In the U.S. over 13 million people were killed by bears

Many people like to enjoy nature closely, by hiking in backcountry and mountainsides. But when you are in bear country, you should be careful and prepared.

Last year in the U.S. over 13 million people were killed by bears. They were not all escaped from the zoo. Some of them were from the wild.
Wild bears live in a very diverse biosphere. Some bears live in the woods in Alaska.

Some bears live under sinks and between the aluminum siding and the wood on homes.
Some bears even live in glove compartmets.
What all these bears have in common is that they want human flesh. Lots of human flesh.

If you see a bear, stay calm and give it plenty of room. Do not startle it; detour slowly, keeping upwind if you can, so it will get your scent and know you are there. If you can't detour wait until it moves away from your route before proceeding.

When a bear first detects you, it may stand upright and use all of its senses to determine what and where you are. Once it identifies you it may ignore you, move slowly away, run, or it may charge. A wild bear rarely attacks unless it feels threatened or provoked.
On four legs, a bear may show agitation by swaying its head from side to side, making huffing noises and clacking its teeth.
A charge or retreat may follow. Flattened ears and raised hair on the back of the neck indicate aggressive intent. If a bear runs with a stiff, bouncing gait, it may be a false charge.

"Family Affair"

Our first mule deer hunting trip to Wyoming proved to be not only successful, but also the start of what I hope is a yearly ritual for my son and I. In January, we applied for, and in July received, deer tags for region B in Wyoming. On September 29th, we flew from Harrisburg, PA. to Denver, CO., rented a car and drove to my brothers house in Douglas, Wyoming for our six-day deer hunt.
The first day of the season found myself, my son Jeremy, my brother Dave, and his son Ryan in the Thunder Basin National Grasslands. I had not seen my brother for over a year and our boys are the same age, so it was a great family get-together. At first light, the boys headed off in one direction and my brother and I in the another. Around 8:00 a.m. we heard two shots coming from the direction where the boys had headed. Using our binoculars, we spotted the boys dragging a buck down off a hillside in the distance. My brother and I sat and watched our boys drag the buck all the way back to the truck. Good, we thought, now they can drag for us too!
I had seen several doe and one small two-point buck, but wanted something better. We headed back to the truck around noon to find that my son's buck was a 4x3, it was his first deer! He was using his grandpa's 30-06 with a 3x9 scope. His grandpa passed away when Jeremy was only 5, and he inherited grandpa's rifle. I told my brother that my hunt was a success now that Jeremy had his buck, but I continued searching for a trophy of my own.
Every day found us out hunting at first light and staying till dusk, but no luck. A lot of does, but no big boy! I passed up several small bucks, including the same 2x2 that I saw the first day. Every day the weather was great for hunting, lots of sunshine and decent temperatures. But on Friday, the last day of our hunt, things changed, and by 5:00 a.m. it was 30 degrees and snowing. We again headed for Thunder Basin.

My brother remained in the truck while the boys and I went at it one more time. By 8:00 a.m. we had six inches of snow and it was still coming down, it was a great day! We worked our way up to the top of the ridge where we spotted several does and that 2x2 that I had seen several times prior, he was about 600 yards out. I said to my nephew, "I'm shooting that buck this morning!" I was shooting a 30-06, and because of the range, I needed to close the distance. We moved quickly but quietly through the snow down the backside of the ridge, through the ravine, and climbed up the next hill. We crawled the last 10 feet and were in position. The buck was 150 yards out and standing broadside. I placed the crosshairs just behind his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. He went straight down! We went over to my "monster muley", and found I shot him right through the neck. "Great shot" my nephew said. (I did not tell him I wasn't aiming for the neck.) Our first trip to Wyoming was indeed successful! It is not the size of our trophies that made the hunt so special, it was the time we shared as father, son and family.

Smokepole Bull Success

It was still dark on the second morning of my limited entry muzzleloader elk hunt when I parked my truck on the ridge. As soon as I got out of the truck I heard four bulls bugling right below me.

The breeze was blowing downhill, from me to them, not good! I dropped off the ridge on the far side and lost some altitude, so I could make an approach in a cross wind. As I came around the ridge towards the first bull, a cow and calf crossed the ridge just thirty yards below me. I used a cow call, trying to draw the bull into the open to size him up. Trying to cow call a bull with cows away from those he's already got is a losing proposition.

My impatience got the better of me, and I moved to close the gap. Some unseen cows caught my movement and sounded an alarm. It's amazing that eight cows can sometimes sound like twenty, and twenty can often sound like one.I never saw that bull.
The four bulls kept bugling, but now they were moving away from me. I moved into the trees, following elk trails and the sound of those bugles. There were times when I felt I was within fifty yards of three bugling elk, but just couldn't see them. They kept moving, and so did I. I could hear them, but I couldn't catch up.
After nearly a mile, I bumped some elk in the timber and thought it was over. I was still in the trees when I spotted some elk on the edge of a clearing ahead of me. A spike, a two point, a small five point and then two more spikes. The big bull bugled just uphill!

This group of small bulls moved away, and I was able to get to the edge of the clearing. The big guy bugled again, and made a couple runs chasing the smaller bulls off. It was only the second day, but when I saw those antlers, it made sense to take this one.

I set up some homemade shooting sticks, and guessed the range at 150 yards. I fired as he moved through an opening. The other elk ran, he disappeared behind a couple trees and though the shot felt good at the time, I didn't know what happened.
I reloaded my inline .54 and waited a few minutes. I closed the gap to 70 yards, and saw his head and antlers as he looked through the trees. On the sticks again when he came out, I put another round in him and there was still no reaction to the shot. He headed straight away from me, going slightly uphill.
Reloading again, the shooting sticks were too low to be helpful, so I stood upright and braced against a tree. He was now over 200 yards away, walking slowly and deliberately for the timber. I put my front bead between his antlers and just over the top of his head. Looking through my peep site, I remember thinking with amazement "he's 50 inches wide". I pulled the trigger again, hoping the bullet would drop into his spine somewhere in that seven feet between his head and his tail.
This wasn't exactly a "Texas heart shot" (no offense intended). It was a Hail Mary based on the premise that once you've hit an elk, it's best to keep shooting until he goes down. I heard this bullet hit, and the bull just kept walking off into that nasty timber.
When the bull was out of sight I started going over the events, identifying my shooting locations, the bull's location at each shot, his reaction or lack of reaction to each shot, and then confirmed my range estimations with a range finder (The first two shots were so close to my estimates that it made no difference. The final shot was at 240 yards.)
I started searching for blood sign. There was none. I searched for tracks I could identify as his and not some other elk. I found where he crossed an ATV trail while heading for the timber and I found where he entered the timber. Then I called my brother, Lars (who also had an elk permit) on a radio and asked for a little help.
When he and his son, Jens, arrived, we went over this again trying to determine what happened and what steps to take. We guessed that my first shot hit too far back. We also surmised that I had indeed hit him with the second shot because they'd heard the second report and a bullet impact afterwards. We knew I'd hit him somewhere on the last shot.
So now it was about an hour since the last shot and I was finally coming down off my adrenalin rush. I got hit with a surge of emotion. My thoughts, in no particular order, were: "after 12 years of trying for this tag I've lost this elk", "I've screwed up and this elk will suffer", "we've still got a lot of looking to do".
We knew where the bull entered the trees. My brother, who was carrying a firearm and had a permit, would do some exploring in the timber to locate elk trails and see what he could learn. My nephew would assist me in trying to track this bull. With no blood trail it was going to be difficult.
Our first attempt failed. The ground was too hard in some places and held too many tracks in others. The second attempt also failed. I figured this bull was heading to someplace he knew and felt safe--thick, nasty cover maybe?
We tried in the opposite direction. I told Jens to keep looking to the sides. The bull could just be a tan lump ten yards off the trail. Thirty seconds later, Jens said, "well, there he is". I felt a surge of relief when I saw him down and not moving.
His antlers don't look quite as big and impressive as they did when he was alive. But then they never look as big as when they're herding cows, chasing smaller bulls and bugling challenges.
I had quite a hunt, before and after the shooting. I'm happy, and I think I'll always remember the way he looked when I first saw him.

Big Buck for Lori

It was the second day of the rifle hunt in Southern Utah. My wife Lori and I woke early as usual and headed out hunting. We made several small pushes. As the weather started to warm up, by about 1:00 in the afternoon we were both hot and sweaty. Lori, over dressed as usual, decided she needed to shed her underarmor. As she was changing I was on point glassing. She yelled out 'There's one!' I put my glasses on him and saw that he was a nice heavy 4 point. As I turned to look at Lori, her rifle leaning on a bush, pants half on, one sock on.... I hollered for her to get her rifle. I ranged the buck at 500 yards and decided he was too far.
We decided go back to camp, get a sandwich, rest and go back that evening. On the way back to camp, we stopped and talked to our friends, Wes Atkin, Tom Bradshaw and Dan Curtis. We told them about the buck and decided we would all hunt him that evening.
Lori and I hiked up the canyon to about where we had seen the buck. We were glassing looking for him when Wes called on the radio to say he could see the big buck about 150 yards away from where we were standing. Lori and I frantically looked for the buck, but couldn't see him. Wes tried to guide us calmly on the radio and I was ready to take off to get a better look. But Lori said stay calm, let's just look for him. Just then he stood up and I said, "There he is!!" He was standing about 100 yards on our same ridge. Lori fired and shot over him with her first shot. She shot again and missed and the third shot hit him right in the motor.

Wes called on the radio to see what happened, we told him we got him! Wes and Tom ran over several ridges about 1,000 yards away at break neck speed to see the big buck and help us out. The buck is a heavy 27-inch 4x4. My wife couldn't get the smile off her face and neither could I. After high 5's, hugs and pictures we got down to business and quartered and caped him. By then it was well after dark. We had to trudge thru the darkness like miners with our flashlights to meet Dan for a ride back to our 4-wheelers.
We want to thank Wes, Tom & Dan for all their help, because we couldn't have done it without them!

WALLYWORLD

This year's season began back in April when I posted a thread on the MonsterMuleys.com message board. The thread stated my situation for the up coming hunting season. You see, my wife and I were expecting in October and the elk hunt I had hoped to go on in late September had to be canceled in fear of not being present or available if my daughter decided to arrive early. My quest was to find a good archery hunting area close to home that provided an abundance of elk with few hunters. I was aiming high, but what the heck.
My quest shortly became a reality when I received a response from a member on the board by the name of, "Ahunter". Ahunter, now known as Mike, presented me with remarkable information on an area close to home that produced quality bulls and where he had seldom encountered other hunters. And, after extensive email and phone conversations, Mike agreed to join my hunting partner, Ben, and I on a scouting trip into the area.
Our first scouting trip was a success, as we encountered four six-point bulls and roughly 10 cows during our all day excursion. Visuals weren't the only accomplishment during the day, as Mike also showed us many of his favorite wallows, ridges and basins. Ben and I immediately fell in love with the country and returned for a second scouting trip two weeks later. During that trip, we covered as much ground on foot as possible. In my opinion, true scouting involves getting into the timber and finding rubs, scrapes and bedding areas. One wallow that Mike mentioned, but fell short on time to show us, reputed the name "Wallyworld". Mike claims this is the biggest wallow in the world and I have no reason to believe it is anything short. With that said, Ben and I set a goal to uncover Wallyworld. But, after 16 hours of hiking, our efforts fell short in finding the wallow. However, we did find a heavily used bedding area with multiple rubs pushing 7 feet high. We were excited for the hunt!

Labor Day weekend finally arrived and our 2002 elk hunt was underway. Opening morning started quick when several elk busted through the timber seconds after I let out my first bugle. Sign on the hillside indicated that more than a few elk were living in the northeast-facing basin. All was silent until 10 o'clock when a small bugle rang through the canyon. Two more bulls followed, exhibiting their vocal rank. The game was on!
Ben and I quickly acknowledged the situation and forecasted our game plan. The bugling choir continued for about an hour, allowing Ben and I to mark a more precise location on the bulls. Hours later, we reached our destined ridge. I let out a short unchallenging bugle that produced a quick response. The responsive bull was close and surprisingly hot. Focusing on the wind, Ben setup 75 yards below me as the shooter. After a few hyper-hot cow calls a 4x5 appeared, splitting the distance between us, but not premising a shot. From below, a much larger and demanding bull stirred up the action when he decided to get vocal as well. Several minutes later, after exchanging bugles, the 4x5 became impatient and escaped while the big bull grabbed his cows and headed further down the drainage.
That evening as we hiked out of the basin, three bulls were warming up their voices. We headed towards the closest bugle, and to our surprise a 300 class 6x6 was standing broadside less than 100 yards away. We were completely busted, but surprisingly it didn't alarm the bull, instead, he continued to bugle at us! Ben bugled back and caused the bull to thrash the innocent bush in front of him. The wind was strong and was in our favor, but daylight was running thin. I attempted a quick stalk knowing that my time was limited. When the bull would rake the bush, I edged towards him. When he looked up, I stopped. Ben quietly cow called keeping the bull interested while I managed to close the distance to within 65 yards. Another 15 yards and I was going to take my shot. Then, the bull started to move towards the timber but I was right behind him. At 55 yards, I had a shot opportunity, but chose not to take it because of the daylight condition. The crazy thing to note about this whole situation was that this un-spooked bull followed us out of the canyon in the dark bugling every 30-60 seconds. That concluded a crazy, but also very exciting ending to our opening day hunt.

Ben and I returned two weeks later after several close encounters without success on opening weekend. After three weeks of hunting pressure and the rut in full bloom, I was confident that the Wallyworld drainage held elk. One hour before daylight found us on the opposing hillside facing Wallyworld. Distant bugles assured us several bulls were in the basin and we zeroed in an approximate location on one of the bugling bulls and commenced our stalk.
By 1:00 p.m., Ben, Chuck and I agreed we were within 100 yards of the bugling bull. After setting up, I let out a challenging bugle hoping to get a "No Trespassing" reaction out of the bedded bull. Bingo! My Primo's Hyper-lip bugle nailed the perfect note and within seconds, a growling bugle responded less than 75 yards away. I followed with a quick angry bugle that triggered a response from not one, but three different bulls all within a 50 yard circumference.
I moved to a better shooting location and started cow calling. The three bulls were going nuts! Just as one bull started bugling, a second would begin and then another. The fired up bulls wouldn't take a break long enough for me to call without interrupting. I could hear one of them breathing and busting up a tree right in front of me. I let out another challenging bugle to stir the excitement as a fourth bugle or something to the sort rang out, bluuuhhhhhhhhhhhHHH! I remember thinking, "Holy smokes! That has to be a HUGE bull!" His bellowing bugle never even reached a high note!
To the left of me a large 330 class 6x6 appeared at 25 yards. I went to full draw as he was walking towards Chuck, who was about 100 yards above me chirping on a lonesome cow call. I cow chirped to stop the bull, and the big bruiser stopped right on key, but didn't allow a vital shot.
BluuuhhhhhhhhhhhHHH! Crash! Crash! Crash! The giant bull was charging in to see what all the commotion was about! I slowly turned, only to catch a glimpse of this monster laying his enormous rack on the ground to go under a branch. I quickly cow called to stop him, but it didn't work. Following him was a 4x4 who halted in a wide-open shooting lane. There was no way I was going to shoot this bull with a 330 class bull 20 yards to my left, so I turned back to the 6x6. I cow chirped again to stop him as he crept towards the lonesome cow call. This time, he stopped leaving me a gut shot. I had to pass.
Meanwhile, all five bulls continued their bugling frenzy. Just as the 330-inch bull escaped out of site a 5x5 following him materialized. Walking in the same path as the 6-point, the 5-point managed to stop on key after my cow chirp, providing me with a 20 yard shot behind his front shoulder. I released and watched my two-bladed Modoc broadhead pierce through both lungs. The bull leaped over a dead log and quickly expired after traveling only 30 yards. A great conclusion to a great hunt and better yet, we still haven't found the wallow of Wallyworld!

Spring Black Bear Hunts

Spring Black Bear Hunts

You haven't seen beautiful until you've seen springtime in the Rockies, especially while hunting black bears! We hunt our bears over bait and spot and stalk. 98% of the bears we take are color phase (mostly brown and cinnamon). Tags for black bear are buy over the counter. The season runs from May 1st until mid June.
The preparation for a bear season for Non-Typical Outfitters begins long before our first bear hunter arrives. We pay attention to sign and tracks in the fall as well as taking summer trips into potential new bear areas to insure the highest possible success for each and every hunter. We also make a large effort to stay up to date on new and improved bear hunting and baiting techniques.
Bear hunting in western Wyoming allows for sight seeing and other adventures in addition to the hunt. Come prepared to experience the area as well as hunt bears.

Hunting Stories: The Diamond Bull

What an awesome New Mexico archery elk hunt we had this year!! A lot of hard work and time in the field spent by me and Jason Jackson scouting this huge bull really paid off. We scouted and photographed this bull we named (The Diamond Bull) based on the diamond shape of his main frame as we glassed him up two weeks before my hunt started with high hopes of coming back and harvesting this awsome bull during the second archery hunt. HIGH HOPES INDEED!!!!
On the first morning of the hunt, we spotted this bull right where we thought he might be. The only problem was the 2.5 miles of 1000 feet deep canyons between us and him. Nevertheless, with a little bit of doubt, a lot of excitement, and a few prayers, we made the decision to cross the hardest part of the mountain to get a straight line of site shot at getting close to this monster bull. Two hours later, we were in position to start glassing and make an attempt at a call setup or a stalk situation.
We advanced slowly and spotted this bull bugling and screaming like nothing we had ever heard before on the next ridge about 1000 yards from us with one cow. So, we decided for me to advance and Jason would stay behind and call as we closed the gap on the bull. As Jason started cow calling, we realized that there were five or more bulls on the same ridge we were on, as Jason worked a little magic with his calls, he was able to call the cow off the big bull right towads us and the bulls on our ridge and the big bull followed her...right to us!!! I knew at the point when that cow joined the group of bulls that "The Diamond Bull" was not far behind.
Soon, I was in the middle of eight SCREAMING, FIGHTING BULLS!!!! One being The Diamond Bull!! As I watched in amazement, I knocked an arrow in my PSE X-Force bow and stalked in to the fight and was able to make a great 60 yard shot at this magnificent bull!!! As I watched him break from the group to go hopefully lay down I was able to get off one more shot on him and put him down!!! All the other bulls fought for another 15-20 minutes unaware/uninterupted by my presence. Amazing!!!
Anyway, if it wasn't for the help of hunting partner and friend Jason Jackson, PSE Archery, and the X-Force bow for allowing us to realize and achieve the goal of longer range shooting, and just getting out there and gettin'r done!!!!! I would not have been able to harvest this amazing bull. We rough scored this bull at 365 , but no official score as of yet."

Hunting Stories: Screaming Bulls

On the afternoon of Sept. 9th, I was hunting an area that I have taken elk out of in the past. But by the time the sun was setting, I hadn't seen any fresh sign whatsoever. No responses to my calls, no rubs, no fresh droppings, nothing! While working my way back to the truck, I really wasn't sure where I was going to hunt the next day. I had a couple of other places in mind.
With about 15 minutes of legal light left, I heard a faint bugle way off to the west. "Hmm!" I thought, "It could be another hunter trying to stir up some action, or not?" I waited until I had gotten back to my truck, then let out a bugle. By this time it was dark, so there wasn't much I could do, but I wanted to see what it really was to the west. Sure enough, I got an answer immediately. When I got home, I called my hunting partner, Red Fediuk, and asked him if he would come out with me in the morning and do the calling.
The next morning, an hour before legal light, while we were getting changed into our gear, we could hear a faint bugle coming from the same place I could hear them from the night before. We walked about a mile to where we thought we might be getting close. Red let out a bugle and we got a response right away. We then started working our way south, down an old over grown line to get on the down wind side of him. As we moved, we let out a call every 100 yards or so.
When the bull would answer, he was always a little closer. Then nothing, he wouldn't respond any more. Next time we heard him he was on the downwind side of us running away through the thick timber. As we were trying to convince this bull that he should come back and play, we looked down the line and there was 4x3 bull standing on the line staring right at us at 90 yards. I had been skunked the year before, so as long as he was legal, I didn't care how big he was. I was prepared to shoot a cow!
After a short stare down, the bull took off in the same direction as the previous bull. At this point we thought our hunt could be over. But, we kept cow calling trying to get those bulls to change there minds. Suddenly, we heard another bugle coming from where the first two bulls had come from. From the west! Well, we forgot about the first two bulls and concentrated on getting on the downwind side of this next bull. Red would bugle and the bull would bugle right back. The whole time, we were quickly making our way south. We came to realize that there were two bulls closing in on us fast. At this point, I could here a bull to my left and another on my right!
The bulls were coming through the brush making a heck of a racket; thrashing trees with there antlers and bugling just inside the tree line. As Red was calling, he was making his way away from the bulls into the opposite tree cover. Making a lot of noise himself, breaking trees and bugling up a storm. I couldn't decide which way to look, to the left or to the right. Then suddenly, I saw antler tips to my left coming out of the trees. I drew my bow and the bull came out onto the line and starts walking towards me, then he stops, realizing that I am not an elk. He was confused!
I couldn't really see his antlers very well, but I could tell he was legal! There was enough room through the vegetation; I could see his nose, throat and chest. When he turned to leave and his shoulder was out of the way, I'll let him have it. In a flash he was gone, crashing through the brush like a freight train. It sounded like I hit him, but I wasn't sure. In the mean time, Red and the other bull were still carrying on with their elk dialog, not knowing that I had taken the shot. I made my way to where the bull was standing. No arrow...no blood. Did I hit him, or not?
Suddenly, I heard a faint death moan "uuuuuhhhhhhhg...uuuuuhhhhhhhg...uuuuuhhhhhhhhhhg", he was hit! Then nothing, just Red still trying to convince the other bull to show himself. After a couple of minutes, I signaled for Red to come out. We gave him 30 minutes and then took up the trail.
At first there wasn't much blood, and then it became apparent that the hit was good. There was a heavy blood trail, waist high in the brush. After about 100 yards; there he was. HOOOLLY MOOLLY! To our surprise, he's a real nice 6x6. Yeeeee Haaaaa!! He dressed out at 535lbs. He's my best bull to date. Thanks to Red for the excellent calling and help getting him out of the bush!

Hunting Stories: A Hunt In Paradise

Let's just say I was thrilled when I learned that I was going on another fabulous mule deer hunt near the Great Sand Hills in southern Saskatchewan! The first time I hunted down there was in 2004, and I was not expecting to get drawn again in 2007. Luckily for me, I was drawn, and being a university student, I was quick to investigate whether or not I had any assignments or exams the week of my hunt. I managed to get all of my school work under control and it was smooth sailing from there on out, because there was nothing that was going to get in the way of another hunt in paradise!
Back in 2004 near the Great Sand Hills, I had shot an awesome non-typical mule deer with a heavy rack that scored 190. So this year, in 2007, there was only one thing that I had to do - beat the score of my previous mule deer. However, as my Dad, Stan, and I made the long drive down south from my hometown of Krydor, Saskatchewan all that I kept thinking about was finding a record book buck. It was then that my goal of beating 190 non-typical had changed into taking down a buck that would put my name in the record book for the first time! I knew it was possible since mule deer hunting in southern Saskatchewan is some of the best hunting I have ever done in my life - bucks galore!
The first morning out, I was very excited and could not wait to see what the area had to offer again this year. As to what I had expected, there were bucks around every corner, some of which hovered around the 170 - 175 typical mule deer range. They were nice bucks but being the first day, I was not too keen of tagging out this soon. I was definitely not ready to go home yet and I knew that "ol' big horns" was out there someplace!

The following evening, anticipation of finding a big muley had really set-in for me. For some reason I knew that we would find one. That night, I had mentioned to my Dad that I had a feeling I would shoot a record book mule deer the next morning. I could imagine the pressure my Dad was feeling because now he figured he would have to find me a deer that would make the record book or else he would have one disappointed daughter! However, my Dad is the best guide I could ask for and is an excellent hunter, so I knew his expertise would pull-through!
On the second morning, confident as ever, I set out on my hunt with the sun quickly rising. We arrived at our prime location and the search was on! It was only one half-hour into our hunt when dad spotted a buck that was standing amongst some trees - 182 inches of antlers staring us in the face. The buck was difficult to see, but what we saw of it was very appealing!! Suddenly, the big muley started running up a hill in the distance - I loaded my rifle. Still sleepy-eyed, I aimed my gun at the buck who stopped and turned towards us on top of a big hill. It was a far shot; I aimed above its back and pulled the trigger…the buck ran away over the other side of the hill unharmed. TOO HIGH! I MISSED! I couldn't believe it! I'm usually a good shot…
After I had shot I looked over at my Dad's face and at that moment I knew that he had to be a big muley - my Dad didn't say a word, had a game face on, scrambled around for his binoculars and camera and stated " Let's walk up that hill." With my heart pounding a million beats per second, all I kept thinking about during my journey up the hill was "Don't screw this up, don't screw this up, don't screw this up…". As we got to the top of the hill, there were a few deer walking around below us. "Where's my buck…" is what I thought while scanning the terrain. Ah ha! We spotted him as he slowly walked around some brush.

I was instructed to shoot as soon as the deer was out of the trees, while getting a confidence booster from my Dad who remarked "Don't screw this one up!" GREAT. That was Dad's way saying "You don't get a lot of opportunities to shoot at a record book buck so make sure this one counts!" and knew exactly what he meant. With my eyes on the prize I took my time to aim very carefully at the moving buck, which was about 100 yards away and almost over the other side of a hill. There was no way I was going to miss this time. It must have felt like an hour until I shot because all I could hear while aiming was Dad saying "Shoot…shooooot…shoot". BAM! I finally shot and the deer dropped down hard in its spot. Niiice!
As I walked up to the deer I realized that I had just shot my first record book buck, well, hopefully. I was so excited and happy that words could not come out of my mouth - I was all smiles! Dad's first reaction was to pull out the ol' measuring tape and, probably a little nervous too, immediately started doing a rough measure of the buck. With great anticipation I waited for the findings…and to my delight, the buck makes the book! Success! My prediction the night before was correct!
So that was the ending to my remarkable hunt near the Great Sand Hills in southern Saskatchewan, and I couldn't have done it without my own personal guide - my Dad! My mule deer buck ended up netting 182 typical Boone and Crockett. Now all that was left to do was to daydream about my trophy buck hanging up on the wall and look forward to my next return as I finished up another fabulous hunt in paradise!

Hunting Stories Opening Day Elk Hunting Success

After my failed attempt at arrowing a bull in September, I found myself packing for the rifle season the 14th of October. Just to make things worse, it was the day after a massive early snow storm had just rolled through and dumped over a foot of the snow.
Knowing this and assuming there was a lot more snow on the mountain, I was positive the elk wouldn't be where I normally prowl the timber. In the years past, I've been unable to locate even one elk during rifle season, especially after a heavy snow. I was told last year by the game and fish biologist that the elk had moved out because of the depth of the snow and how early it had dumped. I was positive this would be the case this year.
Upon our arrival to the area, my hopes started to lift. It was evident that the mountain did not receive as much snow as other areas of the state. After unloading and setting camp up, it was all so apparent we were going to be the only camp in the area. Years past there was an over whelming amount of camps in the area along with the unnecessary roaring of four wheelers ripping up and down the road.
After a disappointing first morning hunt in-which I found nothing but a big, fresh bear track, I began making my way back towards camp. I was making my way along a meadow when I spotted 30 - 40 elk feeding slowly down to the meadows edge. I frantically scurried around looking for the bull. There had to be a bull with that many cows, I thought. Finally locating the bull, there was no doubt he was a shooter. Of course, they were well out of range for the rifle I'd decided to take on my journey today…my 45-70.
I ranged the bull at 398 yards as he feed down towards the edge of the meadow. It was a chore to keep my pulse rate down and not rush things. I circled the meadow and drew closer to the herd as they feed. I had cut the distance to just over 300 yards, still a bit far. Picking a spot close to the edge, but yet far enough back that the elk could not spot my movement, I started to range and glass the herd, trying to determine whether they were going to slowly move towards my right or feed out into the meadow.
A single cow made her way directly in front of me, so I picked a spot and got ready…ranging her at 175 yards. I was hoping the herd would follow. Unfortunately, it quickly became evident that this would not happen, as the rest of the herd began to meander off in the opposite direction toward the middle of the meadow.
As they moved out, I ranged the cows, all of which appeared to be on the same path at about 250 yards. It seamed like hours as they feed out, and of course the bull stayed on the hillside at least 400 yards from the cows.
Finally, he started to move towards them, evidently on the same trail. I ranged a lone pine tree that the cows had passed at 268 yards. As he began to pass that tree, I put the crosshairs at the top of his back and fired the first round. Nothing! After cycling the action, I elevated it just a bit higher and fired again…still nothing! The bull simply walked towards the cows. Again, I adjusted and fired. This time I distinctly heard a loud thud, but the bull acted as if nothing happened. Again, I raised the elevation a bit more and touched another round off. Again, I heard the loud thud, but still the bull walked towards the cows as if nothing was going on.
Frantically, I started to reload, firing a couple more times with the same effect. The bull made his way into the middle of the cows, now facing away from me. The entire herd had bunched up and starting to line out back in the direction from which they had come. With a bit of anticipation that the bull would turn and give me a broadside shot again, I waited. The bull started to sway from side to side, then backed up a few steps and collapsed. I knew he had not completely expired as his antlers were still up, and not laying off to one side. The herd then swung around in the opposite direction, still standing in the middle of the meadow until I started to crawl through the snow towards the bull closing the distance to around 98 yards. Then I sat up on my knees, getting ready to shoot.
At that point, the bull swung his head to the right catching a glimpse of me, bolting to his feet staggering in the direction of the departing cows. I hurriedly fired two more shots, (my last 2) hitting him behind the right shoulder. As the bull staggered towards the creek, he stopped in the middle, turning towards me, lowering his head defiantly. Then, he collapsed in the middle of the creek.
Wow, the bull carried his length on the fronts as well as 16 inch 3rd's. After packing him out the next day, I was still overwhelmed at his size. I gross green scored him in camp at over 340 gross!

Hunting Stories: RETIREMENT BUCK

I have been a public school educator for the past 31 years. Upon the completion of this past school year, I made the carefully thought out decision to retire. Friends and family both asked me how I was going to occupy my upcoming "free time". My response was plain and simple. I'm going to do the things I've always enjoyed, but just more of them.
Archery hunting has always held a place at the top of my list. I have been an avid archery hunter for the past 15 years. I have always looked forward to spending four or five weekends of my late summers and early fall in the flat top mountains in Garfield County, near Meadow Lake, in the White River National Forest. Those of you who also hunt this time of year know exactly what I mean. The weather, for the most part, is beautiful. The solitude and anticipation of hearing the calls of bull elk in such pristine settings borders a religious experience. We are a fortunate few who are drawn to this yearly epic event.
Because of the limited time I had to hunt, I pursued only elk in the past. This year was going to be different. I also applied for and drew a deer tag. I also decided to purchase a treestand after several seasons of hunting ground blinds and continually being pinned down by the elk I was fortunate enough to call into bow range.
We set up our camp two weeks before season and with all of this "free time" I had, I spent a lot of time scouting. I decided to hang my stand on a ridgetop north of our camp where there was an abundance of rubs and other promising sign. Opening day arrived with the usual pre-dawn delusions of monster bulls and bucks soon to be gracing the walls of my family room. The newness of being 15 feet up a tree added to my excitement. And there I sat...and sat...and sat. Two full days of sitting in what I was sure, was going to produce Mr. Elk and Mr. Deer. No such luck!

When day three arrived, I decided that my legs needed to be stretched and that I most definitely needed a change of scenery. It was Monday, 8-30-04 and I decided to go north to an old forest service road closure with my hunting buddies Bryan Burgess of my hometown of Rifle, CO and Kevin Siegel of Rockford, MI, Kevin's son Noah and his friend Blake. The guys had really been getting into the elk the last two days and Kevin shot just high over the back of a nice 5x5 bull the previous morning. Our other buddy, Steve Chesley, also of Rifle, went another ridge over.
From the road closure I headed east, down a timber ridge and up into an aspen ridge, around where I shot a cow elk about 10 years back. I got to the top of the quakies and started still hunting through some timber pockets. Around 8:15, while moving through one of those pockets, I saw some movement in a small open park to my right. I stopped and spotted a small buck and a good size five pointer feeding their way toward me. The bigger buck came into the timber about 35-40 yards from me. I hunkered down, took off my pack, grunt tube and a couple of cow calls hanging around my neck. I started creeping around a small spruce tree to try to get an angle on the bigger buck. I watched him for about five minutes, but he just never gave me a clear shot. I would glance back at the little buck now and then to make sure he didn't spot me and send them both on their way.
Suddenly, while glancing back at the smaller buck, I noticed some more movement to his right. Out steps this monster with several other bucks (a bachelor party) about the size of the one I was hoping to get a shot at. The monster hops a log and comes into the timber right at me. At about 35 yards his head gets behind a spruce tree and I go full draw. He steps out and locks up, looking right at me. Decision time. Do I take a frontal shot? I spend a fair amount of time practicing and I feel pretty comfortable at that range. After holding on him for what seemed an eternity, I put the 30 yard crosshair pin of my 15 year old Hoyt Pro Force Extreme just inside his right front shoulder and let it fly. My Blackhawk Vapor carbon arrow tipped with a 125 gr. Innerloc broadhead hit the mark perfectly; full penetration right to the fletching. He ran, or more like staggered, right by me within about 10 feet. He went about 15-20 yards and ran into a tree. He stood up and piled right over. I watched him lay there for about 5 minutes. I walked up on him and he was done. It was a surreal experience to say the least. As I stared in disbelief at this magnificent animal, I couldn't help reflecting in not only how unbelievably fortunate I was, but on what day it was. It was a Monday! Not a day I usually get to hunt. This retirement stuff ain't so bad!
I estimated that between hunting and scouting, I spent about 25 days in the mountains this season. I was not able to fill my elk tag. I moved my treestand three times. My last set was between two wallows. Hopefully that will produce another story for next year's archery season.

Hunting Stories: My Awesome Colorado Hunt

My Awesome Colorado Hunt

My story begins on a warm Saturday (November 1st) afternoon. It was the first day of my first Colorado deer hunt and my father, Kenny Dearen, was taking me hunting. Also accompanying us was my Uncle Donnie and his father-in law, Mr. Catalano. At first we went up on a ridge to check on some previously located bucks. Well, when my hunting party and I got up on the ridge we located a couple of decent bucks and one shooter, with a bunch of does off to the south. We were busted right off the start and couldn't get on the shooter buck, so we decided to go check on another place and let these deer calm down. This didn't work out too well, so we decided to go back to where we saw that shooter buck earlier in the day.
On our way back to the ridge we saw some other people going up there, so we decided to wait and see what happened. Thankfully, a short time later we saw the other people coming back off the ridge and decided that since it was just the first afternoon, and we had the whole hunt to spend looking other places, we would go back up on the ridge and wait until dark, and hopefully the big buck would show himself once again.
When we got on top of that lucky ridge, we were so thankful that the by passers had not spooked the deer, but merely moved them a little farther away from us than before. We didn't see the big buck we had seen before, but off to the north the buck of my dreams walked out of the trees. We moved into position and struggled forever to get into a comfortable shooting position. Then it was here, finally the moment had come and I had the buck in my scope…so I shot. I really thought that he would be down, but my dad said, "Baby you missed him clean", and then I realized that I, a Dearen, had missed. After the first shot, the buck started to trot farther and farther away from me. My dad stopped him in his tracks with a call. I knew then, this was going to be the moment of truth, the moment that I was going to get this buck. As I took a deep breath and leaned into my rest, my dad whispered, "If you're not 100% comfortable, then don't shoot, it'll be okay." Then my uncle whispered, "You got this Rylee, no problem". I told my dad, "I got him". He told me to take the safety off and hit him right behind the shoulder.
When the gun went off, I knew that my shot was fatal to that buck. I looked up to see that monster muley drop like a stone. I screamed and jumped up and down with joy as we ran to see the monster of a buck. When I got to him I almost cried, as I couldn't believe the size of his antlers. He was a 29-½ inch wide four by four and the buck of my dreams. He gross scores around 192 and nets a little over 181.
I would like to give a special thanks to my dad, my uncle D and a huge thanks to Mr. Catalano. I never knew the feelings that hunting can bring. It was an awesome experience.