The Promise
A Member Story
By : James McKew
“The bucks in this area are bigger than anything you’ve ever seen.”
A promise made by Rachel’s boyfriend to get her the biggest buck she had ever seen. The boyfriend talked a good game and spoke like he knew mule deer. They had gone out enough times that he was considered the boyfriend. The title lacked substance. The man held the position mainly because, he expected to see her every Friday night and because he had a way of showing up and taking over her plans whenever it suited him, but most importantly because he promised her a big buck. Beyond that, he never actually asked her to be a steady thing.
It was late October, the weather was a bust, and they were parked at 9,000 feet on a two-track just before noon. Outside his truck, she wore a tee shirt and camo pants. Brad Paisley twanged about pizza and foreign cars on the radio while her boyfriend played air drums. Rachel leaned against the truck fender and worked her binos across the canyon’s far side, checking every inch of shadow for a sign of deer. Nothing. Her pupils were on overdrive, and the rubber shades left dark raccoon circles around her eyes.
He had all the lousy hunting excuses lined up for her: “They’re too high,” “They’re too low,” The out-of-staters chased everything out of here.” “The wolves, for sure.” “Full moon,” “The heat,” “The wind,” “Too many cars,” “Not enough cars.” So much for snagging the big buck.
Meanwhile, her Instagram was blowing up with trophy shots of her friends alongside some nice bucks from her regular hunting grounds.
He dropped her off that night, planning to start early the next morning. “We’ll go hard on an all-out blitz,” he said.
She watched his taillights trail off with little emotion. But behind her eyes played the opening credits to a Netflix movie, where she was the star of her hunting adventure.
She entered, locked the door, ordered a pizza, and settled in with the laptop. An hour later, she texted her boyfriend, saying she had a migraine, and that tomorrow wouldn’t work for her. “So sorry…good luck.”
She had a plan now, not a perfect plan, but a last-minute Hail Mary that might get her on the deer.
At three the next morning on the last day of the season, Rachel was running down the road with gas station coffee in the console and her hair pulled back in a scrunchy. At (Redacted), she turned right onto County Road (Redacted) and headed up a dirt road where sagebrush grew in the seam.
She walked almost four miles and pulled in among some fat pinions. A cloud of stars spread overhead. Her breath fogged as she climbed into the truck bed with a foam pad and a goose-down bag. She lay curled in a ball with her fists tucked in her armpits. Two hours passed, and sleep didn’t happen. Then, at five, her phone alarm beeped. Every joint in her body hurt. She forced her feet into frozen boots and pulled her pack on. Up through rocks and sage, she humped it across swales and boulders and into a place with a wild and arid feeling about it.
Near dawn, she unzipped all her layers and paused to get her bearings. She was a thousand feet higher than the truck, with a large bowl covered in thick sage below her. On her belly with the gun barrel propped on her pack, she waited…and waited…and waited until finally, a small herd of mule deer appeared out of nowhere. Time stood still until the moment was perfect. Then, slowly, she squeezed the trigger on a nice 3×3 that paused in her crosshairs.
After the explosion and confusion, Rachel picked her way down to the water hole, a flat steel structure that resembled a large solar panel lying on the ground. It was a watering hole designed to store rainwater over the year and drip it slowly into a shallow trough. The location was obscure, and the odds of finding deer here were low, at least from a conventional way of thinking. She spotted this location last night on her laptop, using online migration maps, and a little luck. A steel sign nailed to a post read “Habitat project by the Mule Deer Foundation”.
The high desert was dry this time of year, and this small oasis was perfectly placed for thirsty deer on their way to winter grounds.
Taking it all in, Rachel wondered if she was the first to use this area. So remote, so far away from the usual hunting spots, so opposite from what her boyfriend told her was…The Promise.
Get Cooking:
As always, Good luck this Spring and remember to send any success pictures or stories from the field to [email protected] and you could be featured on our website or in our magazine. If this article or any of our articles have helped you become a better hunter or conservation steward, consider becoming a member of the Mule Deer Foundation or the Blacktail Deer Foundation or both. Click here to join: https://muledeer.org/product-category/membership/ or https://www.blacktaildeer.org/
