Kodiak--It's Not For Wimps

"Can we let her get a little closer?" I asked, as the huge grizzly sow ambled across the hillside towards us, oblivious to our presence and trailing three fat cubs in her wake. I was hoping for a nice photo, having lugged my camera gear up the mountainside in case of a chance encounter. But my guide Jake was wiser in these matters, and announced our location by walking a few steps, shouting and waving his arms. The bear took a good long look and swapped ends, running back around the hill with her cubs in tow.

Such is hunting on Kodiak Island, off the southern coast of the Alaskan mainland. Aside from a bear encounter or two, I was hoping to bring home a couple of those lovely, stocky little Sitka blacktail deer, transplanted onto Kodiak and thriving on the steep grassy hillsides. I had always been so impressed with their strikingly patterned capes and black foreheads, surely one of the most lovely of our wild deer. Not known for large antlers, and rarely exceeding 100 pounds in weight, their beautiful coats and the often dramatic and strenuous hunting experience more than make up for their smaller racks.

Hunting on Kodiak in November isn`t exactly for the faint of heart. The terrain is quite steep, to say the least; just about everywhere is up, and the only flat ground lies in a few isolated river bottoms. The mountains start in the sea and often go almost straight up, carpeted in thick grass, ferns and shrubs, and accented with hundreds of small ravines choked in twisted alders, or "alders from hell", an apt name that springs to mind after traversing a few of these drainages.

I booked my hunt with Jake Jefferson of Black River Hunting Camps out of Wasilla, Alaska. Jake had spent ten years hunting on Kodiak and other parts of Alaska for griz, sheep and goat, but he knew a lot about the deer too, and along with his wife Amber was looking forward to our adventure. I was also excited; I'd had some trouble finding a guided blacktail hunt, as most hunters come in a group and hunt unguided from boats that cruise the shorelines; hunting from a tent camp would be a special Kodiak experience. After an evening in town doing some last minute shopping for our camp, we awoke to a rare sunny calm day, perfect for flying into our tent camp in Kiliuda Bay on the southeastern side of the island. Jake and a client had taken a 10`5" 1700 pound bear in this area last week, and they had seen quite a few deer as well. He set up a cozy tent for me and a larger main tent/cooking area, and we were all eager to set off the next morning. I tried a few shots with Amber`s rifle, a Winchester 30.06; I was grateful to borrow a gun, as it makes air travel so much easier.

Again we were blessed with a sunny day, but the ice lay thick on the grass and rocks in the trails we hiked up behind camp, wide trails beaten down by generations of grizzlies traversing the slopes. We climbed and stopped on several high points to glass the mountain valleys surrounding the bay. We saw several deer, and the bucks were on the move looking for does, a good sign. The sun finally cleared the southern mountains, and we moved to a hillside in the sun to warm up, watching the deer. I was amazed to see a tiny speck moving down from the very pinnacle of a nearby mountain; it was a buck, moving between drainages, in spite of the deep snow up high. We also noticed an injured buck way up high that must have broken a front leg while traversing the rocky summit. We saw more than 20 deer, mostly bucks, but none was larger than the island`s typical 2x2. The sun was setting at 5:00, and we packed up to head back down to camp (oh, do I hate going DOWN).

Suddenly Jake motioned frantically, and I stumbled down to the edge of the hill and saw three deer we`d surprised moving across a flat bench 75 yards below us. I grabbed an alder branch, steadied the rifle on my wrist, and as soon as I saw antlers I shot, dropping the buck instantly. The two does with him seemed bewildered, and lingered as we approached. He was a nice 3x3, a good start towards filling my three tags. Jake made short work of caping and quartering, and we scrambled down to our tents along the beach just before dark.

Gear for a trip like this takes some thought. Really good wind and rain-proof pants and coat are a must, as are well fitting knee high rubber boots, since there are lots of marshy areas and stream crossings, not to mention snow and ice. A shooting stick is a good idea as well, and really good quality optics will make the difference when deciding on stalking a buck from a mile away. I was lucky that Jake had a Swarovski spotting scope; we never made a stalk without first checking out details with the scope. Waterproof gloves and a face mask also made a difference in comfort in the brisk wind.

Our second day dawned clear as well, and we hiked up Bear Creek, crossing the tidal river mouth and following the cottonwood river bottom up the valley. An old prospector`s shack served as our base for glassing that morning, and it was nice to get out of the wind for a bit. We saw fewer deer today (we averaged about two dozen a day, half of which were bucks), although one was tempting, having that rare fourth tine on one side; only about 2% of Kodiak bucks exhibit this fourth point. He was way at the top of a mountain with a doe, and we started up the ridge in his direction, but couldn`t catch up with them. A change in the weather seemed imminent, and as we headed down, a squall of rain and hail descended, and it rained, snowed and hailed all night. My tent felt like it might fly away as wind gusts and hail slammed into the sides; thankfully my tent held fast, and didn`t even leak.

We got a late start the next morning, hoping the weather would subside. With daybreak at the crack of 8:30 and dark at 6:00, we were all getting plenty of rest, especially on bad weather days. Jake told me he seldom saw deer moving in severe weather, but he gamely packed up his deer gear and we hiked to several lookouts, hunkering down when the snow pellets and 40 mph wind buffeted us. We gave up after a few hours, tried a stalk on a nearby pond for ducks (no luck) and called it a day, hoping for better weather in the morning.

Day four dawned cloudy and cold, and with fresh snow carpeting the bear trails, we set off up Bear Creek again, hoping the calmer weather would get the deer moving. After sitting on a few high points and glassing, we weren`t seeing anything worth a stalk, so we continued up the drainage towards the head of the valley. A big grizzly was way up near the summit of the largest mountain, and I wondered what he was finding to eat way up there. Everything seemed to want to be high; most of the does were well above the snowline, and so the bucks were there too, hoping to get lucky. One buck we watched did win his prize, breeding a doe on a slope so high and steep, it was amazing they stayed on their feet.

In their constant travels in the peak of the rut, the bucks did have to come down to cross to the next mountainside, and that was where we saw two very nice bucks meeting in the valley and sizing each other up before continuing their search. They were the nicest bucks we`d seen, but they never slowed down, making a stalk from our perch on the opposite hillside a bit tricky to plan. With the grass being three feet tall, the bucks easily slipped from view as they traveled, but I did catch a glimpse of one of them as he headed down the valley, hot on a trail. Desperate to stop him, I started bleating, then grunting, taking a guess at what sounds they might make (no doubt I sounded like a cat caught in a grate). The buck paused, and actually turned around and headed back in our direction, stopping a few times to thrash the brush and sound impressive. He looked large, dark and impressive, but very small way down there on the valley floor. He started heading away again, initiating more frantic noises from both Jake and me. When he finally stopped in a tiny opening, I shot, dropping him in his tracks.

He was gorgeous, big, thick and dark, with a wonderful heavy, chocolaty rack with an extra kicker. These bucks were butter-fat, having feasted on Kodiak`s bountiful summer vegetation, and it was obvious they`d need it, traversing all these mountains looking for the girls. It had been a long shot for me, and I was quite chirpy and cheerful on the walk home. Jake laid the cape out to cool in the snow, and a nice cross fox made an appearance looking for scraps, unfortunate for him, as I gladly added him to my collection. There are quite a few foxes on the island, in many shades of red, black and a smoky cross color, and they are noticeably larger than their mainland cousins, due no doubt to a good diet of salmon during the summer months.

Another cloudy, windy and snowy day was in store, and we made good use of our camp time by skinning the fox and a recently acquired harlequin duck, one of my very favorites, shot from the beach. By 2:30 cabin fever had gotten the best of us, and we hiked up behind camp to look around, which wasn`t easy with snow flurries obscuring the visibility and over 6 inches of snow covering the uneven terrain. But I did spot a doe above us attended by a buck that Jake recognized from his previous bear hunt, and we climbed to a hill opposite, where Amber made a great shot in a strong crosswind to tag her first Kodiak buck. He was a beauty, with a wide and high dark rack, and Jake skinned him for a lifesize mount.

We now had one last day to fill my third tag, but I was fairly happy with how things were going. As day six dawned clear and sunny, both Jake and I were pretty excited to revisit the Bear Creek drainage to look for another rut-crazed buck. We climbed to a good vantage point, but the deer had decamped, leaving the valley silent and still, not even a doe in attendance. We tried a few other hillsides and saw a handful of youngsters, but no mature bucks. I couldn`t believe that my last day, sunny and full of promise, would end without sighting a nice buck...I`d been spoiled!

Looking way across the valley, Jake finally spotted what looked like a nice buck with a few does, one of which was coyly leading him on a merry chase in circles up and down the same hillside, a prelude to mating. After capering through the alders to test his stamina, she finally stood for him. Another large buck headed up their way, and although it was getting late in the day, Jake and I decided to give it a try. We hiked as fast as we could up the hills, and Jake led me gasping to the last woody hillside where we`d seen them together. The doe broke and led several others and the buck up the draw. I quickly sat and put my rifle on a shooting stick, waiting for him to appear one last time at the top of the ridge. The buck paused at the top, looking back down at him, and I held on top of his back at Jake`s suggestion and shot. They all disappeared over the ridge top, and now we had to climb up three hills to see what had happened.

I felt pretty anxious, disappointed and stupid, taking such a risky and far shot (for me, anyway), and Jake seemed resigned to tracking a wounded deer at sunset a long ways from camp, not an ideal situation. He left me on top of the last hill and went to check, shouting that there was no sign of blood. I felt relieved; I must have missed, which was certainly preferable to wounding the deer. I heard some limbs cracking and he reappeared, dragging a big old buck! I was shocked to say the least. He was a big heavy deer, older than the others, and thankfully he`d passed some of those good qualities on before he died! It was a long dark walk back to camp, but wow, what a great way to finish my hunt, the most fun I`ve had hunting in Alaska so far.

Although our flyout day dawned clear and calm, the plane never came, and not knowing what had happened or when he might arrive, we hauled our gear back from the beach where we`d piled it and settled into the larger tent for the night. After the coldest night yet, we were happy to hear the plane flying into the bay mid-morning; high winds in town had grounded the flights the day before. I did miss all my flights home, but a nice Alaskan ticket agent worked out alternatives for me, and I was only a day late getting home. We heard that some deer hunters had not been as lucky with deer as we had...however, one friend of mine had too much luck, and had to dispatch a large grizzly 10 feet from him as it charged him after he`d shot a buck. Any way you slice it, hunting Kodiak Island is an adventure, and I hope to do it again soon, perhaps joining Jake and Amber again to chase a mountain goat or who knows, a big bear someday.