Ryan Godshalk 01.30.23
It’s a sound I’ve come to expect on my back county Arizona hunts. As sure as the cackling of ravens, or the lonely desert winds, are the roars of trucks, ATVs, and side-by-sides. Vehicles patrolling up and down 4×4 trails and forest roads from dawn to dusk.
I am not here to disparage the lawful use of vehicles in hunting. I’ve done my own share of road hunting. And while I do prefer to hunt on foot, and reserve my right to grumble at the noise from time to time, I respect the responsible use of vehicles by hunters. For some, road hunting is the only way they can even get out and take part in the pursuit.
I’ll also concede that screaming down some logging road in one of those side-by-sides looks like just about the most fun a person can have. Every season you hear about some poor guy accidently driving his Polaris off of a cliff, and he’s probably smiling the whole way down.
But, if you can, I really think you ought to consider leaving the quad or truck at the trailhead, and get out and walk. Not to save the sacred quiet of the wild, but because of what you might be missing.
To indulge an anecdote.
It was day four of five, chasing elk in Arizona 22N. I was climbing out of a bowl where I had spotted, and then lost, the one and only bull I would lay eyes on the whole hunt. Up on the rim, I could hear the quad sputtering away. A few minutes earlier, I saw a pair of hunters drive up and jump out to scan the bowl. I like to blame them and their vehicle for scaring off that elk, as it absolves me of the Coachella levels of racket I was making when trying to “sneak” through a patch of briar in order to get into a shooting position.
Regardless of what had chased that elk off, the last shooting light had come and gone. Knowing the two mile walk I had back to my own truck after a long day of bush-whacking, I kind of wished those two hunters had offered a ride.
Defeated, I trudged up the bowl, cursing my luck. Four days of hard hunting, dozens of miles of backcountry hiked. I harbored this childish notion that I was owed something for my trouble.
But even though the wild doesn’t owe you anything, if you’re persistent and tenacious, it may deal extra cards.
Not 70 yards from where those two road hunters had gotten out to take a peek down the bowl, I came across what I would come to call “The Participation Trophy”.
The rack was spitting distance from the road. I couldn’t help but wonder how many hunters had driven past without seeing it.
Now, there is certain due diligence that should be observed when picking up something like a deadhead to ensure it is not the product of poaching. And beyond that, there are environmental considerations for retrieving animal carcasses from the wild. On a taxidermist’s recommendation, and wanting to keep everything above board, I got in touch with an Arizona Fish and game warden. We had a brief discussion on the skull, and I provided him with its location, and photos of where I found it. He also was patient enough to educate me on state regulations regarding pickup and possession of wildlife carcasses. In the end, the Warden cleared the head as “not fresh”, and said it would be no problem for me to keep it.
Different states will likely have different regulations, and in the spirit of being a good steward to the resource, it’s probably not a bad idea to familiarize yourself with those of the state you’ll be hunting or adventuring in. If you happen upon a fetching deadhead, and want to collect it, consider taking some photos, marking a GPS coordinate, and getting a hold of your local game warden before taking anything out of the woods.
It’s no fridge full of elk meat, but it is a nice consolation prize. More importantly, it’s also a reminder of what’s off the beaten path. What amazing things you might find, or experience when you spend a little bit of sweat and get into a place that resists investigation.
In the short few years I have been hunting, I have walked in on stampedes of cow elk, coyotes pursuing rodents in the brush, minks hunting for crawfish, and more. Just a few of the countless little plays nature puts on. Glimpses of the wild world that only avail themselves to those willing to stalk low, stay quiet, and are mindful of the wind.
Again, I’m not knocking those who legally and responsibly use vehicles on the hunt. I invite you to. And I don’t know any person who would walk 100 lbs. of game meat several miles out of the wild on principle.
But, if you can, I highly encourage you to get out of that side-by-side, or truck, and walk around in the woods for a while.
You might be glad you did.
