Salad Fork - A Buck Worth Waiting For
January 7 was warm, clear, and unforgiving, not the kind of morning a desert mule deer hunter usually gets lucky. But then again, this buck wasn’t just any deer. I’d been watching him for years, and over the past four days, I had lived in his shadow. His name was Salad Fork.
I first laid eyes on him again this season on the 3rd day of the new year. It was brutally cold, the kind of wind-slicing chill that makes you think twice about leaving the truck. I almost did. But something kept me out there that extra thirty minutes, and that’s when I spotted him. The old buck was bedded up with 14 does, and even at a distance, he looked like he was pushing 160–165 inches. He’d filled out this year, wide, heavy, with that signature weak back fork I’d come to recognize.
I’d seen him before in years past, even caught some footage of him. But this year he was different. 5½ years old, fully mature. This was the year. And I wasn’t about to press my luck or make rookie moves. I’ve learned my lessons. When I first moved to Arizona, it took me nine years to get my first shot at a desert mule deer with a bow. I wasn’t about to blow it now.
That first day, I watched him from a half-mile out until I couldn’t see anymore. No pushing. Just patterning.
The Pattern Begins
On January 4, I was back before sunrise. I found his does at first light, and like clockwork, he showed himself again around midday. He napped in the open like he owned the desert. That gave me just enough time to start planning an ambush. I knew I was in for the long game and I was fine with that.
Day three brought bad weather, wind, swirling pressure, messy glassing conditions. I found him again, but this time he moved mid-day with the herd across the next mountain range. That gave me a pit in my stomach… and a little hope. I thought I knew where they were heading to bed.
The Moment
January 7. Warm. Bright. No clouds. The kind of day where shadows disappear fast, and so does your cover.
I glassed up a few does above a saddle. The wind finally shifted in my favor, and I moved in. I got within 60 yards of the last doe I saw crossing the saddle and held position. She crested a rock… and locked eyes with me.
Totally pinned.
Four days of chess, and now I was in a staring contest with a desert nanny. She had me cold. But I didn’t move a muscle… the wind was right, and luck was on my side. After a long five minutes, she turned and disappeared.
And that’s when he stepped out.
Salad Fork. Standing broadside. Staring straight through me.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink. I was locked down and helpless until he made the decision I needed. He turned and followed the doe into the draw. That gave me everything.
She disappeared behind a Palo Verde tree. I ranged it, 89 yards. I dialed my sight. Thanked the desert gods I shoot to 100 yards almost daily.
When he stepped out, I was ready.
Pin steady. Breath calm.
Arrow gone.
After the Shot
The hit was solid, but a little back. He donkey-kicked and bolted, and when I reached the impact site, I found good blood. He made it about 200 yards before lying down.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
The coyotes got on him first. They kept bumping him every time he tried to rest, and the sinking feeling of a lost buck crept in. I started bumping them off of him instead, chasing them through the desert determined not to let nature write the ending.
Eventually, he laid his head down for the last time. And I laid my hands on the most incredible desert buck I’ve ever taken.
A Buck Worth Every Step
Salad Fork scored 163 inches but this hunt was never about tape. It was about years of learning, patience, and the challenge only a desert mule deer can deliver. He taught me more than I could’ve learned any other way.
This was the kind of hunt you dream about.
And the kind of buck that’ll be damn hard to top.
