My first muley: Persevering and pushing onward
My first Mule deer buck taken in early November, somewhere up Tamarack Creek. (Mineral Independent/Amy Quinlivan)
A vibrant rainbow appears the morning of the hunt. Where the colors touch the ridge is where I got my muley. (Mineral Independent/Amy Quinlivan)
I wasn't able to get a picture of my buck in the field, because of our quick retreat with the boys. So first thing in the morning after my husband and our friend got it home, I went out and posed with my harvest. (Mineral Independent/Amy Quinlivan)
For the last three rifle seasons, I’ve set out to harvest my first mule deer buck.
After watching my husband take two spectacular 4x4’s, I was eager to pursue one of these arid, rocky slope beasts. Despite hearing unenthusiastic opinions growing up that, “You don’t wanna shoot a stinky Muley.” The bucks I’d tasted came from the same ridge tops and drainages that whitetails were cruising, so my mind was made up.
This fall I finally felt like it would be the year – and a vibrant morning rainbow the day I shot my buck, seemingly pointed me in the direction of a promised blessing.
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