The Blood Instinct Blog with Crazy Carl: December 2011

"Some people focus like a magnifying glass - focus all the light in one spot. Others diffuse that energy in different directions. That's just a matter of individual choice. It's been my observation that people who focus all or most of their energy in one spot, like a magnifying glass, burn up the spot." - Chuck Adams

"Yep, I am completely crazy.", I thought to myself...or muttered quietly. I was so exhausted as I picked my way through the shin daggers and hillside scree in the predawn darkness, I couldn't tell. This was my fifth morning in the Chiricahua Mountains.

My father and I were able to pick up a couple coues deer tags leftover from the big game draw after we were unsuccessful on the first draw pass. We drew unit 29 which is located in South Eastern Arizona and encompasses the Chiricahua Mountain range. I had seen pictures and read stories of hunting in the Chiricahuas and was excited to hunt the area myself. Now that I had a rifle tag, I decided to spend a few days during the early bow season in the unit to bow hunt and scout the area for our rifle hunt ( refer to "2011 Early Bow Season:Part 1" ). I spent a few warm days chasing a few deer, exploring, and getting to know the trails a little better. I saw a couple of bucks, but their shy nature kept them far from the business end of my arrow. I also saw three bears during this trip, which instigated a return trip to bear hunt and scout for a few more days( refer to "2011 Fall Bear Hunt: Back to the Chiricahuas" ). I spent five days hunting hard for a bear to no avail. In the Sky Islands of Arizona, animals can change habitat by moving up or down in elevation, which makes it very difficult to pattern animal movements. The unforgiving terrain and unpredictable weather also compounds the level of difficulty when hunting in the Chiricahuas. But after these two trips, I felt I had a good idea of where to concentrate our efforts when our rifle hunt came.

Opening day of our hunt was November 25th, the day after Thanksgiving. The hunting grounds are a six hour drive from home, so I had my truck loaded and ready to roll right after a wonderful Thanksgiving meal provided by my lovely mother. Dad warned me of a storm front that would be rolling through the Chrircahuas that night and said he would meet me down there the next day. He's a smart man. I drove six hours and set up camp in a down pour at 8:PM in order to be at a prime glassing spot at the break of dawn opening morning.

Opening day finally arrived after a fairly sleepless night listening to the rain beat down on the tent. I followed a ridge line out to a steep hill in an early morning drizzle. As I crept along the ridge a deer jumped a barbed wire fence line to my right. The deer was there and gone in the blink of an eye. I followed for a short distance and gained elevation, hoping to spot the deer as it came out of the oak-choked ravine. The deer vanished as they often do. I spent the rest of the day hunting the steep ravines and the high saddles, hoping to catch a buck switching bedding sights. Dad arrived and radioed around noon and said he would post up and glass an open area I had spotted a couple of bucks feeding in during my bear hunt. After scouring the hillsides and hiking into some rough and steep draws, no other deer exposed themselves. This was discouraging. I had consistently spotted deer in this area during both of my previous trips. Still, I wasn't too concerned as it was only opening day.

The next day we returned to the same general area. Dad and I each found high points to survey the terrain below for likely coues deer hideouts. I would hike up to a tall ridge or saddle and sit and pick the hillsides apart with my binoculars. After glassing for 30-45 mins, I would climb to the next ridge and repeat the process. It takes a lot of patience and eye strain to spot these little deer. I spotted two does that morning. One doe I spotted as she hopped a fence line. I would have never have seen her if she had not moved. After catching my eye as she jumped the fence, I raised my binoculars to get a better look. I knew the general spot where she was, but could not find the deer in my binos. As I lowered my binoculars, I saw the tiny deer jump back over the fence and tried to acquire it again. Once again, the ability of this deer to disappear right in front of your eyes was demonstrated to me. After only seeing the two does, Dad and I agreed to move to another area I had seen some deer in. We enjoyed a quick lunch at camp and made the short drive to the new spot. We started hiking up and in to the hills. The hills screamed of coues deer habitat with Oak and Juniper trees spaced evenly on the hilltops and becoming increasingly close together as they descend into the draws and ravines. In between the trees, plains grass, ranging from knee to chest height, would easily conceal the dog-sized deer. I climbed into a high saddle and glassed for the rest of the evening hours. I didn't spot any deer moving. Dad had spotted one doe as she crept out of her bedding area. Dad watched the deer walk within 50 yds of my position. I never knew the deer was even there. Another example of the coues deers' wraith like nature.

The following day we decided to check out a particular canyon that was rumored to receive less hunting pressure and held good numbers of deer. As we drove into the canyon, we discovered that we were all alone in there. There are two thought lines when a hunter encounters this; 1.) "We're all alone in here. The deer probably haven't been pressured....I bet we see a fair amount of game." 2.) "We're all alone in here. Do all the other hunters know something I don't?...I bet the deer moved out of the area." I try to remain optimistic in these circumstances. If you think too hard on an area, you'll never hike in with confidence. You need that confidence to be ready if an animal presents itself to make a snappy shot if required. If you do not believe in the area you're hunting, you'll find yourself walking along noisily and your weapon anything but ready. I always try to convince myself that my shot may be right around this next bend in the trail or just over this next ridge. Dad and I hiked into two promising looking side canyons. The views inside these canyons were spectacular! Large monoliths hung precariously from the steep hillsides above us. Game trails criss-crossed the hills. The wash and creek beds were filled with thick stands of oak trees and scrub brush. Bear sign was quite prolific in the creek beds. We spent the rest of the day far back in a canyon we had followed a creek bed into. We watched the hills around us as the shadows grew longer and longer while the sun made it's daily trek across the sky. The deer eluded us again.

At this point frustration was taking a firm hold of me. After spending another fruitless and exhausting day ( most of it hiking ) deep in the back country, I was down right baffled and a little angry when we got back to the truck. How could I put so much time, so much effort into this hunt and not see deer? All of these spots I had been seeing deer in just a few weeks earlier. I have pushed myself up and over hill after craggly hill, glassed until my head aches, and risen everyday before dawn. I have scoured the maps, double checked my gear, and put the boots to dirt. What more could I possibly do?

We returned to camp wore out. We were drained physically and mentally. Dad was feeling a little under the weather and had business to attend and opted to head back home that night. I was saddened to watch my dad drive into the darkness. I was really hoping that this would be OUR year... Our year to put a couple of nice bucks on the ground as a father and son hunting duo. I thought with the scouting and time I spent in the field, we had a good chance of getting it done. I sat by the fire alone, trying to read a book about Chuck Adams but mostly just staring in the twisting flames. I have been here before. I think every true hunter has been here many times. I examine every angle of my hunting strategy in my mind. Then my thoughts slowly drift to past hunting and fishing trips. I remember killing my first coues buck. I remember backpacking into Slough Creek in Yellowstone and hearing a wolf howl late at night. I remember watching a massive bull elk punish a small tree with his huge antlers just before I killed my first cow elk. I remember walking behind my dad with a pop-gun in my small hands next to some citrus orchards on my first dove hunt. These memories seem lubricated by the wilderness, as they easily glide back into my minds eye in detail.

I slept deep that night. I woke with traces of some dream hunting adventure still smoldering. During the night, in my hunting dreams, I must have been chasing coues deer because my sleeping bag was tied in a firm knot all around me! After freeing myself from my sleeping bag and hiking a good mile and a half before the sun rise, I found myself atop another great vantage point. I watched the sun crest the mountains in front of me. As the sun rose so did my spirits. I can't fully explain this attitude change. Perhaps I just needed to get a better grasp on why exactly I do this (hike for miles, camp for days, sleep very little, etc.). Maybe staring into the camp fire light the night before kept me warm with the embrace of the memories of past hunting adventures. I can't say for sure, but it happens to me most times when I find myself alone in the quiet woods.

Over the next two days I hunted hard. I decided I would check out a few more unexplored areas and different elevations. I packed up camp and moved to the North side of the Chiricahua range. I followed several very scenic trails that took me high up into the snowy peaks. Some canyons I weaseled my way into were so green and foliage strangled, you would think you were in an old growth forest in the Pacific Northwest. The deer remained concealed.

My last afternoon, as I hiked back out towards my truck to start the long drive home, I spotted a few coues deer does feeding on a hillside. They knew I was there but continued to feed unabashedly.

I watched the tiny deer graze until the orange orb in the sky was subdued by the weight of the stars. I've been told by friends that I'm an intense person. I agree with this. I am an intense person. I try to focus my passion into what makes me happy. The outdoors have always been a subject of intense focus for me. I enjoy the reminder that I am but a very, very small part of this world. This fact was lost on me at the beginning of the hunt I suppose. We try to personify Mother Nature, but in truth, the wilderness is wild. That fact is why I love it so much. We become so comfortable in our lives we lose touch with our instinct and adaptive nature. I enjoy comfort as much as anyone, but I never want to lose a more primitive connection with the outdoors. It's like having my soul cleansed, removing the dirt and grime of our hectic lifestyles. As I sat and watched the coues deer graze, I started to realize that maybe a big buck was not what I was hunting for. I feel clean.

Authors Note: It's funny how a Dad knows how to say the right thing at the right moment usually. Before my dad began the drive back to Phoenix, he left me with a few words of encouragement along the lines of: "Son, you have the determination to keep at it. You keep goin' and sooner or later the 'big one' is gonna make a mistake. Besides, it isn't about killing." I think most hunters are familiar with the ol' "It ain't about the kill" phrase, but there is no simple statement more true. Thank you Dad for reminding me. I would not be so close to the outdoors without my father and, in turn, the outdoors bring me closer to him.