THIS STORY REALLY STARTS an excellent a few years in the past. I used to be residing in northern Arizona then, within the midst of pretty much as good mule-deer nation as may be present in america. It was a case of being embarrassed by riches, since there have been so many searching spots that I might by no means get round to all of them. Some had been well-known throughout Arizona. Others, simply pretty much as good, had been celebrated solely domestically.
Considered one of these is the Slate Mountain part—an space of excessive volcanic peaks, cinder cones, vast parks knee-high with wealthy yellow gramma grass. Turkeys vary on the mountain slopes, antelope wheel and maneuver, flash their white rump patches within the parks. However primarily it’s mule-deer nation. The animals feed clear up into thick fir and spruce of the excessive peaks in the summertime, then drift progressively down earlier than the coolness of approaching autumn. Their winter vary round Slate Mountain is thinly timbered, however it abounds in canyons the place they will get out of the wind, and it has loads of winter feed within the form of dwarf juniper and cliff rose—or buck brush, because the natives name it.
Virtually from the primary, I used to be conscious of Slate Mountain’s native fame as buck nation, however I all the time acquired a buck elsewhere earlier than I acquired round to searching there. It took some plain and fancy tales to attract me in there-and I acquired them. A cowboy instructed me how he had ridden into a bit canyon one windy day and jumped out a bunch of fifteen or twenty large bucks. A woodcutter instructed me how he noticed deer there each time he went in. The supervisor of the nationwide forest instructed me a dozen tales calculated to make any hunter’s mouth water. And thru all these tales, an account of 1 explicit large buck ran like a theme track.
One hunter who had seen him in grey daybreak thought for a second that he was an elk and didn’t shoot till too late. Others had grown so excited at a glimpse of him that buck fever made their bullets go wild.
The upshot was that I made a decision to analyze the part the place this large buck ran. It was the primary day of the 1933 season, and as I drove on the market I felt a bit silly. Within the first place, the tales of the Slate Mountain space sounded too good to be true. Within the second, looking for one explicit buck is normally about like looking for the standard needle within the conventional haystack.
Nicely, my first Slate Mountain hunt was fairly uneventful—besides that I acquired misplaced and that I’m satisfied I noticed the patriarch himself. Alone, I pulled up into a bit canyon, modified to hobnails, took a quart canteen, a sweet bar, and my Springfield, and set out. I circled the mountain excessive up the place a lot of the canyons headed, edging alongside on slippery pine needles. I noticed numerous deer signal that day and likewise some deer, largely does and fawns and some small bucks. To the north, over tawny grasslands noticed with purple patches of juniper, I might see the scarlet gash of the Grand Canyon overlined with the blue of the well-known Kaibab. To the northeast lay the pink and mauve and yellow vacancy of the Painted Desert.
Nightfall was gathering once I began down the mountain. I had been in sunshine, 1,500 toes above the plain, however as I went down it grew swiftly darkish, and once I got here out of the canyon I had chosen I discovered it wasn’t the one through which I had parked the automotive. I’ve by no means been inside a cow, however whether it is darker there it’s lots darkish. I might see my hand earlier than my face, however that’s about all. Additional, I used to be in nation strewn with volcanic bowlders and lower with attracts that dropped straight for fifteen or twenty toes.
Afterwards, when my mates twitted me in regards to the expertise, I maintained that I used to be not misplaced. It was the automotive that was misplaced. Dimly within the starlight I might see acquainted mountain peaks bulking black towards the horizon. I knew inside 1 / 4 of a mile the place I used to be, however I might have handed inside ten toes of my automotive with out seeing it. So I constructed a fireplace on the lee aspect of a lifeless pine, made myself a mattress of pine needles, and caught some sleep.
When the primary grey of daybreak got here, I picked up my rifle and went again to the automotive, which I positioned with out bother. I used to be hungry and I used to be thirsty, so I opened an iron ration and took a drink from the canteen.
Then I seemed up—and there was the largest buck I’d ever seen.
Really he seemed as large as a horse, and his antlers had been so monumental that they confirmed plainly regardless of the truth that he was greater than 200 yards away and within the gloom of timber. I dived for my rifle, however the buck disappeared simply as I threw off the security. I spent an hour that morning looking for him, however his large tracks confirmed that he was lengthy gone. So I went again to city, and to espresso and scrambled eggs and the reproaches of a frightened spouse who didn’t like her husband to remain out all evening with out telling her about it prematurely.
The reminiscence of that giant buck haunted me, and two days later my spouse and I had been again there with meals and mattress rolls and hope in our hearts. As we drove via an enormous open park east of Slate Mountain we noticed a herd of forty or fifty antelope, so when my spouse mentioned calmly, “A giant buck simply bumped into that draw!” I assumed she meant a buck antelope and paid no consideration. Afterwards she mentioned she thought it unusual that I confirmed so little curiosity, however being a well-trained spouse she didn’t remark on the time. We drove on as much as the slope of a cinder cone, stopped, and acquired out our rifles. Then I occurred to search for, and there, about 400 yards away, had been three deer trotting via the junipers, grey towards the crimson cinders.
Eleanor, who’s an optimist in addition to an excellent shot, went into motion. They had been bucks, I noticed as quickly as I put the glasses on them, however they disappeared into thick juniper unhit so far as I might inform. Then one thing drew my consideration to the saddle between two cones, and I noticed a sight I had by no means seen earlier than and have by no means seen since—a herd of not less than twenty large bucks, all on a lifeless run. They had been in sight however an immediate, and with all these antlers towards the horizon they seemed like movement footage I’ve seen of a herd of migrating caribou.
Figuring that they might skirt the cinder cone to our left, I made a decision to run excessive and catch them as they crossed an open park to the west. The cone was about 500 toes excessive, and once I topped out I used to be winded. Eleanor had fallen someplace by the wayside.
Cautiously I circled; and once I had gone about fifty yards, three large bucks got here bouncing out, nice brown antlers laid again towards grey hides. The largest was really a monster, and I lower unfastened at him. The three disappeared right into a clump of combined oak, pine, cliff rose, and juniper on the foot of the hill, simply as I acquired off what I assumed was my finest shot. Solely two got here out, and once I acquired down there I discovered my large buck, hit thrice from my six-shot fusillade as soon as within the left ham, as soon as within the stomach, and as soon as, alas, proper via the ear.
For a second I assumed I’d acquired the patriarch himself. Once I seemed throughout the open park to the subsequent hill slope, nevertheless, I started to moan. The entire hill was alive with deer, however I had eyes just for one—an infinite buck that seemed as large as a medium-sized elk as he stood there. I knew then that I might need acquired one of many patriarch’s sons however I absolutely hadn’t acquired the patriarch.
I WISHED my spouse had been there to take a shot at him, however she wasn’t, and by the point she discovered me the entire herd had melted into the timber. Leaving her to see if she couldn’t hunt one in all them up, I lower throughout the cone to carry the automotive round from the place we’d left it half an hour earlier than. Just a few yards from the place the deer she had shot at had disappeared, I heard the comb crack. Once I investigated, I discovered a buck with each hind legs damaged. I’d have sworn Eleanor hadn’t touched one, however there he was. So we had our bucks, each of us, after as quick, as dramatic, and as astonishingly fortunate a hunt as I’ve ever been on.
As typically occurs, the top of the top of the buck I acquired seemed higher when it was on the transfer than it did within the hand. However, for Arizona mule deer anyway, the animal was a whopper. He weighed 176 along with his head and neck off, his conceal off, and half of the left ham lower away. I didn’t in all probability the heaviest buck I’ve ever shot.
Destiny moved me 300 miles away into southern Arizona the subsequent yr, however I nonetheless remembered that nice patriarch I’d left behind. So the top of the season discovered me as soon as extra within the Slate Mountain nation. With me had been two College of Arizona professors, Waldo Waltz and Neil Houghton. Each had been authorities on political science, however their schooling had been uncared for, as neither had shot a buck. Our information and horse wrangler was one Slim, a neighborhood vaquero and an previous good friend of mine.
WE pulled into our rendezvous with Slim late one evening after the lengthy drive from Tucson. Neil and Waldo had been each pop-eyed with anticipation, as I had been feeding them on my finest Slate Mountain tales; however once we met Slim by the glow of his camp hearth, he tossed a bit chilly water on our enthusiasm.
he wasn’t so large as
the chap I used to be after.” Outside Life
“It ain’t snowed a mite but,” he instructed us, “and them dad-blamed deer is scattered from hell to breakfast. A lot of the large bucks remains to be excessive up.” Then he added piously, “I positive been a-hopin’ for snow since I heard you boys was a-comin’.” He glanced up on the sky then, however it was blue-black, completely clear, blazing with ten thousand stars.
“Has anybody potted that large previous buck since I used to be up right here?” I requested.
“Not that I’ve heard of,” he reassured me, “however that ain’t no signal someone ain’t knocked him over for meat.” Slim, as I could have hinted earlier than, is just not precisely an optimist.
Nevertheless, the Slate Mountain patriarch, although he was destined to stay solely a reputation throughout the journey, did lead us to good searching; for we noticed our first deer inside 1 / 4 of a mile of camp the subsequent morning. We had been driving alongside the sting of a large, pretty shallow canyon once we noticed a motion in some cedars. Deer, all proper; however at first we thought they had been does and fawns. Neil dismounted and pulled his borrowed .30/30 out of the scabbard simply in case. Once they ran presently, we noticed one was a buck, a small one; and on Neil’s third shot it went down-a two-year-old, three-pointer that had nonetheless been hanging across the does. The professor had carried out his stuff.
We break up then. Waldo and Slim headed a technique which Neil and I rode for the excessive nation, the place the larger bucks should be hanging out. We hadn’t gone greater than a mile once we heard the heavy report of a .30/06. 5 pictures, kind of repeatedly spaced, then a sixth shot.
“Sounds as if Waldo has linked,” I instructed Neil. “Let’s trip again and see what luck he had.”
A couple of minutes later, on the other aspect of a hill, we discovered Waldo and Slim bending over a buck, one other three pointer that may gown at about 130 kilos. Waldo had hit it along with his third and fifth pictures. It went down, and a bullet within the neck had completed it after they got here up. We ate an early lunch then and deliberate the stability of the day’s marketing campaign. Slim and Waldo would pack the 2 bucks again to camp whereas Neil and I pursued the possibility of getting a shot on the patriarch himself.
It was so darkish once we returned that evening that we needed to give the horses their heads to make it attainable for us to search out camp. We had lined not less than twenty miles and had hunted in tough nation greater than 8,000 toes in elevation. We had seen bucks, too, however nothing to make a head-hunter’s mouth water, so we handed them up.
The second day was very like the primary. We spared neither ourselves nor the horses, and noticed our ordinary quota of does, fawns, and younger bucks, however I didn’t hearth a shot.
The final day of the hunt began out even worse. Through the morning it clouded up and rained a bit. We noticed not a single deer, nor even a single observe made for the reason that rain. If deer had been there, they had been bedded and never shifting. By midday the gloom was thick sufficient to chop with a knife. Slim and I swapped halfhearted tales in regards to the previous patriarch his monumental head, his nice weight. By three o’clock we had all turn out to be reconciled to our destiny. The subsequent morning we’d have to go away with solely two bucks, neither of which had an excellent head. We had been twelve or fifteen miles from camp, and it was time to show again. For a number of minutes we sat on the sting of a canyon, smoked cigarettes, and cursed the climate, the deer, and our luck.
I stood up, floor my cigarette below my heel, and ready to mount. Then, nearly 300 yards a method, down towards the underside of the canyon, I noticed one thing move-something that turned an incredible buck going out from behind a cedar in lengthy downhill bounds. He had evidently been mendacity there, acutely aware of our presence, hoping we might move him by, however getting increasingly more nervous. Once I acquired up he couldn’t stand it any longer and ran.
I acquired off my first shot earlier than the others noticed him. It was a miss, behind and under. My second kicked up mud simply over his again, and my third rolled him in foot-high sage.
NOW that I had him down I started to shake. He was an infinite buck, little doubt of it. He may even be the patriarch himself, and the thought was an excessive amount of for my none too steady nerves. Once I had reloaded I began down the hill towards the spot the place he had fallen. At a bit over 100 yards he got here out, one entrance leg dangling however making good time nonetheless. I missed with a too hasty snapshot, He was going up the opposite aspect of the hill now. In a second he can be behind the cedars. So I took a deep breath, sat down, and held on his brisket. He got here down on the shot—down like a ton of brick—and I knew he was mine.
A minute later I stood over him.
“He’s the large ‘un, the large ‘un himself,” Slim was shouting. Absolutely he was a powerful creature: fats, heavy, lithe, with the vast, symmetrical head the collector desires about. An Easterner would name him a 13-pointer, however within the West he can be a 7-pointer, as he had six factors on one aspect and 7 on the opposite.
“You shore acquired him!” Slim saved saying.
“That’s the dad-blamedest greatest previous buck I’ve ever seen.”
However the longer I checked out that buck the surer I used to be that he was not the patriarch. His tooth confirmed him absolutely mature however not previous, regardless of the record- class head he carried. “It’s one in all his children, Slim,” I mentioned lastly. “It isn’t the previous one.”
“Nicely, if I acquired a buck like that,” Neil interrupted, “I’d be darned if I’d kick about him.”
I nonetheless am happy with that head, because it is among the three or 4 largest that I’ve ever taken, however I’m now sure that on that red-letter day again in 1934 I didn’t get the patriarch. For I noticed him once more final yr, and that’s when this story correctly ends.
My spouse and I had been getting back from the Kaibab with two bucks, once we noticed a truck turning into the freeway from the route of Slate Mountain. In it had been two bucks, and one in all them was the largest I’ve ever seen lifeless. I signaled for the driving force to cease.
“You absolutely have an enormous buck there! The place did you get him?” I requested, realizing the reply earlier than I heard it
“Slate Mountain nation.”
I EXAMINED the good buck’s tooth. He was very previous. “I’m kind of a semi-pro biologist, notably excited about sport,” I instructed the hunters, “and I’d absolutely admire it if you happen to’d meet me in Flagstaff so I can weigh and measure that buck. He’s the most important I’ve ever seen, and he has top-of-the-line heads.”
They promised, however they didn’t present up. Why, I have no idea. Probably they had been searching illegally. Absolutely they will need to have had responsible consciences of some type.
And that, I’m satisfied, was the top of the Slate Mountain patriarch. When he was killed he will need to have been ten or twelve years previous, as once I first noticed him he was absolutely mature and already had a repute. I nonetheless remorse that I didn’t measure that head on the spot, as I had a tape with me. My guess is that it could have proven a ramification of near 45 inches and a major beam of 32 or 33.
His weight? Nicely, I’m a conservative and pretty correct weight guesser. I’ll admit that the largest Southwestern mule deer I ever noticed on the scales went 240 kilos and the most important I’ve any genuine report of went 261. Admitting all this, I’m nonetheless going to stay my neck out and guess the Slate Mountain patriarch at near 400, dressed.
It’s too unhealthy that the previous fellow couldn’t have fallen to a head-hunter, so these magnificent antlers of his might have been mounted. But at that he has achieved immortality of a kind, as he’ll lengthy dwell within the hunters’ tales of northern Arizona. Moreover, he helped populate the Slate Mountain nation with a powerful breed of dollars, and his descendants will vary there, I hope, perpetually. I’ll all the time be grateful to him, as he lured me into nation which yielded me one of the crucial prized trophies I’ve.
This story initially ran within the July 1939 problem of Outside Life as “The Slate Mountain Patriarch.”
