by Richard Drehsen

It all started in June of 2009, when I checked the Department of Fish and Game website, and learned that my dad had drawn a coveted X2 tag. To say we were excited would be an understatement, as we both knew this zone possessed serious trophy potential. I knew that this hunt was going to pose certain challenges for us. My dad is 68 years old and although he is in great shape for his age, he is not as young as he used to be. We also live in Southern California, so scouting for this dream hunt would require a nine hour drive each way. We put these factors into consideration and decided it would be money well spent to hire an outfitter. After doing some extensive research, I found an outfitter by the name of Brent Dolby, who owns and operates Modoc Waterfowl Outfitters out of Alturas, California. I called Brent and explained to him that my 68-year-old dad had drawn an X2 tag, and had never shot a California mule deer before. Brent told me about his operation. He has exclusive access to over 20,000 acres of big California mule deer habitat. He also told me that he hunts these huge deer out of elevated box blinds over alfalfa fields, which was perfect for Dad!

Talking to Brent got me really excited, and before hanging up the phone with him, I booked Dad for opening day of the 2009 X2 deer season. Waiting for opening day was especially difficult. We spent the summer hunting A-zone bucks and chasing a few hogs, but all we could think about was hunting big mule deer in our home state of California.

On October 1, 2009, the day had finally come. In making the trip, Dad and I spent one night in Reno, before heading up to Alturas the next day. Upon arriving in Alturas, we checked into the motel, unpacked and made plans to meet up with Brent to go over the plans for the next day’s hunt. As we met up with Brent, Dad had a huge smile on his face! Brent showed us a video of bucks he had seen that morning while out scouting. After watching the video, Dad and I were speechless. These deer looked like they were from Colorado or Wyoming, not California. We made plans for Brent to pick us up at our motel the next morning.

Opening day was here! At 4:30 AM, we were waiting outside the motel. Brent was right on time and we were all excited to see what the day had in store for us. On the way to the ranch, Brent briefed us on the morning hunt plan. We parked the truck deep into the ranch and set out on foot in the dark. The plan was to get to an alfalfa field that the deer had been feeding in overnight. We wanted to be there right at first light to try and catch one of the big bucks Brent had seen the morning before. We got to there right on schedule. Ten minutes into glassing, Brent spotted a young three point, on his way out of the alfalfa field. We watched the young buck as he worked his way back to cover. If we had been hunting anywhere else in California, that buck would have been a serious shooter, but this was a different kind of hunt. Next we spotted a group of about twelve does, along with a few small bucks. They were making their way to the brush to bed for the day. As the morning went on, we did not see any of the big bucks Brent had seen the morning before. We left to get breakfast and take a nap before the evening’s hunt.

At 4:00 PM, Dad, Brent and I were in an elevated box blind overlooking a big alfalfa field backed up to some prime bedding country. It didn’t take long for deer to start feeding into the field. First a group of does appeared on the fence line and made their way into the field. A little while later, three nice bucks followed and fed within eighty yards of the blind. As it started to get dark we could feel the weather changing. We watched five more bucks come into the field, but nothing that fit the criteria of this special hunt. After the evening hunt, we grabbed some dinner and got to bed early, as we knew with the storm front moving in, we were going to be doing some serious hunting the following morning.

When the alarm went off the next morning, I looked out the window and smiled. Our prayers had been answered. It was snowing. We got ready and Brent picked us up at 4:30 am. It was slow going on the ride to the ranch due to the extreme weather conditions. When we finally there it was just getting light. We set out on foot and hiked to a good glassing point. As soon as I put my binoculars to my eyes, I immediately started seeing deer! I counted 27 does and eight bucks on their way out of the massive alfalfa fields. Two of the bucks were real nice 4×4’s, but Brent said we could do better. With that, we were on our way back to the truck to head to another area of the ranch.

Around 8:00 AM, we arrived to an area of the ranch known for producing huge mule deer. As we were driving on the ranch road, Brent stopped the truck and began glassing this ridge line. Brent announced, “There is a shooter!”

It was snowing so hard at this point, that neither my Dad nor I could see the buck Brent was looking at. Brent explained to us where the buck was bedded. He was on the very top of the ridge, 500 yards straight up, bedded under a pine tree. My dad and I found the buck in our binoculars around the same time. We both said, “WOW, that’s a buck!” We couldn’t tell exactly what he was due to the snow, but we could tell he was a massive bodied mule deer with a rack to match. He looked like the king of the mountain, on top of that ridge looking down.

Brent said that he could get us on that buck, but that it wasn’t going to be easy. We didn’t need to think twice about it. Dad told Brent, “Let’s go get him!” We drove about a mile up the road and got out of the truck. I looked at the ridge we were going to be ascending and told Dad, “Please don’t slip. Mom will kill me.” Brent said that we would take our time getting to the top. The buck was bedded and not going anywhere. We started our ascent up the mountain. Climbing along rock ledges and slipping over all the wet rocks was no easy task. Dad looked like he was twenty again! This was his buck and nothing was going to get in the way of him making it to the top of this mountain. We finally made it and began to slowly work our way towards where the buck was last seen, bedded under a pine tree.

We had been working the rim of the canyon for about thirty minutes when Brent signaled us to stop. I looked to my right and saw the tip of the big buck’s antlers. He was still bedded under the same pine tree where we had originally seen him about an hour and a half earlier. We were only about eighty yards from the buck, but the angle did not present a good shot. Brent guided my dad about ten yards closer to the buck, who had no idea we were there. Upon getting into position to take the shot, the snow began to fall heavily, making it difficult to see the buck. Brent set Dad up on the shooting sticks and Dad placed the crosshairs of his 300 Winchester Magnum on the buck’s shoulder. He took a deep breath, and squeezed. CLICK! I look at Brent and we both had the same look on our faces. My dad cycled the bolt and to our horror there was a live round in the chamber. Dad put a fresh round in and squeezed again, Click! It was at this time we realized that due to the extreme weather conditions, the firing pin was not striking the round properly.

The big buck turned his head and couldn’t quite make out what we were, but was aware something was up. Quickly opening the bolt of my dad’s rifle, Brent began blowing hot air into the action of the rifle for about thirty seconds. Brent told Dad, who was visibly shaken at this point, to try it one more time. Dad cycled another round into the chamber, settled the crosshairs on the buck for the third time, and squeezed. Boom! He made a perfect shot, anchoring the buck in his bed. You could probably hear us hooting and hollering for miles as our dream had just come true.

We gave the buck several minutes, and then proceeded over to check him out. All I could say was, “Wow!” His body was massive and he had a set of horns to match. He is a very tall and heavy 3×4, exactly 23 inches wide and 23 inches tall. After taking pictures, Brent started the hike back to the truck, so we could drag the buck straight down the mountain, with the truck waiting below. While Brent was gone, my dad and I sat in the snow admiring the old buck. I couldn’t help but get a little emotional as a dream I had since I was a child, had come true. My dad had taken a trophy California mule deer, and we had the opportunity to share the experience together.