A Monster Pacific Northwest Blacktail Deer

By Edward Howarth

When I finally found cell service, I made the call. I didn’t think I would be so emotional, but my voice cracked as I spoke to my wife Cori. “Well hello, hello, honey.” I could barely spit it out. “Thank you for letting me do what I love to do.” She sounded worried, “What’s wrong? What happened?” I managed to reply, “I finally did it; I killed the blacktail of a lifetime.”

The second general archery season in Oregon is three weeks long, and this year it was not going well at all. As usual, my hunting partners (Pete Hanes, Jason Callahan) and I put in the normal late-season work. We placed game cameras, set up stands, cleared trail to our stands, and put in the hours afield, but the typical, nasty, late-season weather was just not showing up to get the deer moving. The trail cameras seemed to confirm our suspicions; the bucks were around but most, if not all, activity was happening at night. Also, the pictures of a large cougar and bear in the area didn’t seem to help matters.

Calling an Audible

It was getting late in the season, and I admit, my attitude was in the gutter. My brother Rich had come up from out of state to hunt with us without getting a shot, it was downright balmy, and we just were not seeing many deer, so I was pretty negative, to say the least. Finally, after three frustration-filled weeks, a weather front moved in and we started to receive some decent rain leading into the last weekend of the season. Pete and Jason continued to hunt hard, so it was time for me to suck it up!

I decided on a plan for the final Saturday. I would sit in a stand first thing in the morning, then do some still hunting in a couple of old-growth units I’ve hunted for years. The morning started uneventfully, and I was not confident the bucks were up chasing does. So, after about two hours, I decided to get out of the stand. It had been raining continuously, and the wind was relatively consistent; perfect for sneaking through some old growth. I spent another hour or so in the same unit of timber around my stand but, with no action, I jumped in my side-by-side and headed for another old-growth unit that I knew held some deer.

I parked the Pioneer and checked the wind. It was coming out of the northeast, so I decided to circle around to the south and hunt uphill to a ridge top bench. I immediately bumped an elk. Luckily, it moved off in the direction I was not going. In my head, I told myself, “Slow down, use your glass.” The wind was in my face, the rain was coming down softly and, slowly creeping up the hill, I stopped every 10 yards or so and glassed.

As soon as I reached a place on the ridge where it began to level out, I spotted a doe looking right at me at 50 yards. I got my binoculars up and spotted another one to the left, then two more bedded down; all does. I wondered, “Where’s the buck?” They should have still been in rut, so I feverishly scanned the area for a buck but none appeared, and the does all trotted off to my right.

Old Growth Angles

I continued on even more slowly. Over the next half hour, after inching along another 100 yards, I slipped past a large cedar tree, glanced to the left, and saw a white-faced, Roman-nosed deer bedded down, looking right at me. I knew it was a buck, so I immediately stopped, backed up to get behind the cedar, and nocked an arrow. I drew behind the tree and slowly stepped out to find the deer now standing, directly facing me, with a branch from a deadfall right in line with his chest.

“Go to a knee and you should have a window,” I told myself. I slowly went to one knee, leveled up, settled my top pin on his throat, and let it fly. I did not see the arrow hit, but I sure heard it, and I felt confident with the shot. I was amazed at how quickly that deer spun and bounded off the steep side of that ridge; he was gone in a flash.

I nocked another arrow, eased over to where the buck was standing, and scanned down the hill to see if he stopped so I could get a second arrow into him. He had vanished, so I started the search for my arrow to no avail. Since it was a frontal shot, I decided to give it some time, so I eased out to my rig and drove back to camp to enlist some help.

At camp, I was subjected to the normal hunting partner inquisition. “How far?” “25 yards.” “Angle?” “Frontal, heard it hit, I think it’s good.” Then came the stumper question and answer that I will never live down, “How big is he?” Umm… he’s at least a fork I think.”

After some lunch and drying out, we headed back up to start the search. Once we got back to the spot, I could see where the deer bounced down the steep hill but there was no blood. Following the track, we didn’t make it 30 yards down the hill before I spotted a patch of white down in the bottom. I said, “ Hold on a second fellas. “ As I looked through my binos, my next words were, “Dead deer boys.” I was relieved, of course, and I remember thinking how great it was to get some meat in the freezer.

Big Surprise

As we made our way down the hill , Jason and Pete were to my left, and Jason suddenly stopped and said, “Ed, I think you should be the first one to put your hands on this one.” I was thinking, “What the heck?” then Pete said, “What the (bleep) is that thing? Holy crap, that thing is a pig!” and started laughing. When I first walked up to the buck, I didn’t know what to say or think; I honestly wasn’t expecting to see such a bruiser. All I could say was, “Well, that’ll do.”

As one might imagine, I will never forget the joy of standing around with my hunting partners, admiring this old mountain buck. I’ve been hunting these “ghosts of the forest” for many years and this was, without a doubt, the biggest blacktail buck I had ever seen; tall and thick, wide, symmetrical, 4x4 mains with slight palmations, a long fifth point between the two main forks on the left side, and a broken eye guard. Truly the buck of a lifetime.

I recognize and give thanks to those people who made it possible to harvest such a great animal. To my brother Richard: We feed off of and motivate one another, and it’s awesome! Jason Callahan, thank you for your service, and thank you for being my hunting partner! Oorah! To Pete and Cameron Hanes, both you guys have the drive and work ethic of no other I have been around. “Keep hammering.” To Wayne and Lisa Endicott, thank you for your help and friendship over the years. And, of course, to my wife Cori, without whom this would not be possible. Thank you for your patience and encouragement. I love you and our way of life!

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