Reaping the Rewards: 15 Years of Coues Hunting Pays Off

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Coues deer have always been my struggle. I just couldn’t seem to kill one, probably due to lack of focus. For more than 15 years, I hunted these tiny desert deer off and on, mainly by spot-and-stalk methods. I’d drawn my bow back on only one good buck during that time, missing him cleanly from 50 yards. That was more than a decade ago, when I ventured from California to Arizona with a friend to backpack a little-known wilderness area. I’ll never forget that adventure. I carried a 90-pound pack up a steep hillside for at least three miles before finding the only flat spot on the mountain to pitch my tent. There were no creeks or springs nearby, so I had a large, collapsible jug filled with water, in addition to other camping essentials, to lug up the rugged cactus- mesquite hillside.

When you’re young and charged with motivation, you do things like that, relying on sheer strength to overcome challenges. Sometimes it works, but not all the time. Patience, time in the field and well-honed shooting skill are what seem to kill coveted trophy animals the most. I’ve learned this the hard way, through trial and error.

In 2023, I decided I had enough of not killing Coues deer. I would scout, strategize and hunt with a newfound fervor and finally get the best of these diminutive trick artists. In the past, I was too stricken with family and work responsibilities — not to mention mule deer, whitetail and elk hunts — to give my undivided attention to Coues deer. No more, I vowed. Things were settling down at work and at home, with my two very special daughters now in college. It felt right, and with mama’s blessing, of course, it was time to immerse myself in Coues deer hunting.

Intense Scouting

After an early season of antelope hunting and joining a few friends on their general-season deer hunts, November seemed to arrive in a blink. In the weeks prior, I had poured over forest and topo maps with tenacity, formulating my Coues hunting plans. Before any hunt, I like to devise a solid Plan A, Plan B and even a Plan C, as you never know what to expect in the field, especially when hunting public land. Besides, the effort and time you spend scouting make the end result more rewarding. I enjoy the scouting process immensely; it’s a big part of the hunt for me. Aside from studying paper maps and online sources such as onX and Google Earth, it’s critical to spend time putting boots on the ground in potential hunting spots. Based on personal experience, 70 percent of the good-looking “map spots” don’t shape up to be good areas at all. So, separating the best from the rest is a must. If you wait to do this until the first week of the season, you’ll waste precious time and get very frustrated. Put in the time beforehand and reap the rewards later.

This mindset prepared me well for the mid-December hunting season. After several days of devising plans, driving nasty 4x4 roads and burning lots of boot leather, I had numerous ground blind and stand spots picked out — and it paid off. Despite several foiled encounters with bucks that scurried off because of an errant wind or a ground blind that stuck out like a sore thumb in the sunlight, I managed to shoot my first Coues deer at 42 yards. He wasn’t a big buck, but with the final days of the season looming, ask me if I cared. It was a memorable experience that culminated with a well-placed arrow to the deer’s vitals. Best yet, that buck provided some of the tastiest venison I’ve ever had. What a bonus!

Headed South

On Jan. 1, 2024, I had a new Coues deer tag in my pocket. However, my relatively close-to-home honey hole had just about met its harvest quota, a relatively new thing for Arizona’s over-the-counter units. I had anticipated this in the weeks prior. So, I set Plan B into motion. Besides, I was ready to stalk Coues deer again in the more open, desert-like landscapes, instead of the tangled pinyon-juniper country near home. One of my favorite areas for doing this is in southern Arizona.

We had several winter storms in January, so I kept looking at the weather forecast to figure out when to embark on my next adventure. Soon enough, I was packing for a six-day journey, gathering essentials for a solo wilderness backpack or remote truck-camp hunt. I often use both methods, depending on hunting pressure, the lay of the land and where game is most concentrated.

The five-hour drive to the hunting area went without a hitch, but it was well after dark by the time I arrived at my camping spot. I made a quick meal and crawled into the back of my camper-covered pickup.

These mountains were special to me, since I had backpacked here with my oldest daughter, Mikaela. We saw a few bucks on that trip but mainly froze our behinds off. The nighttime temps dropped below 10 degrees, and despite using 0-degree sleeping bags and high-tech inflatable pads, we were still chilled to the bone!

My plan was to head up a prominent ridgeline at sunup and glass with my Swarovski 15x56 binoculars. I wanted to take inventory of animals within the various foothills and creek bottoms just inside the wilderness boundary. The two big bucks I’d seen the year prior were less than a mile from the trailhead.

By daybreak, I had my trusty Badlands 2800 pack on, filled with optical gear, fruit and a variety of snacks, water and game bags. I have used the same pack for the last 10-plus years for extended day treks, quick overnighters and routine meat pack-outs, and it keeps on truckin’. It’s extremely functional, tough and quiet — the type of gear you’ll need in the rugged environs Coues deer call home.

I crept along the spine of the ridge, stopping at specific vantage points to glass terrain. I began picking up a few does but no bucks. I also noticed plenty of old and even fresh boot tracks. It wasn’t long before I spied two bowhunters working the same ridgeline. The country was too open for all of us, so I decided to drop off the hillside and head to the other side of the valley.

On my way, I came across a small 7-pointer. I closed in as much as I could, but my goal was to harvest a mature Coues buck, so I backed off. Besides, I knew my tag would be good for next season as well, and I was soaking up the beauty of my surroundings. In many ways, the reward was already mine. It’s good to be thankful anytime you have the ability to hike and admire this country.

Despite seeing other hunters, things were still looking up. I just had a Coues buck within shooting distance, and I had been in the field fewer than three hours. My goal now was to reach a specific canyon where I had seen the majority of the deer last January. If there was good activity there, I’d devise a spike-out plan using my bivvy gear. This would put me in a great position to hunt at first light, when deer were most active.

As I approached the canyon, I heard a whistle. I looked up and saw a group of hunters. This time, there were four of them, all wearing overnight packs. I couldn’t believe it. My plan of hunting the wilderness seemed ruined. I became discouraged and somewhat embarrassed as I swapped directions and made a beeline for the truck.

Implementing Plan C

During my pre-season scouting, I had thought heavily about alternate hunting plans and kept coming back to an area on the other side of the valley, across from the designated wilderness area. Here was a smaller mountain range, yet in my opinion, a much more rugged one, due to massive rock outcroppings and sheer cliffs. I had hunted this region a long time ago but accessed the mountains from the opposite side. On this side of the range, there were no roads or hiking trails. It was bushwhacking only!

The next day, I drove my truck across the valley and found a nice turn-out spot along the only 4x4 road in the area. I hiked a little way and set up my 15-power glass to pick apart the terrain. About 1.5-2 miles away, I began spotting deer — four does. I continued to glass and noticed a few more deer, but they were all does. They were all traveling across a bench-like area below the highest knobs.

I visualized different hiking paths to the deer, but each one seemed pretty daunting when traveling with a heavy pack on. I also wondered about drinking water. Would there be any? And would there be bucks pursuing those does?

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, I decided to give my trek-in plan a try and began sorting through supplies and loading my expedition-size pack. As I was doing this, I heard the sound of a truck approaching. It was a hunter, and he exited his vehicle and began walking my way. Interesting, I thought.

He approached and quickly began apologizing for “messing up” my hunting spot.

“I just got here a little while ago. You did no harm,” I told him.

The hunter shot a buck just before dark but couldn’t locate it. But he’d be back at first light, blood-trailing. I offered my assistance, of course, but he felt confident he could track down the deer on his own. Like mine, his name was Joe, which seemed funny at the time.

“I’ll hunt well away from where you shot the deer,” I assured him.

“I would certainly appreciate that,” he replied.

With the mountains as complex as they were, he suggested I follow him into the hills in the morning, then he’d point out a good ridge for me to hike along. He seemed very familiar with the area, so I jumped at the offer. I would camp right where my truck was parked, waiting for him to return at dawn. Plan C was set.

Learning the Country

My new friend Joe showed up just as the sun was poking above the horizon. We made our way down into a valley and across a barbed-wire fence. “Head toward those big rocks and you’ll be able to follow that ridge for a ways,” Joe told me as he pointed to the spot. We then parted ways, wishing each other good luck.

About 45 minutes later, I was still-hunting along that ridge when two deer shot out from below me. I was able to pick them up again on the far side of the canyon — a nice 8-point buck and doe. The buck was in full-rut mode as he chased the female across the rock-studded topography. Then they disappeared like a puff of smoke as they entered some thick scrub. I glassed the hills beyond the deer, picking up a few does, but nothing else. Soon, the sun’s rays began to beat down on my face, so I looked for shady areas to follow in the main valley, hoping to eventually explore the region I had glassed the day prior.

On my way, I ran into Joe, unbelievably. He had found his buck, and it went a little further than expected. He suggested I hunt where he had seen other bucks. He pointed to a prominent ridgeline and suggested I begin my hunt there early in the morning.

The next day found me lurking around this honey hole, eyes peeled for movement. A little after daybreak, a doe jutted out from the brush, less than 20 yards away. I was moving ultra-slow, still-hunting, and never saw a glimpse of the deer until it frantically bolted away. I figured I’d utilize a combination of hunting tactics in this area, hoping to make something happen. The terrain was varied, with semi-open ridges, plateaus and small valleys.

At one point, as I dropped below the ridgeline, I noticed an area with lots of tracks. I found a rock to sit on and began calling, making a series of buck grunts and fawn bleats. I scanned my surroundings, but nothing appeared.

Final Moments

I moved back up to the ridgeline, continuing my still-hunting sequence. Suddenly, a glimpse of movement caught my eye. It was two big bucks, less than 45 yards away, and both were looking away, completely unaware of my presence!

Quickly, I took cover behind a big rock and latched onto the rangefinder tethered around my neck. The unit flashed, “43 yards,” then “46 yards.” I came to full draw immediately, but there was no shot as the deer moved slowly through thick grass.

I had to let my bow down. The bucks were now 55-60 yards away, moving through the dense understory. Then the lead buck took a few steps and was clear from the vegetation. I came to full draw again. As he stopped at 54 yards, I eased the sight pin to his chest and began applying tension, but then he suddenly shifted positions. I couldn’t get the shot off, so I let down again.

The second and slightly larger buck followed the same path, presenting a shot just before stepping behind the thick brush. I quickly planted the 50-yard pin high and swiftly pulled through the shot. The bow thudded, followed by the distinct “thump-thump” sound of the arrow passing through the deer. Both animals thundered away, with my buck hobbling up and over the ridgeline. My instincts told me the shot may have been a little far back, but I wasn’t positive.

I waited about 30 minutes before looking for my arrow. While searching the heavy grass for the arrow, I noticed a small buck below me, less than 30 yards away and clueless of my presence. Unbelievable, I thought.

I eventually found the arrow, which was covered in blood and some streaks of brown matter. I didn’t like what I saw, so I decided to wait before following the blood trail.

Later, I followed the sign up and over the ridgeline. About 200 yards down into the next valley, I found my buck sprawled out between two boulders. I was completely stunned by the sight of this great animal. So much time and work had gone into harvesting this deer — and a lot of luck, too. Rarely does a hunter traipse around Coues deer country only to stumble upon two big bucks within shooting distance.

The stars had certainly aligned for me during this entire deer season. Two Coues bucks taken in fewer than 30 days was quite a blessing, but maybe it was more than that. I couldn’t help but wonder, Was I simply reaping the rewards of years of bowhunting effort? In a lot of ways, I believed I was, knowing that persistence and passion almost always count for something in the bowhunting woods.

Author’s Notes: On this hunt, I used a Hoyt Ventum Pro 30 bow, Spot-Hogg Hunter MRT 7-pin sight, Easton A/C arrows, G5 Striker V2 100-grain broadheads, T.R.U. Ball release aid, Swarovski optics, Crispi Nevada boots, Badlands and Kifaru backpacks and Sitka garments.

Technical Editor Joe Bell is a longtime archery industry professional and successful DIY bowhunter who pursues big game across the West. He lives in northern Arizona with his wife and two daughters.

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