I got up at 5:30 am, awakened by Craig's hollering and tent shaking. There was, as always, frost on the ground, but it was not cold, getting up and dressed. I was getting pretty discouraged. Bill and Craig were claiming 18 or so bucks (Bill does not call it a "buck" unless it is a 4 x 4) per day, and so far, I had just seen one 4 x 4, over in Box Canyon on Bird Gulch, and it was not a shooter. I ate a bit this am, some Instant Oatmeal, although Craig has no taste and bought the Walnuts and Raisins. Any sane being knows that Brown Sugar and Cinnamon rules!

A bit of light in the sky.

I went out to the Promentory on Waterfall Creek, but was not going to hunt my usual place. I planned to start downstream initially and drift down the canyon, not up. I drove out from camp, turned left instead of going out the new gate we built two years ago, and drove parallel to the country road, out to the Washout Road. Parked in the usual place, blocked by the Washout, and started hiking in the dark. This was my usual start: need a flashlight for the first 100 yards, where I need to get past the Washout and jump over a creek, then pick my way up a cowpath to the road. Once on the road, although I can't see much, I can make my way without the flashlight. By the time I round the corner fencepost, there is a bit of light in the sky and I can see that there is sage around me, but can't see a deer unless it is skylighted, but then only its outline. By the time I have gotten a mile from the SUV, I can see pink sky above me to the East and black sage all around me. I can't see to shoot, but can at least know it is a buck, if it happens to be skylighted by the pink of pre-sunrise. This is what happened last year. Soon after this, however, I am usually at where I want to hunt, and can see to shoot.

I was looking intently for a Shooter, but was not so focused that I failed to appreciate what was around me. Despite the fact that this is a sagebrush desert, it is October, and we are at 7000 ft, some of the flowers think that it is summertime:

There were small flowers in the most unlikely places.
This one is commonly called by wildflower would-be experts a "DYF",
which stands for "damn yellow flower",
due to the fact that they are so hard to identify.

These delicate dried brown flowers were everywhere.

I had been seeing this flower each year, but had no idea what it was. The leaves are on the left and what remaind of the dried flower is at right. I finally recognized it as a buckwheat, from the ones growing at the Ranch. One key feature is that its root is larger than the flowerstalk and quite woody. I dug one up, and voila! the root is large and woody. This helps them to survive on their preferred habitat, dry ground. They are found, for instance, growing among the rocks on the crest of Rocky Ridge at the Ranch.

Here is another view of the buckwheat, growing on a slope. They typically grow in little colonies. On the right, another flowerhead. Once you know what to look for, they are all over.

Here is what is left from summer, a dried little white flower.

The sagebrush was in bloom more than I have seen it previously.
It is really rather a pretty plant, with a great aroma and immediately says,
"You are in Wyoming!" to me.

And Nature has a complete spectrum.
This is either what a coyote sees after a great meal, or what a forelorn doe sees the morning after losing her fawn.

I hiked up near Waterfall Canyon, to the long ridge that juts out into the Canyon, forming what we call The Promontory. I hiked over the ridge, well back from the Canyon, and snuck up to the edge of Waterfall Canyon. I was about 200 yards north of my favorite tree, where I hunted on Day One. I knew where there was a grove of serviceberry, and approached the canyon from behind them. I eased my way through them, moved to my right, and scrunched down behind one. I could see the foot of Buck Ridge, the second of the five parallel ridges that form the far side of Waterfall Canyon. I very quickly saw a 4 x 4 bedded down below a sage, but rather quite in the open. I pulled out my spotting scope and studied him for a long time. He was about 250 or 300 yards wasy. He finally got out of his bed and started feeding. Not a shooter, but rather a fun way to start the day. Waterfall Canyon was barren no longer! I could not find any others on the near or far side, and wanted to see further up canyon, to the area I usually hunt. There was not much cover in the area in the area I needed to cross, and the buck would easily be able to see me. However, I could not check out the area without exposing myself, and he was not a shooter, so I decided to go. I left my pack and crept forward.

I got about 20 feet before he saw me. He looked at me for a minute (long enough to have taken a shot, I mused), then mosied to the right, up Buck Ridge to the area just below the tableland, about 600 yards away. I held still behind a sage that was only 12" tall. Crouched, I was probably only about 12" tall myself. He watched me for a while, but since I did not move and was so far away, he started feeding. It was warming up, so I removed my new gloves (given to me by a patient of mine who sells hunting wear; he also gave me a second pair of gloves, some waterproof pants, and an insulated hat, plus some other stuff I gave to Bill and Craig), stuffed them into my pocket, and moved forward again. He picked up my motion right away. This time it was not too much for him, and he ran. The num-nutz ran to the left, somewhat recrossing his steps, but slanting away from me. He crossed a ridge and disappeared. I peered into the West Fork of Waterfall, saw nothing, and went back to my pack. Putting my things together, I realized that I had lost my new gloves. Exasperated that I lost the the first morning I wore them, I went back along my path, following my footprints and places where I crouched down. I found one on the first scouting trip, marked its location, and found the second one on the second scouting trip. I was sure I scared away any deer that I might have missed. I decided from then on: always button the pockets. I had lost my GPS and my map two years ago, and found them after a long search in the sage. Button the pockets and stop this nonsense.

I went back to my pack, got it all together, and moved downstream. I hiked back to the rim, moved away into the sage, and picked another serviceberry to peer into the canyon again. I saw a three pointer in the valley to my left, but not much else. I backed off, moved down the rim, and peeked in again from behind a tree. This time, when I peered around the tree, I immediately saw a buck, looking right at me! I slid down on my back, and checked him out. This is what I saw:

The buck seen across Waterfall.
(Just could not get a clear pix, sorry.)

He was fairly tall, but after some thought, not a shooter. Bill says that if you heart does not jump out of your chest, it is not a shooter. I think that he is right. If you say, wow, that is big, he is small. If you say, Oh my God!, and the palpitations shake your whole frame, he is a shooter. While looking at him (and him looking at me), I wondered what would happen if I "disappeared." I knew from my day at Bird Gulch and my earlier experience that morning what would happen if they decided I was there but not human. But what if I was not there at all? I sidled to my right about 2 feet and was completely hidden by a serviceberry (they are shrubs, not trees, and have multiple stems; this one had 50).

[Bill chimes in with his usual, helpful observation: You counted the stems of a serviceberry bush?!?!?! You need to get a doe tag.  Then you can salve your frustration when you run into another Dumb Doe.]

I peered through the branches, with both binocs and spotting scope. He watched me for about 10 minutes, then started looking in other directions. "Did I really see something there?", I bet he was thinking. He looked back frequently for another 10 minutes, then completely ignored me. Finally, he got up and started feeding. I decided for the last time he was not a shooter, then backed out of the canyon, fully screened by the serviceberry. He did not see me again and kept feeding. I thought: this day is going pretty well! I moved down the canyon, hoping for more. (It was going to get better, a lot better!)

Saturday, Part II