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August 2024
Story by McKenna Glover
State: Utah
Species: Deer - Mule

“No way!” That’s what my husband, Taylor, seemingly yelled in the restaurant. “You drew the Paunsaugunt!” I sat for a moment, feeling like I should know what he was talking about. After a minute, I finally said, “Awesome! What does that mean?” He proceeded to tell me that I drew the best deer unit in Utah with only 3 points.

The first thing I learned was it was a muzzleloader tag. I also learned that muzzleloaders are different from regular rifles and also had more recoil. We practiced shooting and loading and finding things in the scope.

The second thing I learned was that we were very, very serious about this hunt. As many mornings as possible, my husband was out scouting. I went with him when I could, but being a mother of two made that a little difficult. Almost every time he got home, he would have a new video of a buck that would increase our excitement.

As the summer began to end, some of the bucks we had been excited about were harvested by bowhunters, but when it was all said and done, we had a few bucks we were really excited to chase.

As opening morning came, we were up early and in position. At first light, my father-in-law told us he had our target buck feeding just like we had hoped. We made our move and got into position just in time to watch him feed into the trees out of range. About then, another buck we had been watching fed by within range. “Get him in the scope,” Taylor told me. I found him and was ready. “I think we will pass on him on opening morning,” Taylor said, and I agreed. We sat still a little longer, trying to decide the next move. We snuck around some more but ended up back at the truck.

The second morning, we were ready. Our target buck was nowhere to be found, but our second buck was feeding in a spot we thought we could get to. We made a move, sneaking quietly down a ridge. Apparently, it wasn’t quite enough because as we got to where we could see the bucks, he trotted off to his bed. I could tell Taylor was frustrated, and I was too.

For day three, we solicited some help from my brother-in-law, uncle, and a couple of close friends. We placed them around to try and help us locate the bucks we were after. Quickly into the morning hunt, they found the bucks. We made a move trying to intercept them before they got to bed. As we made our way down a ridge, my husband said we needed to take our shoes off. I realized this was much quieter. A few of the bucks disappeared into the thick cedars, but one of our bucks was still working along the ridge across from us. We got set up and had him in my scope. “When he gets to the open spot at the top, shoot him!” Taylor whispered excitedly.

As the buck got to the open spot, he paused for a moment then blew over the hill. Taylor glassed for a moment and then said, “There are some other hunters right above him.” I was frustrated. It seemed like finally all the stars had aligned only to have it not come together at the very end. With our tails tucked, we made our way back to the truck. Taylor tried to encourage me, “This is hunting. That was a good look. We should be excited about a good look.” I was trying to be excited, but hunting was proving to be harder than I thought.

The next day as we got up to leave, Taylor said, “Today feels like the day it turns into a grind.” I couldn’t have agreed more. I was starting to feel guilty as a mom not being there when my kids woke up, and the early mornings and steep ridges had me feeling worn out.

We made a new plan and got into position. Our favorite buck had bedded in some thick cedars on top of the ridge across from us. We had been in position, sitting for what turned into hours and waiting with the hope the buck would pop over the ridge to his second bed like we had watched many times before. With the day dragging on and the wind picking up, we sent one of our helpers to put a little pressure on the buck, hoping he would take the same route to his second bed.

Our plan worked perfectly. The buck trotted over the ridge, and I got him in my scope as he quickly made his way down to the bottom safety of the trees. I was on him, but he was 200 yards straight below us. It was a shot I had never been faced with in our practice time. I took a deep breath and shot. “You missed barely high,” Taylor said. We reloaded just in time to see the buck make his way out of the draw and over the hill. I was devastated. I felt that we had all been working so hard for this moment and I blew it. Taylor consoled me by saying everyone misses and that it was a tough shot, but I couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

The next morning, Taylor told me we were going to get it done today. Right at first light, we were on a big typical buck we had passed a few days prior. We snuck into position and waited. Finally, the buck made his way through the oaks to where we could see him. I got him in my scope, but he never would give me a clear shot. Once he disappeared, we moved on. Our target buck had been located in the same spot I had shot at him the day before. We hustled up the next ridge and got into position. Without having eyes on the buck, it was difficult to know where he was. I peeked over the cliff in front of me only to see the buck staring right back at me at a mere 30 yards. Confused, the buck walked down into the bottom of the canyon and trotted up the other side. As he came to a stop, I again sent a bullet his way. “You got him!” Taylor said. “Yeah, you hit him!” my father-in-law said. He watched the buck barrel down the hill while we reloaded. When we got ready, the buck had turned and was running straight up the ridge. “Did she not hit him?” Taylor asked.

“I’m not sure,” my father-in-law said. The buck ran over the next ridge, and our friends confirmed I had hit him, but it only took a stripe of hair off his back. We hustled a couple ridges over only to have the buck out run us.

“What now?” I asked. While we were chasing bucks, our friend’s 8-year-old son, Kam, had been keeping an eye on a buck we were after. He had watched the buck go to bed and was keeping close watch for us. “Let’s go make a play on that buck,” Taylor said. We walked off the ridge toward the buck. In all honestly, I was ready to be done. I was feeling like a failure. Hunting was harder than I had imagined.

We got to the area the buck was bedded in and made our move. We knew which oak tree the buck was bedded under, but no matter which way we moved, we couldn’t see him. Taylor asked what I wanted to do, and I shrugged my shoulders. He could tell by the look on my face waiting this buck out wasn’t the play. We backed out of where we were and made a big loop to the north of the buck, getting the wind in our favor, which by this time was blowing pretty hard. We snuck slowly, taking our time. When we got to where we could see the oak tree, I got on the gun. Knowing we were close to the buck, I was ready. Taylor looked in his binoculars, trying to see the buck bedded through the oak. When he pulled his binos down, he whispered very quietly, “He is right there.” I pulled my eye away from the scope only to see a very tall set of antlers stretching up above a sagebrush. I got back in the scope just in time to see the buck stand. I moved the crosshair to his shoulder and slammed the trigger. “I can’t believe that!” Taylor said. “25 yards is all that was.”

The buck ran about another 25 yards and piled up. I started shaking from the adrenaline. We walked over to see the buck, and he was much bigger than any of us thought. He was an old deer with a giant body and a tall heavy set of horns. I was relieved and excited. It seemed like all the trials, hard work, and success had led to this moment. The buck scored 188" with 20" G2s.