The Deer Hunt

 The deer hunt.

Everything came together today.  After much preparation the goal was finally reached.  It was the culmination of many variables working out for the best.  What a day it was!

Virgin Mountain, south of Mesquite, Nevada 2012

The Nevada Desert is a vast expanse, to put it lightly.  If you have ever driven the desert roads, you know exactly what I am talking about.  To most observers, it looks like a barren wasteland devoid of life.  That is far from the truth.  If you are willing to venture into the unknown, you will be pleasantly surprised to see a wealth of wildlife and nuance before your eyes.  A patient mind and eye are greeted with the very finest delights.  The dazzling stars in the dark night sky blurring into brilliant blue mornings is really a visual treat.  The sun changing angles through out the season and the vibrancy of the rocks catch you off guard.  One moment’s colors will change in the blink of an eye.  The Desert has a natural mystique, as well as the mystique of man, from the Native Americans to the military of today.  There are the “secret” bases, test ranges, alien sightings, and sounds of modern man to accompany any venture to the Desert.  

My desert activities vary widely.  Trail running, mountain biking, rock climbing, hiking, off road driving, shooting, and camping are some of the things I have been doing out there.  Each activity gives you a different perspective of this wild place.  Hunting, is something totally different, and ties a few of the activities together.

About 5-6 years ago, I began bird hunting in the Desert.  I would pursue quail and chukar for many hours on end, many times coming home empty handed.  My boots became tattered and my legs were often too sore to walk the next day.  Friends would still accompany me even with the chance of returning with nothing.  We would still hunt.  Something has kept driving us.  I suppose the intrigue of the Desert is what kept bringing us back…each time a little stronger and changed.  Many stories were shared from our adventures and new places were found.  It just kept getting better.  Birds are a difficult pursuit, especially in the rough terrain we have in Nevada, and without a dog.  Slowly, our hunting skills improved, and we finally started putting meat in the refrigerator. 

Alan with a Quail, Kane Springs, Nevada 2011

Ryan taking a break at Kane Springs, Nevada 2011

Then, 3 years ago, I had a grand idea to “put in” for big game tags.  This is a lottery process which involves early submission to the wildlife department because of game management.  Yes, we have lots of game in Nevada, but there are also a lot of people wishing to hunt.  So, many go for years without getting the chance to hunt at all.  My second year of applying, I drew a tag for Antlered Mule Deer in the area close to Mesquite, Nevada.  I looked at maps for water sources and trees.  I thought I had planned well, but on the day of the hunt, I saw nothing.  My friend Ryan was with me on that day and we gave it our best.  I even ventured out solo one other day to try my luck, still… nothing.  There were other hunters around, so surely I was in the right place.  The season came to an end and I went home empty handed, not even seeing a single mule deer.

Then, Alan came along.  Alan is a friend from the Henderson Symphony that we have known for a while, but we only started hunting together last season.  We hunted birds and rabbits in the Kane Springs area of Nevada with great success.  We both put in for mule deer for the 2012 season and swore to help each other out if either of us pulled a tag.  I told him that I was “all in” if he drew and he said the same to me.  Some time went by and he came back with a tag in the mail and I was rejected.  Oh well, another year for me to wait, but this meant that we were about to plan the most exciting deer season ever. 

Katherine at Kane Springs, opening day 2012

Bird season opened up first, and we went out for opening day.  Even Katherine came along for the action!  With a stroke of bad luck and a very odd result, all three of us took shots on quail, and all three birds were never recovered.  This was really strange.  With three people seeing where a bird went down, you normally always find it.  I guess if the bird can’t fly, and is still able to run on the ground, it could possibly go for a mile. 

While bird hunting, we were on a scouting mission for the November 5 opening day of deer season.  We located a few places in the hundreds of square miles where the tag was good for.  You can eliminate places of low elevation, without trees, and harsh exposure from the sun.  So, that leaves you with the mountainous areas, and that also leaves you with the most rugged terrain out there.  Trucks can only get you so far, and then you venture into jeep area, which then turns into hiking to go any farther. 

Mule deer tracks in our area. Virgin Mountains, Nevada

Once Nov 5 came, we thought we were ready to make this deer hunt happen.  We camped in a close location the night before, got up at 4am to be in position by 5:30am.  

Early morning camp.

Our location for sunrise on opening day.

Two hours were spent scouring the area with our binoculars and listening for any sound.  The only sounds we heard were a pair of four wheelers coming down the trail towards us.  They couldn’t see us, but I watched them closely.  I was lucky that I did.  The group hopped out of their four wheelers and set up spotting scopes looking at the area just behind us.  While I spied through my binocs, I saw them pointing in a few directions.  I then looked where they were pointing and saw a large group of deer very far away, maybe 1000 yards.  This was way too far for us, but I called to Alan to come up the hill.  We both watched this group pursue the deer down the side of the hill.  I was able to see them close in on a large buck standing broadside to them at 300-400 yards.  Surely, I thought the shot would be taken.  Nope. Some of the deer ran up and over the hill into the next drainage.  Alan and I were ready for them to head our way, and took the H3 back around to, hopefully, corner the deer.  We traveled through some serious brush in the truck and came to the trails end.   Seeing nothing, we headed back to the original location of the morning.  This is where we ran into the 2 guys pursuing the early morning deer.  Alan spoke with them and was told they didn’t take that early shot because they were looking for something bigger in the area.  In disbelief, Alan saw a picture on their phone of a huge mule deer from the previous season.  It was giant!!!  They told us that the buck and a few doe were bedded down up on the trail above us and if we headed up there, we might get lucky.  We took the advice and headed up, climbed the overlooking hill and saw nothing until the sun set.  The day was done, but at least we had seen some deer and met guys that told us we were in a good area.  We hoped the next trip in the area would be a little more rewarding. 

We made a plan to go up the very next weekend.  I made the call not to go since my truck was making a horrible sound from the front drivetrain.  After a little inspection, I saw that the front differential mount was dying a slow and painful death.  I had one rushed to the house, ripped out the old one, got a welder to repair the damaged sleeves in the crossmember and slammed the unit back in the truck.  It was just too bad that this repair was not done quickly enough to get out to the Desert.  The next deer hunt would have to wait until the next weekend.

Now that the truck was repaired, thanks to my super basic welding skills, we were off for a similar approach and plan to the same area.  Little did we know that this would be well worth the wait.

Our plan was nearly the same as before.  We left in the evening on Friday to get to a campsite close to the action.  The moon was just a sliver and the wind was whipping.  From Vegas to get to our camp was just at 2 hours.  We passed through a narrow slot canyon and headed up to the site.  Some other hunters were at the corral just below our ideal hunting site.  Hopefully, they would not be up as early as us, and we would get to the site well before them.  We set up camp, had our dinner, and set the gear for the encroaching morning wake up time. 

Ring Ring.  It was 4am.  We woke up, packed the camp, and got the coffee going.  But wait!  I forgot the camp stove.  Even with my checklists, the camp stove was forgotten.  How could this be? Coffee would be much more difficult to prepare over a real fire, but it had to be done.  This would take a little extra time and hopefully not put us behind schedule.  Little did we know, this stalling would be what put us in perfect position in a half hour.  We left the campsite and headed up the trail to the radio tower in the H3. 

While driving in the rattling truck, we had to go slowly.  Spooking the deer was not a good idea.  We came to the first pull off area, turned off the engine, hopped out, and started scanning the area with the binoculars.  Nothing.  That was expected, as we were not in our choice area, but our spotting locations were the same places we saw the guys 2 weeks ago who saw deer.  So, we thought it would be a good idea to give it a try.   A few hundred yards farther we scouted again.  Nothing.  Then we were off to the saddle of the ridge.  This is where we parked the truck 2 weeks ago.  We had a feeling it would be good. 

I parked the truck in the middle of the trail just to get a quick glance at the terrain.  Normally, you pull off to the side to let others by, but this would be just a quick look and if there were any deer, they would be far away.  The moment I stepped out of the truck, I spotted with my naked eye 4 doe only 100 yards away.  “Uhhhhh.. Alan….  Get you rifle.” I frantically whispered.  Surely there would be a buck close behind these beautiful ladies.  There was, and it was a little guy in close pursuit.  Alan got his rifle smoothly out of the back and we both quietly headed down the game trail.  The hot coffee was still too hot to drink and was sitting in the arm rest of the truck, but at this moment it didn’t matter.  There were deer just down the ravine and there might be more, and hopefully a bigger buck. 

We were only on the game trail for a minute and Alan radioed me, “There’s a buck down the canyon about 800 yards away and coming towards us.”  This was in addition to the 4 doe and the little buck on the other side of the canyon.  By this point it was sheer craziness.  The sun had technically risen a half hour ago, but the clouds rolling through the mountains kept everything dark and there was a threat of rain.  It was a little eerie out there compared to 2 weeks ago with crystal clear skies and not even a breeze.  We crouched and looked through the binoculars.  I knew where the doe went, but that didn’t matter.  We were looking for another buck, and he would be along soon.  Sure enough, I heard another vehicle coming down the trail.  It put off a low rumble and I could only think about how my truck was in the middle of the trail.  We were in hot pursuit and how clumsy of me to just leave it there.  I didn’t want to be a hunter with bad etiquette.  While worrying about where my truck was, we heard on the slope just in front of us some rocks tumbling.  It drew our attention and right in front of us was the larger buck we thought we might see.  The vehicle had scared him and his escape route put him headed right at us.  He moved quickly across the slope from left to right.  I could see a large rack on his head.  Alan was setting up, but the deer didn’t stop.  Then, he did.  I didn’t know since I was a bit higher than Alan, but he didn’t have him in the scope.  The buck then continued over the ridge to the other side.  Arggghhh! But within a few seconds, that same buck, came around the corner.  It stared at us from 230 yards.  We both saw it and watched as he didn’t move at all.  Alan laid down flat on the ground trying to get a stable position.  His front hand was a little low, so I grabbed a nearby rock to lift it a bit.  The deer still did not move.  With the binoculars, I could see that it had a few points on the rack and was worth taking.  Alan brought his scope on the buck just as he shifted about 30 degrees off straight facing us.  His right shoulder was visible and Alan had the perfect shot.  The breeze had just slowed down and things got very quiet.  Alan fired.  All I saw was a brief stumble and then the deer fell down the side of the slope.  With my binoculars I could see some agitation in the scrub oak and then nothing.  This was a direct hit and we knew we would find the animal.

Alan never took his eye off the impact site.  This was the plan since we have lost a few quail and chukar before, and there was no way that we were going to lose a deer.  There was the possibility that the shot was not a kill shot and the deer could be running off.  I grabbed the spent casing from the ground, piled some rocks on the site of the shot, and tested my radio with Alan.  He kept spotting the area as I traversed around and down the ravine and back up to the impact site.  Alan guided me to the exact location and I could see on the ground the footprints from where the deer had stumbled.  From there I could also smell the deer, which was new to me, as I had never smelled anything like this before.  The buck was in the rut and was in a steamy pursuit of the doe in the area.  As I followed the tracks down the slope from the impact site the scent got stronger and the footprints more erratic.  Just in front of me, in the bottom of some scrub oak, the buck had laid to rest.   I approached with caution, pistol in hand, and saw my first mule deer up close in the Nevada Desert.  It was a little different than looking at it through the lens of the binoculars.  It was giant!

Alan’s shot was taken on a true desert warrior.  The buck was missing 2 points on his right antler, probably due to battle.  He had a thick rough coat of hair, and the look in his eyes was captivating.  I stood there for a silent moment in respect before radioing Alan to get the gear, move the truck, and get down here to see this guy.  The work was about to begin.

It took Alan about 20 minutes to get down to me.  I was continuously talking to him on the radio about the plan to clean the deer.  We were in steep terrain and this would not be an easy job.  Soon enough, he was coming towards me from above and was intrigued by the sight.  He agreed, the deer was big, and it would be a slug fest to get this guy out of the scrub oak and up to an open area.  I cleared a path with a machete and we dragged the deer up to a tree for cleaning.  What happened next is Alan’s area of expertise and does not need vivid detail.  

I will say this, it was heavy and messy.  In 30 minutes we were packing up and devising a plan to get the deer through the ravine and back up the next slope to the game trail. 

Once the trudge began, we were moving along nicely to the ravine.  This was because it was all downhill.  Alan carried the rear of the deer and I had the front.  Every time I would lose footing, I had to watch out for the antlers gorging me as I fell.  I got a few pokes, but nothing to cause real injury.  Next, came the uphill section.  This was a steep slope with no trail.  The only way was to make your own switchbacks, or just head right up the crumbling sandy slope.  Finally, we reached the remnants of old mining switchbacks.  We thought this route would be much easier with the consistent grade, but it wasn’t.  It was still incredibly steep.  Once forward progress was almost down to nothing, we thought that quartering the deer would be our best bet, making 2 trips to the car.  I thought to try one more thing.  It might be worth it to go back to the truck, get the nylon webbing, and create some kind of harness to put the weight of the deer on our shoulders.  Decision made, I went back to the car and returned.  We were still quite far away from the H3, but the harness I made really saved the day.  Alan had a double over-shoulder rig and mine was a diagonal sling.  This made it much better!  

We were now covering twice the distance between breaks.  Fatigue was setting in.  My left quad was cramping something fierce and Alan was feeling beat as well.  We continued and once we had sight of the truck, life was getting much better.  Luckily, the clouds were keeping the direct sun off of us and the temps were very cool with a slight breeze.  After a 3 hour trek, we finally made it to the saddle where the truck was parked. 

Once we placed the deer behind the truck, a group of four wheelers approached.  All of a sudden we had an audience.  They were taking pictures and wanted to hear all about the hunt.  Now, the secret was out.  Our little area was now public knowledge.  Oh well. 

After a brief lunch break and much needed water, we loaded up the deer.  Fitting it into the back of the truck was no easy task.  We had camping gear and were pretty cramped.  Alan called his father to relay the news and a few text messages were sent.  Cell coverage was great since we were almost on the top of a mountain and the city of Mesquite was close by.  Once secured, we headed back down the trail, past the corral, and into the slot canyon for a real lunch. 

The drive back to Vegas was full of excitement.  All we could do was talk about the hunt and recall every moment.  We had a wonderful audio book to listen to, but it would have ruined the moment.  We had to rehash the details over and over again of what we just went through. 

The drop off at the butcher was clean and simple.  We had an interesting man help us that was creepily good with a knife and saw.  He was disgusted that we left the skin on the deer and asked us if we were first time hunters.  He was short and in his 50’s with a fresh apron and multiple knives on his hip.  His demeanor was a little abrupt and he was humored with drilling us about the deer. Since we were tired and fatigued, we were just pleasant with him.  It wasn’t like we could just pack the deer back up and take it to another butcher.  Later, we realized that this guy just had a weird sense of humor and things turned out just fine.  I found it interesting that the butcher shop was also an outdoor restaurant where there were customers wandering around in the parking lot. 

We then backed the truck up to the butcher’s door, I looked around and saw that a few spectators were gathering.  When the butcher told me to open the door of the the truck so he could see the deer, I knew the reaction on some of these people’s faces would be interesting.  Funny enough, there were three guys that really wanted to see what the catch was, and even asked if they could take a picture.   Then, some ladies got out of a car next to us.  They saw the deer and blood that poured out of the back of the truck and were not even bothered.  They asked a few questions and threw a “congratulations” our way and went over to get their take-a-way food.  I guess at a meat shop people will really get excited about something like a deer in the back of the truck. 

The butcher chopped off the legs and head of the deer in a fury.  He told us he didn’t want his boss to see him save us some money.  The deer is butchered by weight, so he cut off the stuff we didn’t need which was nice. Then, it had to be lifted up on the wheeled overhead peg.  He wanted me to position the rear leg while he took the weight of the deer with Alan, as I was reminded by the butcher, “I am a lot stronger than you.”  I just smiled and took the rear leg.  You don’t really want to disagree with a guy like this wielding knives as large as swords on his hip. 

Once inside the shop we could see the operation.  There were bins of turkeys getting prepped for Thanksgiving, grinders, wash bins, and all kinds of interesting butcher tools.  He went through the meat selection with our deer in a very thorough way.  We made our choices and thanked him for everything.  This is an interesting guy we will never forget.  Upon driving away, some guys in the parking lot were yelling at us trying to get our attention.  In the confusion with the butcher, I forgot to put the guns back in the truck that were on the roof.  Thanks to those guys, two shotguns and a rifle were not deposited on the I-15 somewhere on the way home. 

When we got back to my house, Katherine came out front to greet us.  I had 4 deer legs and a head in the truck to show her.  The rest would have to wait until the butcher was finished.  The antlers were removed by the buthcer’s huge hack saw with a little bit of skull holding them together.  I cut away some of the meat from the head to cook the next day.  Katherine’s brothers would be here soon, and they would want to see the remnants of this deer. 

The next day, I marinated the little neck meat and put it in the crock pot.  We also boiled the antlers to clean them up for display.  The meat was great and I wanted to take the antlers to school to show a few friends.  The friends part was great, but my morning drummer group was a little weirded out.  Some of the students were following me on the hunting and knew I was bound to come back to school with stories.  I filled them in on conservation and hunting ethics.  Many of my students are from rural Mexico and have fathers that hunt and eat a lot of meat.  So, I figured bringing in the antlers would be a nice treat for them.  They could hold them and get a feel for the size of a Nevada mule deer.  Once the discussion began, I was getting a few weird looks and then I noticed a 5^th grade girl put her head on a drum.  She cried out, “That deer deserved to live!” “Oh, no.”  I thought.  Where was this going now?  The others were consoling her while I tried to ease out of the conversation.  I was going nowhere.  Even the boys that were all into the hunt were acting a little strange when I showed them that antlers.  What was this, and why were they acting so odd?  After a week of thinking about it, I have an idea.  The school takes students to Red Rock Canyon where the visitor’s center has tons of stuffed animals and pieces.  Bass Pro shops have animal mounts on all of the walls.  These students eat meat. What’s the deal?  I guess they are a little closer to the animal’s life through me.  I think that by me talking about the deer and hunting has just bred a new group of vegetarians.  The girl got a little better as the week went on, but was still disturbed by the hunt.  Now, I just have to be sure to bring in the meat for this girl to sample.  Then everything will be fine.  No?

In closing, I have to say that this deer hunt has totally changed me.  It has heightened my respect for the Nevada Desert.   As a human, with two eyes in front of my head, brought me closer in touch with life and death.  All this happened, and Alan was the one with the rifle and made the shot.  I was just the Sherpa and driver.  It took years of planning and roaming around in the Desert to make this hunt happen.  While most people are comfortable staying in the city living the Vegas life, some of us can’t wait to get out and see what humans are really made of.  If not humans, it might just be to see what you are made of.