Coues Deer Coup

The author, who makes his home on a ranch near Edgerton, Wyoming, is a licensed guide and outfitter as well as an avid bowhunter.

AFTER EMITTING A SHORT SERIES of semi-aggressive grunts, I settled back on my treestand seat and with personal satisfaction eyed this enchanted place. Everything about this entire setup seemed perfect, and I had a hunch my patience -- if not my best calling efforts -- would soon be rewarded.

Leaning close to cameraman Tom Nichols, I whispered, "Let's eat a bite. Something always happens the second you get a sandwich in your hand!"

Those words had scarcely cleared my mustache when I heard a racket behind us. There, not 50 yards away, was the rear end of a deer sticking out from behind a cluster of treetrunks. The distinctive clack of antlers on wood spelled "buck." He was slashing a tree, working himself into a frenzy in response to the grunts he'd heard moments earlier. But my hopes sank when I finally glimpsed one side of his bobbing rack.

Small muley buck, I grumbled to myself, evaluating the size of the whitish antler. But suddenly my heart jumped as I saw the flick of a pure white tail. No, it's a Coues deer! And a whopper!

My Coues deer dream began after I read a Bowhunter article by Dwight Schuh (see "Mouse Deer," Whitetail Bowhunter, 1997). There was something utterly fascinating about this beautiful little southwestern deer. And soon after reading a second Coues whitetail feature in another magazine, I started making telephone calls and checking outfitter references. Before I knew it, I'd booked a hunt.

Besides being a sucker for any extreme bowhunting challenge, I figured a midDecember trip to sunny Arizona would be a perfect chance to briefly escape the long Wyoming winter. And there was an extra bonus, too. For the past 15 years my own hunting and ranching business had prevented me from doing any serious bowhunting on my own. It was time to let someone else worry about scouting game, hanging treestands, setting up camp, and everything else that goes with providing a first class hunt. Let someone else sweat the details. I was primed to enjoy some new country, learn as much about Coues deer as possible - and have an enjoyable, long-overdue bowhunt.

Calling my good friend Tom Nelson, host of the Michigan-based The Amen can Archer television show, I excitedly detailed plans for my upcoming adventure. Tom offered to send a cameraman along to capture events on tape in order to share my bowbunt with the show's viewers. Admittedly, I first balked at the idea. Why would I want to risk fouling up a dream hunt by having some noisy, stumblefooted cameraman tagging along? Coues deer are plenty spooky, and getting one on my own -- much less trying to capture the killing shot on videotape -- would be tough enough. Having a second person along seemed like a sure-fire recipe for disaster. I reconsidered only after learning the cameraman would be Tom Nichols. Tom had filmed some action for The American Archer on my Wyoming ranch and certainly knew his way around in the field. So I agreed to have him accompany me to Arizona.

Frankly, I'd forgot how time seems to crawl when you're waiting for some special hunting trip. It seemed as if my December departure date would never arrive. Besides, the way my luck sometimes runs, I might just drop dead while taking out the garbage or doing some other menial household chore. That would give my wife, Perri, the chance to throw my "hunting obsessed carcass" onto the ranch bonepile atop some cows that had given up the ghost earlier in the year. And she might have felt like doing just that, because she wasn't exactly happy with the timing of my trip, which would see me returning home -- winter weather permitting -- on December 23. Have you ever noticed how women tend to fret over holidays and birthdays and anniversaries and the like? Apparently they fail to understand just how important other dates are, like opening days and the weeks we've set aside for out-of-state bowhunts.

TO MY AMAZEMENT, I was still alive and kicking when departure day finally rolled around, and Fern even wished me well on my trip and kissed me good-bye. As the miles fell away, I realized just how good it felt to have the chance to get away from the daily routine and see a new piece of country. Regardless of the outcome, I was going to soak up every bit of this outdoor experience.

I was confident, too. I'd practiced countless hours, shooting from every possible position, and my hunting tackle was perfectly tuned and performing flawlessly. Physically, I was in good shape. Mentally, I was fully prepared. Over the years I've seen my hunting clients show up lacking confidence in themselves, their shooting ability, and their equipment. I was determined never to let that happen to me.

After I'd picked up Tom Nichols in Tucson, we headed back north to our hunting area. As we drove along the beautiful desert floor, I mentioned the articles that said Coues deer are difficult to stalk among the cactus, rocks, and thick brush. And from the looks of the surrounding terrain, "difficult" wouldn't begin to describe the stalking conditions. Regardless, I felt a stir of excitement as we neared camp.

Outfitter Bill Bishop told us there'd been little snow in the high country to push deer Onto their winter ranges, so we'd be based in one of his upper camps. In due time we left the desert behind and climbed into timbered mountains that reminded me of my favorite elk hunting haunts near home, and soon we spotted the entrance to camp, marked by a deer decoy with a red ribbon around its neck. I liked this Bishop guy already!

Bill had come highly recommended, and I soon could see he was both a skilled woodsman and knowledgeable outfitter. His camp was comfortable and he and his crew -- Bill, Jr. and Miriah, our cook -- made us feel right at home. About the only nagging question I had left centered on just how the heck I could possibly stalk a wary Coues deer in all this heavy timber and brush? But, hey, that was Bill's problem, not mine. And when Bill explained that we'd start the hunt in a treestand near fresh rubs and a natural mineral lick, I felt relieved. He added that the rut was just starting, and if my trail watching vigil didn't produce, we'd try some grunting and rattling to lure a buck within bow range.

All right! Coues deer can be hunted in the big woods in much the same fashion as their larger whitetail cousins. The only differences, I soon learned, were that these tiny deer typically are twice as nervous, and their grunting calls vary slightly in pitch. Regardless, any well-seasoned whitetail hunter would feel right at home hunting Coues deer with Bill Bishop in the Arizona high country. And, so, with my final question about hunting methods answered, I could concentrate on checking out my hunting tackle and focus on tomorrow morning's hunt.

THE ALARM JANGLED US AWAKE well before daylight. And after sampling Miriah's culinary specialties, we saddled up and headed down the trail just as morning light was spreading beneath the towering forest canopy. Crystal clear spring water gurgled in every drainage. The ground was littered with acorns and juniper berries. Suddenly Bill's horse jerked its ears forward and stared. There, not 40 yards away, stood a Coues deer doe, one of the sleekest and prettiest little deer I'd ever seen. She stood unmoving in the shadows, watching us ride past. What a beautiful scene!

Soon we reined in near the treestand Bill had hung earlier in the week. When Tom and I were settled in, Bill whispered he'd walk the horses on up the canyon a mile or so and wait for me to let out a war-whoop if I had any luck. And luck I had!

Not an hour later a doe and twin fawns appeared and approached the mineral lick, which was about 20 yards away. I immediately realized that attempting any shot beyond 60 feet at such wired little critters would be wasted effort. These deer were simply too nervous and quick not to react before my arrow could cover that distance.

Moments after the first trio departed another doe and two fawns moved in. They were equally edgy. Watching them confirmed my previous decision to limit any shots to less than 20 yards. A short time later we heard a soft grunt upslope. An immediate answering grunt came from somewhere off to our right. It was obvious we were smack dab in the middle of a Coues deer convention.

Not long after I'd grunted and the buck mentioned at the beginning started to rake the rub tree, I felt my heart start to hammer under my jacket. When the deer briefly paused in his bark-stripping efforts, I gave two more soft grunts. He cocked his head, gave the tree a couple of final whacks, then turned and headed my way, walking boldly but with typical Coues deer caution.

When he passed behind a thick-trunked pine 10 yards away, I raised my bow. The buck paused, a pine bough obscuring his vitals. I froze, waiting, eyes searching for a suitable opening amid the screening tangle of limbs and brush. Meanwhile he stood unmoving for long seconds and then stepped ahead. When he moved behind two pine saplings, I came to full draw and concentrated on an opening 12 yards away. As he entered the gap, my pin settled on his vitals, and when he hesitated for a split second my arrow was gone.

It flashed through the small buck and I watched in amazement as the fleeing whitetail slowed to a walk, then sank to the ground. Three short hours into my first morning bowhunting Coues deer and my buck was down! I couldn't believe it and neither could Tom. Yet the undeniable proof was there, both on video tape and the forest floor.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Rarely are bowhunters, especially those after Coues deer, ever this lucky. Yet I know from long experience that we bowhunters must readily accept such "gimmes," because more often than not our hunts end with far more memories than venison and antlers. Real credit for my success goes to Bill Bishop and his crew for their efforts in scouting and locating an ideal ambush site. Such efforts, when combined with proper practice and mental/physical preparation, can make any hunter's dreams come true.

For the record, I was shooting a PSE Thunderbolt at 65 pounds draw weight, Easton 2315 Lites, and Thunderhead 100-grain broad-heads. My buck had an official Pope and Young score of 96 1/8, well above the 65-inch minimum. Interested readers can witness my hunt - and other bowhunting adventures - by tuning in to The American Archer, broadcast several times weekly on The Outdoor Channel (Galaxy 9, Channel 1) this summer and fall. Check your local listings for exact times and broadcast dates.

The cost of a fully guided Cones deer hunt is $3,500. Licenses for archery deer permits are purchased over the counter and are good for either Coues or mule deer. Bill Bishop also arranges hunts for elk, bears, and lions, as well as seasonal fishing trips.

COPYRIGHT 1999 PRIMEDIA Special Interest Publications
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