My First Buck

Deer season 1979 was to become a very special memory for me. I had been hunting several times before with my Dad, who had passed away the year before, my older brothers, and older friends. I was 15 years old, and my friend Gene, was 16. This time we went by ourselves for the first time.
As I write this, nearly 30 years has passed by, so I don't remember how far into the season we were, but I do remember the trip and the hunt.
We had decided where we were going to go, and after telling Gene's parents, and my Mom approximately where we were going, we headed into the Pueblo mountains. When we got to where we had planned to camp, someone was there already. Undetered, we put the red ford in 4 wheel drive, and drove another 1/2 mile or so up the draw to set up camp. When we found what would be a good spot, that is where we set up Gene's pup tent. I don't remember details on what we ate, but I am sure it was good.
The next morning we headed out from camp bright and early, we were going up toward the back ridge of the Pueblos. We walked out of the draw where we were camped, to a big slope covered with sagebrush, mahogany, and huge boulders. The slope went up to where it meets up with vertical cliffs of at least 100 feet in places. At the base of the cliffs, is a patch of aspens, about 20 acres in size. Below the aspens, is the head of the draw that we had originally planned on camping in. There are springs and small meadows right below the rims. Right above where the draw begins, is a gap in the rim that you can get to the very top from.
We saw deer and deer hunters from the time we left camp. When we got to the aspens, one of us walked through, and the other watched from the edge of the trees. Several deer came out of the trees but we didn't shoot. It has been nearly 30 years, I don't remember if there were no bucks, or what. Right after that, near the springs and meadows, another hunter started shooting. After he realized that we were just a couple of kids that presented no threat, he talked to us. When we looked at the buck that he had just shot, we noticed that it just had one horn. in the hunter's haste to shoot him before we could, he shot off one of the horns. After we got up the hill a little ways, we had a good laugh about that.
We continued straight up the mountain, through the gap in the rims, and eventually made our way to the top.
We had just been on top of the ridge for a few minutes, when Gene said "There's a deer." He pointed to a saddle, where the next canyon comes to the top of the ridge.
Gene was hunting with a savage model 99, in .308 caliber, without a scope. I was using the gun that my Dad had given to me, shortly before he died. It is a model 70 winchester, in 30-06 caliber. I however, had a weaver 2.5 to 7 power scope on it.
As luck would have it, there was a little rim right where we were standing, that made a perfect rest. I got a good rest and looked at the deer through my scope. Gene asked "Is it a buck?" I responded by pulling the trigger. The buck dropped like a rock. I don't know for sure how far it was, but for all of these years, I have been claiming that it was 400 yards, and I'll stick with that. We took off running toward the buck like the excited teenagers that we were, and when we got to where the buck should have been, he wasn't there.
In our haste to get there, we took our eyes off of where it went down, and ran to the wrong place. After only a few seconds, I spotted the buck's horns. I thought that I had killed the biggest buck ever, until I realized that he had fallen with his horns resting on top of a sagebrush.
He was a very nice first buck, a 3x3, 23" wide, his horns are light, and I would now guess that he was young.
Gene, being the great friend that he was, volunteered to gut him for me. That was fine with me, I had never done it before.
When my buck was gutted and ready to go, the choice now had to be made on where to go with him. Do we drag him back up to the top, and down where we had come up? Or do we drag him down to the bottom on the back side, walk back up and over to camp, then drive the 30 or so miles around the mountain to get him?
While we were eating a candy bar, and discussing this, I spotted a deer running toward us a couple, three hundred yards below us. We couldn't see if it was a buck or not, so I stood behind Gene and used his shoulder for a rest. When I confirmed that it was a buck, Gene's .308 went off almost immediately. A couple of follow up shots, and the buck was down.
Our dilema was now solved, as Gene went down to take care of his buck, I dragged mine down to where his was.
When Gene's buck was cleaned, he noticed something in his shirt pocket, it was the candy bar that I had been eating when I spotted the deer.
The buck that Gene shot was almost a clone to the one that I had killed. Also a 3x3, with very similar horns. A tape later revealed a difference of 1/4, or 1/2 of an inch but I don't remember which was bigger, probably his.
We knew it was going to be a long time before we would get back, so we covered both bucks with sagebrush for shade, after propping open their body cavities with a stick for airflow, to help them cool out. It was 11:00 am and starting to get warm, so we wouldn't need our coats, we put them on top of the brush for more shade.
After a short discussion, we decided that we no longer needed to carry our rifles. Especially with the walk that we were about to take. We didn't want to leave them right with the deer, in case someone would steal them. so we hid them in the brush a short distance away.
By the time that we walked back to the top, down through the gap in the rim, and back to camp, we were hungry. We quickley packed up camp, and drove down out of the mountains, to Fields.
Fields, Oregon is a tiny little town with an elementary school, and a combination store, gas station, motel, and cafe. At that time there were about 8-10 people that lived in "town". Thirty years later, it hasn't changed much.
My Mom worked at the store, so we went to tell her about our adventure so far, and get something to eat.
After we filled our bellies, and forgot to fill our gas tank, we went to retrieve our deer. We didn't realize the part about being low on gas, until we were over Domingo pass, miles from Fields, and it was getting late.
When we stashed our bucks, we took note which draw we would have to take to bring us to them from below. We had no problem finding which road/trail to take to get to them. The problem was, that the road didn't go close enough to the deer. This would not have been a problem, if we weren't almost out of gas. The red ford would go anywhere, and it was 1979 when we didn't think too much about going offroad. But since we were low on gas, we decided to walk up to get the deer.
As we were walking up a good cow trail to the deer, Gene said"Look at that". There was a buck that was a lot bigger than ours, looking at us from about a hundred yards.
With a little bit of cussing and whinning, we finally got both bucks, and our guns, and our coats to the pickup, and loaded. By this time it was completely dark, and we were a long ways from home, and still almost out of gas.
We headed down toward Rincon seeding and the road that would take us to Domingo pass, and on home. I don't remember what we talked about, but I am pretty sure that it included our hunt, and the fact that we were almost on "walk".
It was then that we heard a faint call on our CB radio. it was Gene's parents looking for us, calling from Domingo pass. After telling them that we were ok, but running low on gas, they waited for us, then followed us off of the mountain.
When we were within a quarter of a mile from my house, the red ford rolled quietly to a stop, out of gas. We got gas at my house, and then went to Gene's ranch to skin the deer. With help from Gene's parents, we finished at 1:00 am.