The Hunt
We were up by 0400. drinking coffee and planning the hunt. Jug towed his new ATV on a trailer so we wouldn’t have to walk much getting to our vantage points. I was going to be nestled in a pinyon thicket where the bucks liked to bed down after eating soybean all night. On my way to my stand, I found a nice muley shed antler. Maybe I’ll be lucky today, I thought to myself.
Jug was going to high ground, up in the cliffs, where he usually hunted, taking advantage of some new wildcat he designed with lots of reach. I forget the particulars, only that he had to replace his barrel after every 150 rounds, or so, on account of it burning the throat out.
We were in our spots 45 minutes before daybreak. Around 0815, I heard a far-off shot sounding like a NASA rocket launching into space followed by a huge sonic boom. It had to be Jug. In all honesty, it woke me from a light doze. I was looking around, gathering my senses, when I noticed a nice, chunky 4×4 muley sneaking through the pinyon. I patiently waited for him to close the distance, as he headed right for me. He was totally unaware of my presence. Before sitting down, I had drawn my flattop and placed it next to me on my backpack for faster access and less movement.
I picked up the flattop and cocked the hammer, placing my left thumb in front of the hammer to prevent any negligent discharge. When the buck was 35 yards from me, I removed my thumb and lined up my sights. When all seemed perfect, I started my trigger press. The exploding cartridge startled me, and the buck did a perfect “mule kick” indicating a heart shot and ran back downhill.
After a relaxing smoke, I holstered my gun and headed toward the buck. Before getting to him, I heard Jug coming in on his ATV. I guess he was good for something after all.
“Did ya get him, Skeet? I heard your shot,” he said.
“I think so. My sight picture felt good as the hammer broke and that 429421 HP should have taken care of him,” I replied.
We found my buck 45 yards from where I shot him.
“What about you, Jug? I heard you shoot. Did you get one too?” I said.
Jug looked dejected.
“I think I crippled one. That’s why I was coming over here. To see if you could help me find him?”
We loaded up my deer and headed over to where Jug shot his deer.
“I was sitting up there, by that big boulder and he was standing right around here,” he said.
We saw some hair, but no blood trail.
“Where’d you see him run off to? We’ll see if we can pick up any sign as we go,” I asked.
It reminded me of my border patrol days, tracking down illegals.
Read the full article here
