It was the third day of Whitetail Season and I had not gotten close enough to get a shot with my sixgun. We had taken two Mule Deer during that season and I was looking to get a Coues Whitetail to add to the tally. The hills and canyons behind Oracle, Arizona were home to some nice deer of this species, but they were spooky from the hunting that had gone on in the months before. I had glassed from the ridges and spotted deer but working my way into them just had not worked out. I decided it was time to change my method of operation.

So I packed away the sixgun and took my wife's rifle. A Model 600 Remington in .243 Winchester, we called it our “Meat Gun.” If we really wanted meat it was the gun to take. I loaded the 95 gr. Nosler Partition bullets for it and never had one fail ... from 30 feet to 300 yards.

Previously I had seen friends shoot deer with their .243's and saw some spectacular and sad bullet failures. Pushing too light of bullet at too much velocity. I wanted penetration and the Nosler Partition provided it. I never had one stop in a deer. And I never had a deer go very far after being hit. The one shot I made that was close to 300 yards was uphill at a pretty steep angle. I heard the bullet smack the buck and he gave a short run to the left .. maybe 10 feet .. then turned and ran back to where he had been when I shot him. He passed that maybe 20 feet and then fell over and rolled down the hill. When I cleaned him I noted the bullet had barely expanded but had punched clear through, in the left side and out the right. The heart was hit and that did it. And I learned that 300 yards was really too far to be shooting deer with it. A little miss and I would have had a wounded deer to try and track down.

I liked the .243 because sighted in just a bit high at 25 yards it was within 3” up or down out to around 300 yards. If the deer was standing still and you had a good rest you just put the crosshairs on and if you had a good letoff on the trigger you had meat. My wife used the gun for quite a few years and we had a lot of meat with it. She liked it because recoil was really pretty light.

So early the next morning I had the rifle and my backpack and was headed into the canyons. Come daylight I was well into the rough country. I moved slowly, glassing the hills and washes, working my way along the sides of the hills trying to stay about a hundred yards up the hillside from the washes. This allowed me to see quite a ways ahead and behind me. As I worked my way through the twists and turns, climbing over large boulders when necessary, I found it hard to be quiet unless I did not hurry. Even so, as I worked my way around a turn in the wash I spooked a herd of deer that disappeared down the canyon.

Mentally kicking myself for getting in a hurry I began to work my way down the canyon, circling around as I went, crossing from one side of the canyon to another as I explored side canyons trying to figure out where the deer went. I took my time trying to be quiet and the next hour or so passed without seeing anything.

I was starting to think I had missed them when below me and ahead about 50 or 60 yards I saw some deer in the brush, feeding and moving slowly around. By this time I was on the right-hand side of the canyon, maybe 50 yards above the wash. I slowed down even more and worked my way forward, stopping and watching for a few minutes every few steps. I did not want to spook them again!

As I worked my way toward where I had last seen the deer suddenly a buck stepped out down below me on the other side of the wash. I sat down on the hillside, rested my left elbow on my knee, and found him in the scope. He was a nice young forkhorn, quartering toward my right. He stopped for a second and the rifle seemed to go off by itself. I lost him in scope as the gun recoiled but over the gun I could see him laying in wash. I found him in the scope again and saw he was laying on his back, facing the opposite way that he was when I shot him.

I watched for bit to make sure he was done and then worked my way down to him. When I hit him he had turned to his right and jumped into the sand wash and somehow ended up on his back, his antlers stuck into the sand!

I got out my knife and cleaned him and tagged him when I was done. Then I started looking at where I was. In the bottom of a steep canyon, 4 or 5 miles from home which was uphill all the way back to the house. I had probably close to a thousand feet of elevation to climb on the way home. How the heck was I gonna carry that deer out? The climb to the top of the ridge that I would walk going home was at least a quarter mile!

After pondering on it awhile I decided that I was going to have to cut the deer in half and make two trips getting it up to the ridgeline. After that I would figure something out. So I went to work and cut the deer in two parts just aft of the ribs. I hunt the head and front legs in a tree and picked up the hindquarters and legs, slung them around my neck on top of my pack, and headed up the mountain. It was slow going but the load was not excessive, maybe 40 or 50 pounds.

I was almost to the ridgeline when I met another hunter, a guy I knew. I stopped and caught my breath and he asked me about the deer. I explained what I was doing and why and he understood. In fact, he offered to carry the hindquarters on to my house for me! I accepted his kind offer quickly and told him I would give him half of the deer. That seemed to please him and he took the hindquarters and headed off up the mountain. I made my way back down into the canyon, got the head and front quarters and started home. It took me awhile but I made it. And after I boned out the deer I gave my friend his half ... and I was HAPPY to do it!

I don't believe I ever hunted those canyons on foot again. It was much easier to let the horses carry the deer. Of course there were places that I could not get into on horseback, but there was enough game in other areas that we never had a problem.

Those were good days and good memories ... over 40 years ago now.

Good memories.

As always, a great story Jim. Thank you for all your writings