Last year I got lucky enough to draw a mule deer tag for the unit in Eastern Oregon where I grew up hunting with my family and friends. There really is nothing like hunting with family in the same area where you first learned to hunt, fish and enjoy nature.

   The morning of the first day started out great. We saw a lot of sign and even though nobody jumped anything, we knew that the deer were there. Unfortunately the weather had different plans and the snow started to fly right around noon. Usually during deer season the biggest worry is what to do with all the extra layers that you have to shed before lunch and we were looking at a full-blown winter snowstorm.

   On the hunt back up to the top of the mountain, the early season snowstorm turned into a whiteout. The wind was gusting at about 35 mph and every once in a while you could hear a widow-maker succumb to the hefty breeze and come crashing to the ground in the burn to one side of us. We decided it was probably a good time to call it a day.

   The next morning we found ourselves in 10 inches of fresh snow. Not only could we be absolutely certain about which tracks were fresh but the fluffy white blanket also scared any non-locals either back into their tents or to the nearest town, leaving us almost completely alone.

   We made our way to slightly lower ground where we might not have to kick a deer out of its bed to have a chance to see one.

  A few days later my dad made a great 400-plus-yard shot on a nice 4 point buck (8 point depending on where you live) on a day that I had returned to work. I made it back the following day, just in time to help load the quartered buck onto the packhorse.

   The last day of the season: It had been raining nonstop all morning and after spending some time debating about where we wanted to hunt we went somewhere we stayed away from all season, due to the fact that it usually gets a lot of foot traffic. The rain and snow must have kept everyone at bay because, once again, nobody was there. I spotted a small forked horn about 600 yards away and tried to get as close as possible. I made it within about 400 yards and while sizing up the buck, I got noticed by an unseen doe that spooked all of them. At this point it was about 2 p.m. and I was a mile from the truck, so I decided it was time to think about where to go for an evening hunt before having to return to

work the following day.

   While making my way around the hill a group of five does and a buck came charging right at me. Probably spooked by a road hunter, they werent worried at all about me, and I took the shot at about 50 yards.

   The 130 grain AccuBond from the

260 Remington hit him right in the shoulder and traveled almost the entire length of his body before stopping just under the far side hide. All in all, it was a great season and I cant wait to do it again.

   And yes, the old mans deer is

bigger.