Bighorn,
A few years ago my wife killed a pretty big mule deer buck toward the end of the rut here in Montana, on November 27th, the next to last day of the rifle season. He'd been rutting so hard there were only tiny traces of fat on his body, but he turned out to be one of the mildest-flavored, most tender mule deer bucks we've ever eaten. Oh, and he was in a wide sagebrush valley. You never know until you taste 'em....
