Hunter and I sat on a hillside overlooking a valley that had a pond at the bottom. There were large deer tracks leading down to the pond, so we hoped to ambush any buck that might come down before dark.

Steve's dad arrived just before dark and drove up that valley. Just as he passed by us, a deer stepped out of the brush across the valley. As soon as I got it in the scope, it wheeled around and ran back into the brush — spooked by the truck. I had just enough of a glimpse to see that it was a huge buck with lots of points! Another buck, much smaller than the first, stepped out where he had been. I tried to get a steady aim on him, but he also vanished into the brush.

About ten minutes later, I saw another deer in the same spot. When I got the scope on him, I could see that it was a nice buck and probably the big
one I'd just seen. Shooting light was almost over and it was at least 150 yards away. I tried to steady my Browning .25-06 on my knee, but buck fever had set in and I had a hard time holding the cross hairs steady (I hunt and practice a lot with a bow and rarely with a rifle). Boom! Miss! Three more bucks ran across the hillside and into the brush. One looked huge, but I couldn't tell for sure. The first buck stood there, so I fired again, and again — missing both times! Then he ran for the brush and stopped just at the edge. Click. What? I thought I had four shells in my rifle! I jacked the bolt hard and aimed again. Boom! Whack! I knew I heard a hit, but the buck disappeared into the brush.

Hunter was sitting next to me the whole time and was pretty excited. "Did you get him, Daddy?"

"I think so!", I replied. Then I called Steve on the radio and he came over on his ATV. His dad joined us, too, and told us he'd shot a forked-horn buck. So first we went to retrieve his buck, which took at least an hour because it was a long way from the road.

When we got back to where I'd shot mine, we drove the truck as close as we could and kept the headlights shining up the hill. Then Hunter, Steve and I took flashlights and started looking. "Here he is," cried Steve. "But Scott, this isn't a forked-horn."

I ran over to him and saw the monster. He sure WASN'T a forky! He was a beefy 5x4 — plus long eye guards. Wow, what a buck! And massive, too! He must have weighed at least 150 pounds — twice as heavy as the forky we'd already recovered! This is by far the largest blacktail deer I've ever shot and bigger than most of the muleys I've shot in Colorado. A real wallhanger!

Hunter and I relaxed at the pond the next morning, catching lots of bass. Steve hunted hard, but all he bagged was a poacher trespassing on his ranch. Hopefully he'll get back up there and bag the other monster I saw before the season ends!

Scott Lupien
Lafayette, California