The Canyon Buck

 Whitetail and Mule Deer hunt, early November 2022

It had been a few years since I'd chased whitetail deer. There's something especially alluring about the species. Harvesting a mature buck in Idaho is no easy feat. Unlike an old, mature mule deer, which may require covering great distances on giant mountains to find, a big whitetail buck could lurk in someone's backyard and only be seen twice a year. Their range is much smaller and they thrive on the edge habitats created by man. An old whitetail can be almost entirely nocturnal, only coming out in the day during the peak rut. The forests of North Idaho are thick, but crawling with deer. The sign is everywhere and it's only a matter of time before you catch a glimpse of a monster; and I definitely have. It's these sightings that keep me coming back.

Unlike archery elk, where I was practicing a new technique in a new area, my whitetail trip would bring me to familiar territory. Rick and Trevor would be joining me on this trip, along with their cousin and nephew, Alex. Rick and Trevor knew this area like the back of their hands and had names for nearly every ridge and valley. This area was also where I'd shot my first whitetail buck. We had 3 whitetail tags and 1 mule deer tag; an adventure would surely be had.

I reached our campsite first, with an hour of daylight left to hunt. I grabbed my rifle and went for a quick walk, hoping to catch a buck stirring before darkness. I had only gone 100 yards or so before I caught movement behind me. A doe stood between my truck and me. It was accompanied by two mature fawns. What a great start!  

The woods were covered in five inches of fresh snow; perfect for hunting. The problem was that camp was much lower than where we normally hunt. At those elevations, there was likely a foot or more of snow, making walking and traveling to the areas difficult. Luckily, we had a spot near camp we could try. Other than several does, nothing noteworthy was seen the first night. Alex arrived near dark, anxious to start hunting for a mule deer the following day.  

In the morning, Alex and I decided to head down low to an area we had access. We didn't spot any deer in the places we could hunt, but on the way back we found some on private land. We even found a mating pair!

It's always frustrating to find animals on private land you can't hunt, but that's part of the game in a lot of whitetail country. Alex and I decided to try high, where Rick and Trevor had killed mule deer in the past. As we suspected, the snow made traveling difficult and noisy. Rick and Trevor arrived and we set up a proper camp for the remainder of the hunt. That evening, Alex and I drove to a different area, finding more great mule deer bucks on private land.

The next couple of days were marked by futile attempts hunting the high country and frustrated spottings on the lower private lands. The area near camp had potential, though. Rick had been watching some of the openings morning and evening and seeing tons of deer; a lot more does and small bucks than we've ever seen. It was still early for the whitetails to be rutting, but that many does had to attract a buck eventually.

At mid-morning, Rick and I sat in camp pondering our next move after a few hours of sitting and watching more does and small bucks. 

"Maybe you can drop me off near the top and I'll walk that ridge behind camp all the way back here?" I questioned.

"Or you could try this canyon across from camp?" Rick added.

"I have been wanting to try that."

"Great, I'll watch from the truck and see if you get any deer moving my way."

I set off from camp over to the canyon. The plan was to walk the edge about a mile or so and then head back over to the road where Rick would pick me up. I knew I would find some deer, but would any of them be a mature buck? 

I reached the canyon edge and went into hunt mode; hoping to spot the deer before they spotted me. The canyon was deep and steep. The other side of the canyon was more open and I quickly spotted a herd of mule deer with a nice buck. Unfortunately for Alex, the other side was private land. I continued along as quiet as humanly possible. I had gone quite a ways before I flushed the first deer: a small buck. He bounded away with his bright white tail waving like a warning flag to all his friends. Darn! It's so hard to sneak up on these things! 

I flushed a few more deer a short distance ahead. Despite how slow and quiet I was moving, I was no match for animals born and raised on alert. I trudged on, though. I was just down from the top of the canyon and wrapping slowly around a finger-ridge, when I suddenly spotted a small buck 75 yards ahead on a little bench below the top. He was already staring at me. Then, another deer quickly stood up behind him. Big buck! They both bolted up the hill in an attempt to flee. I quickly blew my grunt call and sat down, using my knees to stabilize my rifle. The larger buck stopped just before cresting the top; something big whitetail bucks rarely do. This was my opportunity. I quickly found his vitals in my crosshairs and pulled the trigger. BOOM! He hunched and stumbled downhill right into a rosebush patch. I was ready, but he never came out. I could see the bushes shake for a few seconds and then go still. I waited a few minutes and slowly approached. 

The buck had dove into a wild rose bush. Luckily his hind legs were still within reach and I could easily pull him out.

Once out, I was able to truly admire him. The first thing I noticed was just how big his body was. This was a fat, healthy and mature deer. I've shot a few whitetails and this deer was easily the largest in size as well as antler size. His antlers were nothing extraordinary but they were wide and heavy. I stood smiling and admiring him. It was safe to say I was quite happy with my deer.

I notched my tag, dropped a sweatshirt over his body and hiked over to the road to meet up with Rick.

"Well Rick, you ready to pack out a deer?" I said with a wry smile.

"Did you shoot a big one?" Rick asked, opening his eyes wide, eager for my response.

"Big enough to get me excited!" 

"Oh, goodie!"

Rick and I made the short hike over to the canyon edge where my deer lay. I imagined this buck had made a living seeking daytime refuge on the steep, thick hillsides where the canyon terrain gave him an advantage. Today I was able to sneak close enough and with the grunt call, peak his interest just long enough for a shot. 

Rick helped me take some photos of the "Canyon Buck" as we were now calling him. We then quartered the deer, loaded the meat on our backs and hiked over to the truck. 

It had turned into a very pleasant afternoon with full sun, calm winds and mild temps. Tomorrow however would not be the same. The forecast called for rain turning to snow as the day progressed. I would hunt with Alex in the morning, trying one last time to find him a mule deer buck.

We hunted half the morning before the snow came in too heavy to see anything. We did see a great buck that morning, but it was a whitetail; go figure. 

We returned to camp to pack our things. I had lucked out on this hunt and been in the right place at the right time. I could have just as easily chose to walk somewhere else that day. Sometimes I believe we are meant to cross paths with certain animals, That day the Canyon Buck and I were meant to cross paths. The elusive nature of mature bucks, giving you those rare encounters are what keeps me coming back.