Last Shot at Glory

As we reached the last day of the general hunting season in Montana, my friend - who selflessly devoted time for me to tag a mule deer - had resigned himself to "eating" his tag.  He had talked about the success of the season so far in taking a bull elk and a male antelope; so the mule deer buck would give him 3 species in a single season - that's something that does not happen all the time.

To make matters worse, a couple of days before, we spotted a nice buck and closed in on him.  He moved so quickly that I, as the bigger and older person, struggled to keep up (even if I had a healthy knee).  Regardless, we got into a perfect shooting spot laying in a creek bed.  That buck closed the distance on us and gave perfect broadsides at 180 yards.  Bryan looked at me and asked, "Are you going to hate me if I don't shoot this one?"  It was his tag and his choice, but I would not have hesitated.  Why did he delay?  We noticed that this one had a broken tine, and he had shot a deer with a broken tine each of the last several years.

Later in the day, this picture shows Bryan "taking a rest."  Again, I think we was just giving my knee a chance to recover.  We hunted this property the next several days and had not seen anything shot-worthy.  Nevertheless, we were going to give it one more try.  We would start the day back at the location where we saw that mule deer and then plan on coming out of the woods by 10am.  We still had to pack up our stuff, secure the camper, and then begin a rather lengthy drive back to his home.

One word describes the morning -- nothing.  We saw nothing at all.  His other friend that went with us - Travis - shot one at 400 yards but was a long way off on another parcel of the property.  We continued moving here and there on that special draw and kept looking back hoping for something to be seen.  What's that word I mentioned earlier?  Nothing.  Yep, we saw nothing.  Then, while glassing the distance hills, I noticed 5 mule deer on a ridge.  They were at least a mile away and it was a gamble.  He left the decision to me, so off we went.  This was one of the few times on the trip that I saw deer before he did and took the lead to get us there.

As we reached the top of the ridge, we could still see them but could not tell what they were.  As luck would have it, Travis was skinning his deer on the other side of the ridge where those deer stood.  Bryan, at that point, took over maneuvering us out of sight so that we could close in further.  We ended up seeing another group of mule deer with a small buck in it, and things got strange.  While we moved them away by our presence, they kept coming back -- totally unconcerned about us. I joked because they knew I had already filled my tag and was gun-less; however, Bryan's wit would not let that pass.  He responded with a quip about them knowing how I shoot so they believed they were completely safe.  After a chuckle, we stood amazed as those deer moved over the ridge toward the ones we were trying to close in and view.

We got to the edge of that ridge and Bryan eased into a shooting position.  He crept out and around an evergreen as the picture shows.  On the opposite ridge were all of those mule deer - about 20 in all.  As occurred with my mule buck, all the does moved up the ridge.  I was giving him ranges of various deer and trees and rocks in case that elusive buck displayed himself.  Sure enough, once appeared; however, he was really small.  As we were preparing to exit out, we saw a few more deer appear.  Bryan sat still watching and observing.  Yep, it was another buck that showed up.  Again, this one was way too small.  Bryan thinks that his friend Travis shot the buck from this one herd and these two smaller bucks were gladly stepping in to the vacated position.  We stayed and watched them for awhile and decided to back off that ridge.  Travis was on the other side less than half a mile away, so we were going to meet him and then help him with his pack out of meat.  The last shot at glory was never going to happen.

As we were walking, Bryan joked that Travis had been with him each of the last two years when she shot his buck.  He said we just needed Travis to walk with us and he would shoot him a buck.  We laughed and then shared that when we reached Travis -- he got a laugh out of that too.

As we were hiking to the top of the tallest ridge where we would adjoin the plains to being our walk out, things got crazy.  Three deer busted out of the wooded area.  Bryan immediately dropped to a shooting position (he's the fastest I have ever seen at that).  I immediately glassed them to see what we had.  Travis immediately prepared for a follow up shot.  Notice a problem here?  Nobody was working on yardage!!!  I told Bryan the last one was a buck and he asked for yardage.  It was at that moment a stark realization hit me -- my range finder was packed up.  Bryan squeezed a shot and the buck ran off.  Now, mind you, Bryan is the best shot I've ever seen; so a miss was unheralded.  Still glassing the deer, I told Bryan he was up and moving to the clearing in the woods about 30 yards to the right.  Bryan slid over and pulled the trigger again.  That mule deer buck dropped where he stood.

The picture below is of the three of us with that deer.  Bryan was not concerned about antlers - like he was earlier in the week - but he seized the opportunity that arose before him.  Yes, Travis was with him for another buck at the end of the season; so that's a great part of the story too!  The best part, from my perspective, was that Bryan did not miss that first shot. As we were skinning the deer, we noticed a stripe down his side that had been cleaned of hair by that .270.  Whereas that first shot shaved him, the second one into the neck stopped him. 

The pack out over the plain and through prairie dog town was a first for me.  We were also able to take a couple of last, beautiful pictures.  They are below for you to enjoy this amazing property that produced two bucks on the last day of the season.  Needless to say, the "last shot at glory" turned into a glorious story that will be told and retold by the men involved in this experience.

Later that evening, we all got together to pose with our deer skulls.  Mine was wrapped up in a peroxide treatment to bleach it white for the eventual shipment home.  Bryan, on the left, and Travis, on the right, were showing their freshly cleaned deer.  You can clearly see that Travis had the buck with the tallest antlers and those small eye-guards just give it a great appearance.  His buck, however, would fit inside Bryan's antlers, which were much wider.  Interestingly enough, my antlers were the widest as both would fit inside it.

Regardless, all three bucks generated their own, unique stories.  All three bucks produced memories that will last a lifetime.  All three bucks represent time, effort, and energy expended to honor the dignity of these amazingly rugged animals.  All three bucks showcased the wonderful beauty of the "Treasure State" called Montana.  All three bucks provided food for the families represented.  All three bucks brought together strangers and transformed them into friends.

The photo below, as it closed out the hunting season and my trip to Montana, is truly the last shot of glory.