Just got back early from the deer hunt.
Took the 99 in 284 for long range, which is most everything here, and the powdercoated 358 everyone loves because we were expecting rain beginning Sunday. My friend and I set up camp Friday which consisted of Todd sleeping in his truck with a canopy and I set up in a cargo trailer I converted to a one man hunting setup complete with a woodstove and cooking table. We stretched a tarp across camp knowing the rains were coming Sunday and built the fire ring just outside the covered area so we could enjoy the fire rain or shine. All the firewood was stowed under the tarp and ready for whatever. After setting up we were able to orient him to the area before dark and talk about a hunt plan for Saturday.
Saturday morning before daylight we rode quads to within a mile of where we wanted to hunt and walked the remaining mile or so to get in quietly by daylight. We glassed for an hour or so with no luck. This was the first time in here that hadn't produced either a buck a bear or both, sometimes more than one bear from one position glassing. That's hunting.
We headed the 500 yards over to the next ridge to glass the next canyon over. When we got there Todd sat down and started in on the upper area while I went 200 yards down the ridgeline and glassed the lower canyon to watch for a buck coming up from the bottoms to bed for the day in the rocks. There was a really good 4x4 and a small forked horn traveling this drainage so we were hopeful. Todd said he just wanted meat he didn't care how big or small the buck was.
After a half hour I hear a deer blowing, up above somewhere. I turned around and got situated over the pack with the binoculars. It was uphill about 490 yards to the top. I was scouring for that sassy doe that was blowing at us when I spotted what looked like a big forked horn cresting a ridge into the next canyon. The range was fine for a shot at about 450 but I didn't have time to drop the bino's and set the rifle up before he topped out and disappeared into the rock slides and avalanche shoots of the north side.
Todd didn't shoot but I guessed he was moving along uphill and had kicked the buck out, so I went downhill to leave him to it. After dropping down the canyon some more and glassing all the new area I could, I side-hilled around the ridge and hiked back up to the trail where we started, making a big loop down into the lower canyon. The area had a lot of granite rock 12-24" in diameter making walking on these steep mountainsides a little difficult. My fear was having a rock roll out from under me, sending me down and landing on the rifle so I carried the rifle away from the mountain in case I took a spill.
Still no shots from Todd so I guessed the big forky had given him the slip. He was carrying his faithful Browning 300 magnum and I had personally seen him pile up a great whitetail near Libby, Montana at over 500 yards so I know anything he could see he could shoot.
I sat down to glass and eat some snacks when I got back up to the trail and finally spotted Todd on the ridge line right where we had separated. He hadn't moved. After a bit he started working his way back down and we met up about 11 am. He hadn't seen or heard the buck. We hiked back to camp to eat lunch and hatch a plan for finding this big forky Saturday afternoon and hopefully get Todd a shot at him.
After lunch we rode the quads a few miles around the mountain to see if we could approach the area where I'd seen the buck from the west. The plan was to approach the north slopes from the ridgeline above him and hopefully spot him from above bedded on the uphill side of a big tree or rockpile. Where we topped out on the ridge was still a mile from the bucks location but the wind was wrong, so we backed out and rode 2/3 of the way back and pulled off at a saddle where I knew had lots of bear and deer activity. The wind was blowing dead east so we unloaded and headed straight west out the ridgeline with the wind in our face. Todd took the north side of the ridge that had the most deer activity and I was just over the top on the dry side of the mountain. We agreed to walk the mile or so along the ridgetop about 50 yards apart and see what we could flush. As we approached the big firs where the buck had crested the ridge and disappeared earlier we'd meet back up and make a plan based on what it looked like when we got there. Most people would probably think "WTF, all this effort for a forked horn?" We didn't care, we were having a great time.
Somewhere along the way across the ridgetops Todd decided to sit down and do some glassing. By now it's about 3 pm. I lost track of him completely and by 4:30 I had waited 45 minutes for him to catch up but no Todd. I couldn't find him with binoculars so I went ahead alone down to the spot where the buck had crossed the ridgeline at 9:30 that morning. Pushing 5 o'clock I peek over a log into the next canyon and glassed around looking for the deer. Up to now I'd been concealed from view behind that log but because I couldn't find the buck after a few minutes I decided to skyline myself and take my chances that he'd spook and give me a running shot somewhere down that avalanche slide at between 100 and 150 yards. I stood up and moved 20 yards downhill and started glassing downhill for him again, taking apart every tree, bush, and rockpile I could trying to find the buck. That nasty sucker was in there somewhere but darned if I could find him.
As I'm standing there now in full view trying to decide how far I want to go down this canyon for a big forked horn I happened to look to my left uphill and he's laying in his bed watching me, sky lined as pretty as a picture at 110 yards, real steep uphill. We made eye contact and he stands up. I can see he's got a great frame with real smooth horns. Recognizing him as the buck I'd seen earlier I already knew he was super interesting and a real pretty buck so I let him have 145 grains of Speer love sent directly from Mr. Savage to his midsection. He piled up in his bed. Because of some minor thrashing about I could tell it was a nervous system hit, but he was done.
I hiked up the steep ridgeline and headed about 100 yards west to where he lay. Todd came along just as I was sewing him shut for the drag out. He agreed to go the mile and a half back to the quad and drive around to the road below where I would hopefully be waiting. I made good time dragging him straight downhill off the mountain to the road a half mile below where Todd found me a few minutes later.
The 145 grain Speer BTSP bullet had entered the left ribcage and exited high on the right, severing the backbone. Only a spoonful of backstrap was lost but the spine was cut in half. Still not sure how that happened. This bullet tends to come apart when it hits bone so I'm pretty sure fragments went everywhere because the exit hole was about 2" on the right side.
I came home the next morning and processed him rather than hang him in camp because we were camped right on a bear trail in a heavily used swamp and we didn't want any midnight visitors. Todd hunted Sunday morning with no luck. We were able to hunt around a bit in the evening but again no luck. We came home this morning and I gave Todd some frozen bear meat from this year and half the deer meat.
Rory will be interested to know that one of the four books I bought from him went to Todd so he can develop his interest in 99's. He has one, a bubbaed 300 EG with a replaced buttstock. He's impressed with the 284 and 358 both and plans to start looking for Savages that need new homes. I'm sure he'll find the book very helpful in understanding what he's looking at. I'll put up a better photo when my wife gets home but for now here's what a good blacktail forked horn looks like. 18 1/2" wide.
Fantastic camping, great weather, good rough mountain country and venison for the freezer. I love the fall hunting.
The 284 gets a few more bumps every season and less bluing on the bottom. Makes you appreciate the 100 year old rifles in the collection that have 100% bluing and no stock marks! You realize how hard it is to keep them that nice.