The day was January 1, 2008. While most Americans were sleeping off the festivities of New Year's Eve, I was finally doing something I'd only talked about doing for years. For too long, I'd dreamed about hunting mule deer in either Arizona or New Mexico during the late-season January bowhunt. Now I was actually doing it. What better way to start the New Year than by shooting a big buck?

When the weather drops well below freezing, why bother to hunt over water? My New Mexico muley, taken in January, offers one good reason.

A chalk-colored cloud of dust followed my black truck on the last 10 miles of a winding, rocky road in southern New Mexico. The narrow road led to the ranch headquarters where I would spend the next week. The surrounding hills were dotted with rocks, cedars, pinions, and clumps of yucca, cholla and prickly pear cactus. It reminded me of places where I'd hunted javelinas in West Texas. White dust from the country road blanketed the surrounding cedars and unique desert botanicals like graffiti on a masterpiece. Even in winter, the landscape was bone-dry.

What prompted me to finally quit dreaming and go hunting was a conversation the previous year with outfitter Johnny Hughes of Elite Outfitters. Johnny and I talked about hunting elk together, but I failed to draw a tag. Later, Johnny mentioned that he'd seen some good muley bucks on one of his elk properties. Those big bucks seemed to appear from thin air during December and January, when the rut was on.

"Why don't you come, and we'll see how we do on muleys in January with our bows?" was Johnny's comment between talk of elk. That was all the invitation I needed.

According to the Pope & Young Club's 25th Recording Period Statistical Summary, New Mexico ranks ninth in terms of states and provinces with the most total typical mule deer entries and twelfth in nontypical entries. Other facts gleaned from this book include the stat that 60 percent of mule deer entries were taken by spot and stalk, about 11 percent from ground blinds, and 14 percent from treestands. The rest were taken by baiting, still-hunting, or calling.

By comparison, 85 percent of whitetails were taken from treestands, 5 percent from ground blinds, and 2 percent by stalking. Baiting, still-hunting, and calling accounted for the rest.

Also, average shot distance for mule deer was much farther than for whitetails. About 34 percent of mule deer were shot at 40 yards or farther, compared to only 4 percent of whitetails. Obviously, stalking ability and long-range shooting skills contribute to success on mule deer.

Many rubs like this one near an isolated water tank helped convince me to take a stand near water.

Most biologists classify the mule deer of southern New Mexico as desert mule deer. Desert bucks have mouse-gray hides that blend perfectly with the dry, rock-covered hillsides. Typically, desert mule deer grow slightly smaller bodies and antlers than their larger Rocky Mountain cousins. The harsh desert environment where these deer live probably explains the smaller dimensions.

Despite the environment, desert bucks reach some impressive proportions, and a number of bucks show up in the record books. Going into my 2008 hunt, I was optimistic that we might find a desert giant, but I was also realistic. Any mature buck, regardless of antler score, would be a trophy in my eyes.

That first morning, Johnny and I rode four-wheelers in the dark in a face-numbing, icy breeze to our hunting location. I was bundled up like the Michelin Man.

Although desert days might warm up, winter nights can get bitter. The temperature was 14 degrees as I snugged into my daypack, and tiny clouds of frost billowed from my chapped lips as Johnny and I whispered about our plans for the day. A few patches of snow still lingered on the hillsides.

At sunrise, we were glassing a big canyon where the ranch cowboy reported seeing a 30-inch buck just weeks earlier. In the vast canyon, trying to find an individual buck was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack, and we did not find the needle.