Bob Saile

Hunting the Mature Muley

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 06 Jun 2006 05:00:00 -0400

A friend of mine, an accomplished elk hunter, once told me he didn't bother to hunt mule deer because they just didn't offer him enough of a challenge.

"Hell, I had a huge 5-point buck stand and stare at me this summer from 50 yards away," he said, as if that proved his point.

"How many big mule deer like that have you killed?" I asked.

"Well, uh, none. Like I said, I prefer elk."

Truth is, the big muley buck you stumble onto during your pack-in, high-country fishing trip in the summer is a different critter when the shooting starts in the fall. There may have been a time in the West when hunting pressure was so low and mule deer so numerous that the old stereotype-the big buck trotting out in the open and pausing long enough to let you shoot him-actually had some validity. Not anymore.

The modern mature muley isn't stupid. If he was, he wouldn't be mature-meaning a 41/2-year-old or older buck with a 25-inch or better outside spread and 4 or 5 main points on each side. And if he reaches 51/2 to 61/2 years of age and those antlers spread to 30 inches-trophy-class in anybody's book-he is either living in a very remote place or is very sneaky. Most of the time he's both.

So the big muley buck is like his whitetail cousin: He'd rather hide than run. It isn't easy for some hunters to imagine a muley buck spotting a hunter and lying down smack-dab in his tracks, lowering his head like a shy dog. But it's more common than they might think. A big buck would rather watch you push on by him than try to bound away.

For this reason, the big-buck hunter must tailor his strategy quite differently than he would if he were satisfied with a forked-horn yearling. Nothing at all wrong with a tender young buck, but if you're after bigger game, locating a group of does and young bucks and putting a stalk on them will net you little more than exercise. The bigger bucks won't be with the does unless they are into the rut, and most of the hunting seasons in the West take place before the peak of the rut.

Hunting with a Hook
That big buck is out there in the oakbrush or the mountain mahogany or the pinyon-juniper forest or the rimrock niches or one of the deeper draws. He's either by himself or palling around with another mature buck or two. How do you find him?

The answer, unless you are fortunate enough to spot him moving in the open at dawn or dusk, is a slow-moving still hunt through the cover. But a straight-ahead still hunt may not produce sight of the buck. So you put a little twist on the proceedings-you use a fishhook.

For example, suppose you are working downhill or uphill alongside and near the bottom of a draw, coulee, or gulch. There is cover on your side-brush or scattered trees with brush and grass-and the opposite slope of the draw is relatively open. If you get lucky, a nervous buck may cave in to the pressure and emerge out of the cover onto the open side, affording you a shot.

But if that buck lies down, knowing he is hidden from view, it's a different game. He has seen you coming, but he expects you to keep plodding along until finally you go past him. Then he can sidle off and make his exit. He has done it many times, and it has never failed him.

You don't see him-not yet-but you have your game plan in place: You have carefully hunted a slight zigzag pattern for perhaps 200 yards, stopping frequently to glass with binoculars, looking for that odd shape or color that doesn't fit in the surroundings. You work past the unseen buck.

In a few minutes, you stop again and sit down, well hidden, for as long as five minutes. Maybe you take a drink from your water bottle. Then you walk carefully off to the side of your original line of travel for 50 yards or so. You stop one more time to glass, and seeing nothing, you begin to work up or downhill in the exact opposite direction fromm your original course.

The wind now may or may not be in your favor, but the buck has already seen you once and won't be surprised if your scent is still hanging in the air. Thinking you have gone on your way, he has confidently and slowly moved out, heading for another area, crossing the draw or emerging in a clearing in the cover, giving you that shot you have visualized in your daydreams for months. The buck has, you might say, swallowed the hook.

The best analogy that I can draw to this deer-hunting scenario is something that happens commonly on a pheasant hunt. Remember all those wily old roosters that got up way behind you after you trudged on past them?

The fishhook once netted me a big, wide-spread buck with only 3 main points on each side. He was no Methuselah, just an unusual middle-aged buck. But middle-aged and older bucks were as scarce as flying pigs that season, because it followed a killer winter in Colorado that wiped out up to 50 percent of the deer in many areas. Typically, a harsh winter takes the oldest, youngest, and weakest deer, and the next season requires intense still-hunting to ferret out the survivors. I had just reversed my course on an oakbrush slope when I caught him quietly crossing a small opening in the bottom of a draw, just 70 yards away.

Alternative Methods
An organized drive by three hunters may be the best alternative to the fishhook tactic if you don't hunt alone. The middle man tackles the dense heart of the cover, and the other two spread out abreast of him and slightly behind, one on each side. If there's a fourth hunter up ahead, watching the end of the cover, so much the better. The middle man may not get a shot, but the others have a chance at that sneaky buck trying to avoid him.

What if you are hunting alone and the cover-dense pinyon-juniper forest, say, or large oakbrush thickets-is so thick it's impossible to conduct a useful still hunt? The sensible tactic is to take a stand on a high point overlooking the cover and constantly glass whatever small openings there are.

On any still hunt, pace is critical. Slow, slow, and slower is the rule. If you come back to camp having covered miles of ground and are dog tired, you were going too fast. Stop frequently and glass often. And when the time is ripe, set the hook.

Hunting the Mature Muley

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 06 Jun 2006 05:00:00 -0400

Safety Rules for Turkey Hunters

fieldandstream-editor — Fri, 31 Mar 2006 19:00:00 -0500

How to avoidturkey hunting's gravest danger

My huntingpartner belted out a series of hen yelps. Just across a wooded hollow, a tomdouble-gobbled, and soon added a third. The day was full of promise.

We were on aspring hunt in northern Missouri. I was a bit nervous, partly because I was aguest on private property and didn't know the terrain, but mainly because thepremises were a little crowded. Ten hunters were utilizing 1,500 acres. At 150acres per hunter, there wasn't much room to roam. But each hunter, or two-hunter team, had been assigned a specific area and asked not to stray fromit.

There was noanswer to our next calls. With decades of hunting experience between us, weknew this didn't necessarily mean the tom had fled. More likely, he was movingin silently.

We waited."There he is," my partner said. A bronze-and-black shape was anglingdown the opposite slope of the draw in our direction. I was the designatedshooter. Sitting against a tree, I extended the shotgun across my knee.

No more than 70yards away now, the turkey appeared in and out of the gaps in the tree trunks.When the bird reached the bottom of the hollow, he'd be in range. I slipped offthe safety and took aim. But I would wait until the tom was closer, in a clearspot, to make sure I saw a beard, a glowing head, and other identifyingfeatures.

Suddenly,something didn't look right.

"My God, it'sa man," my partner gasped.

Indeed, it was ahunter with a gobbler slung over his shoulder. His camo blended in perfectlywith the wooded backdrop, and the turkey's colors stood out. I shakily broughtmy gun down as a hollow, fearful feeling swept over me. I'd pointed a gun atanother human being for several seconds. I was stunned.

We hailed thewalking hunter and talked to him. He was taking a shortcut back to camp. Hereadily acknowledged that he'd spooked a gobbling tom, but he never heard ourhen yelps nor guessed that somebody might have been calling to it. Although allhunters in camp had discussed our morning destinations, we hadn't gone over ourroutes back to the lodge.

PREMATURECLOSURE It's an illusion to which even a veteran turkey hunter can fall victim: Agobbler gobbles. And again. You see something approaching, and youautomatically assume it's a bird. This process is what experts in turkeyhunting safety call "premature closure."

Though accidentaldeaths and injuries among turkey hunters have declined dramatically in recentyears, premature closure still poses a serious hazard, particularly to seasonedhunters. "It's a common factor in reported accidents," says Tom Hughes,a National Wild Turkey Federation biologist. "And hunters who have had somesuccesses are more likely to react to a similar set of stimuli. They connectthe dots in their heads without positively identifying their target."

Never assume youwon't be susceptible to premature closure. That's the kind of attitude thatcould get somebody killed. Memorize the checklist below before your nexthunt.

RULES FOR THE WOODS

So that you don't ever mistake a human for a gobbler,resulting in injury or a fatality, NWTF hunting-safety experts advise thefollowing: [1] BE AWARE. Realize that it can happen to you. [2] BE SKEPTICAL. Always question what you see and especially what you hear.Top-notch callers sound very much like the real thing. [3] CLOSE THE DISTANCE. Try to call a gobbler to within 40 yards or less,making identification easier. [4] MAKE A POSITIVE ID. If you see what you think is a turkey, be sure toidentify specific features such as its head, beard, wings, tail, and eye. Don'trely on just shape and color.

Rockies

fieldandstream-editor — Sun, 05 May 2002 05:05:00 -0400

Click Here for ROCKIES Map

New Mexico
San Juan River
Rainbow and brown trout

1 There aren't many sights more beautiful to a trout angler than the blue-green flow of the San Juan River below Navajo Dam.

Packed with big browns and rainbows, this tailwater is so productive that the regulars coined a term to describe the almost elbow-to-elbow casting that sometimes occurs on popular San Juan pools such as the Texas Hole: combat fishing. But that phrase does this river a disservice. There is plenty of room to spread out. If you explore the side channels and more remote runs, the only thing around your elbows will be a hatch of midges on which rainbow trout averaging 17 inches and reaching 5 pounds or more are feeding steadily.

It's catch-and-release near the dam and one fish-minimum 20 inches-for the next 31/2 miles. But almost nobody kills a trout here, and the result is a river full of selective bruisers. Skilled anglers commonly have 20-fish days.

The San Juan's fame began years ago when a local angler came up with a pattern to match the aquatic worms in the river. The San Juan Worm, now standard in fly boxes all over the country, still works on its namesake river. But the main entrÂ¿Â¿e on the trout menu is midges (mostly larvae and pupae), corresponding to tiny hook sizes 22 to 26. Fish a two-nymph rig under a strike indicator.

Sweet Spot: The first 4 miles below the dam
What's Hot: Black Beauty Midge
Local Advice: "The mistake I see many folks making is using too much weight on the leader when nymphing," says John Flick of the Duranglers fly shop.
Prime Time: June through mid-July, September through October
More Info: Duranglers, 505-632-5952

Wyoming
Snake River
Snake River cutthroat trout, whitefish

2 One of the toughest things about fishing the Snake River near Jackson, in the shadow of the Teton Mountains, is getting over the distraction of being smack-dab in the middle of the most spectacular scenery in the West. And the Snake River cutthroats you will catch are as beautiful as their environs.

Dry-fly fishing with large patterns works well in late summer and early fall. Nymph fishing will get you a lot of action-but from mountain whitefish, not trout.

"The total beauty of the experience of fishing the Snake is hard to describe," says Jack Dennis, a veteran guide and fly-shop owner. "And the fishing is as good as it was 40 years ago."

Sweet Spots: The stretches from Moose to Wilson and Wilson to South Park Bridge
What's Hot: Hopper, Chernobyl Ant, and Para-Wulff flies
Local Advice: "Go into the side channels and fish to the brushpiles," says Dennis.
Prime Time: August through early October
More Info: Jack Dennis Outdoor Shop, 800-570-3270; www.jackdennis.com

Montana
Fort Peck Reservoir
Walleye, smallmouth bass, sauger, northern pike, chinook salmon, lake trout

3 Trophy walleyes and a surging smallmouth bass fishery await anglers adventuresome enough to tackle the vastness of eastern Montana's Fort Peck Reservoir on the Missouri River. It has two main arms and a stem-to-stern length of 130 miles.

Walleyes up to 10 pounds are possible here, but fish concentrations are patchy. The best tactic is covering a lot of water by bottom-bouncing live bait or trolling lures with downriggers or planer boards. Low water has slowed the smallmouth fishing some, but a good runoff year will produce a fish explosion.

Sweet Spots: Hell and Nelson Creeks on Rock Creek Arm
What's Hot: Live minnows or crawlers on bottom bouncers
Local Advice: "If the main reservoir is slow, try the dredge cuts below the dam," says Jim Satterfield, regional supervisor for Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks.
Prime Time: June and September
Record Fish: 6.6-pound state-record smallmouth
More Info: Glasgow Chamber of Commerce, 406-228-2222

Utah
Green River
Rainbow, cutthroat, cutt-bow, and brown trout

4 The Green River below Flaming Gorge Dam at Dutch John, Utah, is a moving trout aquarium, where an angler can stare stupefied into a pool that reveals hundreds of fish in the superclear water. Stunned amazement quickly yields to angling adrenaline.

"This is about the best in the West," says Emmett Heath of Trout Creek Flies in Dutch John, who has 30 years of experience to back up his praise. "It's still got the numbers of fish [BRACKET "8,000 per river mile"], and they average 15 to 20 inches long."

Flyfishing with nymphs is the surest route to success for trout that reach 8 pounds or more, but the dry-fly angler and the lure fisherman will do well at times.

Sweet Spot: The 7 miles from the dam down to the Little Hole Campground
What's Hot: Olive and Orange Scud, Zebra Midge, WD-40, RS-2, Griffith's Gnat, Hairwing Adams, Foam Beetle, and Woolly Bugger flies. Rapala and Black Jig lures
Local Advice: "Newcomers tend to wade right into a run," Heath says, "but they'll spook 100 fish. The water is superclear, and you can sight-fish to specific trout."
Prime Time: May and June
More Info: Trout Creek Flies, 800-835-4551

Colorado
South Park
Rainbow, brown, cutthroat, and cutt-bow trout; northern pike; kokanee salmon

5 In the sprawling, high-mountain basin known as South Park, you'll find a string of angling jewels, about 60 miles west of Colorado Springs. At its head is Spinney Mountain Reservoir, linked to Eleven Mile Reservoir by 3 miles of spring-creek-like, ranch-meadow water on the South Platte River that locals call the "Dream Stream."

Eleven Mile Reservoir has always produced hefty rainbows, cutt-bows, and browns, along with kokanees and a scattering of big northerns. A bonus this year is the addition of more than 10,000 lunker trout trucked over from Antero Reservoir when it was drained. Trollers do best, trailing lures or crawlers behind cowbell flasher strings.

Sweet Spots: At the dam and inlet of Spinney Reservoir; from Goose Island to the inlet of Eleven Mile Reservoir
What's Hot: Tube jigs, Kastmasters, Woolly Buggers at Spinney. Brown or black Gitzits, Pop Geer at Eleven Mile
Local Advice: "Get to Spinney Mountain Reservoir early after ice-out and fish tube jigs in pumpkin color when the big trout are prowling near the shore," says Edwin Borchers of the Chaparral General Store.
Prime Time: May through July More Info: Eleven Mile State Park, 719-748-3401

The Double Dip

fieldandstream-editor — Fri, 31 Dec 1999 19:00:00 -0500

Like many ice fishermen, I didn't realize that the teaser, or attractor, tactic could be used effectively in ice fishing -- until I saw a partner drill two holes just 2 to 3 feet apart and begin fishing with two rods.

He would jig vigorously with one of his short ice rods, while letting the other rod sit as if he had forgotten about it. It wasn't until he had hauled up his third hefty rainbow trout that I realized all three of the fish had taken the idle jig.

My companion explained that he purposely worked one jig close to a resting jig at the same depth so that if a trout was attracted by the dancing jig but was too skittish to hit, it might take the passive, "easy" prey. Or, my partner explained, if he missed a strike on the active lure, the fish often switched to the easier target.

The strategy also explains why ice fishermen sometimes find that their strikes come when they stop jigging and put the rod down to pour a cup of coffee. Fish in frigid water are less aggressive than in warmer seasons, and they may not be willing to expend the energy to catch prey that seems to be fleeing in a panicked manner. Also, cautious fish may be suspicious of, or even feel threatened by, an erratically moving lure.

The teaser tactic works best when the angler uses a small jig for the passive lure -- 1Â¿Â¿32-ounce, 1Â¿Â¿64-ounce, or even smaller, with a marabou-feather tail -- and tipped with a corn grub, mealworm, small minnow, or piece of minnow. Bait can be tipped on both the actively jigged lure and the passive jig, and sometimes an aggressive fish will take the moving morsel. Either way, the angler has given the fish two choices.

While the proximity of the two lures is the key, the closeness of the two lines can be a complication. Although it doesn't happen often, a hooked fish sometimes swims into the other line. If you're alone, you can just grab the other rod and toss or slide it several feet away from the hole, clearing the line from possible entanglement.

LAKE POWELL: Bass Squared

fieldandstream-editor — Fri, 31 Dec 1999 19:00:00 -0500

LAKE POWELL: Bass Squared
No man-made lake in the Western United States has made a greater impact on sport fishing than 180-mile Lake Powell on the Colorado River in southern Utah and northern Arizona. Since Glen Canyon Dam was completed in 1965, Lake Powell has served up a smorgasbord of gamefish. In the first 20 years, the menu was largemouth bass, crappies, and walleyes. Now it's primarily striped bass and smallmouth bass, which have proved more adaptable to the lake's evolutionary process.

"You can plan your day around stripers in the morning and evening, and smallmouths all the rest of the day, and you will stay busy catching fish," says Wayne Gustaveson, biologist for the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources. He urges fishermen to do the overpopulated fishery a favor and take advantage of the liberal limit of 10 smallies and no limit on stripers. Best months are April, May, June, October, and November, for all species including largemouth bass, crappies, walleyes, and bluegills. Summer's desert heat drives fish deep.

Anglers should seek out sloping rocky points and collapsed rubble piles beneath cliffs. Use plastic-grub jigs in motor oil, green, and brown, or crankbaits in green or orange, to entice smallmouths. Deep jigging and anchovy baiting are the best tactics for stripers most of the time, but stripers will blast shad at the surface in the fall months.

It's rough country, with few road-access points on the 1,900 miles of shoreline. Travel is by boat, with a houseboat trailing a smaller fishing boat being a practical approach.

For information, call Lake Powell Resorts and Marinas (800-528-6154; www.lakepowell.com).