The Father, The Son And The Holy Spirit

Two weeks prior to the Nevada 2010 opener, my son Chris and I were backpacking high in the Rubies setting up camp. In 2009 we discovered what we thought was a Mule Deer paradise only 4 miles from the end of a well travelled trail. It turned out we were right, as our spotting scopes were scanning from buck to buck our first morning on the mountain. The ridge we had chosen had a half dozen bucks varying from 170” to 185”, all living within a half mile of each other. The pre-season was kind with quality bucks being spotted every day. Every time I would look in Christopher’s direction his face was glowing and his grin was as wide as I’d ever seen. It looked as though this area still had all the needed ingredients for another action filled hunt.

The evening before the opener had both of us boiling over with anticipation; I don’t think I slept a wink that night. Once on the mountain I usually get some kind of feel as to how things are going to play out, on this night things felt a little off for some reason. The “Spirit of the Mountain” was restless as the wind howled long into the darkness. I laid on my back and stared at the sky until sunrise, all the while praying the day would bring opportunity Christopher’s way. A few hours into the day Chris was trying to put the moves on a bachelor group, but was caught off guard by a big non-typical that came in from behind him. The bachelor group split with three of the half dozen heading my way. One of the bucks carried a 28” wide, 180” rack. They walked within 45 yards and stopped to look back down the mountain towards Chris, giving me a fantastic opportunity. I had a serious case of buck fever and managed to shoot under the buck at 45 and again at 50 yards, forever destroying my ego.

The following day we again spotted some real solid bucks but the wind refused to cooperate. Day three and four brought thunderstorms and swirling winds that again foiled our best thought out plans. Day five was good, but trying to outsmart groups of seven and eight bucks proved to be difficult.

Christopher finally found a solid 180” deer on day six that had bedded by himself in a good location for a stalk. As Chris was closing the gap, a group of five smaller bucks decided they would move from a nearby quaky patch and worked their way between Chris and the monster. Chris was running out of hunting time as he needed to get back to school in a few days. As Chris was waiting patiently for the big buck to move, a fair 4x4 began browsing at 25 yards. I was watching the whole event unfold in my spotting scope, my first thought as he drew his bow was; that buck is in big trouble, Chris doesn’t miss. Chris couldn’t take this kind of teasing and hammered his 300 fps Spitfire through the bucks shoulder. The buck travelled about 30 yards and was done. Great Day!! The quartering, caping, and packing began. Several hours later with darkness looming, we made it to the truck. What a memorable day it had been!

I’ve always had a passion for any type of big game hunting, but bow hunting is where the big picture has to all come together. It’s a fabulous tool for teaching; it takes a well thought out plan that needs to be executed to perfection. When a young man can go out and be successful on a public ground mule deer hunt, he has learned a life lesson that cannot be taught in any other environment. At first glance you are attempting what appears to be impossible, but over time you fine tune your skills through to success. I believe this sense of accomplishment can give a young man the confidence he needs to take on anything that comes his way. Over the course of the last ten years he has developed stalking skills that blow my mind every time I watch him move in on a buck. I’m usually watching from a half mile or so and can never find him in my scope until he explains where he is on the radio. I always tell him he would make a great Navy Seal.

We took a couple days off in an effort to let our broke down bodies heal and then hit it hard one more time. The morning of day seven again brought opportunity our way with four bucks in the first basin we glassed. One of the bucks was a solid 175” buck. As I moved in the fickle breeze got the best of me with three of the bucks heading down the mountain and one that decided to go his own way. We kept him in our sights and watched him bed under a very stalkable mahogany tree in the next basin. Three hours later the afternoon updrafts were perfect and I found myself 40 yards from the buck looking for a shooting lane. The only spot I had any chance whatsoever of getting an arrow through was 13 yards closer to the deer. I crawled my way to the 27 yard mark and began the waiting game. Approximately 1.5 hours later the buck stood, either to change beds or just to turn around. I had a real solid buck at 27 yards with visions of my poor performance from opening day still dancing in my head. I took that extra split second to make sure everything was perfect and let my Spitfire go. The hit wasn’t perfect, but was good enough to put him down. As we approached the dead buck he appeared to grow a bit making us both wonder how big the one that got away really was. What a great day! It was sure special for me to share a successful hunt with Chris. He gave me a hard time about my poor hit for the next 8 hours as we packed my buck to the truck. We had to cover 4 miles of Ruby Mountain terrain in order to get off the mountain by dark. It was awfully nice to have him at my side to pack the heavy load. In years past I’m usually packing alone since Chris leaves for college halfway through the season.

The truly big bucks got the best of us, but I’m already dreaming about how large they will be next year. Sharing a quality hunt with your son is about as good as life can get. Watching a young boy grow a love for the mountain over the last 10 years has been the pinnacle of fatherhood. I’m getting to the point where I can’t remember what I had for breakfast, but can recall every hunt Chris and I experienced together.

Hanging a quality picture of a successful hunt near your office telephone can give you a window of memories into the past. When business gets a little hectic, I take a deep breath, glance at my office wall and relive some great hunts. One of my favorite photographs is a picture of Chris with his first bow kill. A quick glance reminds me of why we have children-to put a smile on their face.

Below: Scott and Chris Faiman with their 2009 Nevada bucks.
















Congratulations to Scott and Chris on another fabulous season!!