I missed the season opener this year returning from a fantastic archery elk hunt in Montana (albeit no tags punched…), and other responsibilities and commitments prevented me from getting into the Blacktail woods until the last week of the season. With rain in the forecast and a month separating me from my last hunt, I was chomping at the bit to be back among the wet ferns and game trails of the Siskiyou’s!
The clouds were good enough to refrain from releasing their deluge until after we had camp put up, though from then on our rain gear was a constant companion.
My first morning found me watching a wide fern bench under a canopy of old firs with pockets of alders slowly shedding their leaves. While still absorbing the view I caught movement! A layer of fog was just rolling in, but I could just make out that the source of the movement was a cat. I have become accustomed to seeing bobcats in the area and assumed this to be another one, but when it passed a fern and into full view I could see I was very wrong.
Mountain lion! Bino's down and rifle up!
The big cat slipped in and out of view as it navigated the ferns, his movements as fluid as the fog that was working to shroud him. I steadied myself for the shot and waited for it to emerge from behind an old alder, but like the fog, it seemingly evaporated into thin air.
This was my first ever lion sighting, and despite not punching my tag on it, the experience alone ensured that day one was a success!
In the days that followed we worked hard at our soggy endeavor, and were rewarded with multiple sightings of does, a few small bucks and a couple of very close encounters with some roving bands of Roosevelt elk. As with so many years before, there was a hatch of centipedes (I think?) that seemed to swarm the base of every tree.
I’ve spent every Halloween of the last decade dressed as a hunter, and this year was no exception. ; ) The rain seemed to be letting up this morning and I briefly considered leaving my rain gear in my pack, but only 10 minutes into the hunt the skies opened again and I was glad to be wearing that portion of my “costume!”
An hour later I approached the edge of a timber stand that had been thinned a few years earlier. After easing through a border of small alders I paused to scan the area. The fog wasn’t too bad, and at times I could see out to almost 200yds – a rare distance in the area I frequent. I was almost startled when I noticed the familiar shape of a Blacktail buck standing 80yds to my right! It did not take long for me to determine that he was a shooter in my book. It did however take several more minutes for me to ease into position for a shot on the muddy hillside I was leaned up against.
I must have had a fair bit of moisture in my barrel, because when I touched off the round it looked to me as if I’d just fired a black powder round with the cloud of mist that instantly materialized in front of my barrel! Needless to say I did not see the hit, but watched as the buck bounded 40yrds or so before finding his final resting place.
Pop was hunting a ridge about a mile away and had heard the shot. We made plans to rendezvous, grab some stout packs and then return for the deer. Pop led the climb down to where the deer lay and was the first to get a good look at him.
“He’s not a monster, but he’s a keeper,” he said with a grin. I’d have to agree.
Bro made it down in time to help with the fun part. We quartered and
boned him where he lay and made the climb back out. This view doesn’t
do the the thigh-burning incline justice!
After Bro and Pop finished their evening hunts we were able to properly toast the buck. Last year we celebrated with dark IPA we brewed ourselves and titled “Cascadia Blacktail Ale.” Home brewing has been slow this year, so we settled for a “Nice Rack” IPA by Southern Oregon Brewing. Just seemed appropriate.
With some extra time now on my hands I headed out the next morning with the camera to hopefully collect some shots. The rain had really put a damper on my opportunities to exercise the shutter this year, and I was a little disappointed that this day held more of the same. Here are a few of the local scenery.
That morning while I was off doing nothing particularly interesting, Bro had hunted into the deer equivalent of a high school dance! He was in an area we have dubbed “Sorority House” on account of the high number of does we typically see there. The wind was up, the rain was coming down, the girls were out and apparently the boys wanted to play!
There were several small bucks that had been moving with the does for a while when another buck came in and ran them off. This was clearly the dominant buck in the area!
Soon after the young bucks were run off a
doe appeared, moving quickly from out of the vine maple. This time of
year, that’s a sign to have your rifle at the ready! Bro did, and when
the dark horned buck following the doe appeared Bro leveled, fired, and
put him to rest in his tracks.
Let’s just say that if this was the same dominant buck, he was mature for his age! Bro said he was initially a little disappointed at the size, but said his thanks and explained, “He was down, he was mine now, and man was that a dang fun hunt!”
The view from camp was just getting better!
Over the next day and a half the weather started to dry up, and the deer movement seemed to go down with it. Pop continued to hunt hard with the memory of tagging his buck a few years ago in the last five minutes of the last day. Mid-day we set up for some rattling sequences, but to no avail.
In the end, Pop didn’t get the opportunity to notch his tag. While that certainly is the primary goal, it is not the mark of successful trip for us. It may not have been a monster year, but there is no doubt it was a keeper!
I have the points to draw a Willamette Valley tag next year, provided I secure access to some land. On the way out we passed this picturesque little farm. It got me thinking about what opportunities and memories next years’ hunt, or maybe hunts, may hold…
Cheers,
-c2
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