To all those I left hanging for the story behind the wild day I had on the mountain last December... here you go. Please take the time to read and enjoy!
A link to the article and photo spread:
Eastmans Hunting Journal EBJ 151 September/October 2025 Page 30
xdigital.spiweb.com
Written article below. š
Being stuck in a tree isnāt the ONLY way to bow hunt a blacktail buck. However,
on up high here in the cascade mountains when the snowās been down and the suns
been up. The noise of stalking this big timber is turned WAY up. Although, the deep crunchy snow does offer me one favor. Displacing deer from their summer reaches, they head for the warmth of a southern exposed, slightly lower elevation. Over the
years, Iāve located a few of these seasonal haunts.
Approaching the tenth day of season, I was feeling a little pressure. Considering
the aforementioned conditions, I had in mind a specific hillside that has proven to hold a
fair number of deer. Especially if concentrated by the fall of heavy snow. Around 2:30 on
the morning of December 2nd I left my house with a few days worth of gear and a plan
to attack this specific mountain from below. While heading up the frosty highway, I came
into a slick corner with too much speed, spun out and ran my truck into the guardrail.
Thankful to have not deployed an airbag, nor have gone into the ditch, I righted my
vehicle and continued unscathed.
I had a long steep ascent to make before I would sneak into position and deploy
my tree saddle. That long hike being the reason for such an early wake-up call. A few
hundred feet shy of my planned destination, In the light of my headlamp I bumped a
couple of bucks and a doe from a small bench that was cut up with tracks in the old
snow. Rather than pushing forward and bumping more un-seen deer, I backed off and
decided I would make-do on this little flat. I switched my clothes, picked a tree and got
in it shortly before daylight. From the tree, I had seen a doe, and a couple of younger
bucks. Out of curiosity, I descended from the tree a little early to survey what else had
been moving in the area. Around the ridge, I had a trail camera with good activity and
judging by the trails beaten into the weekās old snow, I knew where I wanted to be at the
break of the next day.
In the dark, I descended from the mountain. Then drove to grab cell service and
called home to let my wife know Iād be sleeping in my truck that night. I drove around to
a different entry point and crawled in the back. This would actually make for a longer,
more difficult climb but I felt like I could use the terrain to my advantage, and avoid
spooking deer on my pre-dawn approach.
Leaving the rig around 4:30 the next morning, I hefted a pack full of fresh clothes, and my newly devised, ultra-light tree saddle set-up. I had 2,000 vertical feet to ascend
before I would start hunting. At the top of my climb and the last of the bluffs, I skirted
around to the east and crawled up through a tight passage rarely traveled by deer. Or
people. The terrain feature kept me tucked away, out of the timber I felt was holding
deer. Reaching the top, I found a flat spot and changed clothing about 100 yards away from the tree I had picked yesterday. With fresh boots and some warm attire, I snuck
through the twilight and scaled a cedar tree on the downhill side of two defined trails
moving sidehill through the timber. A shear drop off behind me narrowed options of
travel for the deer and eliminated the need to keep watch on my blind side. The closer
of the 2 trails came by at about 15 yards. The further, 30 to 40 yards. I was settled in
about 35 feet up by 7:00 am. In relation to my forward facing field of view, and as a right handed shooter I set my platform on the left side of the tree, slightly favoring the rear quarter. Leaning against
my tree tether, facing the tree, I would swing to the right and hide around the back side
of the trunk. Keeping me out of sight from approaching deer, that may suddenly appear
over the ridge in front of me. At 7:25, a decent forked horn strolled by on the upper trail.
Unaware, he passed through perfectly. I let him walk, excited to see the trap work so
early in the day. Less than 20 minutes later, I was tucked around the tree with my hands
in my pockets gazing off to the left and down the hill. The woods were dead calm that
morning. The slight pop of a stick was barely audible, but broke me from my stare. I
peeked around the trunk of the cedar, Immediately spotting a Mountain Lion, already
broadside at 15 yards and creeping down the trail.
In bowhunting, when moments get tense, It feels as if I am processing a hundred
different āIf-thenā scenarios with each passing second and changing condition.
āDraw my bow now? Whatās in front of them? Are they closing? Fleeting? Should
I stop them? Whatās my shot angle? Can I make a move here? Should I?ā
All thoughts such as these flash through in the blink of an Eye. Instinct drawn
from a thousand prior experiences renders into action and my move is made. Silence in
these conditions is not synonymous with movement, so when I slowly yet somehow
swiftly reach and grasp my bow, the still of the woods is broken and the cat freezes.
Snapping her head to the left, gazing up, she locks on to me and for a moment Iām
frozen again. My left hand is on the grip of my hanging bow while I stare into the
piercing eyes of another predator. I think,
āThis is never gonna workā¦ but sheās got me pegged. I have to try.ā
Without breaking slow, steady motion, I unhooked the bow, hooked my release
and began to draw as I brought the bow down. Hitting full draw, I anchored, acquired my
sight, brought the pin to her shoulder, pulled through and WHACK! In an acrobatic leap,
the cat was 6ā off the ground. Through the blur I could see the back end of yellow vanes
behind her shoulder and blood showing through as she hit the ground at full sprint.
Tearing off down the steep hill, she lost her footing after 25 yards and went tumbling
wildly for another 50 yards before piling up against a down tree and expiring in what had
to be less than 5 seconds from impact. All of this happened in full view from my perch
and I could see the blood trail through patches of old snow.
āHoly crap! IT FINALLY HAPPENED. I just killed a Lion!ā
Atop that ridge, I had a wavering bar of cell service so I called my wife. Still considerate of my surroundings, I whispered to her what had just happened. I told her I
was going to stay in the tree for a couple of hours to see if I could kill a buck. The woods felt alive that morning, and it wasnāt even 8:00 AM. In fact I donāt even think sheād had
her coffee yet. I made one more quick call to my buddy Nathan, as I know him and I had
shared trail cam photoās of Cougars throughout the years, both sharing a dream of being in the right place at the right time. As I wrapped up the story for Nate, I had to
abruptly end the call with,
āHey I gotta go, I think I just saw a buck.ā
I hung up before he could respond and scrambled for my grunt call. I grunted in
hopes of turning the deer, but it seemed to move as if it were on a mission.
Disappearing into the timber at 100 yards, I was unsure of itās Identity. Nothing
happened for about 15 minutes and I had kind of relaxed. Another 10 minutes elapsed, I texted a couple friends until I was alerted by the subtle, yet unmistakable grunt of a
buck. I stuffed the phone away and snapped my head around for a visual on the sound.I heard it again. Now sure, I grabbed my bow. A little commotion broke out and I focused
50 yards in front of me. A doe and a fawn squirted out from behind some fir bows. They
moved frantically and I knew why. A handsome 4 point buck was shortly
behind them, grunting as he marched into view. Rocking his head back, he curled his
top lip and swung his head back and forth as he marched toward the does. Favoring the
fawn. The does zig zagged, but moved in my direction from left to right. My heart
pounded as they closed the gap. Anticipating a 30 yard shot, I held tight as the buck
split the pair. The yearling doubled back to my left and I readied for him to follow. As I
waited, I snuck a chance to range the trail she had taken. 33 yards. I drew my bow as
the buck marched down to her. He stopped, shoulder still obscured by an old growth fir.
All characters now frozen, I was pushing a minute at full draw. Surveying the 3 deer, I
ensured I was undetected, and slowly let down. The buck snapped his head over and
stared. I prayed for his focus to shift back to the doe. I won the stare-down when he
snapped his gaze back to the doe and took a step toward her. I drew again and split my
30 and 40 yard pin on the quartering away buck, I could not believe this was actually
going to happen. As I pulled through the shot and it broke, the buck simultaneously
lunged forward to chase the doe. The arrow sunk in front of his hip and my heart sunk
immediately following. I watched him hunch and slowly move up into the draw from
which he appeared. The does tore off down the hill and out of sight.
I fought mixed feelings. I wanted to be excited, because I knew I had likely pulled
it off. At the same time, I was frustrated the shot played out the way it did. It wasnāt
clean and I felt remorse.
āWhatever.ā I muttered under an exhale
āThe Catās dead right there. Iāll get out of this tree, snap some photoās and deal
with it. Thatāll give that Buck some time to stove up. When Iām done with the Lion Iāll go
track him down and kill him.ā
So I made it to the Cat, marveled at her and the moment before I moved her into
position for some pictures. She had torn ears, and a cloudy eye. Signs of a long, hard life. I could only imagine the stories sheād tell of this wild mountain and the deer sheād
also taken here. We shared that as a common bond and I was humbled. I field dressed her and buried her in the snow to cool out. Time to go find this buck.
There was a specific opening I had last watched the buck go through. I headed
for that in an attempt to gather a little evidence and approach accordingly. At the
opening I tried to decipher tracks. The large timbered draw in front of me went uphill and spread out like a snow covered, timbered amphitheater. I stopped to look it over and
spotted the buck standing 100 yards up the hill and on the same side of the draw as me. He was slow to move up the hill, so I backed up and looped around to my right. Tucking
away on the far side of the ridge. Once out of sight, I used that ridge to gain elevation
and close the distance. As I crept to the top, I peered over and spotted him. I ranged
him at 61 yards before I eased into view and drew my bow. The intensity and pressure
of this shot was doubled from the first. My pin wavered but I stayed true to good shot
execution and watched as my arrow arced and dropped in perfectly on the quartered
away buck. He jumped and dashed about 40 yards before bedding and peacefully
expiring in the snow. Emotions rushed over me. I was so relieved to have put a finishing
arrow in the buck and minimized his time of dying. I was incredibly thankful for the
opportunity, and entirely aware that this was a moment in bowhunting unlike any Iām
likely to experience again A 200 yard drag, brought the buck down onto the same flat as the cooling Lion and I was able to snap what may be my all time favorite grip and grin. Certainly Itāll grab a few double takes in whatever outlet it is published. In the sunshine of what was actually a pretty pleasant day, I finished quite a chore of skinning and butchering before proudly loading my pack with the head and hide of a Mountain Lion AND a big olā Blacktail Buck. Though heavy in itās own right, I added some meat to it and packed the āHeroā load down the mountain into darkness and headed home with a wild story to tell, and one more load of meat to return for.
