November 2025
Montana Mule Deer | Two Daughters, Two Hunts, Two First Bucks
Story By: Blaine Munro
This fall, Montana’s big sky became the backdrop for something I’ll never forget – taking my two daughters on their first hunts. Originally, I planned to chase my own buck, but when we discovered the girls could buy the same “deer combo” tag I drew through Montana’s youth hunting program, the focus shifted entirely. My daughters would be hunting.
Having never hunted Montana before, Huntin’ Fool Advisor Eric was an invaluable resource. He not only told us about the special two-day youth hunting season, but he also helped us select an area with good opportunities for first-time hunters. Our aim was a positive experience for these new hunters.
We started planning immediately. First, we set aside four summer Saturdays for shooting practice. The girls learned about practical shooting positions, ranging, and teamwork until they could consistently hit balloons at 350 yards. We also marked our calendars for the youth season in October and a five-day trip in November during the rut.
We arrived a day early to scout and get a feel for the area, which had plenty of BLM and Block Management land. Almost immediately, we noticed most of the obvious deer were on private property. We saw over 80 deer that day, including one good buck, but they were almost all where we could not hunt. Slightly disheartened, we drove back to the motel in the dark, only to spot deer feeding near a section of public BLM land. A few bucks were mixed in. It gave us hope for the morning.
Opening day began well before dawn, hiking to a good vantage point. The girls decided my youngest daughter had the first opportunity, and we waited. The sunrise was beautiful, but we only saw a few does and fawns.
After some time, we switched tactics, creeping along the upper fingers of the coulee. Suddenly, two heavy-horned bucks stood up at 200 yards, staring straight at us. Scrambling to set up, the girls weren’t fast enough and the bucks vanished into the distance. It was disappointing, but the close encounter had them buzzing with excitement.
Later in the morning, we spotted two smaller bucks across the coulee, trailing does. I asked my youngest, “Do you want one of those?” She hesitated. “I’ll wait for something bigger,” she said. I turned to my oldest, who nodded eagerly.
We got her set up at 276 yards. She took her time, steadied the rifle, and squeezed the trigger. Blam! A perfect shot.
Watching her walk up to that deer, I could see how proud she was. It wasn’t just about the kill, it was the culmination of weeks of preparation. We processed the deer and packed it out a mile to the truck. Her smile said it all.
A month later, we returned for round two. My younger daughter felt there was unfinished business and wanted her chance. She kept her grades up to take the week off school, and we headed back to Montana.
This hunt was different. Hunting pressure was intense, and deer were harder to find. Most days, we saw more hunters than deer, but my daughter was determined. Her only condition was she wanted her buck to be bigger than her sister’s.
The first day, we explored a new area of huge coulees and badlands but saw only a few does and small bucks. Late in the afternoon, we spotted a lone doe in an adjacent ravine. Hoping she wasn’t alone, we worked the wind and used the rugged terrain to stay hidden.
From 200 yards away, we watched as more does appeared followed by a decent buck. Our hearts raced, but the buck did not present a shot opportunity. When he finally stepped into the open, he was 420 yards away. We crept closer. They dispersed into the terrain again. Then, unexpectedly, they all appeared at 120 yards. Every deer stood staring at us. I set her up for the shot, but she struggled to get steady on the uneven ground. “Daddy, I can’t get a clear shot,” she whispered, frustrated.
“If you’re not rock-solid, don’t take the shot,” I whispered back. The deer were getting restless.
As the buck turned to leave, she looked at me and said, “Daddy, shoot the deer.” I didn’t hesitate, and the buck was down. My tag was filled.
She was thrilled to be part of the hunt, even if she didn’t pull the trigger. She helped process the deer and pack it out, still buzzing from the excitement.
The next few days were a grind. Though we saw deer, bucks were tough to come by. It seemed every road and dirt track had trucks looking for deer. We got off the beaten path. We took long hikes, glassing distant nooks and crannies, but came up empty handed. I really started to wonder if we could find this girl another opportunity.
By the fourth day, we were both quiet. My daughter, just 12, was fighting exhaustion but stayed focused and determined. Her instincts were sharp. She understood wind, terrain, and deer behavior better than some adults I’ve hunted with.
Late that afternoon, we followed a group of does into a remote valley only to find it empty when we arrived. Another fruitless stalk. With discouraged shrugs, we turned to hunt back towards the vehicle. Suddenly, a good buck stood on the skyline, staring right at us. My heart raced. “Look!” I hushed. Her eyes went wide. This was a much better trophy than she had hoped for.
We dropped to the ground, scrambling to get set up. The buck started walking straight toward us, nose down. He came directly to us, and at 67 yards, he stopped, blinking at us. He turned and trotted away, stopping broadside at 120 yards. Her shot rang out. Blam! The buck stumbled and dropped.
We sat there in stunned silence for a moment, then burst into laughter and a few tears. “Did that really just happen?” we asked, grinning.
As we packed out her deer under the stars, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with pride. Both daughters had shown grit, patience, and determination in the face of challenges. Although we filled all our tags, this season wasn’t just about shooting their first deer. It was about early mornings and long hikes, laughter and frustration, and the bond we deepened through it all.
Two daughters. Two hunts. Two first bucks. These memories we will carry forever.