To be frank, one of my current health conditions (right knee) precludes me from doing much walking in uneven terrain; ie. pretty much the entire Colorado wildlands.

So I was very limited in mobility while hunting to fill my mule deer buck tag. My method was quite simple: keep re-visiting my past successful (and some not so successful areas) and using my Zeiss optics, scouring the meadows and open areas for long minutes and even hours, from my truck. Glassing, waiting, repeat, move to another area, repeat.

I figured that if I spotted a buck that I wanted, that my adrenalin and stubbornness and love of the stalk and hunt could keep me going for at least one good try.

After a couple of mornings and afternoons, I had yet to see a buck. I was seeing does without bucks; due to the unseasonably warm weather here the mule deer rut had not quite started yet.

The time was 4:30 p.m. on the third day of my season and the sun was sinking fast. A cold front was moving through and we had gotten a flurry of snow the previous evening, which would hopefully get the game moving around some. Moving slowly along a two track excuse for a road in my F-150 following a small drainage, I suddenly spotted a buck down on the edge of the creek, about 75 yards away. I stopped the truck and turned the motor off. My Zeiss binocs automatically came up to my eyes and I looked at him and sized him up in about two tenths of a second. Staring back at me was a very respectable 4X4 with one brow tine. I slowly opened the door and got out, my right hand going to my Custom .475 Linebaugh and removing it from the makeshift shoulder holster (works for me)

As my right foot touched the ground, the knee pain along with the crunching sound of the porcelain spacer block in that severely compromised joint rudely reminded me to step very carefully in spite of my excitement at seeing such a beautiful buck.

I carefully moved ahead to the nearest tree for a rest and where I had a clear view of the buck and brought up my revolver, planted the red dot of the JPoint sight just behind his shoulder, cocked the hammer, and pressed the trigger.

At the boom, he swapped ends and started scrambling up the opposite hillside. Something however was very very wrong. His hind end wasn't working very good. Yet he was still moving away, so I put another 400 Gr. XTP through him. (Note this was the opposite side as the first shot) He fell down and died in the creek.

It was almost dark.

These photos were taken the following day.



The following photo shows my two shots, one entrance and one exit, due to the fact the buck turned around 180 degrees after the first shot. This area is about 4 inches behind the shoulder.