My First Muley

This year was my first-year hunting Colorado for mule deer. I was able to snatch a mule deer tag in a widely sought after unit in Northwestern Colorado. I already had an Elk and Black Bear tag as well so I was just planning on shooting a mule deer that would put some meat in the freezer, not concerned about “trophy” status at all.

The opening day of the season I went out to a nearby unit to hunt Elk and see if I could get a miracle first day opener. Short version, I didn't see a thing, hear a thing, or even get any idea that there were elk in the area, so I abandoned that hunt to close my deer tag out. Unfortunately, I am only able to hunt on the weekends due to my work and had a day to hunt for deer before returning to work. 

I was slightly picky that first day of my deer hunt and ended up passing on quite a few young does and bucks, I regret that to be honest. I had a fair share of opportunities on that first day especially when I bumped some out of their beds and they stood staring at me for 10 minutes at 20 yards away. Caring very little about my presence. 

That first day came and went with no success but I did learn of some nice bucks in the area. Unfortunately, the following weekend I was determined to fill my tag and move on to elk (that's another story completely haha). Friday came and I left work and drove immediately to my deer spot, about 3 hours. 

Driving into the spot I spotted a doe standing about 15 yards off the road and said, “Screw it” and hopped out still in jeans, my vans, and a gray shirt. Leaving my bow case on the gravel road and my door open I walked back to where I had seen it. After about 50 yards I knew I had gone too far and figured it had run as I slowed down. Then I saw it standing there on alert judging me as I kicked myself for missing it as I walked by. 

Short version, I was unsuccessful, but I chased that doe and four others up the mountain. About a 45-degree incline through the loudest foliage and forest floor you’d ever scene. I spotted them about 80 yards away and snuck into them and jumped on a rock to silence my footprints as much as I can and as I looked at the doe I noticed another one only 30 yards away. Busted again!

So, I stood there on that rock for 15 minutes, calves burning, swaying as slightly as I could possibly do and trying to not even move my eyeballs in my head. After a while the doe spooked to 45 yards and gave me a broadside shot through some thick foliage, so I drew back on her and waited for her to hit the biggest opening in the trees, only about 8 inches. 

As she hit that opening, I released and instantly heard the loud “Crack” of my arrow blowing right into the tree next to her. There again I failed. This style of hunting is so much more difficult than hunting the Midwest. In a tree stand, on flat ground, the sun is not as hot, and the lungs are acclimated to the altitude. These examples were my most difficult challenges to overcome in this season.

As I collected my arrow, I ended up leaving the broadhead in the tree, I headed back to camp for a quick recuperation. This is about 5 in the evening, shooting light expires at 7:45pm. About 6:30 I drive up to a burn area and decide to do a quick hike out into an open area.  As I reached it I saw two bucks, pretty small ones. I ended up not getting an opportunity and let them pass on. I sat in that meadow waiting for quite some time and eventually as the light of the sun was disappearing over the mountain one of the bucks circled back in. 

Before continuing, I had practiced a lot of archery this summer, but this is the first season I have shot it since I had my shoulder surgery, so I was definitely rusty. I put in plenty of work after finding a range behind my neighborhood in Colorado. I was shooting well out to 80 yards in preparation for elk season where my goal was to be comfortable taking a 65-yard shot. 

Anyways, this deer was standing at about 55 yards, flat, no heat baking my neck, lungs not burning from climbing a mountain. All issues I had faced in the previous encounter were negated. I opted to wait a moment to see if he would approach a little more. As the light was getting low, visibility was fading, I decided to risk it. I drew back and took some deep breaths, lined my anchor up, and checked my level. I felt perfect, he didn't even know I was there. 

As I released my biggest doubt and fear came to fruition. He must have been shot at before because as soon as I released, he spun towards me. The longer distance gave him a split second to react and as I watched my arrow hit, my heart sunk. 

He spun, and I hit him at a quartering to. I watched him run off, clearly wounded but I was concerned about the placement of the shot. I did not want my first deer in Colorado to be wounded and survive with my failure as a permanent reminder to me. Nonetheless, I was reminded why long shots are never a good idea. 

As I watched him run, I dropped a pin on my phone and went up to where I hit him to find a bit of blood to ease my concern. Luckily, I found a decent blood trail but that hole in my stomach never went away. I left. I went to camp where my buddy Isaac and his wife Kayla were out trying to fill their own tag. As I sat there waiting, I had a million thoughts running through my head. Should I go immediately to look for him, wait til morning, or something in between.

As my nerves were about to overwhelm me Isaac and Kayle got back to camp. I told them what happened, and we opted to wait a few hours but not wait until morning due to the number of coyotes in the area. We arrived back to the location I shot him, and I realized I had forgotten to drop a pin on first blood, and we couldn't find the trail. 

We searched for over two hours for first blood, and I couldn't help but think if my mind had played a trick on me with the ample amount of red foliage growing in the ash. After a few hours we opted to go back and come back in the morning while I gave one last walk out to look for the blood and luckily, I found the first blood that I had seen earlier that evening.

The track job was one of the toughest I had ever taken part of. We followed the hoof prints more than blood because the blood was good then would disappear then come back in ample amounts. The only issue was you were looking for wet ash rather than red on leaves. It took all three of ours full attention for another two hours. We were walking around catching a whiff of the smell of deer every once in a while, and we were nervous about him still being alive and bumping him from his bed. That would truly be a problem. 

Luckily, we found him. He had jumped a log and died in a divot in the ground. There would have been no way to find him without the blood trail, and even with it we were about 2 feet away before we had actually laid eyes on him. Relief flooded my body. My first Mule deer was found. 

This is an experience a lot of bowhunters come across from time to time. The nervousness and almost sickening feeling at the thought of needlessly wounding an animal. It definitely hammered into me the feeling that I need to remember my own capabilities and even the fact that even if I am perfect, the situation may not always end up that way.