The last deer?

By Alan Dubberley
Alan is the deputy director for Wyoming Travel & Tourism. My writings are about my personal experiences in Wyoming. To say he is a little biased towards Wyoming is an understatement. Still, everyone can have the experiences told here. Just get out there and enjoy the Wyoming outdoors.

It was May 2007, my father-in-law called and was going to be traveling through Cheyenne on his way to Denver later that morning. He had asked if we could meet and if I could bring my son so he could see him. I am nothing if not an accommodating son-in-law. So I said sure.

I was headed to pick up my son and called my father-in-law to see where he wanted to meet. My day changed drastically after that. A stranger answered the phone and said he had been in an accident between Cheyenne and Laramie on I-80. He was ok, but banged up really bad. I drove up to the site of the accident, and to the natural mind, there was no way he should have survived after looking at the vehicle.

As a result, he has limited use of his left arm now, which has great bearing on the story below…

After our 2005 hunt, we decided to go back to the Devils Tower place and hunt deer again. The owners were very gracious in allowing us to come out again over Thanksgiving.

We drove up to the ranch on the Friday morning following Thanksgiving. We had spent turkey day with family in Chadron, NE and got up early enough to arrive at the ranch for an afternoon hunt. After last year, we were very excited about our prospects of a successful hunt.

We arrived at Devils Tower and visited with the landowner to make sure we were still good to go. They said get up there and get a big one. So we took off.

We got up to the ranch in the early afternoon and parked the truck. We looked over a few whitetail does in a field. As they spooked off from our presence, we decided to follow them to see if they would lead us to any bucks. They didn’t, so we proceeded to work around a canyon rim looking for bedded bucks. My father-in-law was half way down and I was on the top. He kept working around and I followed. We got about half way down this long ridge and I looked back across an opening and saw a few deer working in the original field where we scared the first set of deer.

I broke off my walk with him to see if I could get a better look at the deer to see if there was a buck in the bunch. There wasn’t, but as I sat on the edge of that ravine, which was sheer cliff and over 50 feet straight down, I saw a buck work his way out of the bottom and up the other side to the does. He surprised me, so a shot was not offered as he worked his way up.

He was across a ravine at this point, probably 250-300 yards and moving with the does so much, it was hard to get on him. I put my crosshairs between a couple of big pines and waited for him to come through the opening. When he did, I shot. I watched him run down into the ravine and out of site with the does. I was sure I had missed. A sinking feeling.

I found a way down through the ravine and over to the field where the buck was standing when I shot and there was nothing. No blood, no hair… a clean miss.

I knew then my chances would be more limited. After taking a shot in the deer field, it is so loud, you feel as if every animal out there can see you, no matter how well you hide.

I sat on the edge of the ravine again waiting for my father-in-law to come around and tell him my story. There was no doubt in my mind that the heckling would be merciless for missing, so I decided to tell him a different story… that the deer I shot at was 500 yards away, on a dead run and so huge I couldn’t pass it up. He would believe that... after all, I'm his favorite son-in-law (his only son-in-law too).

As I waited, luck changed in my direction… a small 3 point whitetail peered over a hill in the field looking down into the ravine in which I was sitting… see, I told you they knew where I was. Thinking I had no chance at anything else, I waited for him to turn broadside and took a shot. He went less than 75 yards and expired.

While he was no trophy, at least now I had a deer on the ground to go along with all the shooting I had been doing. Keeping the heckling at bay.

I field dressed the deer and headed back to get the truck to go pick him up. As I came down the fence row in the truck, there was a beautiful 4 point whitetail following a doe along the tree line not 100 yards from me. I was sure it was the buck I had shot at. He was healthy and chasing the doe with one thing on his mind.

I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t heard my father-in-law shoot. Should I shoot the deer and give him the smaller one? That was a hard idea to get out of my head, still is to this day. I decided to do the ethical thing and load up my deer and go see if he had anything down. Maybe we could get a shot at this big fella.

I found my father-in-law as I headed back up the fence. I got him in the truck and took him back down to where I saw the nice buck. He was still there. He got up on him and dropped him in his tracks. He looked at me immediately and said, “That might be the nicest whitetail I have ever shot.”

I had done the right thing… but I was conflicted. If I had waited just 30 minutes, I would have shot that nice deer.

But I know why God had me do the right thing … it is now November 2007. A couple of months ago, before this year's hunting season started, I realized that George might not be able to hunt again after his accident left him only partial use of his left arm. That nice deer might be the last one he ever shoots. And he shot it with me.

I’m glad I was with him when he shot it. I’m glad I was the one who showed it to him. I’m even more glad my father-in-law is still alive… it was a very nasty wreck.

But he lived… and as my dad told him recently, “The Lord isn’t through with you yet. He has more for you to do.”