Life after Death

I figure it's about time I posted about my Trout Creek hunt. 

Mule Deer. 

In Eastern Oregon. 

I drew this tag with only 5 points. 

Don't hate. 

(Most people wait a lifetime - not even kidding - OK, maybe I'm over-exaggerating. It's more like 12-ish years - to draw this tag, and I drew it with 5. Points. And to answer your question: Yes. I know how lucky I am.)

Unfortunately, during the hot summer months, our dear (deer - ha HA!) Trout Creeks were ablaze. 

With fire. 

Real fire. 

As was much of the West.

Over 80% of this unit burned. Which is not good news for deer hunters. Or deer, for that matter. 

This meant that it would either be harder or easier to shoot a deer. Easier meaning the deer would be more visible because their natural cover was now gone. Harder because the places where there was cover, it would also mean a higher concentration of hunters which in turn would mean more competition. I don't like competition.

And just to clear things up a bit:

It is not at all how you are imagining it with 10 - 15 deer standing in an open field with hunters surrounding them waiting for the sun to rise on opening morning with tracer-bullets and fighting over the biggest bucks.

Michael's parents were awesome enough to meet us in a teeny tiny town to collect the children and take them back to Utah with them so's we could hunt. 

Alone. 

In the wildernesssssss.

We stopped and enjoyed a meal with his parents and our children before we parted ways. In this tiny little town, in this amazing restaurant/store, where they have pretty cool stuff hangin' on the walls.

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.

(Dude, I'm talking about the deer. THE DEER.)

The signs posted outside were just as amazing...

It being October and all, you would think that the temps would be a little cooler in the day, yes? No. They weren't. But listen up, yo. I love the hot. I was not saddened by this upper degree weather. Not in the least.  OK, only when my water bottle was empty, but that's the only time.

We drove and drove until we found a suitable place to land. I then started to make the desert our temporary home. 

The first day we were there was spent setting up camp and scouting for deer. We bumped around in the Ranger looking for some buckaroos, but didn't see much that evening. We did, however, see many many MANY men. aka, Other Hunters. aka, People Who Were Out To Steal My Deer.
Did I forget to mention that I do not like competition?
We ended up talking with one hunter who's camp was just over the hill from ours and he said that he and his son had seen some nice deer, one being in the canyon just below our camp. He was kind enough to tell us that they would be going after him the next morning. In other words he was saying, "Stay out of our way." 

Psh. Fine. Whatev. I didn't want that deer anyway. 

And it was true. His back tines were weak.
I would know. I watched their whole hunt from stalk to shot.
I also watched 2 other groups of hunters spot and stalk this deer. It was quite entertaining.
Neither the shooter nor the stalkers knew the other was there. 

On the way back to camp after watching our camp neighbors shoot. We didn't have to travel far. We watched the show from right about where Michael is taking the photo!

See this man? He is pretty amazing. I mean, he has the ability to sit on rocks that resemble the softness of well, ROCKS, and make it look like he's on a bed of feathers. 

This is pretty much what we had to look at.

And this.

And this, too.

The picture below can best be described as the location of "The One That Got Away". See, we had been driving in the Ranger and we stopped one time of many to glass the opposite hillside and out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw movement. He looked over just in time to see  A GIANT MULE DEER walking, then trotting, then running through the trees. I kid you not, this bad boy had mass. And width. He was all I was looking for and more. Michael jumped back in the Ranger, flipped it around and raced back up the hill. The Ranger was barely stopped when I flung myself out of it, fell on my knees, and brought the rifle up to my shoulder. But I couldn't see the buck in my scope. I may have had my eye too close to the eyepiece, but that's beside the point. I had about a 2 second window wherein to pull the trigger at a deer who was fleeing from me at warp speed. I did not shoot.

I may have pouted. I may have even cried a little. Or was that Michael? 

No matter. We (I) missed him and that was that. I did, however, see him again, watching me through the trees as Michael tried to flush him from his hiding spot and towards me. That buck never emerged. He snuck around Michael and did it so quietly and stealthily that I never got a chance to see any more than just  a white Roman nose staring at me through the brush. 

Not long after The One That Got Away incident, we ran into our good friend Chuck. He is one of those I had mentioned earlier who has been waiting his whole life to draw this tag. Would you believe me if I told you that the next morning, he had The One That Got Away in his cross-hairs for 20 minutes before deciding not to pull the trigger? It's true. It was only the second day of the hunt and he had been waiting a long time to be there. I repeat. He. did. not. shoot. that. deer. 

I may have thrown up a little when he told me that story. 

So we kept on looking.

And looking.

And looking.

All that looking paid off though. See what I found? Michael had dropped me off somewhere so I could hike a little bit and I came across a couple of sheds. My very first! Mmmmm hmmmm. That's right. I pretty much became a rock star just then. 

Although the unit burned, there was still some greenery. And it was beautiful in its own right.

So were we. We were beautiful in our own right. And in the dust, too.

It's called a desert mud mask. It's totally free and pore clogging. And it will make your teeth gleam like the top of the Chrysler Building.

Day two began early. And cold. And with no deer.

But that didn't stop us from looking.

At one point we decided to try a new place. We drove our trusty ATV (UTV? Whatever.) up and over from here to there and on our drive we saw a coyote standing less than 20 yards from us, a badger ("We don't need no stinkin' badgers!") and a deer!
We stopped the Ranger to glass a spot and looked over and saw that we had just spooked a deer from his nice warm bed. He stood and bolted. I was still reaching for the rifle when this all went down and didn't have a chance to even load a round into the chamber. He looked like a decent buck so we decided to follow him and "just see what he looked like". That was me talking.
OK. Here's the deal. I enjoy hunting with my man. I enjoy camping and eating and snuggling in a warm sleeping bag in God's country. And I enjoy the pursuit of game. I like stalking and sneaking and waiting for the perfect shot. But after 2 days of dust in my face and teeth and hair and fingernails, I was ready to shoot my buck. This was it, my friends. He would be mine.

Michael went one way (to flush the buck from his hiding spot) and I crept down another way. This would be a first. The first time I would ever shoot a deer on my own. Without Miguel whispering sweet nothings in my ears. Without him telling me where to place the cross-hairs or when to shoot or how to crank the scope to get it right on. I was all alone. And I was excited!
(The above picture shows the patch of trees that the buck ran into. The picture was taken looking back up towards the trees from the valley below. Michael went into the brush somewhere near the top left part of the photo.)
 

This pic shows what Michael was looking at from his point of view. Can't see it? How 'bout a close up and a word written in red identifying what you are seeing?

That better? I was somewhere to his left and I was panicking. Why was I panicking? Because I knew that at any second this deer would bolt and I would have missed my chance at bagging him. See, when Michael walked down through the trees to push him out, that deer got up and ran. He ran out of the trees and down into the barren valley, right into the open, and stopped.

 It was the perfect shot. 

I could shoot this deer. But I took my time.

I was thinking.

 I thought to myself, "I wonder what he looks like through the scope." So I pulled the gun up to my shoulder and looked at him through the scope.

Then I thought, "Huh. He looks pretty good through the scope. I should probably shoot him because Michael worked so hard to get him outta the brush for me. I think I'll just pull the trigger..."

BOOOM!

I knew I was solid. I knew I hit him. But he didn't fall. He just stopped walking and turned around. I loaded another round into the chamber and put my trigger finger to work again.

BOOOOM!

I heard the impact but still he stood.

By this point I was shaking and crying and saying bad words.

Words I never say, like p-o-o-p and c-r-a-p and even h-o-l-y  f-r-e-a-k-i-n-g  c-r-a-p. I felt like I needed to have my mouth washed out with soap, but there was no time for that.

My deer was mortally wounded, I just knew it, but he wasn't dying.

I feel I should tell you that I am a pretty good shot.

An amazing one, really. My previous deer all died with one bullet in them. Some at incredible distances.

Have you heard about my hunter's safety course?

I was the best shot there.

*sniff*

My instructor was pretty impressed.

*double sniff*

So there was no wonder I was baffled as to why he wasn't dead yet.

 I had one more bullet with me. This had better do it's job, for if it didn't, I would be saying some really bad words.

And no I will not be writing those down.

I loaded the last round and sent up a silent prayer pleading for my bullet to fly true, curled my finger around the trigger and pulled.

It worked.

Buck down.

Michael found his way over to me not long after the shooting melee had ended and man! to be a spectator on that hug! You would have thought I just shot my family dog. I was an emotional wreck. My sweet husband took my face in his hands and smiled into my eyes. He said he was proud of me and then he gave me a giant smackaroo right on my dirt encrusted lips.

Now that's true love, y'all.

Walking up on my deer, I could barely hold myself together.

In that moment, I felt a huge respect for this animal.

A deep sense of gratitude and maybe a little bit of grief over a life taken.

I was so thankful to my Maker for creating such a beautiful animal and such a gorgeous place.

 It might sound strange to some, but there on that fire ravaged mountain, I felt close to heaven.

It was quiet and peaceful. When Michael went back to get the Ranger, I had a few moments to myself with my deer and I made sure to send up a huge Hallelujah in his honor. I vowed that no part of him would go to waste, because that my friends, would be the true tragedy.

This deer would keep my family fed.

 We would go on living long after he had died.

Life after Death.

A moment alone.

 

I know that I should be grossed out by the blood and guts, but strangely, I was not.

I thought it was sorta sexy to see my man be a man.

He gutted that deer and then dragged him uphill to the Ranger almost all by himself.

I did have to step in at one point and show him that a woman can be tough, too. *smile*

Our glory ride back to camp.

 

SIDE NOTE:

Soooo, remember how I kept mentioning that we had been riding around in the Ranger a lot of the time? Well, that led to the rifle and scope getting bumped around which inevitably led to the scope being off target so that when I shot my deer and thought I had a solid shot, I was in fact shooting about 6 inches to the left. That meant that it was the gun's fault. Not mine, that Mr. Mule Deer didn't die on the first shot.

I'm still pretty amazing.

And humble. 

*SNIFFFF*

Now. Yes, my hunt was technically over. But we had a hard time ending it there. We stayed the remainder of that day and another night helping our good friend Chuck look for deer. Chuck specializes in telepathy and he was able to read my mind and know that I was calling for him to be waiting at camp for us to help us skin and cut up my deer.

Thank you Chuck my man!

You may now disengage the telepathic connection.

I thought he was looking pretty s-a-x-y hot so I took his picture. Heeeeeee.

Although the desert was nearly all the way burned, there was still some sign of life.

The fresh green shoots of new life were springing up all over.

There is hope.

And life after death is a real thing.

A peaceful serene full moon.

Don't worry.

I had pearls sewn into my underwear to counteract the effects of the full moon. It's a real thing - the full moon making people dream crazy dreams and letting loose their inner wolf.

(I read somewhere on the Internet that if you are affected by the fullness of La Luna, you should keep pearls nearby to protect yourself. And if the Internet says so, it must be true.)

Oh the stories this deer could tell if only he could speak.

And then it was time to say Good-bye.

Now. A thing about this picture.

I thought it would be fun to get one last picture of us together before leaving this place for good.

Michael took the camera and then took the picture.

 But what's that?

 He's not looking at the camera.

Why?

Because he's still looking for deer.

He just can't help himself. Haaaa!

And that's the end.