Bowhunting High Country Mule Deer: Colorado 2019

This story starts a few years back. I never really had the urge to hunt mule deer above timberline. Elk were always the animal that grabbed my attention, and the reason I went on my first out of state hunt to begin with. That hunt brought me to Colorado. A 10 day backpack hunt that was filled with some potent memories. Some of them were pretty hard to swallow. During that hunt we saw multiple big velvet mule deer and I think that’s when they caught my attention. On top of having to backpack for these high country bucks to get above timberline, there was something magical about seeing those velvet antlers float across a bed of wildflowers. It was entrancing and screamed adventure hunting. After a few years drooling over watching others success, I decided 2019 was the year of high country mule deer.

Utah High Country Mule Deer

So, I know this is supposed to be about high country mule deer in Colorado, but before I left for that hunt, Utah allowed me to hunt bucks as well. This hunt was killer and the scenery was absolutely stunning. My brother and I packed in 5-6 miles to a high country lake. From there, we would satellite out to various basins surrounding us to glass. The amount of bucks we saw during the 6 days of being back there was unreal. 50+ bucks lit up our optics and none of them fell to my arrow. On the last evening we were there, I did get a shot. Well, I should say multiple shots. 6 to be exact. I ended up ambushing a buck as he fed through a saddle into an adjoining basin for the evening. The yardage was definitely stretched here as was my mental capacity for failure. It hurt watching every single arrow sail harmlessly over that buck. This hunt was the fuel I needed for Colorado. I went back home, licked my wounds, and got ready for another adventure.

Back to Colorado

The long drives that I make with my brother are always fun. The jokes are constant, our dreams are laid out on the dash, and anticipation runs at an extreme high. What the Colorado backcountry had in store for us bounced around the inside of my truck like a pinball. We had no idea what to expect. These chats made the 8 hour drive to the trailhead go by in a flash. Sooner than later, we were trading our sneakers for boots and loading our packs with last minute essentials. After a quick bite, the trail laid beneath our feet with our eyes pointed above treeline.

Our inexperience in the alpine had us pretty freaked out about lightening. Horror stories of crazy storms that we’d both heard in the past drove us to camp down beneath the trees. It would cause us to make a hike every morning to get above treeline where we could glass, but that was a pill we were willing to swallow. Peace of mind goes a long way on a backpack hunt in unfamiliar country, and that did it for us.

Our camp was located on the edge of a beautiful meadow with the high country in view. It was unreal looking from our perspective. We arrived right before dark with just enough time to get everything set up for the week. After a glorious dinner both of us were ready to pass out for the night, and that we did. Dreams of big velvet bucks raced through my dreams and I couldn’t wait to get behind the glass in the morning.

Here’s a run down of my gear list for Colorado High Country Mule Deer!

Day 1

Before the sun awoke, we were hanging out in camp, drinking coffee, and eating breakfast. The air was chilly. A welcomed feeling coming from the harsh desert heat back in Arizona. Our plan was to make about a mile hike to the first basin in a series of basins to glass. Our plans quickly changed not 10 minutes into the hike…

Every time I head somewhere new, I have my reservations about what to expect. Whether it’s animal numbers, weather, or hunting pressure, it all has an affect on my train of thought. Those doubts that infected my mood were quickly squashed by the sight of huge velvet antlers bobbing their way down the trail, not 80 yards in front of us. I couldn’t believe it. This buck was working his way right towards the basin we were planning on hunting. Before waiting for him to get there though, I quickly dropped my pack and nocked an arrow. In a matter of 45 seconds, I was at full draw, 70 yards away from this beautiful buck. If it weren’t for a few branches obscuring my line of sight to his vital, there’d be one less arrow in my quiver that morning. Nonetheless, they were there. A great start to the hunt and something that filled us with enthusiasm for the coming days.

The One that Got Away

The day passed on and so did a midday thunderstorm. We took shelter in a small group of trees, drank coffee, and ate food to pass the time. Before long, we were out for our evening glassing session around 4 p.m. As if it were planned I spotted 2 bucks up and feeding right below a large rim rock. I thought to myself, “could this be any more perfect?” I’d use that rim rock to my advantage and come in from above them, sight unseen. At least that was the plan.

25 minutes later, I was creeping my way to the edge of that rim rock. Another thunderstorm was blowing in that came with all sorts of noise to aid in my stalk. Each time the wind would gust, I’d take a step. The same went for when I heard thunder above. It was like Mother Nature was gifting me one of these bucks. Both were great deer that I’d be more than happy with. As I neared the edge, my rangefinder read numbers like 25 yards and 31 yards. These deer had to be right beneath me and CLOSE! My suspicions were confirmed when one of them walked out a mere 35 yards below and to my left. With his head down and feeding, I slowly drew my bow back. As I did this, an annoying screech came from my arrow rest. The instant that sound emerged, both bucks ran out of my life. In an act of desperation, I eyeballed a shot once he gave me the old “mule deer re-look.” Swing and a miss. I needed to fix this arrow rest issue if I planned on coming home with a buck.

Crisis Averted

What had happened with my rest was the felt wore off on the launcher. It was my own mistake and something that I just pushed to the side before leaving for Colorado. Lesson learned for sure. Thankfully, after some searching, I found some moleskin in my first aid kit. This completely resolved the issue and I was ready for the next day. Even though that opportunity flew out the window, we walked back to camp that night with grins from ear to ear. That is what it’s all about right there. Moments like that.

Taking a Step Back

The next 4 days were rather frustrating, if I’m being honest. It just seemed like nothing was going my way. Whether it was me making stupid mistakes or marmots blowing my stalk, it was eating away at me. So much so, that I caught myself not having fun at one point. The amount of pressure I was putting on myself to fill this tag was really having an affect on me. It made me forget why I was out there in the first place. This is something that I constantly preach to people, but I’d be lying if I said I was immune to it. The important part was, I realized it was happening. From that point on, my goal was to have fun with my brother, no matter the outcome. Taking that step back and breathing was exactly what we needed. Gone was the tension that grew between us. It was time focus on the adventure, laugh, and enjoy this privilege of backcountry hunting we have. Time for fun, and the next day was pretty fun…

A Different Attitude

On the morning of our 6th day in the Colorado backcountry, my brother and I both woke up with different attitudes entirely. We didn’t stress out about when we were leaving camp or even where we’d hunt. Actually, we decided to go and hunt a completely different basin. Our plan was thwarted though on the way when I spotted “the group of 4” as we called them. This was the same group of bucks that had been evading me the whole hunt. Funnily enough, they were now feeding right below our original glassing knob. Sometimes, I think they know or something. With them carrying on with their morning, we laid beneath the brush line and watched as they slowly made their way to bed. We ended up switching locations to get a different angle of the hill they were on. With any luck, we’d relocate the now unseen bucks.

Not 10 minutes after glassing I picked up one of the bucks bedded. We were so excited that we found them again. Unlike in the past though, my approach would be different. I’d wait until 1:30 p.m. to make a move from the now 8:30 a.m. that read on my watch. We sat up on that hill all day long laughing and enjoying life above the trees. Both Jake and I needed this quality stress free time together. It was nice just lounging and watching the bucks sleep. We even made friends with a marmot.

Go Time

When the clock struck 1:30 p.m. it was go time. All of my landmarks were branded in my mind and my plan was set. I’d drop down slowly and wait for the bucks to feed out from their beds for the evening. Jake stayed right above me, as I crept with every gust of wind down the steep hill above the deer. Every noise you make on a stalk sounds so much louder in your brain than it actually is. I was constantly reminded of this with each step I took.

Once reaching the brush line that I planned on using for cover to close the rest of the distance, 2 bucks fed out to my left. They were 120 yards away, but heading in my direction. I dropped below that brush and crab crawled my way down the hill. Then I saw another deer off to my right! A buck walking right in front of me to a small thicket. He was at 70 yards, right within the edge of my comfort zone. All that I needed was for him to step out from the brush. For 30 minutes, he raked the velvet off of his antlers, giving me no shot. Then, as if he were purposefully testing my patience, he bed down right there. Again, with no clear shot. That was until a hailstorm blew in.

Hail the Hailstorm!

As I sat there waiting for the mule deer buck to stand, something hit me in the back of the neck. Luckily, it wasn’t the wind, but it was a pea sized piece of hail. It happened again and then again. Soon, the hail was coming down pretty good and I questioned being out in the open with it. Just as I was about to retreat for cover, I saw the buck stand up, as if startled. He too got pelted with hail! Broadside, he stood at 70 yards wondering what hit him. This was my opportunity. Slowly, I stood up and drew my bow back. The shot went off and I watched the arrow sail over the buck’s back. This happened another 3 times. I wondered if this was Utah all over again. After re-ranging, I took a breath. This range was one that I felt extremely comfortable at and I knew that I could make the shot. Luckily, the buck had not moved, giving me one more opportunity.

Again, I drew back and anchored in. This time I slowed down and became hyper focused on one tuft of hair on the buck. My pin covered that tuft, followed by me slowly starting to pull through the shot. The shot broke clean and felt great. I watched the arrow cut through the air and disappear into that tuft of hair. A perfect shot! Time would tell, after the storm passed, that the deer went not 40 yards and fell over. “We did it,” I told my brother. We did it.

Never Forget Your “Why”

Walking up on my buck was an experience I’ll never forget. The emotions from the past few weeks rushed over me, from missing in Utah to standing over my Colorado mule deer buck. His antlers were tinted red from the freshly rubbed velvet and his hair was soaked from the storm. It was raw, potent, and a buck that changed us for the better. Hunting is filled with life lessons, and this was one of them. Never forget your why. Your why is your purpose.

The Good Kind of Hurt

Right before dark, we were headed out of that basin with venison loaded backpacks. My face hurt from smiling so much. When we were almost back to camp the buck from the first day stood in front of us at 40 yards. Crafty devil he was. I looked at him and said “next time my friend.”

Jake and I decided to pack up camp that night and do the whole load in one trip back to the truck. That late night walk guided by the light of our headlamps was pure bliss. Our breath was illuminated in the light as we made our way down the trail. Through the darkness, we talked about the hunt as a whole and how it didn’t really hit us yet. A small part of the Colorado high country came home with us that night and we were forever grateful for what it gave us. Memories that we’ll cherish, a load of fresh mule deer venison, a new perspective on things, and sore muscles. That’s the good kinda hurt though.

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