above him, I would have a good vantage and a feasible shooting distance. Assessing that I have only 1 pint of water for Rica and me, for what could be a long hot day waiting him out, I decide to head back to the truck, Get some more water, put on cooler pants, and leave Rica at the truck for the first time this hunt.

 

With a full water bottle, cooler brush pants, and a Fresca slammed for instant refreshment and a burp, I tell Rica to stay and be a good girl, hoping she does not bark as I walk away without her at noon. After trudging an hour up the slope lined with catclaw, and having spook-flushed two coveys of Mearns, I am finally in position 200 yards above the trees where I hope the buck is still bedded. 1 PM and the looking begins under and through every tree. 3 PM arrives and no sign of a deer. Did he give me the slip?

 

Looking down on the bedding zone:

 

Wait! There's a deer. It's a doe and its walking into the same group of trees. Not seconds later, the buck comes dashing from behind her. I scramble to grab the 6.5 WSM, decide to use the tripod and binos as a rest. The rifle is places atop the glassing rig allowing me to locate the buck heading directly away. He does not look as wide as I originally thought at 955 yards.

 

Crap! The tripod head tilts and the rifle comes off. Quickly I tighten the head and relocate the buck. He runs along the ridge, head down, chasing the doe. He stops broadside, I may not get this angle again as he chases her. I gotta hurry, I tell myself. The crosshairs are steady on him. The trigger is given a firm squeeze, but the sight picture as the trigger breaks has the crosshairs centered on the last rib. The rifles recoils, I lose the sight picture, hear a solid kwop. I chastise myself for not picking the spot right behind the shoulders in my haste and fear a gut shot. I pick up the buck running into a few tree and see some thrashing but not see him exit. I pray he is down. Nope, I see antlers raise, but cannot see his body. If I walk back down the ridge to my left, I should be able to bet the angle to see between the trees and get a finishing shot. I move, see nothing, move further and see nothing in the trees. Loading the pack, I circle around the basin to come down from above, rifle at ready, I approach the trees, enter them, smell rutty deer, but see no buck.

 

I pick up some blood and trail to where he was standing when shot. A good splattering of red blood and a piece of rib fragment indicate the spot. The blood trail is pretty good back to the trees, where I see a pie plate sized puddle of thick red blood. Not frothy. I am thinking a hit to the liver. The trail leading away is located and I diligently follow from blood drop to drop to smears about knee high on the grass. I lose the trail after about 200 yards at a spot with about six drops, where he was likely standing. Tracks do not indicate any faltering. Some circles in a likely direction of travel yield no further sign. So I walk ¼ mile cross-hill at a slow pace hoping to find him rolled down the steep northern slope or slumped dead under a tree. After another hour of traversing back and forth to the creek bottom and looking at a setting sun, I head back to the truck with a bad feeling in my gut. Lots of what-ifs run through the mind replaying the moment of the shot and kicking myself for the moment of haste. Sleep does not come well that night.

 

The next morning on New Year's Day, I load the pack, put the e-collar on Rica in case she smells the buck while on the loose, and head back an hour to last blood hoping to find some more sign and a dead buck. After an hour of slowly traversing the slope, I defeatedly look down only to see some blood drops on the rock of the deer/cattle trail I am standing on. They last for 5 yards. With a slightly renewed hope, I go for another hour of heading up and around the creek bottom, looking down hills and under trees, and find nothing but old cow and deer bones.

 

So with a glum feeling, I leave with blood in the hills.

[azryan]

Doug, that was a fantastic writeup, it was very enjoyable to read.

 

What a shame it was that you could not find the buck. I bet the feeling is horrible.

As long as you felt you gave your best effort that is all that matters.

sorry that you you had to come home not knowing what happened to that buck

 

Although it sounds like you had a blast, I had a blast reading about your hunt, thanks again

 

p.s maybe casey and some other members could go back down to the area and try to find that buck

[BowNut]

Doug

Great story sounds like it was a great hunt and a lot of fun.Some awesome pictures I love to hunt that unit but it sounds like it was a tuff one this year.

[azpackhorse]

Great story and photos Doug, sorry about the lost animal. I had a similar experience with a lion this last weekend, it's a hard pill to swallow for sure.

[CouesWhitetail]

Doug,

 

Thanks for the write-up and photos. I am really sorry you lost that buck. That must be heartbreaking. It's one of my greatest fears with hunting....

 

Amanda

[AZ402]

Great write up Doug. Losing an animal is an unfortunate part of the game we play. I can't think of anyone I know that hasn't had that same feeling, including myself....

[missedagain]

Thanks for taking us along...

 

to bad about the deer... were you shooting those VLD's

[curmudgen]

This is redundant, but that was a great writeup with great photos. I can feel your pain at losing the buck, having trailed blood spots for abt half a mile in October. I was luckier, however, and found my buck which had rimmed around on a trail I was able to follow. Your story recalls the sick feeling I had as the blood trail started to thin out and I thought I was going to lose it and the deer to the coyotes. What counts now is that you put in your best effort and did the ethical thing to keep up the search until all leads had played out. Good job, and good luck in future hunts. Jack

[azbownunter22]

Doug,

 

If you plan to go back in and look for the buck count me in. I live in Tucson and I also own a few GSP's, we can do a Mearns hunt/find your deer trip. Let me know.

[cramerhunts]

Great write up Doug on what sounds like a tough but enjoyable hunt. Tough ending but it happens sometimes no matter what we do to try and prevent it.

 

Thanks for sharing the pictures and your story with us.

 

Phil

[bobbyo]

Doug, Your honesty makes a good story a great story.

Bob

[Red Rabbit]

Simon- A combo mearns/carcasss hunt has its appeal. We did flush several covies on and near that ridge. I do not know how soon i can get back down as the truck died on the drive home (fuel pump likely)

 

Missedagain- I was shooting the 130 grain Swift Scirocco.

 

Doug~RR

[Coues Sniper]

Doug - Beautiful write up and pictures. I really enjoyed reading your story, but am sorry it had a tough ending - for now. I hope you are able to get back out there soon and find your deer. I too know the sickening feeling of losing a bloodtrail; I lost blood on an elk this year and thought for sure he was lost. Some good friends however came to help and somehow found blood 800 yards later, and we found my bull. I hope your story ends that way too. Good luck.

 

Kevin

[25-06]

Doug, Your honesty makes a good story a great story.

Bob

Well said

[elpepe25]

great documentation, it was fun following you through the hunt, i am sorry for the loss of the buck, ive been there