Rain! That’s what we encountered just outside of Salt Lake City. The weather had been clear when we left our homes in Nevada, but now there was a new feel in the air. It was the feeling of hunting bucks, a feeling that only a hunter knows. Our long trip to Colorado consisted of talking and daydreaming about the bucks we had scouted on an earlier trip in the summer – two of which were exceptional animals.

After arriving at our camp spot, my very good friend and hunting partner, Everett Wisener, and I hastily set up camp in a downpour. After that, we set out to glass. Sometime later, Ev and I decided to split up. This is where I tell my part of the story before I turn the pencil over to Ev…….

With my pack loaded and a lot of high hopes, I climbed to the top of a mesa not far from where we were glassing. My plan was to work the rim with the wind in my face, crawling out on the rim on occasion in hopes of catching a big buck in his bed. As I began nearing the end of my hike, I thought, “Not even one deer.” Even though Ev and I knew the area didn’t carry a large number of deer, I was puzzled.

Suddenly, my previous thoughts of no deer vanished as I spotted a lone deer feeding on the far rim of the mesa. One quick look through the binos and I knew this was a shooter. My thoughts raced…..don’t blow this, what’s the best path to stalk, I hope the wind doesn’t change. I finally decided that there’s no better time than now. Get ‘R done!

Did I mention that we were muzzleloader hunting, yep that’s right I had to get close! My first shot opportunity was at 200 yards but I just didn’t have that warm fuzzy feeling so I continued on. At 100 yards the buck started to angle toward me and my pea-brain spun, this is perfect, he is going to give me the shot of a lifetime. 90 yards….80 yards…..WHAT? I couldn’t believe it, the buck bedded in a little dip and all I could see were his antler tips. My new plan got me to within 25 yards of the buck but I still had no shot.

Frantically, I looked to my right. “Holy (you know what)!” 65 yards away, bedded down, facing away from me, was a pig of a deer. Nine points on the side I could see and my attention was now on him. With no shot it was a waiting game. Was I nervous? Heck yeah I was! After an hour the wind swapped ends and everything exploded. I was ready and as the buck bolted I touched her off. When the smoke cleared I thought, “Did I hit him or did I miss him?” Then I heard it, the buck’s last breath. He was down for good.

My Colorado buck has a 29-inch mainframe, he is 31 inches outside, and gross scores 206 inches! What a hunt! And wait, before Ev gets started, I would like to tell my girlfriend, Kathie, that I love going hunting, but I really love coming home to you.

It’s all yours Ev, take it away…

It was five minutes before noon when I heard a scratchy voice calling my name over the radio. I had to move around a little bit to get better reception and I thought you must be kidding me as I heard the words, “I killed a pig,” come over the radio. I almost ran (this wouldn’t be the last time I found myself running this day) back to where we had split up so that I could join in on the fun.

As I got closer and the radio got better, Tony told me to make sure and bring my muzzleloader, there had been another big buck run off when he shot his buck. I unloaded my pack, grabbed my gun and headed up the hill to help Tony all the while thinking there’s no way I will see this buck. Well I didn’t see him, but I did find Tony with a huge smile on his face and for a good reason, his deer was a pig. We took a bunch of pictures, packed up the buck and headed for the truck talking about how we had eight days left to find this other buck.

Just a few more steps and we would be able to see the truck from atop the rim rock. I looked down for the truck, but something else caught my eye, big horns turning and running away. Somehow we had walked and talked our way right on top of this buck and now he was leaving the country. I started running after the buck, but I wasn’t getting anywhere fast with a pack full of meat.

A couple hundred yards later I found myself looking off the rim rock, but no buck. What was that? A glimpse of the buck sneaking under the rim rocks a long way out in front of me. Off to the races again, hoping he’d stay under the rim so that I might have a chance of cutting him off. After a long run I was sneaking up to the edge of the rim looking both ways, but I couldn’t find him. (Hey dummy, look straight down). There he was and after the smoked cleared, there he still was. After fumbling with a speed loader and making too much noise with the ramrod I peeked over the rim rock to find nothing. You guessed it, another run across the rim rock before making an out-of-breath shot that nailed him in his tracks. I sat on the edge of the rim rock looking down at my buck while I caught my breath. He wasn’t going anywhere so I walked back to my pack and finished the trip to the truck. Tony was taping his buck on the tailgate when I arrived. He looked up and the smile on my face told him that our Colorado trip was over in one day. He couldn’t believe that I had caught up with the big buck after he had run off for the second time that day. We managed to get a few pictures before packing the deer out after dark.

It wasn’t until the next morning when taping my buck that what we had done began to sink in. We had killed two bucks over 190 inches on opening day within a couple of hours of each other. My Colorado buck is a 197 gross five by four with a 29-inch mainframe and 31 inch outside spread. Tony and I would like to thank Ryan Hatch for the info that helped us pick this unit and for publishing such a great magazine! Oh, and remember to stay in shape if you want to try running down a big mule deer!