It was an enjoyable hunt, but for the reasons stated it is not one that I have an overwhelming desire to repeat. Which is a good thing. Although the cougar remains legal game in most western states, about a decade ago, after years of a moratorium on cougar hunting, California changed the cougar to a non-game animal, in effect a sacred cow. The game department cannot manage them and sportsmen cannot hunt them; all we can do is feed our dwindling deer herd to their increasing numbers. And a California resident, although a citizen of the United States in most contexts of the Constitution, cannot lawfully bring a legally-taken sport-hunted cougar into the state of California. Since that’s where I live, and since I lack the wherewithal to challenge such an outrageous law, chances are I will hunt no more cougars in my lifetime.
On the other hand, I am an absolute proponent of cougar hunting and hound hunting. Cougar hunting because, like all wildlife resources, the great cats need to be managed. Allowing Mother Nature to maintain her own balance is a wonderful idea in a perfect world, but the world hasn’t been perfect since Man started leaving lots of footprints. In a natural state the great predators exhaust their prey and move on, but in Man’s world there isn’t always anyplace left for them to go. So first they run out of prey, and then they starve—or, driven by hunger, they commit what we consider crimes and are executed for them.
It’s a comforting thing to know that the wild places of the West are still cougar country, but I don’t want them in the backyard with my kids . . . and I’d like to have some deer around as well. So I’m all for managing prey and predator species alike, making sure that there are deer to watch and occasionally hunt . . . and enough cougars so that I can see their tracks once in a while, and just maybe catch a glimpse of one every few years.
I’m all for hound hunting, too. Not because I’m a houndsman, but because, over the last two centuries, it remains the only reliable way to hunt cougars, and is an equally effective and selective way to hunt bears. And not just for that reason alone. It’s a traditional and time-honored sport still pursued by a dying breed of individualists . . . and they are hunters, just like all the rest of us who are not houndsmen. In the states where hound hunting has been outlawed the vote would have been different had sportsmen stuck together. Instead many of us, perhaps well-intentioned but extremely short-sighted, turned on our own. We as hunters are not only individualists, but we’re often narrow-minded elitists quick to scorn hunting methods we don’t understand. It makes me tired to hear talk that hound hunting isn’t “fair chase,” or that baiting for bears isn’t “fair chase.” Good Lord, more than a dozen states allow baiting for deer, and as far as I know nobody thinks hunting quail over dogs is unsporting.
If you don’t like it, don’t do it—but keep in mind that local hunting techniques are usually developed from hunting conditions. Hunters learned centuries ago that gamebirds were much easier to locate with the help of a canine nose. Similarly, that deer were drawn to apples and corn. Most of the states that allow baiting have heavy cover, where spot-and-stalk techniques are not only difficult, but unproductive. I suspect baiting remains legal in many areas not only because it’s so traditional that few think twice about it, but also because it helps keep the harvest of the prolific whitetail at management goals. Bear are traditionally baited or run with hounds in areas where the cover is so thick that other methods just won’t work. And with cougars it’s the only game in town. Well, not exactly. Debra Bradbury proved there are other means. Her three-year quest, an admirable exercise in determination and woodcraft, stands as one of the most singular hunting feats I’m aware of, and certainly redefines fair chase…but it is not an effective management tool. Hound hunting is.
I took this very good tom cougar in southwestern Arizona. Although I used a handgun, choice of equipment doesn’t add to the challenge in cougar hunting. The hunt is very much the chase, not the kill.
Cougars are highly efficient predators and have the equipment to be dangerous. However, they do not have the disposition of other great cats and it takes unusual circumstances for them to be a menace to man.
In hound hunting, there is definitely danger… but it’s mostly to the hounds. Warner Glenn is doing some quick surgery on a courageous dog that got too close.
BLACKTAIL—More than Just a Small Mule Deer
The Deer of the Pacific Northwest aren’t Just Miniature Mulies, They’re Altogether Different and Delightful!
The serious hunters who live in blacktail country love their local deer just as much as American deer hunters everywhere love their homegrown deer. In fact, deer hunters in western Oregon and Washington and northwestern California are just as avid as Pennsylvania whitetail hunters, Colorado mule deer hunters, and Arizona Coues’ deer hunters. You just don’t hear too much about them because, for some reason, very few outsiders give a darn about blacktail deer. Except for the local hunters who pursue them (and religiously guard their secret hot-spots), the blacktail deer is far and away the least known, the least publicized, and the deer that is the least pursued by “outsiders.”
I’m not altogether sure why this should be, but I suspect it stems from a number of factors. For one thing, to be honest, blacktail hunting is very much an insider’s game. The public hunting areas that are any good for Columbia blacktail (and some are very good indeed) tend to be either very high, very thick, or both. Access to private land is difficult, and there is just a tiny handful of outfitters who specialize in blacktail deer. Perhaps there would be more, but deer hunters from all over the country aren’t beating down outfitters’ doors looking for good blacktails the way they are for good whitetail, mule deer, and Coues’ deer hunting.
The situation is just the reverse for Sitka blacktail hunting. There is literally unlimited public land available, and virtually every bear outfitter on Kodiak and the other Sitka hot-spots would dearly love to extend his season by taking deer hunters... but they have trouble finding hunters and a harder time charging enough to cover their very considerable outfitting costs.
I think all this ties into the second primary reason why nobody cares about blacktails, which is simply that they’re not only the least-known, but also the most misunderstood of our deer. Most of us simply regard the blacktail as a down-sized mule deer. As such, the blacktail cannot possess the heavy beams and 30-inch spread we prize in mule deer . . . so why bother?
It is absolutely true that the blacktail is a small subspecies of mule deer. Actually two subspecies, the columbianus and the sitkensis. Only these two of at least five West Coast mule deer subspecies have been singled out for record-keeping purposes. I have no experience with the peninsular mule deer of southern Baja, but the southern mule deer, which ranges from Orange County, California down through the northern half of Baja is another most interesting and entirely different-in antlers and coloration, if not in habit and habitat—type of deer. To the north and east you find the California mule deer, a bit more pale and smaller in body and antler than the Rocky Mountain deer. Since a deer hunter will hunt the deer closest to home, I have hunted California mule deer quite a bit. They’re interesting, as are all deer . . . but in appearance and habit they really are just a small version of the big-racked Rocky Mountain and desert mule deer.
To the north and west of them lie the Columbia blacktail deer. They are different. To the north and west of them lie the Sitka blacktail deer. They are more different yet. We’ll discuss them later. First let us deal with the blacktail everyone thinks about, the Columbian variety.
At first blush, and depending on how you encounter them, hunting the Columbia blacktail may seem just like hunting mule deer. My first meeting with this deer was on the western approaches to Mount Lassen in northern California. We glassed for them on the open oak grassland and lava-flow slopes, which was fairly normal for western deer hunting. But we also made mini-drives through poison oak-choked canyons. This was twenty-odd years ago; I didn’t have enough experience then to recognize that this was a little different. Now I know that it was not
only different from hunting mule deer, but very normal for blacktails.
If the country is open enough you can glass for blacktails just like you glass for mule deer. For that matter, much western whitetail hunting is by glassing—not only for Coues’ deer, but for plains white-tails as well. But there’s a difference. Blacktails are more cover-loving than mule deer, and they’re also more habitual. You can glass for them, and you should if there are openings to glass . . . but it’s tighter glassing than is normally done for mule deer, and you’re much more likely to spot the same bucks in the same places. In most areas blacktails hang in the thick stuff as much as they can, and they often follow known trails. In fact, one of the most interesting things about blacktails is that they’re a lot like whitetails. Given time and a clear playing field you can pattern them. You can also rattle them up and call them. None of these methods work all the time...but, then, they don’t work all the time on whitetails, either.
I attribute this to the fact that blacktails live in heavier cover than mule deer, and have adapted accordingly. They rely on their ears and sense of smell more than their eyes, which is typically the mule deer’s first line of defense. In the thick forests of western Oregon and Washington and coastal British Columbia serious blacktail hunters hunt their deer just like eastern sportsmen hunt their whitetails: they sit on trails, and they rattle, and they call. Mule deer can be hunted by these techniques, but blacktails typically respond to calling and rattling far more readily than mule deer . . . and, during the rut, they also respond extremely well to decoys!
Although they’re clearly a mule deer subspecies, they’ve simply adapted to closer cover. They are also significantly different in appearance than mule deer. They’re smaller, yes, and in both body and antler . . . but the blacktail is more than just a small mule deer. The black upper surface of the tail is distinctive, but so are other characteristics. The ears are much smaller and more rounded—not so small or round as the whitetail’s, but not nearly so exaggerated as a mule deer. The face is much smaller and more pixie-like, and there are usually attractive black highlights on the nose and forehead. Capes vary tremendously, but typically the blacktail has a prominent white throat patch, much more similar to a whitetail’s than the more subdued throat patch of a mulie. Many blacktails, though not all, display a particularly attractive double throat patch.
The antlers are definitely smaller than a mule deer’s; there’s a difference of 55 Boone and Crockett points—55 inches of antler—between the minimum score for Columbia blacktail and the minimum score for mule deer. While mule deer hunters dream of 30-inch spreads, a blacktail with a 20-inch spread is a darned good deer. These much smaller antlers, however, are perfectly in scale with the blacktail’s ear width and facial dimensions. A good blacktail with a brilliant cape is one of the most beautiful of our deer, and will stand out in any trophy collection.
There is much confusion regarding exactly what comprises a good blacktail. Everybody wants a four-by-four with eye guards, and provided such a buck is fully mature and carries a bit of mass that is a great blacktail. Non-typicals do occur, but are very rare—much more rare than is the case with mule deer. In truth, excepting in a very few carefully-managed areas with very good genetics, typical four-by-fours are also quite rare. Many very good blacktails never get beyond three fighting tines per side. As is true with mule deer, strong brow points are extremely rare, and many big blacktails lack brow points altogether. With blacktails it’s probably better to look for mass, spread, and point length before you count tines. Three-by-three blacktails are well-represented in the all-time record book, even at the newly-raised minimum. I’ve also seen (and shot) big forkie blacktails that are in all ways representative and respectable trophies.
It isn’t essential that one be a trophy hunter to pursue blacktails. They’re a challenging and fascinating animal, and, like all of our deer, their venison is tasty. (Personally, I rate them better than mule deer, though grain-fed whitetail is hard to beat!) Their habitat is beautiful, although it varies too much to characterize. In the southern and eastern portions of their ranges you can hunt them in rolling oak grasslands, interspersed with hillside of manzanita and chaparral and cut by canyons filled with poison oak. Or you can hunt them in groves of giant redwoods. Or you can hunt them in the high Alpine at the top of the Cascades. Or in the lush rain forests of the Pacific Northwest. Each of these habitats are unique and beautiful. However, you should keep in mind two things. First, the thicker the vegetation the more difficult the hunting. Second, antler growth is generally reduced in the very thick forests of northwestern Oregon, western Washington, and coastal British Columbia. This is almost certainly due to limited antler-producing nutrients in the conifer forests, and is probably the reason why blacktails from the more mixed vegetation of northern California and southwestern Oregon dominate the record book listings.
Again, you don’t have to be a trophy hunter to enjoy blacktail hunting. But if you are there is a caution that must be applied to blacktails that doesn’t exist with our other deer. The range of the Columbia blacktail is not small. For records-keeping purposes it stretches north along the West Coast from south of San Francisco all the way to northern British Columbia. Unfortunately, whenever records-keepers are obligated to define boundaries between subspecies the lines must be drawn somewhere, and this is exceedingly difficult with blacktail deer.
In the north it’s virtually impossible to say exactly where columbianus really becomes sitkensis, but at least both are blacktails. By the time you get to Alaska’s offshore islands where most of the hunting is conducted the differences are quite clear. The rub comes in the broad intergrade areas to the south and east, where blacktails bump against California and Rocky Mountain mule deer. My first experience with “blacktails” was on the western slopes of Mount Lassen. That was a great deer herd 20 years ago, one of our big migratory herds that, in the fall, could be seen streaming down out of the high country to summer pasture by the thousand. There are still good deer there, but that herd crashed due to overpopulation and now, with the abundance of predators, probably will never fully recover. These deer are small-bodied, small-eared, typically- antlered, and blacktailed—but they fall outside the official blacktail boundary.
I live in central California, as much as a hundred miles south of the “true blacktail line.” Although many of the local hunters call our deer “blacktails,” it’s quite difficult to say exactly what they are. Technically I suppose they’re a mix of blacktail and California mule deer. The deer on some of the ranches I hunt show pure blacktail tendencies. You can measure the tarsal glands, and they’re correct for blacktailed deer. The tails are pure black on the upper surface, and the ears are small. You can’t put much stock in the antlers, because our deer have small, almost stunted antlers—probably due to the long, hot, dry summers. The local deer in other areas—some of which are farther north—show mixed tails and ears that are clearly too big.
In my more argumentative days I corresponded with B&C’s stalwart, the late Phil Wright, about trying to redefine the blacktail line, but the problem is that there are indeed very large intergrade areas. Mostly this is harmless; it doesn’t matter to me if my local “almost blacktails” are called blacktails—especially since it’s very unlikely for one to meet the record book minimum. It probably does matter with herds like that Mount Lassen herd, which are as pure blacktail as you can get . . . but which just might interbreed with mule deer up in the high country, so have to be classified as mule deer. This is unfortunate, but it really doesn’t matter as long as you know.
Unfortunately, the blacktail line isn’t able to follow state boundaries or major rivers. If you care about hunting a genuine “B&C” blacktail you have to do your homework. If you don’t, someone else may do it for you. In the years when I hunted that Mount Lassen herd I knew they were outside the official line, and I didn’t care. But the first time I hunted in Oregon, having booked a “blacktail hunt” with my outfitter, I found myself glass
ing from a high ridge from which I could look west across Interstate 5. I-5 happens to be the demarcation line between blacktails and mule deer in that particular area, and I was on the wrong side. I wasn’t pleased.
On both the south and east sides of the B&C blacktail range there continue to be ranchers and outfitters marketing transition deer as “blacktails.” They’re probably mostly blacktail, and the hunting isn’t necessarily different, but if it’s important to you to hunt the “real McCoy,” then you’d better check a map.
To me, the beauty of the deer and the country they live in give plenty of reason to hunt blacktails. But there’s a bonus: Right now the blacktailed deer offer the greatest trophy opportunity of any of our North American deer. This is certainly not universal across their range; big antlers come hard in the big northwestern forests, and it gets harder the farther north you go. However, on well-managed private lands in the mixed cover of northern California and southwestern Oregon; and in limited entry public land units in both states the opportunity to take a real trophy far exceeds the normal odds with our other deer.
As an example, my buddy Jim Schaafsma is about eight years into a management program on a ranch in ideal blacktail habitat. Jimmy takes about a half-dozen “trophy bucks” each season—and in a normal year more than two-thirds will measure above the B&C minimum. Odds like that simply don’t occur with any of our other deer. Although there are very few outfitters who specialize in blacktails, Schaafsma isn’t the only one who offers this kind of success on big blacktails—he’s just the one I know best. Mind you, an outfitter like Schaafsma is not inexpensive on hunts for deer of this caliber. His leases cost a fortune, and of course those costs are passed along to his clients. There are high-dollar hunts for the other varieties of North American deer as well, and while the potential for a record-class specimen isn’t quite so high, these special places do yield special deer. A significant difference is that blacktails are also democratic.
Fair Chase in North America Page 17
