While distant valleys sizzle in hazy heat shimmer, so far removed as to be situated on another planet, you’re experiencing the first hints of fall. Frost wets pant cuffs as you slip from a dark camp and through meadow grass. Breath hangs in long plumes as you fight lung-burning altitude to reach a glassing vantage. Up in the clouds and diluted air, drenched with the perspiration of laborious ascent, you shiver in the morning gloom, a primitive worshiping a dawdling sun. Thunder showers sneak over lofty ridges; building in minutes and punishing unpreparedness with skin-soaking deluges of icy water. Afterward you broil beneath undiluted solar rays, climbing once more—always up. There’s no end to it, altitudes in the 12s, 13s, even 14s, cursed with shifting shale and vertical inclines. Calves burn to the core, knees turn to noodle, feet bruise and blister. You’ve left hardy elk and trees behind. What you seek is much higher—on top of the world.
This is western high country. You endure its hardships, climb into towering battlements for the promise of the biggest mule deer in the West. Despite its potential perils there are few places I’d rather be during an early fall week than chasing velvet-antlered mule deer in the highest reaches of Colorado, Nevada, Wyoming, Utah or New Mexico. It’s then the West’s biggest bucks are most visible, living above the timberline where you can at least look at them before fall forces them downward into swallowing vegetation. Yet while these relatively open areas make long-range glassing fruitful, they also set the stage for bowhunting’s most demanding stalking challenges. If the country itself doesn’t beat you physically, open terrain and sharp-eyed bucks wearing antlers that cause sleepless nights drive you to utter frustration. But they can be killed, even with a bow and arrow. It’s a unique endeavor calling on accumulated experience to guide you through success outside lucky happenstance. Be that as it may, understanding a few basic principles abbreviates the introduction and makes high-country success more likely.
The definition of “high country” differs from region to region, but what I have in mind are the highest reaches of the Rocky Mountains, well above even elk habitat—alpine habitat shared only by sheep and goats. Colorado likely owns more of this country than any single state, so it stands as the epitome of high-country mule deer hunting, though the highest reaches of any Rocky Mountain state can offer similar opportunities. No matter the location, common denominators include thin air found at five-digit altitudes above the timberline where fir and spruce give way to alpine alder, willow shrub, stunted evergreen and spongy moss. There’s normally more rock than vegetation in this raw land.
Mule deer inhabit these high reaches during summer months to escape the heat, biting insects and predators, but also to keep delicate velvet antlers safe from tree-limb damage and to remain well above the hubbub found at lower elevations. You’ll normally find buck bachelor groups in hanging basins and bowls just below rearing cliffs that make flanking difficult or impossible. High benches, ridge stair steps and brushy fall lines below extremely steep or cliffy terrain are where they bed by day, feeding across open hillsides and chutes early and late.
Hunting high-country mulies—no matter your weapon—is all about effectively using quality optics. You’re simply not in the game without the right kind of binoculars. The right kind of binocular is defined by ruggedly-constructed, high-objective 10-power glass of the highest quality. You get what you pay for in today’s optics market. In the high country you’ll spend long hours probing with your binoculars, penetrating not only vast distances, but the deep shadow and heat shimmer of midday, gloom, fog and sometimes drizzle. To invest in anything but the best you can possibly afford is to invite eye strain and raging headaches. Leave the compact shirt-pocket glass you use in whitetail treestands home. Choose instead steady models in the 10x40 to 10x50 class.
The 10, of course, denotes a 10-power glass, meaning objects viewed through them will appear 10 times closer than with the naked eye. While an 8-power glass might prove steadier, western high country is huge and rugged. Would you rather dissect that distant bowl from where you now sit with 10s, or climb to the next nasty ridge for a better look with the 8s? The second number, 40 or 50, is the diameter of the objective lens in millimeters. The objective lens is your window to the world. The larger it is, the more light it allows through. This is important in early-morning gloom, but also means they will better cut through hard shadow or midday heat shimmer to reveal a distant bedded buck. Hand in hand with a larger objective lens is inherent steadiness. Steadiness is borne of mass. Yes, binoculars that weigh more mean toting extra payload, but what you buy is rock-solid control during those long hours probing for distant bucks. It’s a price well worth paying.
Any serious high-country mule deer hunter also carries a spotting scope. Up here they’re not a luxury, but a necessity. A quality variable scope not only helps you in the obvious task of sizing up a distant buck for trophy quality; it allows you to cross deep canyons or shale-cursed bowls effortlessly to get a closer look at a suspicious lump beneath a brow of shrubs or rock, to assure a deer miles away is a buck worthy of further climbing or a doe that does not interest you at all. Some of the most experienced mule deer hunters around are making use of larger, tripod-mounted super binoculars. These optics—something to the tune of 15x60s—mounted atop a rock-steady tripod, provide even more terrain-paring and shadow-probing abilities from the widest vistas.
Carrying a set of binoculars around your neck to gawk at spotted game or investigate nearby movement is nothing like the long-range probing required in western timberline settings. In fact, most hunters fail to truly understand how to use binoculars to their fullest potential. Efficient glassing in big country means training yourself to look with your optics and not merely through them. This is the difference between ineffectual sweeps of your glass and actually using them to discover game. Foremost, learn to steady your glass on the swath of ground of interest, using a rest when possible, locking them in place temporarily while moving only your eyes within the field of view. For now, scour only that piece of terrain. Don’t pan binoculars themselves, and especially strive to avoid random sweeps and scattergun probing. This is achieved through developing a system. By a “system,” I mean some way to assure you thoroughly vacuum a piece of ground for game, discovering anything that’s within that patch of habitat. This is imperative when seeking deer well removed or bedded tight, most often showing only in pieces. My system includes “reading” a bowl or hillside like an important legal document, one line at a time, carefully and slowly to make sure I understand completely, before moving down to the next line. Red flags requiring additional attention might look like movement, a shiny or “soft” spot, a patch of color not quite matching surrounding soil or rock, the horizontal line of withers, or an antler fork. In time, after even hours of careful probing, certain spots in your glassing area might remain especially intriguing. Trust your instincts. Return to these areas before you move on, and give them another look.
It’s just a matter of time before you discover the buck of your dreams during early archery season in the high country. Now is when you must ignore your instinctive impulses. You see what you have come for and are impatient to forge ahead, to make something happen, as they say. Resist these impulses. Patience and a clear head are paramount. A few prerequisites can help make your stalks more successful.
Working around wind direction is imperative to any bowhunting approach, yet tricky high country complicates these matters. Namely, you must intuitively forecast how terrain, shadow and sun might direct (or redirect) its flow. Hand in hand is planning a sensible route of approach according to likely wind direction on the ground the target animal occupies, in conjunction with available cover. In rough, high-altitude mountain terrain, wind currents are dictated by wildly-fluctuating temperature changes. Early and late, in heavily shaded areas, or under temporary cloud cover, air cools to spill downhill. As temperatures rise, and on sun-drenched hillsides, air warms to turn uphill. Assuring you don’t give deer your scent means reading possible wind fluctuations according to terrain and sunny or shaded areas, even the time that will elapse while moving closer. Viable approach routes circumvent obviously treacherous ground (restless shale, for instance) or wide-open stretches that leave you conspicuous. It also pays to note landmarks to show the way from an altered perspective, or to precisely mark a buck’s location once you arrive.
Bowhunting high-country mulies is the polar opposite of aggressively dogging elk. Sure, there are instances when traveling or feeding deer ask for instant action and fast thinking, but more often discovering early-morning bucks on open ground warrants more patience. Allowing a buck (or bucks) to bed eliminates much of the guesswork inherent to involved stalks. Bedding hours are dictated by weather, but generally occur by 10 a.m. Even after watching your buck settle, remain patient, anchored and vigilant. Within a couple hours your buck will stand to stretch, likely forced to seek a different bed because of a shifting sun. After this second bed is claimed, you can bet your best bow he’ll stay put for several hours. This also typically means wind has stabilized into a steady uphill flow, allowing a more desirable approach from above. Closing the gap on bedded mule deer—especially a trophy buck—is bowhunting’s highest calling. Murphy’s Law was devised specially for those with the temerity to pursue mule deer with a bow. Wind swirls endlessly, loose rocks give you away, animals appear as if by magic to alert entire mountainsides. Most of all, patience is quickly eroded by thin air, nasty terrain and the intoxication of coveted behemoth antlers. No matter how much hard work or elevation sacrificed or gained, always be willing to retreat and start anew should the wind turn or the ground prove too noisy. Continually probe ahead for the unseen, the unexpected, check the wind obsessively, and be willing to move in terms of feet per hour no matter how uncomfortable you become.
Use wind-detecting powders or pinches of synthetic yarn to reveal changes in wind currents. Don stalking slippers to hush your steps during the most critical portions of your stalk, or simply remove your boots and proceed in only thick wool socks. Should you find that noisy clutter threatens to give you away, take the time to patiently clean out stepping spots.
An even higher measure of patience is required after arriving within comfortable archery range of your dream buck. You have him marked well, might even be able to see his antlers protruding above low vegetation, but a shot’s often not yet possible. The natural impulse is to press the issue and try to get the buck on his feet. Resist rash decisions. Sit tight. Wait for your buck to stand on his own and then, and only then, take your shot. This assures a calm, stationary target and a high-odds opportunity. There’s good reason trophy mule deer antlers are so coveted in bowhunting circles, besides the obvious factor of imposing size. Bowhunting high-country mulies is one of hunting’s highest challenges, but also one of its biggest rewards in terms beyond measurable antler. They demand more of the bowhunter than any western game, both physically and mentally. Are you up to that challenge?
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