Eastmans’ Hunting Journal

The Last in Line By: Buck Pope

It has the genetics, minerals, feed, and remoteness that allow animals to live and grow to maturity and beyond. It’s one of several areas regulated by the Arizona Game & Fish Department for very limited hunting. This past season, 85 permits were issued for my unit; my permit was number 85.

Since the area is so vast and remote—and I’d never been there—I thought I’d best seek the services of an outfitter. It was too rare a tag to burn on a “learning experience.” A good friend of mine, who is an outfitter and one of the best, just also happens to hunt that area. His name is Chad Smith. He and his wife, Shawn, own and operate Vaquero Outfitters just a few miles north of my home.

Chad told me that even with the permit I had it is a tough hunt, both physically and mentally. The relative scarcity of deer there can be particularly discouraging. The season is only ten days long, so you have to hit it hard and hope you get a chance at a wallhanger. I told Chad it was a trophy hunt for me; either we would find a big buck or I’d come home with an un-punched tag.

I was using a Nosler Model 48 lightweight hunting riddle in .325 WSM caliber. That’s the largest of the WSM calibers—an 8mm cartridge. I was also shooting Nosler custom ammunition, using the 200-grain AccuBond bullet. I used one of my favorite Swarovski scopes, the AV 4-12 x50mm with the BR reticule, along with Talley rings and bases. I sighted it in to be dead on at 200 yards and, by using the BR reticule, I had my markers for longer shots. Chad told me long shots were the norm in the terrain I would hunt.

November finally arrived and I was in camp, pumped for opening day. Chad and his guides had spent several weeks scouting the area. There were three of us in camp who would be hunting, including one of Chad’s guides Blake Chapman. There were reports of a few good bucks; no monsters over 200 points, but several good 190-class deer. On the downside, nobody had seen any of the big ones in three days. What was going on? Had the bucks already decided to go nocturnal?

I was assigned a guide named Aaron Overton, a very likeable and knowledgeable fellow who had guided there before. As we left camp well before daylight, Aaron said he had been watching a big 200-class typical and he wanted to try to find him again. I personally have a thing about non-typical bucks when given a choice, but I thought it best to just wait and see what we could find.

The last monster buck I had seen was in Colorado a number of years ago, when a monster non-typical got away from me. He was smart, as all big bucks are. Big bucks are a true challenge and it requires patience, skill, determination, and a lot of luck to get one.

We finished our first day and headed back to camp. We saw a few deer but only one small buck. When we got back to camp, we found that Blake had taken a huge non-typical that morning. After I saw first-hand what that country could produce, I was pumped. Another hunter said he and his guide had located a big buck track and followed it for a good part of the day, but didn’t see any shooters.

Several days went by and we continued to hunt hard, but had yet to see anything big. It was indeed tough hunting. After five days, one of the other hunters had to return to work empty-handed. He and his guide never could find the buck that was making those huge tracks.

As luck would have it, Blake chanced onto a big buck while coming back to camp after dark one evening. He got a quick look at him and said he was a shooter for sure—possibly a 200-class buck. We had also found a spot where there was a sign of a big buck watering, so we kept at it, hoping he would make a mistake.

Soon, it was the seventh day, which has often been my lucky day. I told Aaron, “Today will be our day.” We were at the watering hole before light, hoping to catch a buck at daylight. Nothing was moving—a repeat of other mornings.

Chad checked in on us and said he caught glimpses of a buck on a distant slope right at daybreak; he had two does with him. We all got together and Chad said, “We’re going to try to get that buck out of that thick brush and see what he is.”

Chad had Aaron and Blake move up on two high points to cover the area we were headed into. By late afternoon, Chad and I were easing across a mountainside thick with brush and trees. It was tense as we slowly worked across, looking and glassing into the brush. As we neared the top, we still hadn’t seen anything. We were at the top edge of the brush, and could see it was broken up with small openings here and there.

We waited and watched; the sun was setting and it was crunch time. After ten minutes or so, we spotted movement below us and to our right. Two does were coming toward us, working in and out of the brush.

We spotted a large buck about 100 yards behind them, taking the same route. One look through my binoculars was all it took; he was big and heavy antlered, with a wide spread, and large points sticking up. Chad said, “Buck, kill him now.”

Believe me, I wanted to, but before I knew it he was past us. He was out about 100 yards or so, with the last of the brush and trees blocking any shot. He had two small openings to get past and he would be gone. I had only an offhand shot, and just couldn’t get on him quickly enough. I thought to myself, “How did I let that buck get away?”

We ran up through the remaining brush and up the open slope. About halfway to the top, a narrow header cut across in front of us. We stopped and looked down it; no buck. Had he already made the long grade or had he cut to our right for more thick brush?

I looked to my left in the fading light and there he was, standing tight against a cedar tree. He was less than 150 yards away and frozen in place. In just a second or two, I found the buck in the scope and touched off the rifle. At the shot, the buck immediately dropped to the ground—an instant kill. Chad and I celebrated and then slowly walked up to the fallen warrior.

He was an outstanding buck, a trophy of trophies. I said a silent prayer for the buck and also gave thanks for my second opportunity at him.

The grand old fellow had finally made a mistake—and yet he almost pulled it off by trying to hide from me in the fading light.

By the time Aaron and Blake showed up, it was dark and we were a long way from camp. Later, they figured the buck was 8 ½ years old and had survived many a season. He was a 31-inch 8x7, with 6-2/8-inch bases. After the drying period, he ended up scoring in at 220-6/8 points.

Only a few big bucks were taken last season, and the antler growth was down because of sparse rains that spring. We had done well in our camp with two keeper bucks. Again, the Arizona Strip lived up to its reputation.