January in Arizona has become a time of year that I cherish to the upmost. While everyone else around the country is reflecting on their past fall hunting seasons and warming themselves by a fire, I am usually out hiking around with a camp on my back in search of rutting bucks. The weather is beautiful, the deer are moving, and it’s just a great time to be out and about in our Arizona desert. My brother Jake and I usually take the first week or so in January to chase mule deer and coues deer with our bows. This year though, Jake drew an archery javelina tag, so that was on the menu as well. 8 days of backcountry hunting was in front of us and our arms were wide open.
I picked my brother up dark and early on the morning of January 6th. We were loaded up and ready to get after it. Our first stop would be in an area that essentially shaped us as backpack hunters. It was the first spot we had ever hiked into years ago with camp on our backs and the start of what has become an obsession for us. The plan was to spend 2 nights back there and assess the situation from there if we would stay longer or move to a different location.
As we hiked into our camp, I was floored with memories from the past. Feelings that I had when we first started doing this stuff. I remember all of these irrational fears running through my head as we embarked on our first backpack hunt years ago. There were also the memories of missed opportunities and close calls with big rutting coues bucks. All of the “almosts” that taught us lessons for future hunts. This just fueled me as we pressed up the mountain to our first camp. To take a buck in this place, would mean more than I could write here.
After getting camp all situated, we set out to glass the rest of the day. Every time I look at this place, it is always bigger than I remember. So many little crevices, cuts, and brush a buck could be hiding. We were up for the challenge though. That evening we turned up a good amount of does, but no bucks, which perplexed me a bit. Usually, every group of does has a buck with them on this trip. I knew they had to be in there somewhere. With that being said, we were ready for dinner, a good night rest, and new opportunities the next day.
When the alarm went off on day 2 of our hunt and I opened the vestibule of my tent, I was reminded of why I loved backpack hunting so much. This was the view that sold me on hunting the backcountry. The very best of front porches and behind me? A basin loaded with coues deer. My kind of paradise. That paradise is not complete without coffee, so we ate, made some hot coffee and made the huge 75 yard walk to our glassing spot. And what do you know? I spotted a big rutting coues buck on the other side of the basin. It was go time.
My brother stayed back on our vantage point while I closed the distance on this awesome buck. He was pushing a doe all over the hill and then bolted down into the bottom to fight another buck! These are the moments that drive me to keep bowhunting. It is hard, but the most rewarding in my opinion. Upon my arrival, I couldn’t relocate the buck. He was so fired up, I guessed that he ran that other buck off and grabbed some other does possibly. I did however still have eyes on the does. I closed the distance to about 150 yards and just sat in the brisk shadows watching and waiting. With this many does feeding on the hill, another buck was bound to come investigate. It didn’t take long.
I saw antlers bouncing down the hill in pursuit of the feeding does. How cool would it be if the buck pushed right down into me? In the midst of the chaos, I realized that they were pretty much staying where they were. So, me crab crawling down the hill soon followed. Inch by inch, I closed the distance on the group, trying to stay below the brush line. After having his fun, the buck finally bedded with his new found friends. Now, was my opportunity.
My plan was to back up and make a big loop around the buck to avoid being detected. If I could just get to a certain tree, it looked like I would have a 40 yard shot. Perfect. Every time I go on a stalk, there are a ton of things running through my head. Most of which being “I hope this works out.” 120 yards is all that stood between me and backcountry success. Once I came through the saddle though that lead the way to my “shooting tree,” Mother Nature decided to give this win to the deer by switching the wind direction. A doe trotted off with the buck in tow. I scrambled out to try and stop the buck for a shot, but just couldn’t make it happen. Next, was an all too familiar feeling of the long walk back to the vantage point. Swing and a miss. No more bucks were spotted on this day.
This would be our last morning waking up in this special place. We decided to get up a bit earlier, so we could tear down camp, to be ready for the hike out. After glassing up a few different groups of does with no bucks, we decided to pack out and move on to the next area. It would have been so cool to take a buck out of here, but that’s how it goes with bowhunting. It is gonna happen here one of these years and when it does, it will be sweeter than we can imagine I’m sure. Nevertheless, we hiked out of that area with grins from ear to ear and eager for what the rest of the week held. Our next stop would be, not only an area I have filled my tag the last few years, but where Jake drew his javelina tag. Packing out of this camp and packing into another after a few hours in the truck. Every bit of sweat was worth it.
Stay tuned for Part 2!
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