Well guys, another trip to the milk river in the record books. Every year, it just keeps getting better. The camaraderie, hunting, and scenery on this trip are yet to be matched, and I’ve been blessed to be able to go many places, and see many things.

My dad, his best friend (Ed), and my best friend (Dylan) departed from “home” at about 9am on October 2nd. An hour later, they were in college town, USA to pick me up for the journey ahead. While I was stuck in my last class of the day, they were gathering last minute goodies at Cub foods, and perusing the isles at gander. For the record, I learned nothing on October 2nd, except for the fact that class does, indeed, carry on far too long when the milk river is on your mind.
The girl friend, and roommate, dropped my off in the parking lot of gander mountain. She was sad, I had to pretend. We were westward bound.

After about 4 minutes into the trip, my dad said “go to the bathroom, and get me a towel”. Just great, I thought, already ordering me around. So I did. As I opened the door I see a 6’3’’ guy and a video camera pointed in my face. My GREAT friend Jake is all smiles. Jake came with last year, and told me that this year he couldn’t make it because of work. I was upset, as he is such a good buddy. Yup, I got PUNKED. They had the gig planned for over a month. Bastards.

Not much to do on a twelve hour drive. There were a lot of stories told,"BS" slung, and the occasional snack. We did watch a few classic movies, “Grizzly”, and “Stripes” are the ones that stick out the most. Throwing in Monster bucks just made me antsy.
We arrived, late Thursday night. Catching up with the landowner, his wife and son, watching a little footage of this year’s “crop”, and we were off to bed. Lots to do in the morning, setting up camp and flingin’ some arras, the hunting would have to wait until the work was done.

We woke up the next morning, in anticipation to the evening hunt. 2pm couldn’t come fast enough, but breakfast, setting up camp, and collecting fire wood kept us occupied until then. After a couple last second shots, we were off to the stand.
(Jake, my dad, Ed (who somehow fell?))

(messy camp--My parents motor home, which pulled the suburban, and the "galvenized ghetto" the "kids" stayed in)


I took a stand by The River on Night 1:



Not many shot opportunities offered, on night one. Saw a lot of deer, and a few good bucks, but that is to be expected in Montana, especially on the first night. No shots fired, by anyone in the hunting party. Pork Roast, sweet corn, and potatoes for dinner under the stars. Life is good.
We woke up, showered and headed out for a morning hunt. In past years (4 previous) we’d rarely hunt mornings. However, the rancher told us that deer numbers are down, this year, and that he sees most movement in the morning heading back to the woods. So we’d try our luck. The morning yielded no venison for dinner; however a few close calls for some of us kept us hopeful for the evening. The afternoon was filled with hanging a few new sets, and shooting (yes, money was involved)

Ed was lucky enough to loose an arrow on a nice 8 point. I didn’t get a picture of it, but he did. It was a nice buck, and the rage did work. After we got his deer taken care of, we ate a good meal, showered up, and we headed to town with the land owners son, and hung out with some of his buddies. Hunting in the morning, life is still good.

Another brisk Montana morning came and gone, no shots taken, though offered to everyone but me. I’m starting to get nervous; I want a deer in my sights. Something has to happen soon, the land owner was correct though, deer numbers are down, but are here none the less.
The evening hunt on the third night seemed “the night”. I was hunting close to the river, on an alfalfa field where I glassed a few real good bucks traveling back in the morning. It dropped in temperature, and a front came in, wind was perfect, tonight was the night. I was right about one thing, the deer were moving. I had 6 shooter bucks enter the field 63 yards upwind of me. Damn. Close, yet so far. No one else had luck either, though the movement picked up. There is always tomorrow, however, not much after that…”crunch time”. Life is STILL good. We’re hunting.





We woke up, had a few doughnuts, and headed to the stands. Again, the morning proved unsuccessful. The deer our catching on to a game they are supposed to know they aren’t playing. The usual in the afternoon, lunch, nap, shooting, stand.

Tonight, I had “that” feeling, that one where you know all the hard work is about to pay off. The combination of “the feeling”, and it being my last day to hunt MT, added an extra hitch in my step. While everyone else was napping, I left a note of where I was going to hunt, and left for my stand, early. 1pm to be exact, when normally we’d leave around 2-2:30. I snuck up, and settled in. And immediately I was in deer. Does and fawns everywhere, a couple smaller bucks, and a few shooters, just too far. Just as I thought I would go deer-less, and giving up hope, I glanced to my left (where they are supposed to come from, but never did). A nice 8pointer worthy of a beman shaft made his way to the field. After giving it some thought, I drew, anchored, took a breath, and released. I watched the arrow zip through, hitting a little back. I was confident in the shot, but he needed time. The shot was early, about 4pm. Good thing I took it, only buck all trip that presented a shot. He only went 40 yards. I couldn’t be happier.



My Dad, Me, Buddy Jake.



2008 Milk River, Montana. Until next year....