The first shot had connected with his shoulder and vitals and I am sure would have killed him had we given him a bit more time. The follow up shot was in the neck and I am sure that is what made him drop so quickly and roll.
It took a while for everyone else to make the climb up but after some early lunch and pics we got it loaded up and headed back to camp and the ice chest.
With one good buck down on opening morning I felt a lot of the pressure leave. My kids are good about not having to shoot something but I want them to be successful and always feel pressure as the guide to give them as full of an experience as I can.
We decided to go back to the north side of the river for an "easy" evening hunt, hoping to get to a vantage point and see if any of the deer we saw in the morning would drift back down the drainage toward us and into range.
If everything were working according to plan my daughter would have nice 200 yard shot in open country. Something she is very capable of with her little 7mm-08 Ruger Frontier. We glassed and waited but nothing came down the drainage. I found a couple of bucks on the south side of the river that we planned to hunt the next day if nothing came to pass that night.
About fourty minutes before the end of shooting light I decided to take my daughter over a couple ridges to see if anything was moving down the drainage but just hadn't made it down far enough. We made it over a ridge and jumped a small group of does that were just above us about 75 yards in some scattered junipers and rocks. I couldn't see them all so I squawked on a predator call to see if I could get them to stop and maybe get a better head count. When I did my kids looked down the drainage and noticed a group of deer a couple hundred yards below us and moving out. I saw a flash of antler on what looked like a younger three point.
They were running uphill so we took off in a sprint to try to get to high ground in hopes of catching them in an open enough area for a shot. At one point they cleared within 150 yards of us but didn't give us enough time for a stable shot. I pushed my daughter into climbing one more hill and caught the herd moving away at about 250 yards. By the time she caught up to me the herd was going over the ridge at 300 yards. She got on the 6mm-06 which I had already dialed to 300 and told her to make sure she was shooting at the buck if she decided to shoot. There were only a few minutes of legal light left and the deer were now very high and in very steep ground.
I was trying to find the buck in my binos when I heard her say "there is the buck, he's stoppi..." BOOM! WHOP!
Through my glasses I never saw the shot but saw the buck go over the ridge and out of sight. He was looking healthier than I would have liked and honestly couldn't say if he was even hit. If we hadn't heard the impact I would have bet she missed. I even started to question what I had heard. Could it have just been the bullet hitting gumbo clay? Could it have been the acoustics of the canyon?
I took off across some sketchy ground and got to the ridge he went over just as it was getting too dark to see. I found tracks but no blood. Not sure if he was hit or how hard, I didn't want to risk bumping him out of the area so we backed out.
This was one of those times that I hate about hunting. The whole way back to the group I had to think about what lead up to the shot. In the rush to get my daughter in position to shoot I had effectively created a situation where a winded 15 year old had seconds to connect on an animal at 300 yards from a less than ideal shooting position, in failing light, in terrain that is not just difficult but that can be legitimately dangerous (especially at night). I did not have eyes on the deer when she shot and should absolutely have told her not to shoot. If we wounded and failed to recover the deer or recovered it during the heat of the day and lost the meat I knew that it was all on me and had failed as the guide. Those are thoughts that make for long nights waiting to start the recovery effort.
When we made it back to my wife (about a half mile) she said she heard the shot and then heard the whop. That made my heart sink as I was positive the deer was hit and was sick at the thought of a wounded animal either suffering through the night or possibly spoiling in some hellhole that would be difficult to find.
Fresh tenderloins helped but it was still a long night.
The next morning I let everyone sleep a little longer so we didn't have to be in the steep country until it was light enough for safe hiking. We said a prayer for assistance with the recovery and then my son and I went to the ridge the buck went over and I sent my wife and daughter up the bottom of the main drainage on the chance he ran downhill and made it down the valley a ways.
In good light there was still no blood so I just kept working across the steep hillside where the majority of the tracks went and was looking down in hopes of seeing some tracks peel off from the group, or some part of the animal, or possibly jump the buck from his bed. If he ran he would likely run downhill to my daughter where I hoped she could finish the job.
As it turned out it was a non-issue. I made it about 75 yards across the hillside and saw the buck piled up against a rock 50 yards down the hill. He had ran less than 100 yards from the initial shot and just died. There was no signs of prolonged struggle at all. I still felt like a moron for creating the situation but I was a relieved moron
My wife and daughter worked there way up from the bottom and found out that they REALLY don't like steep ground. In fact, my daughter informed me that she was a prairie hunter from now on
When they worked down to the deer for them it was a mix of relief that they had found the buck and dread with the realization that it had to come out the way they came up.