Arizona OTC Archery Hunt

Hunting mule deer in Arizona with my bow was one of the hardest things I’ve done yet. I salute those who have been successful harvesting a public land deer with their bow, for it’s far from easy. Truth be told this is the type of hard things that I can’t seem to stop doing. This past year I have been constantly humbled as I held 6 tags in my pocket, and didn’t fill a single one. Having to cancel my hunt to South Dakota at the beginning of December, I was hopeful that in a coupe weeks, my Arizona hunt would provide success. It did not, but let me tell you a series of short stories of our special moments under the desert stars, and the struggles we faced as friends, and hunters. There is so much we can take away rom every hunt and this one in particular I know for certain I walked away a happier, healthier, stronger version of myself.

Meet Dylan. Dylan grew up in Iowa, the majority of his time there was spend in the woods hunting whitetails. Dylan and I met in 2013 as we both worked as raft guides at Whitewater Rafting. Dylan was just coming off of being a collage soccer player and brought an energetic energy to the boathouse. It wasn’t until a couple years later when we finally connected a little more, as raft guide shenanigans happened, weekly nights of music in the park, and as we played on the river nearly everyday, it’s continuous and unpredictable flow bringing us closer together. Fall came and we went separate ways as guide season had begun. We were guiding just a few mountains away from each other and when season was over we moved into together in a small cabin in Marble CO. Seeking solitude and connection with ourselves, we escaped into the small, remote town. With no internet, tv or phone service there was no shortage of conversation. Fast forward to several years later, as we headed South towards Arizona, we didn’t turn on the music, or podcast, as we caught up on life, and the realizations we’ve been both having. Soon we arrived in Tuscon, exhausted from our days of travel, we gave into a cheap smelly hotel for the night. Knowing soon we’d be curled up in our sleeping bags, sleeping under the cold sky of twinkling hunting stories.

Arriving at camp we waste no time in taking out the bows and flinging some arrows. Meanwhile old man Lee stops by, a dust cloud escaping his door he slams behind him. Chatting with Lee, we are informed that this area was whitetail hunting only through the rest of the month. This could have been easily avoided if we had done more research before our hunt, but trusting our friends suggestions to hunt this area we let it slip. Being able to adapt to situations like this are vital to hunting, especially hunting out of state, and having a hunting partner who can do the same is also just as important. From here on out I’ll do better as I plan each hunt.

The hills would glow pink and orange in the mornings and evenings, creating a magical sensation as the deer fed, the birds sang, and the insects brought high frequencies all around us. Each day we were lucky to have several stalks on these elusive and skittish deer. We failed time and time again, and each time we did, we became more intoxicated with the want and need to succeed. We hunted hard for three days in the same area only seeing a couple small bucks and several does. Having not filled a tag yet, I was simply on this hunt for the meat, and as long as there was a visible antlers it was fair game. Having split up one morning, I made my way to a ridge line with a saddle below it, as it was nestled in between several ridges, and water holes. The deer would feed up the drainages from the fields in the mornings and as they did so, I was hoping to slip in and cut them off as they made their way to their bedding grounds. As I watched several deer below me disappear off the bench into the drainage, I made my way up the mountain and just as I crested the ridge above where they previously were, there was a buck with nearly 30 does. They had no idea I was there and I felt like a mountain lion as I sat behind the pine, watching them from just 200 yards. I ranged my surroundings as the deer started making their way towards me, still unaware of my presence. The wind was in my favor and I was calm and ready. Suddenly the deer spook and run up the drainage on the other side of the ridge, out of sight. I grabbed my bow and sprinted up the mountain, still hopeful I could cut them off. As I worked over the face of the ridge I saw Dylan is doing the exact same thing just 200 yards away from me on the other side of the drainage. I could see he was focused and within seconds he pulled back his bow. Sounds of hooves hitting rock and wheezes from several does told me they spooked and I run up the ridge even further as I could see tops of ears running past me. Realizing my efforts couldn’t compare to their four legs and giant lungs I stopped myself from trying to cut them off. Once again the hunt was a bust. I instantly started beating myself up and failure this time didn’t sit well with me. I will admit, I have good and bad days when it comes to failure and today in particular I became consumed with emotion and self doubt in my skill. The next scene that plays out is one I am not proud of but I believe it was a necessary moment in my hunting career.

With a smile spread across his face Dylan makes his way over to me. Talking a mile a minuet, he tells me all about his experience , taking big breathes and gulps of air while doing so. The deer were just 30 yards away from him and as he pulled back, and slowly swung around the tree for a shot, the deer saw him and bust. “Man I love bowhunting” he tells me, “it’s so hard, but it’s so fun! I felt like you and I were like two mountain lions up here, no communication between us as we both tried to kill these deer, and we got close!! He was right, we were like a couple lions on the mountain stalking up on our prey, and we did get so close. I was so happy for him but was so consumed by my emotional roller coster that was in full operation, and I lacked the ability to show my excitement for him, even though I was. I felt like a horrible friend and person as we walked back to camp in silence.

I couldn’t bring myself to cheer up as Dylan tried to lighten the mood making jokes. Hearing a side by side close by we watch them drive into camp. “Seeing much over here?” They asked us. We inform them of what we’d seen so far, and turns out it was nothing compared to what they had seeing. We talked for a while and after they drove off Dylan said, “well, should we go look for those big bucks they were finding? Seems like the universe is telling us something.” Sounds good to me, I tell him. Excited for a change of scenery and some gravel road country tunes, the energy instantly shifted.

As we drove through the washes and rocky stretches of road that winded along the desert floor, our eyes were busy looking out our windows for a high advantage that we could get a lay of the land from. Finding one just right off the road we climb over and up rocks and try to avoid the cactus that litters the hillside, eager to get the glass out to find some deer. It didn’t take long and the spot we were at, it didn’t feel right and just like that we were on the move again, headed to higher ground. Reaching our desired destination we settle into our optics and within minuets Dylan spots a buck. A few does feed about behind him and our window of opportunity was closing. Leaving his bow in the truck Dylan runs back to grab it in record time. Watching the buck feed onto a bench behind a rise in elevation, another buck appears, pushing does with nose. I know my window to move was here as the deer wouldn’t see me as I sneak in. Grabbing just my bow I make moves. Reaching the bottom of the drainage I hear a whistle as Dylan joins me. We use the wash to move in closer to the deer, but we arent fast enough for a small buck is sky-lined looking down at us. Once again, we were busted. We freeze in our tracks and wait for the deer to keep feeding so we can back out. Last thing we wanted to do was to bust these deer out of here, plus we were running out of daylight. The daylight fades to dusk and we use the trees to block their view of us as we head out.

Returning to camp in the evenings, I would start dinner while Dylan started a fire and made our beds. The next few hours would fly by as conversation around the fire ranged from hunting stories, to our dating lives or lack there of, from our traumas and the memories we had shared together. We talked about our dreams and passions in life, both which both seemed to align. The conversation flowed just like the river we have rowed. Our hearts were happy, and our anxieties and stress from everyday life dissipated into the desert ground. The stars above twinkled brighter each night as the moon got smaller and rose later. We talked about living here forever, not wanting to return to society. This was our place, we could feel it. We could feel the energy of our ancestors that walked this land before us and we knew we were a part of the big puzzle we call life and we know, that someday when we died, our energy too would be felt in these wild places too.

As you can see from the photo above, the Arizona desert offers little to no mercy as everything seems to be covered in thorns and the rocky ground makes it very difficult to walk quietly. Scratches covered our legs and forms we we hiked and crawled to try and get into shooting range of the deer. One of the hardest parts of this was the attentiveness of the does, which each herd seemed to have at least 20 of them. Getting in close was the biggest hurdle. For those of you who have followed along on my previous blog and instagram post you may have noticed I talk alot about the struggles and emotions that come with hunting. Growing up watching Primos hunting I always got the vibe that hunting is always exciting, and happy happy. There seems to be a lack of discussion about the hardships hunting brings us. Perhaps this is because the generation before us tends to shy away from talking about hard things, or maybe its because the hunting entertainment mainly is ran by men. I’m not saying men are insensitive to emotions but they do tend to show only the good and avoid the parts that make them look less manly. I don’t mean to call anyone out on this but I do feel its very important to bring in this awareness as a new generation is evolving into the hunting world. Since September I have been chasing wild game with my bow, holding six tags in my pocket. I am well aware that this has nothing to do with my skill or lack of effort but while hunting in Arizona it felt as though all the failures I had experienced in the past 4 months suddenly we weighing me down and this created an emotional breakthrough that my soul was needing. The next paragraph is a piece I wrote in the field, a piece of writing so raw, emotional and true that I feel its necessary to share with you.

"Archery hunters talk about the emotional roller coster that happens when pursuing wild game with a bow and arrow, and how it’s why they do it, but I question why? What is it about the emotional roller coster that keeps you going back for more? Is failure really something that feeds your soul? Does it keep you going? I am so tired of feeling defeated over and over again, and I question my true intentions of being out here. I question my purpose and I question my skill. Am I doing it for the right reasons, or am I just trying to be cool like everyone else? I question my intuition in the field, asking myself is this just a thought or idea I hope to play out, or should I trust this feeling? I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been doing it for the wrong reasons all along, and now that the year is coming to an end, and I still havnt’t put any meat in the freezer, I know in the year ahead I must make some changes to how I pursue wild game. My hopes of living a self-sustained lifestyle can’t be fulfilled by only holding archery tags. This isn’t about the instagram post, or the title of being a bad ass, it’s much more than that. Is it really worth it to continue to fail time and time again, and to ride this roller coaster of emotions just so I can say I’m a bow hunter? People tell me I deserve it, and that I’ve put in the hard work and time, but I question weather or not I do. My judgment feels clouded, unlike that when I first started hunting as a young girl. My relationship with hunting is no longer the same as it when then, and I’ve realized while here in the desert that my WHY is evolving just as I am.”

Dylan and I hunted a total of eight days, each day having several stalks. Eventhoug we didn’t fill our tags, we can say for certain this hunt changed us. Our friendship reached a level of which I’ve never known and the future of hunting and creating a business with such an amazing human makes my heart skip a beat. Head on over to our Instagram @obligatecornivora and follow along as we focus on fitness, nutrition, and performance. We have some exciting plans for the future but know we can only take this one day at a time. We hope to inspire others along the way to make fitness and nutrition a lifestyle, so when hunting season arrives, you too can run up and down mountains. I am eternally grateful for this hunt and all it gave me. I feel like a newer and improved version of myself and I look forward to applying that to 2022! Happy New Year to you all, and once again, thank you so much for following along.

@ridgepatrol

@theeberningman

@obligatecarnivora

@whats_your_wild

Lastly I would like to give a big shout out to Ryan from @hunt_az on helping directing us in a area with great potential. Go give his page a follow as well!