I think that the key to harvesting trophy animals for us city boys in the High County of the West without a guide can be summed up in one word ­ luck. Pure blind luck. Now this may be contrary to what most of those sporting gurus would leave you to believe. All those articles on preparation, scouting, camo, scents and the right gear must be rightŠright? No. I think it boils down to the fact that a blind hog does in fact find an acorn now and then. Now don¹t get me wrong, you have to look good in the field and I believe that as a member of the Republican Party that buying extraordinarily expensive rifles, scopes, binoculars, range finders and other good stuff from Mark¹s makes me feel better and certainly improves the economy.

I mean I wear matched camo from head to toe even though I am required by the state of Colorado to wear enough blaze orange to be seen from the space shuttle, but with that camo on, I feel like a hunter. You know what I mean? Well, Mark and Will asked me to write about my adventure in taking a mule deer buck in the 3rd hunting season in Colorado. Since I have a good single malt and an excellent cigar going I¹ll attempt it.

For many years a group of guys have been hunting elk and mule deer on Sheephorn Ranch ­ a private ranch in the northwest of Colorado near the town of Kremmling and the Colorado River. Four of us in the group of six have been hunting together for the past four years and two were on their first trip to the west for elk and mule deer. The rancher lets us stay in a house on the place and gives use of his four ATV¹s. We hunt without guides and try to guess at where the elk and mule deer might be base don our past experience. Unlike the past two warm years, the weather was bitterly cold with snow accumulations in excess of two feet. For two days and nights before opening day it snowed and did not change on the first day of the hunt.

We had heavy snow with clouds in the high country reducing visibility to 100 yards or less. by the end of the first day I was about dead from trying to walk in snow drifts in 30 inches or more at 9-10,000 ft. above sea level. The snow had driven the elk down and the mule deer were in full rut so we were seeing a lot of animals but none very big. The second day while the rest of us were struggling through the snow in the high country Scott (one of the first timers) shot a 150+ class muley in a lower area next to the road where the ranch trucks and ATV¹s grind past every day.

We had never seen big bucks in the area he shot this one in any of the past years. Well, ³beginners luck² I thought. The third day I saw nothing but does, but another one of the young guys show another nice muley buck now by this time. I am starting to think that my chances for a good muley may have to wait until next year. We head into high country in snow the fourth morning. My legs felt like lead and I still couldn¹t get enough air in my lungs. When I came in for lunch a couple of guys said that they had spotted what they thought was a nice buck in the low country where the first deer was taken.

I really wanted to try and find him with that afternoon and the next morning remaining in our hunt, I was hoping against hope for a shot. Maybe I could set up a short easy walk from the road and get a shot at that buck in an area where we have been seeing a lot of does especially since the rut was on. Please let him do something stupid, I thought. He didŠat 2:30 that afternoon I took the four wheeler down the road wondering where I could set up. Pulling off the road with my friend Murray on the rear I was going to get off and let him take the four wheeler to another area. ³Murray, I haven¹t figured out yet where I want toŠdamn, there he is.² About 300 yards away at the top of a rocky, scrub and snow covered hill that magnificent son of a gun stood up and looked at us.

Man you could tell he had a good spread. I unslung my 300 Weatherby and put my scope on his chest and squeezed. I could tell he was hit with the first shot but he stood there slowly turning to the side. I shot again, that shot was low and broke his front leg. He started to move away and I fired a third shot at him going away and he went down. The only way I could get to him was about a half mile hike when Murray went back to get some help to get him out. I hiked around to him.

When I got the the crest of the ridge I saw his antlers and damn if he didn¹t get up and start down the face of that steep hill which was more like a cliff face than a hill. I shot him a fourth time and that crumpled him into a cedar tree about 1/3 of the way down. I got to him by sliding down on my behind in the snow. I was able to drag him down without a problem even though he weighed over 300 pounds because once he started sliding down the hill you had to make sure that you stayed out of his path.

Two of my friends got there as I made it to the bottom and took this photo. Man, I was shaking, tired and happy. I got a good buck that I had been after for the last four years. I was feeling great that night at dinner and I slept in the next morning while the guys went out for the last time. When they came in that afternoon Scott told me, "You know that deer the rancher calls Elk Rack? Well, we saw him for about 2 seconds today and let me tell you he is the daddy to your buck." You think a blind hog can find 2 acorns? Next year.