6th Prize
Hunting Journal with Weatherby Logo (100 awarded)
Brooke Nunley, Utah
“Orange on, and rifle over my shoulder, I walk through the thick brush and trees. I know that just over the next ridge, there will be a respectable buck worth taking. I am discouraged as I cross yet another hunter sneaking up on the big buck that is honestly almost impossible to find. He is coming from the ridge that I pictured my mule deer buck on. Again this year, I try to trick myself into thinking that I will get lucky enough to spot that big buck. One is lucky to even get the chance to see a two–point or a spike. If your buck is not taken on the first day, the chances of even seeing horns is slim to none. My hunt is the same every year that I draw a tag. Being a woman, men in my area feel that I and the other women that hunt this same area, are stepping on their toes and trying to take their ‘big buck’ away from them. But yes, even as a woman, I still have the same hunger to hunt that monster buck, take him down, and feel that jolt of buck fever as it runs through my blood and every bone in my body. Oh yes, my dream is completely opposite of the hunt that I have known since I began hunting at the age of thirteen.
Far away from this discouraging area, lies my dream hunt. The amazing hunt that I may hopefully someday be able to experience and share with my best friend...my husband. This is the dream that I experience often as I sleep, and wish that I will one day be either wealthy enough to experience, or lucky enough to be chosen by a draw or other means to be able to live my dream.
I wait impatiently in the bitter cold November air for the sun to peek over the most prestigious mountains for hunting mule deer in Colorado. Thoughts of the monster buck that I have dreamt of for years are stuck in my head. Butterflies dance in my stomach, and my muscles tense up as I tightly grip my rifle. At last I see the snow begin to shimmer on the very tip of the most beautiful mountain that I have ever been given the opportunity to witness...the sign that it is now time to begin the search for that monster mule deer that I am certain is now more than only an unreachable dream.
My husband and I smile as the time comes to begin to move forward after what seemed like an eternity of waiting. With gear on our backs and hunting heavy in our hearts and minds, I swing my rifle over my shoulder and we begin to make our way as quietly as possible in the undisturbed snow to a place where monster mule deer bucks roam, searching for food and water. We walk for a short time to the top of a ridge where we are able to look into a canyon. My husband’s range finds the distance into the bottom of the canyon. It is 250 yards. I know I can make a kill at this range because of all the shooting practice that I have done with my rifle. Out of breath, my husband and I comfortably settle our selves under a pine tree. As we watch the canyon with our spotting scope and binoculars, I notice the complete silence of the wilderness. I love the silence, the smell, and the sights. I feel comfortable in this environment. It feels as though at the moment, I belong here.
At the bottom of the canyon runs a stream. There are deer tracks on the mountainside...proof that the deer have come out of the thick wilderness to have a drink of water. It is the perfect place to see that monster buck. We watch many large bucks approach the stream to drink, and then enter back into the wilderness along with many does and young bucks. I continue to watch each buck closely as they make their appearance unknowingly being watched. I know that it is only a matter of time until my buck emerges into the open.
Finally he makes his appearance. The dew on his 180 rack shimmers as the bright sun shines upon my buck. This makes my heart race, my breath deepens, and my palms become sweaty. My husband taps my shoulder as if saying, ‘This is the buck!’ I quickly raise my rifle and center my crosshairs behind his front shoulder. I walk my scope with him as he nervously makes his way to the stream. In a split second, I count his points. I admire the mass of his horns, the fat on his body, and the beauty of his hide. This is the most beautiful deer I have ever seen. Buck fever has struck me harder than I had ever experienced before. My stomach tightens. I begin to shake nervously. I can barley breath. This buck is more than the monster I had ever dreamed of. He is unbelievable! I steady my rest, take a deep breath, and then, ‘BANG!’ I watch in my scope as this monster’s feet come out from under him, and he falls into the snow at the edge of the stream. All other deer scatter back into the wilderness. I extract my shell and reload in case he decides to get up. I soon realize that he is down for good. I put my rifle on safety and jump up in excitement.
I can’t believe that my dream has finally come true. My husband and I hug in excitement. Our silence is broken by the sound of my ecstatic shout. ‘I got him hun! I got him!’ I once again begin to shake and breathe heavily. It is the most unbelievable opportunity I have ever experienced in my life, and it is something that I will remember for the rest of my life. I will forever be grateful to you for the chance to live my dream. Thank you Weatherby!”