rwc
Member
or at least one MT deer and one MT duck, that zigged when they should have zagged.
I spent Thanksgiving in and around Great Falls, MT, where my wife grew up and her folks still live. We flew in the Thursday before and as the sun was setting her father and I were at the range making sure my rifle was still holding zero. Horizon Air's baggage gorillas had done their worst, but my rifle survived with a zero and my hand was steady enough. A bit surprising actually as I had only made it to the range a few times this summer given a move across the Sound and an almost two year old daughter with a new "game face" that would make Ben Wallace do a double take.
Friday morning my father-in-law and I were on the road near Shonkin Creek. We parked up on the flats above a large coule (small canyon) and as we geared up a three pt. buck ran across the praire dog town in front of us. As I had a mule deer "B tag" (doe) he was safe. Our approach was to walk along the rim and peer down into the side drainages to see what we could see. After an hour or so I spotted a group of deer, four does and a decent 4 pt. buck. They were moving up-canyon away from us, contouring at about halfway up the side. We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to range in on this group before they crossed the last fence line up-canyon and onto land we couldn't hunt. No luck. Given we had seen a decent amount of deer I didn't feel too discouraged as we slogged back to the truck. We drove over to a smaller coule nearby and out popped four whitetails including a nice looking buck. We turned around and started down the dirt road that led off the rim and down to the county road and there was another doe, standing down in the drainage looking at us. We stopped, I popped the door, ranged her at 124 yds., used the door as a rest and took my deer. We drove the rest of the way down to the flats and then walked back up the drainage to clean her out and pack her up (I'll do a seperate processing post).
... This is where I confess to a certain unfair advantage. My now retired FiL has spent the last 40+ years hunting and fishing all over Montana. Given that I have what amounted to a private guide with access to lots of land, I know I'm lucky. For which, I'm ... thankful.
A few days later my brother-in-law flew in and the three of us went duck hunting. This time we headed North about 45 minutes out of town to Muddy Creek. I hadn't used a shotgun in over 30 years, and that was as a 10 year old whose step-brother's father thought it was funny as heck to watch the two of us go a$$ over tea-kettle trying to shoot a 12 gauge at cotton-tails and quail in the Arizona desert. To say that I was apprehensive about hitting anything (or pulling a "Cheney") is to put it mildly. My FiL must have had this in mind as he and his English Cocker stayed well back of my BiL and I as we worked our way down this creek.
Our approach was for us to work opposite sides of the creek, alternating peeking into each bend. We did this for about a third of the creek to no avail. He crossed over and the next ox-bow bend we came to we approached in parallel, me coming up along the inside of the upstream bank and him walking up the inside of the downstream bank. Out popped two mallards, one of which he poppped and dropped. I shot all three shells to no avail and with almost no idea of whether I was getting #3s anywhere near these ducks.
We kept working up the creek and eventually popped another couple ducks. I did my shoot-until-empty routine once more. This time one of them seemed like he tried to stay low until he was out of range. I thought he got away... We hunkered down because when these ducks broke skyward another ten popped up from the next bend. They all flew around in the sky and circled for about ten minutes before settling back down in the creek a few bends downstream (Not so smart - them ducks...). We kept working downstream towards them, but with no success as we neared the end of the huntable stretch of the creek.
About this time my BiL, who was across the creek again, starts yelling for his dad to let the dog loose. Instead of waiting for the dog he runs up to a small footbridge, drops on his belly and "retrieves" a mallard floating in the stream. It turns out I had hit the duck I thought was just ducking for cover and it had floated downstream with us unitl he spotted her. From his side of the creek he had seen me hit her but because we had hunkered down to let them settle back down he'd not said anything at the time, thinking that since we hadn't set the dog loose we must have seen her fly off.
And that's how I came to be thankful for a deer and a duck and the great state of Montana.
Details:
Deer
I used a Tikka T3 in .308 topped with a Leupold 3-9x40 and loaded with the last year's 150gr. "Fusion" rounds. The last couple deer I've taken with this round dropped where they stood. While cleaning her out (and when processing the meat a couple days later) it was clear that it had broken a rib on the near-side, churned up both lungs and then broken two ribs and the scapula on the far side before exiting. The far shoulder had a large hole leading me to conclude that this round holds together and exited "en masse" before burying itself in the hillside.
Things I would do differently:
Walk out to the end of the property a good bit away from the rim and then work our way back "down canyon." Working our way up-canyon we did what most folks do, and the deer know it.
I learned once again that judging distance in open country or across open spaces (like the drainages that feed down into a canyon) can be very deceptive. A rangefinder will soon live on my left shoulder strap.
Speaking of which, I picked up a Camelback Stalker hunting pack this summer and it worked great. It's built like their military packs but is considerably cheaper. It's just big enough to hold my processing gear, some essentials in case a day becomes a night, extra clothes as the day warms, and about a 1/3 of a deer. Like any pack with a meaningless waistbelt, your shoulders will ache at the end of the day, but not bad. Don't forget to route the water tube on the opposite shoulder from where you will mount your rifle.
A Pelican rifle case is in my future. The cheap plastic gun case I've used the last few years just make me nervous now. The foam is no longer holding the rifle centered and SeaTac's baggage apes are not our friends. Enough said.
Duck
Remington 870 Express loaded with Steel #3 shot.
Things I would do differently:
Buy a shotgun and practice, practice, practice.
Miscommunication and not checking the creek almost cost me a duck. Lesson learned.
And of course, the obligatory "trophy shot"
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I spent Thanksgiving in and around Great Falls, MT, where my wife grew up and her folks still live. We flew in the Thursday before and as the sun was setting her father and I were at the range making sure my rifle was still holding zero. Horizon Air's baggage gorillas had done their worst, but my rifle survived with a zero and my hand was steady enough. A bit surprising actually as I had only made it to the range a few times this summer given a move across the Sound and an almost two year old daughter with a new "game face" that would make Ben Wallace do a double take.
Friday morning my father-in-law and I were on the road near Shonkin Creek. We parked up on the flats above a large coule (small canyon) and as we geared up a three pt. buck ran across the praire dog town in front of us. As I had a mule deer "B tag" (doe) he was safe. Our approach was to walk along the rim and peer down into the side drainages to see what we could see. After an hour or so I spotted a group of deer, four does and a decent 4 pt. buck. They were moving up-canyon away from us, contouring at about halfway up the side. We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to range in on this group before they crossed the last fence line up-canyon and onto land we couldn't hunt. No luck. Given we had seen a decent amount of deer I didn't feel too discouraged as we slogged back to the truck. We drove over to a smaller coule nearby and out popped four whitetails including a nice looking buck. We turned around and started down the dirt road that led off the rim and down to the county road and there was another doe, standing down in the drainage looking at us. We stopped, I popped the door, ranged her at 124 yds., used the door as a rest and took my deer. We drove the rest of the way down to the flats and then walked back up the drainage to clean her out and pack her up (I'll do a seperate processing post).
... This is where I confess to a certain unfair advantage. My now retired FiL has spent the last 40+ years hunting and fishing all over Montana. Given that I have what amounted to a private guide with access to lots of land, I know I'm lucky. For which, I'm ... thankful.
A few days later my brother-in-law flew in and the three of us went duck hunting. This time we headed North about 45 minutes out of town to Muddy Creek. I hadn't used a shotgun in over 30 years, and that was as a 10 year old whose step-brother's father thought it was funny as heck to watch the two of us go a$$ over tea-kettle trying to shoot a 12 gauge at cotton-tails and quail in the Arizona desert. To say that I was apprehensive about hitting anything (or pulling a "Cheney") is to put it mildly. My FiL must have had this in mind as he and his English Cocker stayed well back of my BiL and I as we worked our way down this creek.
Our approach was for us to work opposite sides of the creek, alternating peeking into each bend. We did this for about a third of the creek to no avail. He crossed over and the next ox-bow bend we came to we approached in parallel, me coming up along the inside of the upstream bank and him walking up the inside of the downstream bank. Out popped two mallards, one of which he poppped and dropped. I shot all three shells to no avail and with almost no idea of whether I was getting #3s anywhere near these ducks.
We kept working up the creek and eventually popped another couple ducks. I did my shoot-until-empty routine once more. This time one of them seemed like he tried to stay low until he was out of range. I thought he got away... We hunkered down because when these ducks broke skyward another ten popped up from the next bend. They all flew around in the sky and circled for about ten minutes before settling back down in the creek a few bends downstream (Not so smart - them ducks...). We kept working downstream towards them, but with no success as we neared the end of the huntable stretch of the creek.
About this time my BiL, who was across the creek again, starts yelling for his dad to let the dog loose. Instead of waiting for the dog he runs up to a small footbridge, drops on his belly and "retrieves" a mallard floating in the stream. It turns out I had hit the duck I thought was just ducking for cover and it had floated downstream with us unitl he spotted her. From his side of the creek he had seen me hit her but because we had hunkered down to let them settle back down he'd not said anything at the time, thinking that since we hadn't set the dog loose we must have seen her fly off.
And that's how I came to be thankful for a deer and a duck and the great state of Montana.
Details:
Deer
I used a Tikka T3 in .308 topped with a Leupold 3-9x40 and loaded with the last year's 150gr. "Fusion" rounds. The last couple deer I've taken with this round dropped where they stood. While cleaning her out (and when processing the meat a couple days later) it was clear that it had broken a rib on the near-side, churned up both lungs and then broken two ribs and the scapula on the far side before exiting. The far shoulder had a large hole leading me to conclude that this round holds together and exited "en masse" before burying itself in the hillside.
Things I would do differently:
Walk out to the end of the property a good bit away from the rim and then work our way back "down canyon." Working our way up-canyon we did what most folks do, and the deer know it.
I learned once again that judging distance in open country or across open spaces (like the drainages that feed down into a canyon) can be very deceptive. A rangefinder will soon live on my left shoulder strap.
Speaking of which, I picked up a Camelback Stalker hunting pack this summer and it worked great. It's built like their military packs but is considerably cheaper. It's just big enough to hold my processing gear, some essentials in case a day becomes a night, extra clothes as the day warms, and about a 1/3 of a deer. Like any pack with a meaningless waistbelt, your shoulders will ache at the end of the day, but not bad. Don't forget to route the water tube on the opposite shoulder from where you will mount your rifle.
A Pelican rifle case is in my future. The cheap plastic gun case I've used the last few years just make me nervous now. The foam is no longer holding the rifle centered and SeaTac's baggage apes are not our friends. Enough said.
Duck
Remington 870 Express loaded with Steel #3 shot.
Things I would do differently:
Buy a shotgun and practice, practice, practice.
Miscommunication and not checking the creek almost cost me a duck. Lesson learned.
And of course, the obligatory "trophy shot"
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
