by Joyce Beckman

Created on: February 02, 2009   Last Updated: February 05, 2009

I accompanied my husband for many deer hunts in Oregon over a period of 16 years. The West coast is home mainly to the Blacktail deer, which are unpredictable and not easy to pattern. Each group, or herd, has a large home range; they will be one place one day and someplace else another day. They are a challenging animal to hunt. Also, they are not as large as Whitetail or Mule deer.

All of our hunts were on public land, and all except the first one were in remote areas. For our first hunt was with a friend at a popular hunting area. There were too many hunters infesting the woods so many that we had a rifle bullet whiz over our heads. We soon gave up the hunt, figuring it was not worth our lives.

Every year we started in August with bird hunting, walking logging roads and getting into shape. Then the first part of October gun season for Blacktail opened. Most of the western states have a high percentage of road hunters, you know, those who creep along the dirt roads in their vehicles glassing the hills and valleys, ready to shoot out of their vehicle window at any time. You don't get the big deer this way. We chose to hike into the woods for a legal and ethical hunt.

We discovered our favorite "honey hole" during a preseason drive through the area when 4 bucks crossed the road in front of us; 2 of them were quite large with at least one being a 4 x 4. There was one that had a very tall, beautifully symmetric rack, and he soon became my husband's dream. We then knew that this area, which was full of elderberries, was excellent habitat and held a healthy deer population.

Most opening mornings as we sat on a ridge listening to vehicles drive by (knowing they could not see us), we were successful in harvesting a large, healthy buck. Then the work began. After gutting and field dressing the animal it would take us an average of 3-4 hours to get it to the truck. Hard work as it was, it was always worth it, for the meat was delicious.

One year a week before season we were our scouting and I heard a loud crashing sound just off the passenger side of the truck. I knew something was coming off the mountainside headed directly in front of our truck. All I managed to say was, "There he is!" Right then a 3 x 3 buck ran across the road and down the hillside. The next Saturday we harvested the same buck. We both recognized his distinct features, so we named that one "There He Is."

In 1998 we were hunting together and walked an old logging road at noon. The skies were still dark

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