Deer hunting is nothing if not exciting, some of my most exhilarating experiences have come from the thrill of the hunt and the frenzy of the chase. None of my previous deer hunting experiences would have prepared me for the rough and tumble harvest that would entwine me last fall.I think it was a Tuesday, four days into the general deer season here in Utah’s Wasatch Range. I had spent all morning and the better part of the afternoon getting the deer my father had shot off the mountain. I carried four quarters, the head, and my rifle out. A simple feat, if you aren’t a fat, out-of-shape kinda fella like me.
The afternoon hunt was still ours to have, and Coldboremiracle Junior had just gotten out of school. So we gathered up our things, and headed to meet my cousin who wanted to come along. We tossed our gear into the back of his side by side, and in a swirl of dust we went sailing up into the mountains.
At that pace it didn’t take long to get up to our usual haunts. We ran into some friends, who hadn’t seen much, but evening was coming. That magical hour just between the red light of dinner time, and that dark twilight where the cold sneaks into every little canyon cove. For me that magic hour holds some of the greatest memories, it seems as though an entire day’s worth of deer hunting action can happen in mere moments.
Today however, it seemed awfully quiet. We weren’t seeing many deer at all, but I had my best good luck charm sitting next to me gnawing on granola bars. The evening would come, and almost like clockwork, the deer began to appear. Having spent many years scouting these mountains, we kinda know where to look.
Off in the distant peaks from our perch, there was a hill top. Perfectly illuminated by the steeply angled rays of the sun. And as we watched it, several deer made their way into the open, feeding without a care. To my surprise the base of that hill is right where we had come in on a trail, a trail with significant traffic. The deer seemed not to care about the sound of passing atv’s, a phenomenon I would come to understand later that evening.
when deer hunting, you see lots of this…
It took a few minutes to devise a plan, my cousin would stay back at the observation point (1300+) and watch the deer while Jr. and I tried to sneak into the opposite end of the clearing from the deer. It would have given us a shot inside 200yards, and it was a plan I was comfortable with. Junior and I made our way back down the trail, past and below the clearing where the deer continued to feed. After confirming our party reservation with my spotter, Junior and I began our sneak up the steep hill.
I mentioned I had already packed one deer out that day, well my legs wasted no time in telling me that they were done. But like most of us often do, I summoned fresh energy from the depths of my being. Quietly, and slowly Junior and I made our way up the hill, to a point we had determined would give us the tactical advantage. Trying to get a thirteen year old to understand absolute silence while deer hunting is like pulling teeth. But none the less we made it up to the spot I had aimed for without spooking them. But to my dismay, it gave us no joy. The lay of the hill, and the grossly thick vegetation made getting any closer impossible. Surely they would hear us before we ever got over the slope of the hillside into line of sight. We tried several different angles, and perspectives according to our plan, but we had to abandon our stalk. I didn’t want to bust em, so we decided it would be best to retreat and regroup.
As I made my way down the hill, I figured out why the deer were there. Despite the close proximity to the trail, and human activity, the hillside gave the deer a bonafide shelter. The only place you could see them from was the distant point thirteen hundred yards away, if you got any closer, the curvature of the slope, the trees and thickets blocked them from view. Any effort to get closer would result in quite a racket as one crunched through the thorn infested dry brush.
When we got to the bottom, I looked back up. The broad hillside that from a distance looked like an open pasture, was almost completely blocked by trees. There was but a single small patch of the open area that could be seen from our closest position. We looked around, and glassed many other drainages, but by the time the sun was near set, we had run out of options. Regrouped with my cousin, the three of us decided it was time to start heading down. Maybe we’d get lucky and spot something on the way.
The three of us fit snuggly across the bench seat of the UTV, but a complete die hard, refuses to shut down his deer eyes. Just before we started rolling down the trail, my cousin stomped the brake, and dug for his binoculars. He looked back up that very steep hill, to that one little visible patch, and pronounced those joyous words; “That’s a buck!!”.
Never had three dudes dismounted a vehicle faster, it literally seemed like thirty seconds from the time buck was called, till Junior had his eye on his little Minox scope.
The uphill angle of the shot was so steep that Junior had to use my pack as a support, his little rifle rest at a near seventy degree angle. I looked him close in the eyes and gave him a Father/Son speech about making a good shot that counts.
He nodded his approval, and ran the bolt on his little Remington rifle. I never would have guessed how this would play out. I looked up the steep ridge through my rangefinder, and hit the buck with the laser. It came back just over three hundred yards, well within Junior’s realm of killin’. But this setup was new; off a pack, up a steep hill, rushed as possible, fading light, and a wound up spotter yelling commands at him left and right. Luckily Coldboremiracle Junior is a smooth character, he must have gotten that from his mother. I quickly did some range maths, knocked off a few tenths for the angle, and cranked in some elevation on his scope. As I resettled my eye through my rangefinder, I asked him if he was ready. “Ya Dad” was all I got, so off went the fire command.
Three hundred yards away, this little buck stood there, perhaps listening to the strange sounds coming from down the hill. He stood there all majestic, brightened by the last bits of sunlight, facing into the west. I’d like to think he was happy, calm and collected. Because it was right then that Junior put the kettle on. The two sixty Remington had proven very capable at pounding deer, and that night was no exception. The 120 grain bullet that I had loaded days before, was now deep into battery.
The report of the rifle was a welcome sound, as I mentioned it seamed only seconds ago that we were sitting in the UTV ready for defeat. Even more welcome was the sound of the impact, nothing sounds quite like a bullet hitting flesh. I watched the deer buckle, and heard the wack of the impact come back to us. The deer stumbled a few steps forward, and went down.
Junior was quick to celebrate, but seconds into his fist-pumping, my cousin announced that he was back up. Junior quickly jumped back on the scope, and reloaded his rifle. Sure enough, the young buck stood there, staggering amongst the bushes. Not wasting any time he sent round two from the top of my pack. And again, that solid thump of an impact came back through the advancing darkness. This time, the deer flopped over, and fell down the steep hill into a bush.
What an awesome shot it was, both times, to see a kid hunker down and steady his homade rifle for a great connection like that would make any Dad proud.
Sadly, I didn’t have much time to congratulate him, a quick hug would have to do. I am never one to trust a deer that I cant clearly see, so I wanted to get him recovered, and now. I wasn’t about to let my son trod off into the dark mountains, so I had my cousin center his spotting scope on the deer’s last known position, and I launched into another uphill battle. My body wanted to kill me by this point, my heart was pounding like I had never felt before, my legs burned from exhaustion, and I couldn’t breathe fast enough in the thin air at almost nine thousand feet.
To add more pain to my suffering, I had to wade through thorns in the darkness. I rushed as fast as my body would allow, but at that altitude, and steep angle, three hundred yards is a long ways. When I finally felt like I was getting close, I yelled to my cousin below, who continued to guide my flashlight closer and closer to the center of his spotting scope. By this time it was completely dark, only the light diffusing from the distant city below and our flashlights provided any help.
As I neared the bush my cousin believed to be our quarry, I began to sense a strange kind of feeling. The darkness and my alone-ness was enough to have me on edge, but when the deer was not behind the bush as I had hoped, panic began to set in.
I kept moving around looking for sign, and I picked up on some stumbling tracks in the soft black dirt. It was at this moment when I really appreciated my fanatical commitment to always carry a gun with me, I had shouldered Junior’s little 16” Remington, because it was both compact, and light. At least more so than any other gun we had along that night. As I continued along in a direction almost completely guided by this eerie sense of foreign presence, I heard a noise in the bushes above me.
I may have neglected to describe just how steep this hill was, to give you an idea, I could put my arm straight out perpendicular to my body, and fall forward into the hillside, and only fall forward a foot or so. So when I say I heard something in the bush above me, it was just above my head, almost in reach.
I slowly un-slung the rifle from my shoulder, and chambered one of the three rounds I had brought in the magazine. And just as I had fit the butt of the rifle to my shoulder, the rustling in the bushes above me stirred again. But this time he was serious, the noise I had heard was this deer’s last ditch effort at defense. Both his front legs were broken, and he was nearly bled out, but this tough little buck with rage in his eyes jumped up on his back legs, and like a charging ram he turned his ivory forks against me and dove down on top of me. With literally nowhere to go but down, I aimed point blank as all this deer came down on me, I fell to the rear, away from the oncoming charge, and fired a shot into him as I fell.
This was combat effective deer hunting here, I believe it was the first shot I’ve ever taken while falling.
As I regained my footing some ten to fifteen feet downhill, I could hear the buck slowly expire. I called down to my cousin to let him know I was ok, and more importantly that the cat was in the bag. Then I grabbed him by the antlers, and we went downhill, fast!
The steep hill did have one redeeming factor, and that was to help me get the deer down without killing myself.
Juniors custom built Remington 700 with the 1-6 power LPVO
When we got back to the road, Junior was excited to get hands on his buck, only his second ever. We took a bunch of pictures, hugged, painted faces, and cleaned up the deer for the ride home.
Very few times have I had such harrowing experiences, it truly makes you appreciate everything just a little bit more. That little set of antlers will be on the wall soon, Junior takes great pride in displaying whats his. My greatest hope is that he remembers the hard work we put in deer hunting for those memories he displays in his room. As well as the love of the hunt, gratitude, sacrifice, and those who share in the same blood.
I love to see the first signs of spring, the early dawn and the warming rays of the sun. The songs of birds and smell of grass racing out from under the grip of winter. But it also brings with it a touch of sadness, a sense of loss, of a season gone. The coming of spring is the official end of the normal hunting season for us, an end for old opportunities, and the start of fresh ones. This past season was one of change, challenge, and a mule deer hunt for a buck that I fondly called Chance.
If you’ve followed me for long, you may be familiar with my adventures with my Father. As years go by, I treasure every adventure we share knowing any one of them could be the last. None of us will make it out of here alive, so make those memories, and make them hard.
Dad and my brother toughing out the wind
Dad had come to stay at my house for the deer hunt, we had the week to spend chasing mulies in the familiar Rocky Mountains that are enticingly close to my home. It was late October, and despite an early touchdown of snow, our mountains were uncommonly dry. My focus this year, as it usually is, was to get both my Father and Son to fill their tag. The sooner they do, the sooner I get to focus on the huge monster bucks that I never, ever, see.
this picture makes you feel the brutal cold
The Mule Deer hunt
Opening day had come and gone, our high mountain canyons were much quieter than normal. Barely a shot was heard all day, and at 9,000 feet ASL the clouds had packed in. Visibility was terribly short, and the cold bit so hard that after a short time we figured the deer were smarter than us, so we moved out.
Two days had passed since the opener, and we were getting anxious for success.
As it often does, our plan changed last minute on a Wednesday morning. We decided to go high, instead of going low as planned. In the darkness we drove up the steep and winding road, rattling the whole way. The sun was just peaking through the distant clouds as we settled at the spot I had hoped would bring us luck.
The always present breeze was waiting for us there, it brought tears to the eye, and shudders to the legs. But I like to tell people Im a tough guy, so I stood out there in the icy breeze, glassing the ever brightening ridges.
I knew that for Dad to get a shot, we would have to find something moderately close to the trail. I didn’t like the idea of packing out two bodies by myself, one is bad enough. I scoured the brushy hillsides as the suns rays brought out their details, looking for the tell-tail sign of deer. And almost as if on cue, I spotted a patch of white in a small open pasture below us. I checked it out… squinted through my wet eyes… then I checked again.
This had to be it, a lone deer, casually strolling through an open pasture only a few hundred yards or so from our glassing point. I quickly signaled Dad to grab his gear, and make his way over to me.
Nobody gets as wound up as I do upon spotting a buck, and the only thing that will wind me up even more is for people to casually saunter around while shootable deer stand there, unawares and vulnerable. My Dad seems to take great pride in maintaining the opposite composure in these tense and exciting situations. By the time he put down his hot chocolate, picked up his rifle, and sauntered over, I had the spotting scope setup on the buck, and was in the process of explaining to Dad the old routine; “see that tree? And the one behind it? And follow that line to the green bush…” Dad’s calm demeanor didn’t seem to help my tension, all the bushes are green, and there is hundreds of damn trees it’s a forest.
As Dad got into position on the edge of a steep drop-off, he aimed his rifle down into the pasture below. I often think that deer have a sixth or even seventh sense, to them it must feel like a hot ray of sunshine as a rifle comes to bear on them. This buck surely was blessed with that sense, no sooner had Dad aimed his rifle, than this buck began a hasty quickstep towards the edge of the tree line. If only he had the same saunter that Dad brought with him this morning, we might have been able to get a shot. But unfortunately, I watched him work his way into the trees, and into thin air.
My excitement soured a little, as I wiped the cold tears welling in my eyes from that icy breeze. Dad lay there, still behind his rifle, rolled on his side he gave me the “oh well” look. I kept looking into the trees, frustrated by our increasingly shorter time.
When your looking for deer, everything looks like a deer. As I stood there, over my Dad, ravaging the hillside with my eager eyes, a flash of movement caught my attention. A doe jumped from behind one of the hundred trees, but I quickly identified her as a non-combatant. Then out of nowhere, there was Chance.
Chance
Dad was shooting the 264 Winchester Magnum, sub 1/2 MOA groups are normal for this rifle
He followed the doe downhill for a dozen or so yards, and stood there, with his twitchy tail pointed our direction. Using my brilliant landscape identification techniques, I again pointed out the buck to my Dad. Who quickly had a bead drawn on the handsome little buck. Chance continued to follow the doe, making his way a few more yards downhill. Our position on the ridge seemed perfect, there was no way for him to get away without us getting a shot off. But almost as though he had a hoof on my pulse, when my stress level was peaked, he decides to step behind one of the few little trees.
We both took a deep breath, and I knew that as soon as he cleared that small tree, Dad would light the fire that would strike him down.
Dad, and his buck
Seconds seemed like minutes, and he finally came out of the tree, his young face looked on into the west. That is when Chance had run out, the hot breath of Dad’s .264 Magnum was already on its way. The shriek of the report was muffled by the Silencerco Harvester, the 140 grain Barnes Match Burner ripped through his left shoulder, he stumbled a few steps, then went down.
Dad slowly got up from his shooting position, and I told him what I had seen through the spotting scope. His excitement was hard to hide now.
I made my way down the steep hill, and Dad guided me into the Buck. He was a very handsome little four point, just the right kind of deer. After a few minutes of relaxing Dad slowly made his way down, and we set to work.
We didn’t leave much for the coyotes
By the time Dad had made it to the deer, the sun was almost on us, and the morning had come alive with the sound of birds and the rustling of the breeze. The thin cold air that had enveloped the mountain all night long was finally carried away. Dad, and I sat there on the hillside, enjoying the beauty, cutting away the tender and savory flesh of this dapper little deer.
We took our time, finally warm in the sunshine. I watched my Dad as he sat on the hillside, snacking on a granola bar, sipping his water, it was hard for me to imagine him in a more happy place. I knew how much he loved being up here in these mountains, I knew he relished the time. He has been coming up in these mountains for sixty years now, and today was as good a trip as ever. His hands were crusted with the blood of another fine buck that would feed our family, shot with my Grandfather’s old model 70. Im sure I was smiling too, but inside I was ecstatic about the great luck we had, and grateful again for another cherished adventure with my Father.
We finished cutting up the deer, and let him cool in the still drifting breeze in the shade of the pine trees. Then we slowly made our way back up the ridge, resting as needed, until we got back to the top. As we drove home, tired and satisfied with our hunt, I realized that momentous Chance had made all the difference, and some incredible memories.
I am not a fan of Safe queens, I don’t have many collectibles, and if I can’t use it in the most applicable fashion, then I don’t want it. This applies to most things in my life, but to my hunting equipment there is a special reason. Filthy success while big game hunting has become commonplace.
It’s not that I like to be hard on things, I just take pride and security knowing me and my gear can take it. For those that know me well, I’m not much for organizing, or cleanliness. Yet oddly enough I am a bit of a cleanie, and a germaphobe, it’s a weird combination to behold I must admit.
There is a strange phenomenon that happens when I retreat into the wilderness though. Cleanliness seems to fall by the wayside, and almost like a savage from centuries passed, I find myself elbow deep in blood and other less desirables. It’s certainly not the joy in having taken a life, but something much deeper. There is a profound connection with success and the palpable sign that goes with it. I have long enjoyed the images of success, that most often for me are filthy. Dirty guns, bloody hands, worn gear showing signs of hard use, it all reminds me of the amazing adventures that brought them to this condition. The header photograph of this piece, is one of my most favorite pictures of all time. It doesn’t have anything particularly special, but the memory it draws from my mind takes me back to that sub zero sunset.
The fading light seemed to suck both the heat and the sound from around me, almost as if it had opened a hole into the vacuum of space. The bite of the ice crusted around my fingers, was so contrasted by the soothing warmth of blood. I felt an incredible feeling of loneliness, and exhaustion, but I had also never felt so alive.
The filth and grit that accompany success often take time to wash out, but so do the marvelous memories that come with them. I am very grateful for that, memories are sometimes all we have. And were it not for a stained picture, or heavily worn pack, that beautiful memory might slip away into the chasm of the forgotten.
In this article, I’d like to discuss cartridge and bullet selection and shot placement, and how those things apply to making ethical shots on game animals. We’ll also touch on a few subjects taboo to some, such as match bullets, and long range hunting as they relate to the subject.
Before I dive too deep into this, I would like to make one thing perfectly clear; I hold no grudge against those who disagree with me, these are only my opinions. I believe that the ancient tradition of hunting carries differing values and consequences depending on those individuals who engage in it. I believe in ethical hunting practices, though yours and mine may differ slightly, or immeasurably. And though we may have differing opinions, I believe that we as hunters must cohere as a group. Those that would refute our right to hunt see no difference between the crowded categories of hunters, and divided we will surely fall.
I believe every hunter should do his best to make clean, quick, and effective kills. I also believe that every hunter should pursue (within the law) the techniques and tackle that he/she is most comfortable with that will allow them to do such.
What causes a clean ethical kill?
With that in mind, I will start with a question; what causes a quick and clean kill? For the sake of time, and simple minds like my own, I may over simplify a few things. In layman’s terms, a quick kill is caused by applying sufficient energy to vital organs causing a temporary or preferably permanent interruption in their functions. This interruption in life sustaining organs is what causes death. The time it takes for an animal to succumb to death, depends greatly on the blend of how severe an impact is applied, and specifically where it is applied.
A very simplified example of the opposing ends of that spectrum could be; A 22LR placed point blank between the eyes would certainly kill most game animals, but the same game animal shot with a .22LR at 100yds, (between the eyes or not) would likely survive, or at minimum get away un-recovered.
Overkill is a myth, something is either dead, or it isn’t. When discussing the use of a 300 Magnum versus something smaller like a 308, a wise man once told me: “it’s not going to get up and ask if you have anything bigger”. Which is likely why so many magnums and super-cartridges exist, and are particularly marketed to the hunting public.
Obviously for general North American big game hunting a 22LR is not enough, and a 500 Nitro Express for example is more than enough. Most hunters favor the heavier than necessary, in order to ensure a humane kill, but not so much as to be wasteful of the prey they are after.
Heart shots work every time, especially if they come apart, like these muley’s did. (top left) was done by a Hornady 180BTSP/300WM/2900FPS from 280yds (Top right) was done by a Sierra 175SMK/308/2700FPS from 250yds (Bottom left) was done by a Sierra 175SMK/308/2700FPS from about 60yds (Bottom right) was done by a Hornady 162Amax/7SAUM/3050FPS from 430yds
The bullet is obviously a crucial part of the sequence of a quick and effective kill. It is the bullet after all that punctures our prey, causing damage to vital organs, allowing us to take the animal. Many different manufacturers make an assortment of bullets. Technology has made traditional bullet construction simpler, as well as opened the door to completely new bullet structures and designs. Cup and core bullets used to be the standard, but today’s latest bullets feature multi-chambered, bonded cores, new alloys, monolith, as well as many other designs.
Light, fast bullets can have explosive energy on target 223 Remington
All of these, could serve well depending on your intended target. For example, thin skinned varmints are usually engaged with thin jacketed cup and core bullets with either open tips, or a poly tip of some kind. The idea behind this light construction is that the bullet will open rapidly, and expend all its energy on small animals such as rabbits or prairie dogs. If a bullet designed for big game was fired at such a thin and small animal, it may not even rupture, or deform enough to cause much more than a hole.
A very large animal like those found in Africa have thick and strong bodies, a lightly constructed thin jacketed cup/core bullet would likely blow up just under the skin, without causing sufficient if any damage to vital organs. For this reason, many dangerous game hunters use bonded or monolith (solid) bullets that drive deep into tissue. Because all the energy in the world will not be effective if it doesn’t reach your intended target (the life sustaining organs). So choosing enough bullet is key.
Selecting the right bullet
It may be another over-simplification, but when it comes to hunting, my criteria for acceptable performance is based on the first question I asked above. Can my chosen bullet discharge enough energy (damage) to my target (vital organs) to bring the animal down satisfactorily? In order to answer that question, there are a couple other criteria that must be entertained. Velocity is one of those. Velocity times mass is what creates the energy we need, and a bullet needs sufficient energy to do its damage on our target. If too small a bullet is used, it may not penetrate enough to transfer its energy into the right spot.
Furthermore, if the target is too far away, a small bullet may shed all its energy just to get there with none left over to penetrate. Bullet mass then is another criteria to consider. Typically, energy is driven by either bigger bullets, or faster velocities. Either of which will ramp up the energy impact on your target. This doe antelope was taken with a heavy for caliber bullet from a relatively small cartridge (75 grains/223Rem/2850FPS) but good shot placement put her on the ground quickly, even at 330 yards
There is such a thing as too much however, for example; a 150 grain bullet fired at 2900 feet per second from a 30-06will work fine for most big game animals. But if you fired that same bullet pushed to the max from something like a 300RUM, it may be leaving the muzzle at 3400+ FPS. That may not sound like a bad thing to some, but it depends on what your intentions are. If you are shooting a deer at 100 yds, then the slower velocity bullet would work as intended. Whereas the high velocity with the exact same bullet would likely blow up on contact.
That’s not to say it wont work, it just may take a lot of your venison with it. If you took the same two loads out to 500 yds however, the slower velocity bullet may not perform well, and the high velocity load may work perfect due to the velocity and energy lost in flight. These are just some of the reasons to think through your equipment and hunting practices beforehand.
When selecting a bullet for hunting, the size or weight of the bullet must be adequate for the job, and as I mentioned above the velocity upon impact must also be sufficient to take down our game. One must keep in mind the variation in velocity depending on the distance to target. A bullet that performs well on a deer at two hundred yards, may not work well at all when used at five hundred yards. A small bullet to the right place is far more effective than a bullet in the wrong place, even if it doesn’t pass through. This animal dropped in its tracks, so there was no need to track it. .257 Sierra 120gr HP
How much energy is required?
Another point that should be discussed regarding energy and impact; sensitive targets require less energy. A bullet that has insufficient energy to penetrate and damage heart and lungs, may still have enough energy to penetrate and break the neck. Scenarios such as these, are sketchy, and not for aspiring marksmen. Terminal Ballistics is a fascinating subject, about the behavior of projectiles when they impact a target. We have danced around some parts of it, but regarding the current point of discussion I feel it is important to discuss in more depth.
This young bull took a 175 Sierra Match King between the eyes at 540 yards, keeping within the effective range of your bullet/cartridge combination will ensure enough energy to kill properly (308Win/175SMK/2700)
As a bullet makes contact with an animal, there are many forces at work. The vector of the bullet itself, the variable resistance of the flesh and bone of the prey, as well as unknown numbers of tiny inputs by other forces. The speed, direction, and yaw of a bullet will all affect how it opens (or ruptures), the higher the impact velocity, the faster and more violent it will open. If the bullet is excessively yawed (by wind or some other force) upon impact, it may exacerbate or change the angle or path the bullet takes through our prey animal.
The structure of bones, hair, and meat could also greatly affect the path of our bullet. Striking between two ribs, a bullet may continue straight, whereas striking a rib at a deflecting angle, may cause it to turn. In addition to these, there could be many other forces at work that will affect our bullet’s impact, and behavior immediately after. An unseen blade of grass or twig, a muscle that is flexed vs. relaxed, all of these things could have some input on the path of least resistance that our bullet will seek. That is why we will never see two identical wound paths.
Physics would demand that a heavier bullet be less affected by these forces, trying to maintain its trajectory. It is for this reason that some seasoned marksmen favor heavy bullets and calibers, as well as heavy for caliber bullets.
This is where the bullet’s construction also comes into play. A solid or bonded bullet is less likely to rupture or break apart, and therefore maintain its path with less deviation. While bullets with a weaker construction may come apart, cup and core often separate leaving the copper jacket on one path and the lead core on another. Depending on your target this may or may not be an issue. Both of these bucks were shot with the same bullet from the same gun, a 140 grain Barnes Match Burner (260Rem @2930fps). The larger deer at 60 yards, and the smaller deer at 1,006 yards. Both fell from one shot, and never got back up. Watch the video HERE
Let’s look at a hypothetical situation; you are hunting whitetail deer with a 270 Winchester, shooting 130 grain bullets at ranges from 50 to 400 yards. Sounds perfectly fine right? That’s because it is, the energy generated by a 130 grain bullet at standard 270win velocities around 2800 feet per second generate over 2000 pounds of energy at the muzzle. That is twice the amount of killing energy suggested by most wildlife agencies. But what happens when that same whitetail buck of yours, runs out to the five or six-hundred yard line?
The gears in your head may start turning, and a serious controversy may develop. For some people, it is a simple answer; don’t shoot. But for others, perhaps tempted by the large antler rack making its escape, it may be more difficult. For the 270 load I mentioned above, operating at 500 plus yards may be towards the outer limits of its effective envelope. At those distances, it’s kinetic energy has dropped significantly, and possibly below the suggested 1000 pound threshold needed to kill a big game animal. And we haven’t even discussed whether or not the hunter in this scenario has the needed skill to hit the deer at this range. So with all things considered, not taking the shot is the safe bet.
This young cow elk fell to a Cayuga solid copper 151 grain bullet from my 7SAUM
Switching up even just a little bit, can change the stakes (or steaks) into our favor. Remember what I said earlier about heavy for caliber bullets? The 130 grain bullet in a 270win is a fairly standard load, but you could also step up to something like a 150 grain bullet. And when comparing the energy of the two different bullets, you’d be surprised how much difference it makes. The energy of the 130gr bullet drops below 1000 pounds near the 500-550 yard line, but the heavier 150gr bullet carries its energy further, and doesn’t drop below the 1000 pound mark until nearly 700 yards.
So, by shooting a heavier bullet, in the same rifle, you theoretically just added another 150-200 yards to your usable envelope. It would be irresponsible to take shots based on energy alone, as I mentioned earlier, all the energy in the world won’t do its job if it is not put in the right place. It is therefore paramount to consider as well, the shooter’s ability to place the shot in the right spot. This may be a much harder debate to resolve, due to the many variables that may affect him/her.
This doe antelope took a perfect double lung with another 131 Ace, she bled out internally and only made it about 50 yds. 257 Blackjack/450 yardsWatch the video HERE
Skills make kills
On your best day, in perfect conditions, with your hunting rifle and ammunition; can you hit a ten inch or smaller circle at 500 yards? What about on a cold windy day, under pressure? After running over a hill? With daylight waning? If the answer to any of those questions is no, or even maybe, then you shouldn’t be taking that shot.
If you’ve ever said “I can’t believe I made that shot”, then you probably shouldn’t have taken it. Any shot you take on an animal, should be a shot you know you can make. It should be second nature, after practicing over and over, in the same conditions, and same distances.This was a heart shot on an elk from 540 yards, being prepared will help put meat on the table, and practice brings confidence when the pressure is on (300WSM/180BTSP/2900fps)
A hit should come as no surprise to a marksman. The same could be said for seven hundred yards, or any other distance. If your skill level or equipment limits you to one hundred yards, then that is as far as you should be shooting to ensure clean and quick kills.
This is another elk that was shot on the run, a well placed shot put her on the ground in seconds. 300WSM/190SMK/2950FPS
Hunting bullets in flight
Let’s bring the discussion back toward bullets and their design, does the shape of a bullet affect its ability to kill? It can, and does so depending greatly on how it is applied. A bullet with a flat meplat (tip) like those used in tubular magazine rifles, has a broader surface with which to apply its energy. Whereas a bullet with a sharply tapered tip may not open until it has penetrated the target and met with resistance. A solid bullet may not rupture at all, and simply push its way through.
This is the exit wound from a Blackjack 131 Ace after passing through a Doe at nearly 500 yards. 257 Blackjack/131 Ace 3200fps
But how do these different shapes affect the bullet in flight? A flat meplat may be great for delivering heavy impacts, but they don’t fly as well. At least not as well as their sleek and pointed cousins. Most ballistically superior bullets feature long and slender tips, often times they are hollow, or use some kind of polymer cone. The tail end of the bullets are often tapered as well, these features allow the bullet to slip through the air as efficiently as possible.
The point is to keep the bullets from shedding all their energy before they get to the target, in addition to that, it helps them sneak through the streams of wind they are sure to encounter. As bullets travel through wind, the force can affect the trajectory of the bullet, so a better ability to slip through wind bands will keep the bullet as close as possible to its original trajectory.
A 175SMK (Top) found just under the offside skin of an elk, (Below) A Lapua 300Gr Scenar that traveled at an angle through 2-3ft of elk at 400yds
Bullets begin to slow down and lose energy as soon as they leave the muzzle, the longer they can hold onto their velocity and energy they will stay more stable. The added stability in keeping bullets on track to their target we see and interpret as more accuracy. These modern technological advances in bullet design, have made it possible to put more energy on our target, even at extended ranges. These are not your Grandfather’s bullets anymore. There is a big difference between a 150 grain flat nosed bullet, and a modern 150 grain boat tail hollow point. They may carry the same weight, but one carries it further, better.
Let’s put all the information together
So, we have plenty of information to chew on now. Bullet construction, the velocity at which they impact the target, the terminal ballistics of bullets when they hit our prey, and the skill of the hunter pulling the trigger. These are certainly not all of the aspects that we need to evaluate nor are they in that particular order, but they surely are some of the most vital.
Match bullets for hunting?
Some of you may need to take a deep breath here, as I mention match bullets. You may have noticed that in discussing bullets construction I didn’t touch this point, but I will talk about it now. Match, or competition bullets, are used for shooting targets during the course of a shooting event or tournament.
This pronghorn only gave a frontal shot, so she took one to the neck, and dropped in her tracks. 165SierraBTHP/300WM/2900FPS
These events usually feature paper or steel targets at various ranges to test the skill of shooters. Match bullets have evolved over the years to become as ballistically efficient as possible.
The design and manufacturing processes are designed around minimizing drag, augmenting consistency, improving its ability to overcome air resistance. The obvious purpose for these enhancements is to give competitive shooters as much of an accuracy edge as they can get.
I use match bullets for hunting. I don’t use them because they are suggested for hunting, in fact many manufactures suggest against using them. Keep in mind these are the same people who want to sell you “premium hunting bullets”. Having overheard more than a couple discussions on hunting ammunition, I haven’t been convinced that they make and sell premium hunting ammunition for any reason other than the fact that people buy premium hunting ammunition. And people usually are willing to pay more for it as well. Clearly most hunters feel the importance of what they are doing, and are willing to put their money where their mouth is. There is so much more to it than that however, as we’ve discussed here. I use match bullets for several other reasons, I shoot quite a bit, and I enjoy it immensely. And in an effort to get the most bang for my buck, I use the bullets that give me great performance, and at a price that I can purchase them in large quantities. Match bullets fill both of those purposes quite well.
This buck fell to a well placed 131 Grain Blackjack Ace, a match bullet.
My Father always told me practice makes perfect, and in marksmanship it holds just as true. Shooting frequently, and practicing proper skills will indeed make you a better shot. And practicing these skills in the natural environment will help give experience with variables like wind, angular shots, and obstacles.
Here is another Mule Deer that took a 140gr Amax to the neck from around 500yds. Terrible terrain, and daylight fading required immediate anchoring of this guy. 140Amax/260rem/2850fps
All of this will make you a better shot, be it at game, or just plain old paper. Consistent shooting bullets only add to these skill building practices.
Don’t mix up a good thing…
One of the many reasons I hunt with match bullets is because I hardly see an upside to adding variables to my shooting. After shooting hundreds or even thousands of “practice” rounds in a year, I don’t see why I would change to a different bullet right when my shots count the most. Nature is very good at giving me variables, with wind, temperature sways, and any number of other things. I don’t need to add to this storm by introducing my own variation in bullets.
From 2024, a mule deer heart that caught most of a 175 gr Sierra Match King
Some claim that match bullets perform poorly on game animals, claiming that they “pencil through” or they come apart. This has not been my experience at all, and though it may happen to some, I have seen it happen with bullets labeled “Hunting” as well. There are hunting bullets that can effectively reproduce match bullet performance, as well as other bullets that claim to do it all. There is nothing at all wrong with them, and I expect they function as advertised.
Another pronghorn, this one fell to the 175SMK/308Win/2700FPS
I prefer to keep consistency as much as I can control, particularly with cartridge and bullet selection. I can achieve that by using one bullet, and one load, for every caliber I shoot. That way every time I shoot, it is the same familiar performance I am used to. I shoot what works for me, as should everyone else. I use match bullets because the same advantages they give to competitors, help me make better shots on my game.
This young buck was taken with a 260 Remington shooting 140 gr BTHP match Hornady bullets.
Consistency breeds accuracy, and like mad scientists we scour every possible way to uniform our loads, turning necks, setting tension, tipping bullets, etc. Why not use the consistency to our predatory advantage? The game we hunt deserves that. Depending on the target animal, as well as distance, and conditions, a miss could be as little as a few inches. Keeping my shots as close as possible to my point of aim elevates my chances of a clean kill. I have found through experience over many years, that shot placement trumps all other factors. Through not just my own hunting experience, but that of many others as well. As you can see, it is demonstrated by the many photographs in this article. A bullet that strikes the vital organs of an animal is far more effective than one that doesn’t. I made a comment earlier about 22LR and 500NitroExpress, for a quick clean kill, a point-blank shot between the eyes with a 22LRis more effective than a double ham shot with the 500Nitro.
Consistent shooting and practice make predictable shots whether its a sticker, or a heart. Sub MOA consistency should be every marksman’s goal
We already discussed the reasoning why; the small amount of energy placed on the brain by a 22 is likely enough to damage it beyond function, while the incredible amount of energy from the 500 applied to the rear quarters may not be sufficient to acutely incapacitate the animal. Surely I am not encouraging or suggesting anyone to hunt big game with rim-fire cartridges, I am simply speaking hypothetically. And speaking of hypothetical, it’s certainly possible that the 500 Nitro double ham shot scenario I suggested above could work by severing a major artery, but you can’t and shouldn’t count on things like that.
These two ladies fell to what many would consider small bullets. They were shot at 500+ yards with a 143 grain, and the other with a 127 grain. Both died in seconds.
Shot placement can trump things like bullet weight, bullet construction, magnum-headstamps, and almost any other factor. Perforated organs sustain no life. I’d prefer to take a shot to the lungs or heart with a small caliber bullet over a questionable shot with something big every time. I’ll admit that my opinion is biased, but it doesn’t come from reading internet posts and literature.
This handsome buck was shot with a 140 grain BTHP Hornady Match from a 260 Remington just beyond one-thousand yards
I remember buying premium hunting ammunition, thinking it was superior. Justifying the cost thinking it has to be better, maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. It didn’t matter because it worked, everything I hit properly died. When I started shooting higher volumes of match ammunition, it just made sense to keep with what I could consistently hit my intended targets with. I switched over many years ago, and have shot nothing but match ammo. Nothing has changed over these many years, every animal I hit properly still dies.
This Pronghorn took an 80grSMK/223Rem/2880FPS between the eyes. One of the advantages of such shots besides disabling it instantaneously, is a quick bleed-out due to the intact circulatory system, as well as minimal meat loss.
An important point that I feel should be brought up; All bullets can fail. Every bullet of every type can fail, and by fail I mean not perform to its designed standard. A Bullet can fail, and still kill the animal you are after. It doesn’t take much of an internet search to find stories, pictures, and cases of bullets doing strange things. Bullets that failed to open, or come apart.
Just because a bullet is designed to open a certain way, doesn’t mean that it always does. There are all kinds of bullet fails, as well some outright strange things such as severe deviations in path, or blowing up on impact, etc. Certainly this is the exception not the rule, as for the most part, bullets almost always do what they were designed to do.
This in part is why shot placement is so pertinent, if a bullet fails to function as intended at least you still have a hole through the animal’s vitals. The likelihood of a bullet failing to perform properly, is minuscule in comparison to the likely failure by the shooter.
A 300 grain Lapua Scenar jacket recovered from the heart of an elk who didn’t need it any longer
There is and always has been a raging debate between those who shoot match bullets at game, and those who see it as a sin. The difference between them is that those who are successful at taking animals with match bullets usually have a multitude of pictures and stories of dead animals. Along with descriptive narration of what happened, and usually their best interpretation of what the bullet did. Much like those who use “hunting” bullets, when they accurately hit an animal’s vitals, everything works fine.
Conversely those who are against using match bullets, usually have stories about “the one that got away”, etc. Whether it was bullet performance or not, we rarely see pictures or any conclusive evidence proving such. I suspect that the reason is either they never recovered the animal in question, or their pictures don’t align with their narrative about bullet performance. Or worst case scenario, pictures would show that their shot placement was actually questionable. Two of the three scenarios suggest that the animal wasn’t hit properly.
Any kind of bullet placed in an acute enough spot can do the job, this antelope took a 140Grain Barnes Match Burner to the back of the neck.
Naysayers
Many years ago, I was told by seasoned shooters that “you can’t do that”, which I found odd because I already had. I quit listening to people who think you can’t do something because they couldn’t. The best place to get information about something, is from those who do it, and the ones that do it the most. That is where I put my attention.
While I do spend much of my time in pursuit of game, I don’t lay any claim to being a professional, nor a forensic scientist, but I have never seen an animal hit properly get away. But I have seen plenty of them hit questionably, and go unrecovered. Minimal gains on the “drop clock” can be had with magnums, head shots, higher velocities, etc. But nothing can compensate for a well-placed shot.
Head shots, like this one (just above the suppressor) can be very effective, but aren’t always available (308/175SMK/2700fps)
There are many relevant arguments about bullets, some that I think deserve some discussion here. Many people believe that a “pass through” is the best possible scenario, with good reason. Having your target animal opened from both sides, surely gives more room for blood to escape.
Another bull elk that fell to a single 175 Sierra Match King from 460 yards, shot placement could have been better per the hunter, but worked effectively.
And a handy consequence to that is a more prominent blood trail, should you need to track them. While there is obviously nothing wrong with this idea, the primary objective should still be the vital organs, whether you pass through or not. I have seen many animals killed that did not pass through, but all the bullet’s energy was transferred into the vitals, killing the animal usually where it stood. A good blood trail is nice, a really good blood trail is short, but the best blood trail starts and stops at the animal’s feet.
This elk fell to a 162 ELD Match, she didn’t go far, and left a good trail.
Another common argument around campfires is bullet fragmentation. One of the many technological advances in bullets comes from new alloys and bonding process’. The purpose for these newer technologies is to help bullets stay together. As we discussed earlier, heavier bullets carry more energy. So a bullet that stays together during a pass through, will retain its ability to penetrate. While there is nothing wrong with these new designs, the new bullet styles have caused many to look down their nose at traditional cup and core type bullets.
The reason is because so many of them come apart upon impact, I can remember on many occasions finding a separated copper jacket. Contrary to the belief of those looking down their noses, separated bullets seem to work just fine, (here is the kicker) As long as you hit them in the right spot. The separated jacket and core of a bullet is certainly capable of decisively damaging the vital organs. I have seen cases where the jacket separates inside the animal, and the lead core continues through exiting the opposite side of the animal. I’ve also seen where the two diverge as they pass through, each coming to rest in different places within the vitals. This is a perfect example of how a bullet can fail so to speak, but still do the job.
Bullet jackets frequently separate, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they wont work well. This deer only made it about 20 yards. The core passed through, leaving a 1″ exit wound (30-06/165BTSP/2820fps)
This little buck was hit by a Hornady 143 ELDX at 900 yards, despite the bullet failing to open as designed, perfect shot placement overruled the failure. He died in seconds making it only a few hops. Watch the video here
Stop accepting nonsense
There is also an expansive host of misunderstood, and mistakenly articulated beliefs that proliferate occasionally through the hunting community. Let me share a couple examples that I’ve heard over the years; “The 25-06 is a piece of shit, it’s very inaccurate and even if you hit an animal, it does a piss poor job of killing it.” I heard this once from a neighbor who I thought was a hunter of prowess, but upon hearing this nonsense come from his mouth my opinion tarnished quickly. He continued to explain, about how once upon a time, he was hunting with a 25-06, and couldn’t manage to hit a deer. For some reason, he wasn’t able to understand that the caliber of the rifle has little to do with accuracy. It was more likely the rifle, ammunition, or he himself that was the problem. But none of that stopped him from badmouthing a perfectly respectable cartridge, with a well-known and distinguished history of performance. What’s more, how many impressionable people out there heeded his gibberish, and espoused their own ignorant version of the truth regarding the 25-06. Another example once overheard that carried an equal amount of absurdity; “ My brother was angry because my 30-30 has more knock down power than his 300WM.” The evidence cited to support these generalizations, came from two incidents where a deer was shot by either rifle. One of the deer went straight to the ground, never to move again. And the second deer ran off, to be recovered some distance, and several shots later. Now, for anyone to consider this as evidence that a 30-30 has more knock down power than a 300WM is absurd, the most likely scenario is that the 30-30 shot was acute, and the 300WM shot wasn’t. But like the first example, it doesn’t stop the impressionable people out there who for one reason or another want to believe it.
Another elk that fell in her tracks (430yds) from one well placed shot through the neck (7SAUM/162AMAX/3050FPS) Watch the video HERE
People approach hunting like everything else in life, with prejudice and preconceptions. Everyone has that uncle or friend who was exceptionally biased for or against one or more of the many facets of hunting. Those preferences are passed along just like any other tradition. Much like the gentlemen in the example I cited above, there are those who feel that unless you are using a premium hunting bullet, you are asking for a failure. Perhaps blaming their misfortune on a fragmented bullet or anything other than their own diligence.
Another bull elk that fell to a single Hornady 140 grain BTHP from my 6.5 PRC
These are usually the same folks who think match bullets are for range use only. Furthermore, there are far too many hunters who think that because they are using a “Diamond-Crowned-Golden-Trophy-Triple X-Wolf-Fang” Bullet, that simply hitting the animal will do the trick. There are also those who believe that because they paid top dollar for the latest super magnum from some prestigious firm, that anything and everything in their field of view, will drop dead in its tracks. Both of these beliefs are false, but they continue to enjoy popularity among many hunting parties.
These are what’s left of two 120gr BTHP Match bullets that killed the deer and elk shown below, both of them fractured but they still did the job as good as I could have asked for. They were found on the opposing side of the impactYou can watch the video HERE
A short but relevant story
I’d like to add one more anecdotal story to the mix, one of my own; Many years ago, I was on a mule deer doe hunt at the base of the Rocky Mountains near my home, and I was planning on head shooting them to maximize the meat in my freezer space. Expected shots were to be under a hundred yards on does that were likely used to human activity due to their rural location. The rifle I carried that day would stack five 75gr bullets into 3/8 inch. So naively I headed into the field with my plan, looking to fill the freezer.
For some damn reason, that was a very hard hunt, and finding a smooth-head wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped. We spent quite a bit of time trying to find the deer, who were much more skittish than anticipated, and the weather was becoming an issue as well. When I finally did get a shot, it was a fleeting moment before she was about to bolt into the woods. I quickly decided to take a shot, I dropped to a knee, and let it fly. But in my haste, I’d forgot about my plan to head shoot my target, and instead took the typically safer shoulder shot. The rifle I was shooting that day believe it or not, was a 25-06, and it was loaded with 75 grain Vmax bullets. If you didn’t already know, the Vmax is a varmint bullet, made to pop small animals and varmints. But even so, at 3300fps, that Vmax busted through not one, but both shoulders, and clean through the other side. She fell dead in her tracks. What’s more, it didn’t even damage the meat much. I ate that deer with great satisfaction. I learned several lessons that day, first that I was lucky, and the second was bullets don’t always do what we expect or want them to. These examples demonstrate several points. And though many lessons could be taken from them both positively and negatively, the glaring truth that can be gathered from them all reiterates the central point to this whole discussion; shot placement rules.
Final Thoughts on cartridge and bullet selection
I don’t mean to persuade readers to shoot one bullet type over another, nor do I intend on convincing them that my way is the right way. I only aim to help those who would listen to open your understanding, shoot whatever bullet you feel best about, but shoot it well. Let go of your bias and those learned from others, and no matter what you choose to shoot at your game, make sure that you can hit your intended target. Whenever asked, I always tell people to shoot what you and your gun shoot the best. It may not be exactly what the hunting rags would suggest, but more importantly, it should give you the confidence to hit your targets effectively.
-CBM
More hunting pictures for your viewing pleasure:
This bull Elk fell at 500ish yards to two well placed 140 Barnes Match Burners, he stood there without making a movement after the first, so a second was sent. Both hit within inches causing him to bleed out in about in about 15 seconds, taking him off his feet. 264WM
Another Mule Deer taken with a Barnes Match Burner at 264 yards (140MB/264WM/3050FPS)
Both of these bucks were taken together at 500 yards with a single 129gr Cayuga solid copper bullet. You can read more about the story HEREThis elk took a 131 Ace through the neck, dropping her instantly. 25 Creedmoor/300yds
These are my Son’s first elk (530yds) and deer(490yds), both killed with a 120grBTHP/260Rem/2795FPS
This bull elk took a couple 140 BTHP Hornady’s, a shoulder shot put him on the ground, and a following neck shot turned out the lights for good measure. 260Rem/500ish yds. Watch the video HERE
This young cow elk fell to a single shot at 970 yds (183GrSMK/7SAUM/3000FPS) Watch the video HERE
Another Muley that fell at 620yds to the wicked combination of my 260 (140GrMatchBurner/260Rem/2930FPS)
This young buck took a 131 Ace Match bullet though the vitals, he reared over backwards and died right there. 25 Creedmoor/200ish yards
This big bull fell at just over 500yds from one shot from the 7SAUM (183GrSMK/7SAUM/3000FPS)
Sometimes a good neck shot presents itself, a kill can be made with less energy due to the sensitive nature of the neck. This kill was made just under 400yds with the standard 175SMK/308/2700FPS Read that story Here
This young buck was taken by a young man for his very first with a 131 Ace Match. 25 Creedmoor/600 ydsThis doe mule deer took a 131 gr Ace from my 257 Blackjack at just under 500 yards. She dropped and rolled, never to move again.
My first long range kill, taken at 880yds with a 190SMK/300WSM/3000FPS
This handsome buck took a single Hornady BTHP through his heart. 260 Rem/450yds
Another antelope that fell at 300yds to one well placed 175SMK/308/2650
Another young buck taken at 498 yards by the 25 Creedmoor 131 Ace Match.
This goat fell to a single 130grBerger/6.5SAUM/3000FPS around 300yds, the damage done was surprisingly minimal, but due to perfect shot placement, she only went a few yards and toppled over.
This young black bear was hit by a 175 Sierra Match King, and the damage was very evident.This young buck was taken off his feet from 300+ yards with a 122 grain Cayuga solid from my Son’s .260Both of these doe antelope were taken from over 500 yards with a 100Grain Cayuga solid from the 6mm GT Another Mule Deer heart that took a 122 grain Cayuga to the heart2025: Junior strikes again, with the very same PRVI 120 grain BTHP match, this time from 470 yards. A perfect quartering shot put this buck down in a few secondsAnother one of my kids his first buck with this Browning X-Bolt 2 in 308, shooting the 175 gr Match King X, which performed just like the other SMK’s I’ve used
As the sun sets this time of year, frigid cold air rushes in to fill the void left by the sunlight. We watched as the last few glimmers of the sun disappeared over the cloudy horizon, the cold grip of winter seemed to tighten around us in the eerie silence. My son, my cousin and I, sat in the snow regaining our composure as natures evening show came to a close. It had been a busy day, and we finally had a moment to pause.
For the past few months, we had been following the habits of a small herd of elk that live in the steep and rocky mountains that surround this valley. You likely read about our previous encounters with them, only last week I took one of the herd myself after we got into them. My son still had a tag, and he hadn’t burned out yet, so we had returned to fill it. The temperature inversion turns the valley into a cold cloudy soup
This time of year, getting up the mountain early doesn’t seem to have the benefits it does during the normal season. The cold temperatures, and the lack of hunting pressure have animals out and about during the daytime. Deer, elk, coyotes, etc. can all be seen and heard during the day, and its a great time to just be out there. Once we got above the cold fog in the valley, there was a beautiful sunny day waiting for us. This nice buck sat and watched us from 300yds for the better part of a couple hours
As Junior and I made our way up into the canyons, I scoured the draws and hill’s where I expected to see our herd. Moving slowly, we would stop every so often to glass the brush covered ridges. It is amazing how little it takes to conceal a whole elk. I hadn’t even planned on shooting anything today. I figured we would go for a nice ride up in the sunshine, and if we were lucky, maybe spot the herd on some distant, miserable, and untouchable ridge line.
It is of course Murphy’s law, that as soon as you least expect something, or ill prepared for it, that something will happen. This was the case, as Junior and I rounded a turn, and my eyes focused on familiar brown and tan shapes that stood above us on a slope. Four of them, kicking away the snow to find the grass underneath. Not wanting to spook them, we quickly and quietly grabbed our gear, and made our way to a clearing. Once we had gotten a good position, I helped Junior get his rifle setup over a pack. It was a fairly steep angle, so we had to build a little taller position to get him comfortable. In just a few moments, we were fixed on our target. Our girl
There were four elk visible, all cows and calves. This herd had once numbered six, besides the one I had already taken, the missing one must have been just out of view. There was a single elk off to one side of the herd alone, and her broadside position made her the ideal target. While Junior prepared himself, I hit the elk with my rangefinder. The distance to our target was 540 yards, not a short distance. But I knew he could pull it off, as he had done before. We had practiced as much as time would allow.
A shot like that requires a good rifle, and my son carried it in his hot little hands. A custom Remington I had put together for him the year preceding. It was a sixteen inch .260 Remington, today it wore a Delta P Design Brevis II 6.5, and a Minox 1-6X24 scope. The rifle was loaded with 120 grain BTHP bullets, the same ones he had taken his first buck with a month or two prior. Junior had shot this rifle with great success, and it fit his stature. Well enough to shoot his very first Mule deer buck a few months ago at a similar distance.
So now we sat there, ready to shoot, all that was left was the trigger pull.
My son has been hunting with me since he was two or three years old. Even though he has been there, and seen it done so many times, he still gets that pounding heart and feverish excitement when its time to shoot. He was nervous for a moment, but after we locked eyes, and had a little Father & Son pep talk, he calmed down. He resigned himself to it, and I watched through my 8X rangefinder, waiting patiently.
Maybe it was that he needed to just get one shot off to feel at home, or maybe it was the shot itself that focused his little mind. But whatever the reason, that first shot pealed across the slope without hitting the elk. And as if a switch had been flipped, Junior’s demeanor changed, and he was now “in the zone”. After a reload, he re-engaged the elk, and put a bullet into her. She walked a few steps forward, and laid down in the snow. We put another one into her moments later, to make sure she was dead.
The steep hike up the hill to the elk took a little time, but it was very gratifying once we got there. Habitual observances took over at that point. We took some time to take plenty of pictures, and clean her up. The beauty of the snow covered landscape lit by the unfiltered rays of sunshine made the experience even more pleasant. Just a short time earlier, we were covered with coats, hats, gloves and the typical winter gear. The cold fog below had left our beards frosted, and yet in this moment of pristine success, we stood in the sunshine wearing only T-shirts under blue skies.
With the help of a couple good friends who came to help, we tied her up, and drug her down the hill. It took quite an effort, but it was well worth it once we had her back to the truck, and ready to bring home.
As night drew near, the ice cold fog that had hidden the valley from us, worked its way back up the mountain and threatened to envelope us once again. As it does every year, the bitter sweetness of the end of the season came over me. Knowing that we are done hunting for the season brings a somber feeling. The blood dried on the backs of our hands, as well as the freezer full of meat, fills me with satisfaction, and gratitude. These two contradicting sentiments are what give spice and excitement, they are part of the experience that comes with participation in this primal circle of life.
The only thing better than experiencing such exhilarating highs and lows, is doing it with the ones we love the most. I am a very lucky person, being able to share this with my son, and family. We are already looking forward to next year. -CBM
The sun set no more than a few hours ago, the closing day of the Utah general season deer hunt. This marks the first year since I began hunting, that I have gone without killing a deer. For years I have anticipated it, not knowing when or why it would come. Every year I would tell myself; maybe this is the year I go without. But through some kind of blind luck, I have always managed to get a tag, as well as a deer to go with it. I wouldn’t have guessed that it would take so many years for it to finally happen, but the beautiful memories that took its place are even better.
2016 was a special year for me, for the first time in my life, I would be hunting with both my Father, and my Son. Surely we had been together many times, but this was the first time that all three of us would be carrying a rifle. I thought for sure we could find three bucks, and what a special hunt it would be, that three generations of my family could once again draw blood. If you read the first part of this story, you are likely to remember the handy little rifle that my son is lucky to have. A pieced togetherRemington 700, with a 16” .260 barrel, I had loaded it with some PVRI 120 Grain Match hollow points. And whenever the squeeze was good, this little rifle hammered.
After a few adjustments, to make the rifle fit him better, we spent as much time as we could practicing. I would have liked to have him shoot it a lot more, but keeping a twelve year old’s attention for more than a few minutes proved difficult.
But the calendar waits for no one, and so the practice we got, was all I had to work with. Because before I knew it, the deer hunt opener was upon us. I drove up the dark and winding canyon roads, my Brother and I discussing the plan for the day, while my Son sat quietly in the back. The day was as usual on public land general season, armies of orange covered every vantage point. But despite the state wildlife agency’s prognostication of a great season, we never got to put eyes on a deer with antlers. It did however give Jr. plenty of opportunity to practice his trigger pulls, and prepare himself for the moment that would surely come. Practice, practice, and more practice.
Day after day went by, miles and miles of hiking, glassing, and chasing. But we still never got to put our eyes on a buck through a rifle scope. I had on several occasions had the opportunity to shoot a buck, but I had promised myself that I would do so only after my son had his chance. It was really starting to weigh heavy on my conscience, it had never seemed so hard to get on a buck, even the little ones seemed to be out of our reach.
Though the hunting wasn’t going as well as I had hoped, we certainly enjoyed good company. Like always, we hunt together as family, and for good reason.
After five days of fruitless efforts, I was beginning to loose my cool. As the weather finally turned sour, my hopes for success were peaking. But when even that didn’t provide us a good opportunity, I was quite frustrated. Luckily my Father was there to help me see the big picture, as well as the little guy who was watching me. Ready to conquer the mountain
Just when I had lost hope, and the dreaded sun came out, threatening to send all the deer to bed, things changed. My good friend signaled me from the opposite side of the ridge we had straddled, and I wasted no time getting to him.
He quickly pointed out a deer he had spotted across the canyon, and for the first time in a few days, the fire inside me was lit. I hustled back to where my son was waiting, we scrambled our gear together, and made our way back to a good shooting position across the canyon from the young buck.
His antlers shining in the mid-morning sun, picking his way down the steep mountain, the deer had no idea what was being planned for him. I helped Jr. get into a good shooting position, and pointed the deer out to him. One of the reasons I opted for the Minox 1-6 optic, was because of the often difficult task of getting inexperienced shooters on target. Less magnification helps easily spot distant targets by not taking away the big picture.
Jr. had on many occasions used the 6X to engage targets at 500 yds, and I had used it on targets to 800yds. Contrary to popular belief, huge magnification is not as big a deal as some people would make it.
After a few moments, Jr. picked out the distant buck. He steadied his little rifle, and I had him dry fire a couple more times, just to make sure it felt right. When I was convinced he was ready, a round was chambered, the bolt closed up tight. I watched as close as I could, barely breathing, listening, waiting. The deer turned broadside, giving us a perfect shot. My mind raced over all the steps we had worked on, steady the rifle, breathe out, squeeze. I could only wait now to see if it all stuck.
As I heard his breathing pause, the rifle pulsed into his shoulder, and the subdued report of the rifle hissed across the dry grass before us. I watched in suspense as the trace peaked across the 490 yards that separated us from our prey. The bullet struck the deer, right behind his left shoulder, perfect elevation. I watched the rippling waves of energy as they were soaked up by his body. His rear legs collapsed, and he fell immediately to the ground, and slowly slid down the steep slope. As he slid, I saw blood pour from the exit wound, flowing down his side. He slid some 20 yards into a large brush pile, where we lost sight of him.
The satisfaction of a perfect shot, that was so long in the waiting, a shot that I alone had been anticipating since the day he made me a Father. As I hugged my boy, I was reminded what made this year so special. It wasn’t filling three tags that made it special. It was standing next to my Dad, holding my son, having just made a perfect shot, on his very first deer.
After some high fives, and a congratulatory hug from Dad and Grandpa, we decided to empty our backpacks, and head down after him. I could see a different attitude now, Jr. had been along on who knows how many recoveries. But this one was his. He had been dying to try his brand new virgin skinning knife that his uncle gave him for his birthday last year, and finally the moment had arrived.
As we hiked into the brush filled draw, I happened on the blood trail where the deer had slid down. I stopped there to see what my Son would do. He quickly followed the trail down hill to the buck, I had already spotted it, but I followed behind to let him find it on his own, and feel that rush and sense of accomplishment. Perfect shot placement, should be the goal of every hunter.
He was very excited, but I took a moment to remind him, the importance of respect and reverence for such a beautiful animal. We took pictures, and admired him for a time. Then quartered him up, and put him into our backpacks.
I was certain that there would be significant whining as we hiked the half mile back to the four wheeler. But to my surprise, he quietly followed me, he rested when I rested. When he did mention how hard it was, and how his legs hurt, I told him the truth; A week from now, you might remember how hard it was, and how much it hurts. But by next year, you’ll have forgotten, and want to do it all over again. And the memories, of all the fun we’ve had, are ours to keep forever.
So I sit here, listening to the thunder, and the winds blowing outside my door, as the storm I needed finally arrives. My melancholy has turned to a feeling of satisfaction, sharing one of life’s exciting moments with two of the most important guys in my life. What more could I ask for?
I love to hunt elk, the excitement and challenge they bring to a hunt is difficult to describe. Every year I do my best to get my hands on a tag, and this year I lucked out, as both myself and my son drew a late season cow tag. With the late season tag, comes a longer season, and we hunt them through the first half of the winter. Some of you may already be familiar with our pursuit, Junior and I have spent as much time as possible in the rocky mountains that rise just a few miles east of our home.
Last week Junior had a close call, and almost shot a cow, but he wasn’t comfortable with the shot, so we let them go. I am quite familiar with the habits of this herd, so I would rather wait for a perfect shot, than rush a bad one. We will get back up there, and get him a good shot.
As the sun came over the frosted white mountains this morning, I prepped my gear to go up, once again hoping to fill my tag.
Everybody else had plans for the day, but I found myself with no excuse to not go elk hunting. In no time at all, my boots were crunching through the hard-crusted snow. I had ridden my ATV up into the mountain, the rumble of the motor breaking the bitter silence that seems to be held down by the cold air. I moved slowly, and deliberately, I knew where to expect them. But just to be safe, I inspected the ridges thoroughly before getting too close. The lower herd that I had seen last week was nowhere to be found, likely hiding in the thick brush patches that were peppered across the front. I kept moving slowly upward, my eyes pouring over the black and white details of every draw.
My cautious advance paid off quickly, as I approached the canyon where I expected to find the second herd, I dismounted my ATV, and rounded the corner on foot. My eyes watered as I squinted to see through my Swarovsky range finder, the cold breeze bit both my face and fingers. As I scrutinized the canyon where I expected to find my elk, my eyes would jump quickly about, drawn to shapes of so many deer that were scattered around. I looked further and further up the draws of the canyon, and suddenly my heart stopped. Sometimes elk are very hard to find, and one sees so many deer in the process that you begin to second guess your own eyes. Everything looks like an elk, and you soon tire of jumping to label something as an elk. But when you finally do spot one, all that second-guessing, and frustration is hastily turned into adrenaline.
My eyes had spotted a lone cow elk, kicking into the snow with her front hooves to expose the dry grass underneath. Instinct took over, and my frozen hands suddenly found new motivation to move. I removed my rifle from its case, and quickly grabbed the rest of the gear I needed from my backpack. I looked back at the distant clearing where she fed. And as I suspected, there were at least three more feeding up behind her. This was the herd I had been watching for weeks, waiting for them to migrate into a position that I could not only shoot at them, but also extract them afterwards. I knew that today was that day, the clearing they were feeding through lay a mere four-hundred yards from the trail where I could get my ATV. It seemed like a perfect plan, there was only one small problem, the elk were making their way from my right to my left, and the ridge that rose between us would soon give them cover, and wreck my opportunity for a shot. I knew I had to move quickly, I had to get into a shooting position, and get ready to shoot. With likely no more than twenty to thirty seconds before they became obscured, I laid down in the snow behind my rifle.
My SRS A1 Covert was kitted out with everything I needed to pull this shot off. After obtaining the distance with my rangefinder, I referenced my drop table on Trasol. I dialed the 5.2 MIL that it suggested into my US Optics ER25 scope. My rifle was mounted into my tripod, and I quickly deployed the monopod to stabilize the whole setup, and align it with my target.
Inside the rifle itself, I had mounted my 7SAUM barrel, which had proven itself time and again when engaging elk. The cold air would test both myself, as well as my collection of gear. As I finished my shot prep, I rested the reticle on the shoulders of the first cow I had spotted. The other three were slowly walking to my left, but she stood there with her head to the ground, poking at the snow.
I felt the warm and moist air as my last breath escaped me, my body lay still in the snow. I could feel the surge of my blood as it pulsed through my body, the steady pause before breaking the trigger was complete.
I pressed the trigger, and set ablaze the 183 grain Sierra Match King. As it flew I caught a few glimpses of its trace, arching high above everything between me and my prey, who stood there unaware of the speedy menace that was closing fast. The impact was not particularly dazzling, it struck her with a rippling effect across the body. She immediately staggered, and took an awkward step forward. Her company quickly cantered away, while she staggered forward, trying to keep with them. She made it about twenty or so yards, then landed her belly into the snow. She rolled over, and slid down the steep hill. Leaving a blood-stained path behind her.
I drew a deep breath and jumped up from my rifle. The elk had slid behind the ridge between us, and I lost sight of her. I quickly gathered my things, and rode up the trail towards the canyon where she fell. It took me a few minutes to get there, the bullet traveled the complete 970 yards in less than 1.2 seconds. It took me several minutes just to get to the bottom of the hill where she lay. As I got there, the remainder of the herd was seen on the opposite canyon slope. They heard me pull up, and slowly walked out of sight. I hiked the remainder of the way uphill to where she had gotten hung up in some brush.
As I always do, I spent a reverent moment knelt by her side, to appreciate the beauty of life. How incredibly lucky I am to experience something so primal, and to enjoy spoils of the life of this magnificent animal. As I sat there in the snow, the warm sunlight came out, and for a time the cold was withdrawn. I was grateful for everything in that moment, the warm sun reminded me of how blessed we are.
I got on my phone, and called my brothers, who were quick to come and help me. And in just a couple hours, we had her back down to the ATV’s. From start to finish it was a pretty smooth adventure, I can still taste blood in my mouth, from hiking hard and fast. From the warm comfort of my home its nice to share the story, while still fresh in my mind. The work isn’t over yet, right now she is hanging just outside, waiting to be butchered. And now I can work even harder to get Junior a shot at one of these beautiful Rocky Mountain treasures. -CBM
It’s not often, at least for normal folk, to get a shot at hunting the biggest of Utah’s Rocky Mountain Elk. Every now and then, you, or somebody you know gets a shot at it, and when you do, it’s the beginning of many amazing stories that will stick with you for life. This is one of those.
One of my favorite parts about hunting, is the good company of family and friends. Elk hunting for those who haven’t done it, has a way of refining friendships. Like cream floating to the top, or the one M&M in a handful of trailmix. You see, you cant just go elk hunting with anyone. Much like an emergency call from the roadside on a dark winter’s night, you only call on those who you know, will answer.
I am lucky to have the best group of friends, some of whom are blood, and others that should be. And every year, when even the sun seems lethargic in its ascent, and the air turns cold coming down the mountain, with a smell of the forest, our minds and eyes are turned upward. The colorful beauty that comes every fall, brings dreams and hopes to every hunter who’s heart still beats.
This year was special, my brother in law had drawn one of the coveted limited entry bull tags, and the thought of ivory and bone was on all of our minds. It was his hunt, but I felt like it was as much my responsibility to make sure that we got a good bull. We spent as much time as our schedules would allow, searching the best places inside the unit. But on opening day, we found ourselves hunting the same few canyons that have brought us the most elk over the years. Familiarity is sometimes good with hunting, we know the land, the animals, and where they go when they get bothered.
It was in this familiar place that I’ve seen some very good bulls running around, so I was fairly confident that one would wander across our path. But it wasn’t until seven days later, that just such a bull would answer the call, literally.
We saw several bulls that first weekend, but only one I would deem a shooter. And unfortunately, I got a prime seat to stand and watch him, completely unawares. But the man with the rifle, was in an inopportune place, that kept him from making a shot. Days went by, though I had but little invested in this adventure, I could feel the days passing like bricks being stacked on your shoulders. The weather changes seemed like a good thing, but they failed to bring any bulls out of their deep hiding.
It wasn’t until the second to last day of the hunt that luck would trot our way, scraping his antlers through the quickly thinning aspens. The morning had brought a few inches of snow, usually I like that, because its easier to spot animals. But this storm seemed to keep the elk holed up tight in their hideouts. Afternoon came soon enough, and with it came the sun, liberating the whole mountain of the white blanket. In short time, the snow was soaked up into the hills, and it turned into quite a beautiful afternoon. Feeling that our luck had to be peaked, I knew that we had to close the deal that evening. A sense of anxiety that most of you probably understand, had my eyes running in overdrive, looking hard, trying to find not just an elk, but one we could take home.
As the afternoon breeze faded into evening, silence took hold of everything. I drew my grunt tube, and did my best to make vulgar and threatening sounds, sure to drive an excited bull into a pigeon chested rage. The silence brought back calls from several bulls, the closest of whom sounded to be just around the nose of the next ridge. After a few minutes, I continued my vocal assault, and he responded in turn, this time a little closer.
By this time, the sun was hidden from us, behind the pink clouds that hung low in the western sky. Light was quickly escaping us, we looked hard into the grove of trees where we suspected the bull was headed. Again and again I called to him, and each time he would answer, always closer. Our hearts were racing, knowing that any moment, any second, we might see the bull who would magnify our hunting stories forever.
I scoured the hillside through my Swarovski, searching for him. And as though he was waiting for an invitation, he finally stepped into view. I caught a glimpse of him walking towards us in the aspens, screaming what would be his last call. I judged the antlers as best I could in that short window, and announced to all that a shooter had joined the party.
It was now time to put a skill set to use, that had lain dormant for ten days. Luckily, we spend a good amount of time behind a rifle. And today that rifle was mine, a Desert Tech SRS A1 Covert. Days earlier, before I had left home, I installed one of my favorite barrels of all time, a twenty four inch 7MM Short Action Ultra Magnum that I commissioned from the good people at Short Action Customs several years earlier. My fondness for this barrel was born of an absurdly accurate pattern, and the ability to shoot heavy bullets in top fuel bracket speeds. My handloads consisted of the finest bullet available for the SAUM, a 183 Sierra Match King, pushed down the bore by 62ish grains of H4831SC at a scorching 3100fps. It literally was like a sharp rocket full of badgers and razor blades sitting on a box of dynamite, you DONT want to be in front of this damn thing.
Some 550 yards across the canyon, our bull stood quietly in the trees, knowing nothing of badgers and dynamite, nor did he know of very little elevation this laser beam of lead needed to reach out to him (1.9). As our bull stepped clear of the aspens that had afforded him security, the safety came off the rifle, and I watched intently as he slowly stopped. The suppressed sound of that SAUM going off startled no one, it was perfect timing. I watched the bull jump, and turn back into the trees, the quickly diminishing light made it hard to tell what had happened. But I knew one thing for sure, and it was like a warm blanket in cold wet tent, did I mention we slept in a cold wet tent? I knew that the SAUM was a golden hotrod, and I knew that though the bull appeared at last sight, to be moving under full steam, he was foreordained by the good folks at Sierra to become my dinner.
I lost him in the trees, but I quickly gave another yelp on the tube, in hopes to grab his attention, be it one last time. The mountain was silent, not even the breeze could be heard. No response came from our bull, and my warm blanket just got warmer.
I’ve done some scary things in the past, but walking through bear and cougar infested woods, in the dark is probably in the top ten. I had to make sure, I had to put hands on him, and I had to do it then. I couldn’t wait til morning to scramble the rest of the crew, who still had a three hour drive to make just to get to the bottom of the hill. My brother in law had proven himself unworthy of crepuscular navigation, and there was no way I was taking my children with me down there. So it was my fate, to search out this bull, in the dark and quiet forest. I made extremely good time first descending and then climbing the opposite side of the canyon, my fear of bears and cougars fueled my hasty step. And with a flashlight and a .44Magnum in each hand, I searched with the guidance of my brother from across the way. In surprisingly short time, I had found our guy. He lay on his side, against a dead aspen, his antlers buried deep in the black soft earth. As usual, the size of these animals astonished me. I walked around him, taking it all in. Blood still flowed from the exit wound on his starboard side, foaming from his final breath escaping his lungs. The 183 had punched through both lungs, almost perfectly centered, leaving a 1.5-2 inch exit wound. I knelt beside this incredible animal, and cherished his beauty, grateful and reverent for his life, and what it would yield.
Phone calls were made, both to scramble our ready five team, as well as to keep my sanity as I made my way through the dark fallen timber on my way back to the truck. The following morning, we made our way back to the spot, and began the heavy labor of extricating such a huge animal. Packs were filled with meat, whole quarters hauled out over shoulders, even the kids helped.
The beauty of a sunny fall day surrounded by my closest friends and my kids doing what we love the most, it was almost a perfect day. One can only hope for days such as this one, the camaraderie shared when shoulder deep in meat and blood, when we share down to the last water, and last granola bar, brings people together like nothing else can. The manic high’s and lows brought on by such a high stakes hunt invigorate friendships and the memories last forever. We have two more weeks till the general season starts, better get to bed… -CBM
Light, fast bullets can have explosive energy on target
This doe antelope was taken with a heavy for caliber bullet from a relatively small cartridge (75 grains/
This young bull took a 
This was a heart shot on an elk from 540 yards, being prepared will help put meat on the table, and practice brings confidence when the pressure is on (300WSM/180BTSP/2900fps)
This is another elk that was shot on the run, a well placed shot put her on the ground in seconds. 300WSM/190SMK/2950FPS
These events usually feature paper or steel targets at various ranges to test the skill of shooters. Match bullets have evolved over the years to become as ballistically efficient as possible.
Another elk that fell in her tracks (430yds) from one well placed shot through the neck (7SAUM/162AMAX/3050FPS)
This nice buck sat and watched us from 300yds for the better part of a couple hours
Our girl
Practice, practice, and more practice.
Ready to conquer the mountain
Perfect shot placement, should be the goal of every hunter.
