Whitetails!

My daughter Azalea and I were deep in the hills when I spotted the deer. We had hunted hard all morning without getting close to anything. It was Mule Deer Season, getting close to the end, and the animals were spooky. We had ridden to the top of a ridge and sat there to glass the area when I saw several deer more than a half mile away break cover and run up and over the hills in front of them.

Azalea was mounted on her Blue Roan named Morning Star. Star was the product of some passing mustang who had visited her Momma, uninvited by the rancher, and who had departed before being discovered. We got her when she was about 10 months old and Azalea and I had worked her and trained her and broke her to ride. The mare had four black feet with the most wonderful configuration. And her feet were tough, holding up very well. Azalea had learned to ride bareback and could stick to a horse like a burr. She and Morning Star really liked each other and worked together.

I was on my Quarter Horse Shays Gal. She had been bred and raised for racing but just did not seem to have what it would take to make her owner money so he had sold her. I got her at about 21 months old. She had never climbed a hill, being raised on the track. The first time I rode her up a hill she stumbled and almost fell down several times. It took me quite awhile but in the end she made a wonderful mountain horse. She had bottom. You could ride in the mountains all day, going through rough country, and at the end of the day she would still want to run when getting close to home.

We had ridden into the back country and worked some of the canyons and draws where the Mule Deer usually hung out but without seeing anything other than the ones we saw at long distance. After we had stopped and eaten lunch we decided to work our way back home. Our idea was to come up out of the deeper canyon country about 4 or 5 miles from home, hit the Charouleau Gap Trail and ride on home following it. The trail is a rough one that serious FWD enthusiasts loved. Riding it we would often find parts of vehicles that had been torn off, broken light covers, and it was not uncommon for someone to walk into our place and ask if they could use the phone to call for help .. their vehicle broken down or stuck someplace on the trail. The trail is listed as "For serious four-wheelers only. No stock vehicles. Lockers or winch recommended. Extreme articulation needed for deep washouts and gullies. Climb several steep hills with loose rock. One water crossing is deep during rainy periods. One rock obstacle called “The Step” often requires assistance. Aggressive drivers may break parts. Trail is very long and remote."

We eventually hit the trail and started on toward home. Riding through some really pretty country I kinda started napping in the saddle, when suddenly Azalea said, “DAD! There's a deer!” We had ridden up to a place where the trail zig-zagged down into a very steep, deep gully. It was maybe 200 yards across at the top and there on the other side was a deer walking out of some trees, heading for the bottom of the gully. Now the bottom was full of trees and brush but I thought I might be able to get ahead of the deer and bushwhack it. I told Azalea to hold the horses and I jumped off and headed down into the gully. At the bottom I tried to move quietly and worked my way to where I thought the deer was headed.

Maybe 10 minutes had passed when I saw the deer moving slowly along. I could see it through branches and brush maybe 50 yards or less from me. I picked a spot that did not seem to have many obstacles and decided to shoot through it when the deer stepped into that spot. I lined up the sights and when I saw the deer I touched it off. At the shot I lost sight of the deer and then, slightly above the trees, I saw it running away from me. I fired at it and it disappeared. I had heard the “WHOP” of the bullet hitting it so I knew it was down. I watched for a few minutes but nothing appeared so I called Azalea and told her to bring the horses down.

When she got to me we headed up the other side. I told her the deer had dropped some place in this area. We tied the horses to a tree and I went low, working my way across through the brush while Azalea went high, parallel to me, about 25 yards higher. Coming through a brushy area I spotted the deer laying in front of me. A forkhorn. I walked up and said, “Oh no!” Then I said, “Azalea! I shot a Whitetail by mistake!” She answered back, “Yes. I know. It's a 4 pointer.” And I said, “WHAT!?”

It turned out there had been two young bucks feeding together. I shot one and it dropped. The other had taken off running and I had dropped him, thinking it was the first one and that I had missed the first shot. And I never saw that they were Whitetails.

Azalea said, “Dad, what will we do?” and I replied, “We will take them home and eat them. I made a mistake but I ain't leaving them here for the coyotes and buzzards.” I had made a mistake but I was not gonna waste the meat. So I cleaned the deer and then tied them on Azalea's horse. We doubled in on mine and made it home just fine.

My wife made jerky of the one deer and we made steaks and roasts from the other. They were fine eating.

Azalea on her blue roan Morning Star - 1988