2015 Utah Archery Mule Deer

Life of MAVERICK: A True Original - 206" High Country Mule Deer

A True and Original Story Describing the Highs and Lows of Bow Hunting, with a Miraculous Lost and Found Struggle!
By: Sean Morgan

The thought of “the big buck that got away” is what draws many of us back to the mountains year after year. Encouraging daydreams allow us to believe that big bucks seen in the past somehow avoided harvest and these thoughts are what drive our pre-season scouting efforts. The buck my Dad and I had in mind for the upcoming year was a deer we named “Maverick." Dad hunted this buck during the 2014 season and we both knew he had the potential to blow up in size if not harvested.

With the release of the 2015 Utah draw results we were pleased to know we would once again be hunting the high country of our first choice general unit. Starting the year with Maverick as a card in our back pocket, we prepared for another great year of hunting. In the month of June we were able to get up into the high country earlier than usual and used this time to setup trail cameras in areas we predicted deer would use later that summer. This preparation paid off in July as we were able to capture the first trailcam photos of Maverick as he returned to the same basins he frequented years prior.

We spent the following six weeks watching the area from a distance and let our trailcams do the ground work on the days we couldn’t personally keep track of Maverick. After scouting the dozen or so other areas we hunt, the decision was made; Maverick was the best buck we’d found and on top of that, the area he called home offered the highest odds of success. With our minds made up we finished all the necessary preparations that would allow us to have enough camping supplies to hunt as long as we needed.

The first two days of the hunting season didn’t go as well as we would have liked. Even though we felt we had a couple chances to put ourselves in a good spot to harvest Maverick, neither opportunity worked out because he was either spooked by other hunters or the timing was not right. Following that unfortunate opening weekend, we weren’t able to locate Maverick for the next two weeks and figured he was staying hidden in the nearby, un-huntable, thick, steep timber due to the amount of hunting pressure in the area.

Now was a critical time to be resourceful. Dad and I decided to split up and we began to glass different areas in an attempt to relocate Maverick. On the morning our luck changed I was up an adjacent canyon, glassing the backside of the ridge where we last knew Maverick to be. At first light I spotted four bucks feeding in an area where I’ve seen deer frequent in years past. I sat in disbelief realizing that after two weeks of constant searching I’d finally turned up Maverick! However the bucks didn’t stay out in the open for long and eventually bedded down in the thick brush below a couple different pine trees.

To remain undetected, my game plan required that I hike back down the ridge, circle around onto the backside of the opposite ridge where the bucks bedded and approach them from behind. Before I started my jaunt, I took a few photos of the area surrounding where the bucks were bedded so I could use them as reference later in the day when I began my final decent into the bucks’ bedding area. I’ve used this technique in the past and it’s proven invaluable as the terrain always looks different when you change your vantage point.

While studying the route I was going to take, I noticed a cliff above where Maverick bedded and could only hope it would put me within bow range. Three strenuous hours later I reached the ridgeline above the bucks and sat down in the shade to collect myself. Before changing into my scentless hunting clothes I wiped down, eliminating as much human scent as possible, and began my final descent in wool socks. The wind was blowing uphill in my favor, but due to the ever-present heat I routinely had to stop and cool down every time I started to sweat in order to ensure my scent would not give me away.

As I reached one of my final predetermined locations, placing me just above the cliffs that Maverick was bedded beneath, my concerns changed from scent to concerns of noise. Every time the wind blew, I‘d take another step using the sound of the wind to mask any noise I would create. Stepping out onto the edge of the cliff, I slowly peeked over but could barely see Maverick’s antlers through the brush. Being a wise, old buck it appeared he knew any danger he may face would come from above as he was facing uphill, looking towards me.

I ranged the distance at about 39-yards and knew it was only a matter of time before he stood up from his bed.  A short time later Maverick readjusted, standing up and quickly laying back down, now facing away from me. After the initial rush of adrenaline I continued to wait patiently for the next opportunity at a shot. However, the longer I waited the more I realized that getting a shot was not going to be easy. The cliff on which I stood was awkwardly angled and I had a very narrow shot window through the thick brush. My best option was to move slightly and sit atop the cliff’s spine and straddle the ledge as if I was sitting on a horse. I got into this position without detection and found that it presented me with enough clearance to shoot over the brush which previously protected Maverick’s vitals. I clamped my legs on the cliff’s edge, pulled my bow back, and leaned over the edge to compensate for the steep downward angle. My pin settled just behind Maverick’s shoulder and after releasing the arrow it appeared I’d made a perfect shot! Maverick then stumbled and crashed down through the brush disappearing out of sight.

After making my way down into Maverick’s bed, I found my arrow had only penetrated about 10” and I was instantly concerned and unsure as to where I’d hit the buck. The blood trail led downhill a couple hundred yards and then, to my horror, turned back uphill. Darkness came and I made the decision to let Maverick lay overnight as the blood trail peaked over the ridgeline and down into the pines.

Returning the next day with help from my Dad and friend, Ryan, we continued the search. By the end of the day we followed the blood trail a total of 1.5-miles; dropping 2,000 feet in elevation. Unfortunately it became clear Maverick was somehow still alive as the blood trail turned more and more sparse. Dad and I took every chance we had in the following days to search for the wounded deer. We logged countless miles, exhausting every possibility as to where he could have gone. The overwhelming thoughts of having lost track of Maverick were heartbreaking, but I felt a responsibility to keep searching no matter the distance or time required.

It wasn’t until 10 days later that I miraculously stumbled upon Maverick in the last place I expected him to be! To my surprise it appeared he’d only been expired for a couple days. Having personally spent at least 31 hours looking for Maverick after the initial shot, the sense of relief was overwhelming! From where blood was last found, Maverick travelled an additional 0.65-miles and climbed nearly 1,200-vertical feet back toward the area Dad and I had watched him all summer. In total, Maverick travelled 2.15 miles after being hit.

After a short lived celebration, I was now able to inspect where my arrow had hit. Ultimately the shot hit lower than I originally thought and struck Maverick in the elbow. The arrow continued through and stopped at the brisket, completely breaking his right front leg along the way. Due to the steep angle of the shot and how Maverick was bedded, my arrow barely missed the vitals. I was blown away that Maverick’s sheer will to survive gave him the incredible strength to travel such a great distance in steep country and only on three legs.

I took some time to take photos and met my Dad down on the main trail to help with the pack out. I am truly blessed to have found Maverick and beyond thankful it all worked out. If there is a moral to this story it is to trust your gut and never give up! There is a certain amount of respect owed to the magnificent animals we pursue; and as hunters we should do everything within our power to ensure the privilege of hunting is here for generations to come.

Thank You to my father, Ken Morgan, for being one of the best hunting partners a son could ask for and to my good friend Ryan Iverson for spotting for us on countless occasions!