Buck Canyon

There's something almost evil about getting up some time after 3 am to go out hunting, alone. Earlier in the evening before, Vaughn and I had talked of going out together, but he later had to cancel. His voice was broken - it was a hard decision, but the right one for him. It was dark and quiet at 4:15 when I left the house. At Slate Creek, only 2 days before, I left the car with minimal food, a quart of water (for 2 of us), and having eaten little for breakfast. I did not repeat the mistake this morning - eating at least some breakfast - and bringing and drinking as much as possible beforehand. A mile or so down the road I realized I had not brought much in the way of clothing, should the weather turn wet. The clouds illuminated by the City lights appeared broken and not threatening. I would only be hunting a few hours in the worst case scenario.

The roads were quiet on the way to Lower Granite Dam. The hunters were either few ... or not out yet. I arrived at the dam right behind another vehicle while some hunters were leaving to walk down the tracks. I quickly loaded up and headed down the tracks after them. In situations like this, it is best to be prepared to be able to leave the car with as minimal `fuss' as possible - and I was. I had earlier thought of climbing up from the Dam, and dropping down in on the bottom of Thorn Creek. It would be closer to the road, and I anticipated most of the hunters would be coming from the top. As I caught up with the hunters, it was apparent they were going to go up where I planned, so I went on down the tracks, planning to climb the rounded ridge between Thorn Creek and Buck Canyon.

Not far down the tracks I looked back to see another vehicle pull in and park, and quickly thereafter 2 flashlights walking along the tracks behind me. I picked up the pace, walking as fast as I could down the tracks. I was likely too far down the tracks to be spotted by them - particularly because I have never used a flashlight pre-dawn like this. I managed to keep ahead of them, though not easily. The flashlights stopped along the tracks where Thorn Creek empties into the railroad-side lagoon, and it was apparent they were crossing the fences to go up. I was relieved, until I saw that once one of the flashlights got past the fence or fences, the other returned to the tracks and was obviously heading toward where I was going to go up. I continued as fast as I could.

I reached the break off point, crossed the necessary fence or fences, and started up the hillside. It was steep, though not as much as at Slate Creek. The illumination from the Dam and sky was much greater than Slate Creek. But the climbing was not easy. I loaded my rifle, and climbed as fast as I could, trying to get ahead of the other hunter, as best I could. I exhausted quickly, all the more due to the more frequent stumbling and loss of balance from hurrying up the hill. It seemed steeper than I remembered, and the steep part seemed longer, but soon I climbed the ridge to where the gradient relaxed a bit. As is flattened further, I felt I could make better time up the ridge. Soon I was at the `overlook' into the west fork of Buck Canyon. It was still for the most part dark. I contoured into the canyon, perhaps 300 or so yards beyond where I sat 8 or so years earlier. I wanted more options if hunters were to come straight up the west fork canyon. As it was getting slightly light, I worked my way slowly, trying to not make too much of a ruckus ... though probably far more obvious to the deer in the area than I wanted to believe. Finally I resisted the temptation to go further, and sat. Through my binoculars I made out a big animal moving up the ridge to my east, separating the canyon I was in from the main canyon. I was impressed how well the `white-out' I applied to the focus on my binoculars worked to collect what little light was available - and allow me to easily focus. I imagined the deer to be the main buck of the area - but it was probably somewhere between imagination and speculation that I thought so. I carefully (or so I thought) scooted down to a small set of rocks that gave me at least a little cover ... and waited.

As it became light I watched four deer grazing on a hillside down the canyon from me. They were apparently does, and either unaware or undisturbed by my presence. Range, ... over 500 yards. At one point the lead doe looked intently into the facing part of the draw at something ... I was curious what had her attention, as I would have certainly seen another hunter in the area. Then I saw it - a coyote running flat out her direction. It was apparently running from hunters over on the Thorn Creek side ... and was probably more concerned with what was behind him or her, than the deer ahead. As the coyote got closer to the deer, the lead doe moved his direction to face him off. The coyote adjusted course slightly, going left of the deer by about 15 or 20 yards. Then all four deer took off chasing him. All five of the creatures disappeared around the ridge. After a few minutes the four deer returned, and resumed grazing.

Soon, I spotted more deer even farther down the canyon near its mouth with Buck Canyon, moving away from what were apparently some hunters moving up from the bottom. I could also see some deer moving up from the main (Buck) canyon toward another overlook on the east side that I've considered hunting.

A herd of about 15 deer, with one medium antlered buck, trotted across the canyon about 200 yards above me. They were moving too fast and compact to be able to get good look, if even a shot. As fast as they appeared, they made it over into the main canyon. I anticipated that they would be back, however, after running into hunters in the main canyon. About 500 yards up the canyon a single doe and then another deer came bounding down slope, apparently startled or chased from the fields above. They moved my direction, until about 150 yards away, and then passed to my west about 100 yards away and over the false skyline. About 60 yards to my southwest they began grazing and milling around. Three or four deer from the canyon mouth now moved fairly hurriedly in my direction, followed by the first four, which were now also moving from hunter activity below.

The herd of 15 did come back, coming back into the canyon I was in, and turning my direction. I waited as the first does appeared about 100 yards away, but I did not see the buck on their return. Only one or two heads appeared, one or two of the deer perhaps seeing me swing toward them, and then they disappeared. I was amazed how they could not be moving toward me and becoming more visible ... but they disappeared. I waited ... nothing. After what was more than enough time for them to have run me over, I swung around and looked to my southwest toward where the two milling deer were. Sure enough, the entire herd had moved around me, only 100 yards above me, but completely out of sight. I stood up, more in fun than anything, and the closest doe snorted and they started moving down slope. They moved down the canyon as the seven deer from below moved up, past them, and to with about 50 yards of me. It was almost comical. I was being over run by deer. There were or had been deer all around me.

I was completely in the open - on an open hillside.

I felt comfortably close to God, and asked him to bring a buck. Then, to my surprise, I noticed that one of the two deer milling around about 60 yards away was a small buck, antlers a bit longer than ear length. I could easily make out 2 points each side, and there was `probably' a third on at least one side, but I was having trouble making out a third. Now I got serious, and crept closer, moving from rock to rock, somewhat like an idiot hunter who assumes blatant acts of stealth go un-noticed by deer. Understandably the two deer became nervous and started moving away from me. As hard as I wanted to see 3 points on at least one side ... I could not be sure. And if I could not be sure, I could not shoot. God had answered my prayer to bring a buck - but I have learned that the same God doesn't play hypothetical games. He expects us to conscientiously follow the laws of the land ... regardless of what I thought might be the `answer' to my prayers. Before long the deer were around the ridge and over into Thorn Creek.

I returned to my post and thanked God for the buck, but pointed out that we were in a 3-point minimum area. I then asked him to bring a bigger buck, or perhaps let me find a bigger one over in the main canyon (as I was thinking of going over to take a look). I decided to wait another 15 or 30 minutes. I had a 12:30 leadership lunch meeting - and I'd have to get back to town in time to shower up - so I couldn't spend much more time in the field. Ten years earlier I shot a small buck in the main canyon at about 8:15 opening morning ... and it took me until about 2 to get it out to the road. Wisdom said that the longer I stay put, the better, but I also felt free to go and check out the main canyon. After 15 minutes or so, I headed over ... I'd take a look, and then head on out.

I crossed the `ravine' part of the west fork canyon, and about half way around to the ridge heard a stomping sound - like the sound of a stomping deer. (One ear is better than the other; as such, I find directions of sounds difficult.) I looked below me down the canyon ... nothing. I looked across to the west, from where I had come ... nothing. Then I looked up, and about 25 yards above me, a nice buck stood staring at me. This was the kind of buck one wants to see in hunting season, but rarely does. With him was a smaller buck, and doe. My rifle was at my hips, and pointing away. I realized that the slightest movement of gun to shoulder, and the deer would be off ... and as slowly and `sneaky' as I tried to raise my gun - in afterthought I obviously looked nothing less than a cat trying to get the jump on a mouse ... Sure enough, all three deer were gone in an instant.

I had to at least try ... I climbed to the ridge as fast as I could, knowing that if I did see them from the top, I'd be out of breath, breathing wildly. I got to the top to see them about 100 yards up the ridge, running around to the right (east) side. Sure enough, I was breathing too wildly to even hope a shot. The deer went around the side, with me in pursuit (though covering ground at a much slower rate). As I reached where I had last seen them, I noticed some hunters below coming up from the main canyon. They either ran above the hunters un-noticed, or the hunters were suffering the same inability to make a draw on them. One possibility existed: that the deer would cross over to the west again, away from the hunters they passed above in the main canyon, and cross the top of the west fork canyon that I had come from.

I crossed over to the left back into view of the west fork canyon, contouring instead of climbing - so as to also be able to catch my breath. Around and about 15 yards away were some rocks, one of which was about chest high - it would make a nice `bench' should the deer come back above and across. I got comfortable and waited. I anticipated correctly. The 3 deer came running back into the canyon. Though ready, they covered a great deal of ground before I was ready to get off a shot. They crossed the ravine near its top before I shot. I led the large buck by about 18 inches and aimed 18 inches high. I could see 2 or 3 of my first 3 or 4 shots hit (consistently) at the deer's hind feet. I had evidently underestimated the range, and my next shots I adjusted accordingly. I carry 5 rounds when I hunt, including the round in the chamber. After spending all 5, I figured I could get at least one more shot off as they crossed the ridge ... and so proceeded to load a single cartridge into the magazine. But before bringing the gun up, decided to load a full complement of 5, utilizing the quick leather holders my dad had given me years before. On my seventh or eighth shot, as the buck was about to disappear around the ridge, the deer veered to the right and dropped his head. My subconscious picked up the `thunk' of the slug hitting the chest cavity. The buck ran uphill, and then appeared to go down.

They say that if you've hit a deer, you should wait a half hour or so before going after it. In this case that wouldn't be a problem. It would take at least 20 minutes to get up to where the deer were - if I had indeed connected. I reloaded, noticing quite a pile of freshly spent ammunition where I had been ... and started climbing. It was about 8:15.

I climbed up my side of the canyon nearly to the top, crossed the ravine where the deer had crossed, and started up their side. While climbing, the small buck and doe had appeared on the ridge again, suggesting the buck I shot at was still in the vicinity, and probably down. By this time I was literally at the top of the Breaks. To the East, two or more miles away, and two or more thousand feet down, was the Snake River. The River looked more as though I was viewing it from an airplane than from land. It was indeed a glorious morning.

The deer went down on a rounded mountainside with nothing in the vicinity to use to vector in, except for one small tuft of weed or grass a bit higher than the rest (but it soon disappeared). I was now 500 yards above where I had shot at the deer. I headed straight to where I thought the deer would be. This time of year the mule deer are the exact color of weathered basalt ... and there were deer-sized, and bigger and smaller, basalt rocks scattered here and there. Things had gone well. While I knew it might be hard to find the buck - I totally expected to find it, easily. Right about where I expected ... my buck laying in the grass. It was a big deer. I let out a SHOUT.

I moved quickly. It was about 8:30, and I was 3 miles in with the biggest deer I've shot (I've shot six or seven deer - mostly mulies). I left the heart and liver. One lung was destroyed, the other intact. I had some work ahead. The hardest part would be getting it over to the ridge and keeping it from going down into the west fork canyon. From the ridge I could drag it down to the Overlook, and from there over the edge (albeit 1000 ft over ... ) down to the River, where I could drag or carry it out the RR tracks. The drag to the ridge was difficult. I couldn't lose much elevation. I scooted it along what cow/deer paths I could find. At one point both buck and I took a complete roll. (Remind me to make sure my gun is sighted in.) I had reloaded, but for the drag I placed the chambered round in the magazine - good thing. After a long 15 or 20 minutes of dragging, I was at the ridge. But when I looked up, amazingly I was still at the top of the Breaks. But one of the hardest parts was behind me ... now I had gravity working for me, not against me.

At the Overlook I met who I found out to be the landowner's son, and another hunter who was a bit of a rear-end. (I don't think they were hunting together.) I dropped over the Overlook and about half way down ran into another hunter, poking his way up from the bottom. He was friendly, complimented me on my buck, and then offered advice on how to get the way down. I thanked him, but was confident I could find my way down. I had been up and down the route several times in the dark, and several more in daylight. As I descended, however, I didn't see the `Hog Farm'. The Hog Farm is a hillside of hog to cow sized rocks that I came up through in the dark. As I thought about it, on both ascents in the dark I had walked through the Hog Farm, but on neither descent could I remember going through it. Climbing up through the Hog Farm before light one can barely distinguish between movement and no movement ... between a cow, and what looks like a cow. Were all the rocks actually cows? ... not only the one I saw move, or did it move? There is a disturbing blur of the boundary between imagination and reality in the dark, far more disturbing than not being able to find the rocky hillside in the daylight. ... But I still knew where I was going.

(I later figured out that the rocks of the Hog Farm `daylight' outward as the slope steepens, and are only visible from below. Covered with grass on top, the rock faces are invisible ... like the walls of a house while standing on the roof. I had seen a similar optical phenomena on the ridge closer to the Dam, and it was due roughly to the same `daylight' effect that allowed Lexi to walk right off a much larger cliff a couple years earlier ... and miraculously survive.)

Soon I was at the River - morning was well under way - and I had a very real challenge yet ahead of me. The smaller buck I shot years earlier and ended up in roughly the same place with - I managed to get on my shoulders and walk out with. This deer was different. I unloaded my magazine and cut the deer in half. The rear (smaller) half I was able to get on my shoulders, but the other half I could hardly drag. I carried the rear half several hundred yards, set it down, went back for the front half, which I could barely drag, and so on, until I was across from the mouth of Thorn Creek. At that point I hid the front half, and carried the rear out to the car. I started eating what food I could find in the car, and drove down to the Marina. It was warm enough, and there were enough hunters around, that I didn't want to leave the rest of the animal in the field - as I had earlier considered. I called PK's secretary and asked her to relay the message that I had a big buck down and would be likely a bit late for the meeting. She was impressed by my adventure ... I needed to keep moving, and get off the phone before the long distance bill mounted. I bought a large iced tea and drove back to where I had parked, and set off for the other half.

On the walk back in, a nice doe stood up on the hillside above me in `Dry Canyon'. I told her I had run into her boyfriend. I reached the buck and began dragging. I was making poor progress. The packaged processed chocolate pies at the car, along with the iced tea, helped - but much of my energy was spent. Several hundred yards upstream there were some people in a boat fishing for steelhead. I prayed that the occupants would see me in my struggle and offer to help.

As men we are told to pray always, and there is also a time to be a part of the answer to one's prayers, ... and perhaps even take things into one's own hands. I walked up shore and called out ... asking if they would consider giving me and my deer a ride to the dam. Perhaps my 30-06, and the fact that there was no place for them to run, should they refuse, had some influence on their decision. After some discussion which it's probably good I couldn't hear, they agreed, and gave me a lift down to the dam, saving me a great deal of work. I made it to the meeting at the tail end of the meal - those serving found me generous helpings. Vaughn congratulated me; he was at the Receptionist's desk when my call came in. The meeting part of the meeting had not yet begun. God is good.

Epilogue

A number of weeks later I was with my wife in the doctor's office when out of the blue one of the bookkeepers asked me if I shot a deer this fall. Surprised, I said that I had. As it turned out, she owns the property I hunted on. (I had previously met only husband and son.) I had written a thank-you note to the family a week or so after the hunt. She said that getting the card was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done. (And, that I'd sure be invited back.) After some discussion I learned that I had been hunting on the `bigger' of their two pastures.

... funny ... when I think of land that rises several thousand feet per mile, `pasture' is not the first word that comes to mind.