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Wyoming Mixed Bag

By Norm DeCastro

Kip DeCastro with WY Muley With our elk and antelope tags filled it was time to concentrate on deer. My oldest son Kip had killed a couple of does and a small buck, but wanted something better this year. I had planned to hunt some country that can hold some really nice muley bucks, but unfortunately Kip injured his ankle in PE the day we were leaving so that limited our options.

We drove from Casper to Cody, WY anyway and decided to take our chances. We had a couple of choices – one to hunt the top of Logan Mountain on some rolling ridges sitting and glassing as best we could with Kip’s bum ankle and the other was to hunt the Shoshone River bottoms doing some drives as there were some decent muley bucks down low as well as an occasional whitetail. We decided to drive up the mountain and start there. On the way up I spotted a good muley buck laying on the edge of some trees along the crest of a ridge. After a short stalk (or hobble on Kip’s bum ankle), Kip made a nice shot at about 125 yards, anchoring the buck in his bed.

With my tag left to fill, we headed down to the river where My Dad and my youngest son Logan were going to walk the river bottom while Kip and I took a stand. The first drive produced about 20 deer, assorted mule deer and a few whitetail with only small bucks. We regrouped and moved up the river a half mile where Kip and I found a good spot to look over an opening with scattered willows and also the open field behind us. I told Kip I would watch the river and he could watch behind us in case one tried to use the back door.

Norm Decastro with WY Whitetail We were on stand not more than five minutes when I glanced back over my shoulder out into the field, to see a nice whitetail buck come running out of a gulley leading from the field to the river about 50 yards away. I stood up, made sure Kip was clear, and swung on the buck as he crossed in front of me, missing the first shot. After the shot the buck really kicked it into high gear quartering away.

I chambered another shell, got back on him, and squeezed off another round as I swung the crosshairs past his shoulder dropping him in his tracks. I tried not to act surprised that I actually hit a whitetail on a dead run for the benefit of my son, who thinks I make shots like that every time I go out. I turned to Kip with a look of casual confidence and said “That one almost got away”.

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