I packed in to pursue a buck I spotted in August in velvet. He was almost 2 miles away but I could see he looked heavy and had an extra in-line off his left g3. Opening weekend I was heading after him but was distracted by elk and shot that instead. So I packed in w 7 liters of water hoping it would last, and after making camp I headed down the mountain to put myself in a position where I thought he’d come to water. Wasn’t really sure if he was still alive or if I’d even see him. Less than 1 hour of waiting I see 2 bucks emerge from from the opposite side of the pocket I was in. Sand, yucca, cactus and a little sagebrush separated us. I could see one of the bucks was him and my adrenaline wouldn’t quit from that moment on. They bed in a small patch of sagebrush about 400 yds away and I eventually decided to stalk in to closer range. An hour later I’m 80yards away sitting on my butt, trying to “hide” behind my bow with nothing between us. He and his friend get up and start feeding my way, periodically giving me the “is that really a bush” stare. Finally at 40 yards they both have their heads turned away and I draw back. They may as well have been looking at me cus they both jumped a bit as I came to full draw and then stared at me. I was so excited and shakey that I made a poor shot. Guts. He ran a ways and stopped. Disgusted with myself I walked back and grabbed my pack, keeping my eye on him. He went into a small pocket of trees and it was dark. Walked backup the steep ridge to my camp and slept miserably (if you could call it sleep) then got up early to retrieve my buck if he was there. I left my bow knowing he was dead, and if I didn’t find him i wouldn’t be shooting another anyway. Found him immediately thankfully. Boned him out and the rest is history. That was the hottest hunt I can remember and toughest. But I’d do it again for a buck like that!
