Some deer you forget by the next season. Others stick with you forever. And then there’s that one buck – the one that turns into an obsession, keeps you up at night, and tests everything you’ve got as a hunter. For us, that buck was “Blindfold.”
This story’s got it all – missed shots, years of scouting, near-ghost encounters, and a rookie hunter who closed the chapter better than any of us could’ve written it.
It started two years back. Levi and I (Trevor) were covering country like we always do, trying to turn up a good buck. We caught a glimpse of him late one evening, working his way across the edge of a thick canyon. He wasn’t just a “good” buck, he was built different – heavy frame, wide, tall, mature. The kind of deer that makes your heart rate spike before you even pull the binos up.
We only saw him that one time and tried for weeks to turn him up again. Nothing. Gone like smoke in the wind. We gave him the nickname Blindfold because no matter how hard we looked, it was like we were wearing one.
Fast forward two years. Garret and Levi were out scouting for their archery tags when they turned up a big-framed buck in the same general area. Same heavy look. Same attitude. No doubt about it, Blindfold was alive and well, and he’d only gotten bigger. That lit the fire again. This wasn’t just about tagging a good buck anymore, this was personal.
We hit it hard, spending nearly 20 days glassing, hiking, and tracking. We found his pattern, but it was loose. He’d show for a day, then disappear for three. We got within bow range twice during the archery hunt. Both times, we thought it was game over. Both times, we missed.
I don’t care how experienced you are, missing a buck like that stings. However, we kept grinding because we knew he was still out there. If there’s one thing about hunting big mule deer that always holds true, it’s that persistence kills.
Here’s where the story gets better. Allie, who had never hunted a day in her life, drew a tag. Instead of easing her into it with a simple buck, she stepped right into one of the most frustrating, challenging hunts we’d ever had. She didn’t flinch, though. She was out there every day learning the country, soaking in every bit of knowledge we could throw at her. She wanted it bad, and she was willing to earn it.
Opening morning of the rifle hunt, we were in his bedroom. We knew he was close, but he never decided to show himself. That afternoon, we jumped him out of his bed but never got a shot opportunity. We were convinced that we just blew our one and only opportunity to kill Blindfold.
The next day, we decided to go glass a burn midday. We ended up glassing a bedded buck that we thought was mid 180s. We had him in range and got the rifle all set up. Allie looked at all three of us and said, “Is it Blindfold?” We all said no in confusion. Allie stood up and walked back toward the truck. We got in the truck, and Allie said “I came here to shoot Blindfold. You three have been dreaming about this deer for nearly two years now. It’s Blindfold or nothing.”
We packed up our stuff and headed back to where we knew Blindfold frequented. As last light approached, we pulled up to an area where we could quickly glass and where we often would see him moving through. Just as we were about to leave, Levi said, “I’ve got him bedded.” We quickly got the rifle on the tripod. Once Allie was set up on him, Coleden whistled to get him up out of his bed. He stood up, and Allie center punched him. He went 20 yards and bedded down. We moved again and had a clear shot at 200 yards. The gun went off again, and Blindfold’s head hit the dirt.
I don’t think any of us have ever felt a mix of excitement, relief, and pride like we did walking up to that buck with Allie. Blindfold was every bit as impressive up close as we’d imagined for years. Heavy beams, inlines, kickers, big frame, scars, a pure warrior. It was Allie who made the shot count when the rest of us hadn’t. She didn’t just tag a deer, she stamped her name on a story that had been building for seasons.
Blindfold wasn’t just a deer. He was a symbol of what hunting is really about – patience, obsession, brotherhood, and a little bit of heartbreak. He challenged us in every way, and when it finally came together, it was better than any of us could’ve scripted. We’ll be talking about Blindfold for the rest of our lives. Not just because he was a giant buck, but because the story behind him was even bigger.
This story’s got it all – missed shots, years of scouting, near-ghost encounters, and a rookie hunter who closed the chapter better than any of us could’ve written it.
It started two years back. Levi and I (Trevor) were covering country like we always do, trying to turn up a good buck. We caught a glimpse of him late one evening, working his way across the edge of a thick canyon. He wasn’t just a “good” buck, he was built different – heavy frame, wide, tall, mature. The kind of deer that makes your heart rate spike before you even pull the binos up.
We only saw him that one time and tried for weeks to turn him up again. Nothing. Gone like smoke in the wind. We gave him the nickname Blindfold because no matter how hard we looked, it was like we were wearing one.
Fast forward two years. Garret and Levi were out scouting for their archery tags when they turned up a big-framed buck in the same general area. Same heavy look. Same attitude. No doubt about it, Blindfold was alive and well, and he’d only gotten bigger. That lit the fire again. This wasn’t just about tagging a good buck anymore, this was personal.
We hit it hard, spending nearly 20 days glassing, hiking, and tracking. We found his pattern, but it was loose. He’d show for a day, then disappear for three. We got within bow range twice during the archery hunt. Both times, we thought it was game over. Both times, we missed.
I don’t care how experienced you are, missing a buck like that stings. However, we kept grinding because we knew he was still out there. If there’s one thing about hunting big mule deer that always holds true, it’s that persistence kills.
Here’s where the story gets better. Allie, who had never hunted a day in her life, drew a tag. Instead of easing her into it with a simple buck, she stepped right into one of the most frustrating, challenging hunts we’d ever had. She didn’t flinch, though. She was out there every day learning the country, soaking in every bit of knowledge we could throw at her. She wanted it bad, and she was willing to earn it.
Opening morning of the rifle hunt, we were in his bedroom. We knew he was close, but he never decided to show himself. That afternoon, we jumped him out of his bed but never got a shot opportunity. We were convinced that we just blew our one and only opportunity to kill Blindfold.
The next day, we decided to go glass a burn midday. We ended up glassing a bedded buck that we thought was mid 180s. We had him in range and got the rifle all set up. Allie looked at all three of us and said, “Is it Blindfold?” We all said no in confusion. Allie stood up and walked back toward the truck. We got in the truck, and Allie said “I came here to shoot Blindfold. You three have been dreaming about this deer for nearly two years now. It’s Blindfold or nothing.”
We packed up our stuff and headed back to where we knew Blindfold frequented. As last light approached, we pulled up to an area where we could quickly glass and where we often would see him moving through. Just as we were about to leave, Levi said, “I’ve got him bedded.” We quickly got the rifle on the tripod. Once Allie was set up on him, Coleden whistled to get him up out of his bed. He stood up, and Allie center punched him. He went 20 yards and bedded down. We moved again and had a clear shot at 200 yards. The gun went off again, and Blindfold’s head hit the dirt.
I don’t think any of us have ever felt a mix of excitement, relief, and pride like we did walking up to that buck with Allie. Blindfold was every bit as impressive up close as we’d imagined for years. Heavy beams, inlines, kickers, big frame, scars, a pure warrior. It was Allie who made the shot count when the rest of us hadn’t. She didn’t just tag a deer, she stamped her name on a story that had been building for seasons.
Blindfold wasn’t just a deer. He was a symbol of what hunting is really about – patience, obsession, brotherhood, and a little bit of heartbreak. He challenged us in every way, and when it finally came together, it was better than any of us could’ve scripted. We’ll be talking about Blindfold for the rest of our lives. Not just because he was a giant buck, but because the story behind him was even bigger.