Coming Up Empty


There is no such thing as an unsuccessful hunt. The experience you gain can't be bought at the local sporting good store or learned from a magazine. Time in the field is the only way to acquire the knowledge required to fill your tag. The experts all have advice and we willingly pay for that advice but is it really advice that you need? Even when you do your homework things don't always work out. Look I'm not proclaiming myself as an expert but common sense tells me I've got to get out there and give it all I've got to have even a decent chance. Besides you might be surprised at what you might
find out about yourself as well as your quarry.

A dammed spring complete with a meadow behind it 

Back east I hunted the same areas each year and did pretty well. But in Arizona the draw system puts a little twist into the equation. You really don't know if you will get drawn for your favorite area or one you know very little about. If you're like me you work for a living and its not always possible to do a lot of long-range scouting. Over the past couple years I've learned enough about the local areas to feel pretty comfortable about where to start. But this year I didn't get drawn for the comfort zone. My family and I had put in for a group firearm draw and had drawn the Camp Woods area
in section 17A. Camp Woods is approximately 40 miles north west of Prescott. Pinion hillsides topped with manzanita and Pine covered bottoms dotted with springs and small streams make up the terrain. The area is really a treat for a desert dweller. I scouted the area in September and twice again in October. My schedule kept me from spending, as much time scouting, as I would have liked but as my dad would say "Son ya made your bed and now ya
got to lie in it." Should have got a better education and made more money huh. Well we picked out a campsite close to the area we wanted to hunt and were there three days before the season opener. We saw several spikes and a couple of 3X3's and felt pretty good about our chances. The afternoon before the opening day we drove out to take a look at the competition. There were a
few new campsites but not as many as I would have thought. Opening day however was to be a revelation. We had picked two saddles and a trail entering a large hardwood bottom for our Opening day blinds. Out of the sack into the woods well before dawn we were ready. I had set up on the trail, which was skirted by a slope created by a deep ravine while Ole, and Lee had
taken up positions on the saddles. About 30 minutes after first light 9 does and a spike came along the trail. I watched the spike through my scope as he crossed 50 yards in front of me. A spike wasn't what I had in mind with an annual one buck bag limit and the December bow season coming up. The possibility of chunking a stick at a big guy with rut glazed eyes was much more appealing. I had noticed a lot of motor noise all morning and had heard a couple of shoots. Wondering about my son and son-law Ole and my stepson Lee. I decided to hike back to camp about eleven o'clock and have lunch. As I approached an old logging Three ATV's came tearing up the road and slid to a stop. One fellow yelled out "Did ya see anything" I told him I hadn't and they turned around and drove off back down the road. When I got back to camp my son-n-law Ole said he had never seen so many road hunters in his life. My
son Lee told of an ATV mounted road hunter charging after a fork horn he had been watching. Lee couldn't believe it; the guy actually asked him if he had spooked his deer. They had seemed to come out of the ground. There were road hunters everywhere. The situation did not change through out the weekend but to our relief Monday morning they were all gone but so were most of the deer
we had scouted.

 Hunting is a family affair
Left to Right, Wendy, Zane, Rose, Lee, and Dustin
 



Rough Terrain







Its snowing and I need warmer clothes

  

We had made the mistake of scouting an area that was easily accessible by motor vehicles. Some people would even boldly go where no wheels had gone before. After hunting all day Monday and only seeing does I decided that it was time to change my tactics. Lee and Oley continued to hunt the bottoms and I took to the high ground. Tuesday morning found me still-hunting my way
up a mountain behind camp. About an hour and a half after sunrise I saw several deer about 100 yards above me. They were working their way along a trail near the top. I could make out at least three bucks. One of them was defiantly a 4X4. Because of the wind direction I had to wait until they had moved past me before I could move up to thier level. What transpired over the next three or four hours is in my estimation the greatest game of all, ground level stalking. During that entire time I only got a couple of glimpses at the buck I was after. I never did have an opportunity to take a
good percentage shot. Finally I was busted by a doe and lost my chance. I was exhausted; sitting down I directed my attention to the view. It was breathtaking. Before me was a great expanse. I could see from the semi desert floor of the Cotton Wood area to the snow-covered San Francisco Peaks of Flagstaff. Was it worth the climb I asked myself? You bet your ass it was. That night we exchange stories and ate a great steak dinner. The weather had begun to change, there was a cold front moving in and snow was
forecasted for the 6000-ft elevations. The next morning came with a light drizzle and another change in tactics. Nothing was moving even the squirrels and birds were quiet. Lee had to go back to school so it was just Ole and myself. We decided to try some two man drives. Our first attempt almost filled my tag. We were working a wood cut staying about a 100 yards apart and trying to maintain eye contact. Several head of cattle were bedded up in the same area and spooked as we came close. At the same time the cattle
spooked so did two bucks. I immediately saw that on of them had a larger rack than the other. They trotted a few yards and stopped behind some brush. I could see thier horns above the brush but had to wait for a clear shot. Ole on the other had could not see them, but they could see him and were intently watching. I stepped to the side locating a clear shooting lane. I remember thinking that this could be it. About this time Ole moved and those deer took off like somebody had set their tails on fire. I couldn't take the shot. They simply disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. It began to
snow big fat wet flakes. We spent the next several days trying different methods. We glassed, stalked and drove the cover to no avail. We continued to hunt but came up empty at the end of each day. We ate, slept, hunted and explored. We found some awesome sheds so we know the big boys are there. The terrain is rough and thick making the going difficult and giving the deer the advantage. The information we gathered from this hunt would be used for
planning future hunts into the area. Everything was recorded each night either on a topo map or in a notebook. School and Work would take us away but we would remember the trails a great Royal Elk, a Lynx and the ones that got away. Although we didn't score we did have our chances but then that's
why they call it hunting isn't it.

Robert Glenn Willis