BIG-COUNTRY BUCKS

Crossing a fence in the late afternoon, we approached the water tank, circled it and knelt to take a look at tracks in the mud. One was bigger than the others—well over 3 inches long. A buck in this canyon had likely watered at this tank, but under the light of the moon and not since. He’d had a drink and then bedded down for the day, likely within a mile of there—but where?

This was dry country with few trees and fewer water holes, ground given to the farming of dry-land wheat. Glancing at the sun, I guessed we had two hours before darkness fell.

Bill, my hunting partner, was on my left. Our plan was to still-hunt, trying to stay 10 yards apart in the bottom of the coulee above the water tank, sometimes splitting up to check a feeder canyon or look into a ditch.

Well over half a mile from the tank, I