The Promised Land. . .

Well, I was going to try to put this all in a status, but decided it wouldn't work. It just wouldn't all fit. I don't even know how to began describing this weekend--such a bittersweet experience.
I bought the tags (two B tags and one A tag) for Valier, MT. I've hunted about 3 times around the Flathead Valley. I'm sure all of you fellow-hunters have seen the devastation that the wolves have left. Every time I went out, I dreamed of the land flowing with deer, and more deer--East, they call it. Like a promised land calling my name. . . Everyone who's been there says it's so wonderful.
I tried everything to fit it in my schedule. . . I begged my brother to go with me. . nothing seemed to work out. The weekend I had off, he didn't, yada, yada, yada. Well, I "happened" to get the same Friday and Saturday off. David agreed to be my personal guide.
Friday morning we woke up about 4 am. I had such high hopes. I was convinced big daddy was waiting . With Zadok by my side, I really believed that this would be the trip. Boy was I ever wrong.
As we wound through the mountains and popped out to the prairie view, my excitement built. Valier was way prettier than anything. Mountains not far away, but wide open spaces. . .and the sky . . . bigger than any sky you've ever seen.
We stopped at a ranch and signed in. I looked up and on the hillside I could see the stick figures of deer. I knew this was going to be good. They weren't legal, but I knew had to be more just waiting over the horizon. Within about 15 minutes, David slams on his breaks. Deer! I bailed. "Don't shoot! Past the red dirt," he yells. I only saw the tails disappearing in the distance.
We continued to drive. About 15 minutes later, I saw the shadow of a deer walking away. . . I knew he didn't see us. "Big daddy. . . is there," I yelled. David slammed on the breaks.
"Be quiet," he said, "these deer are smart."
We sneaked around him. I knew it was a buck by the way he walked. We crouched over the hill. There he was. I put the gun on my shoulder. . and yes, I aimed! Boom, nothing, the deer didn't flinch, just kept walking. I missed. By now David was screaming at me. "Aim for the chest," he said.
"Yeah Pink, I kind of already knew that," I was thinking to myself.
I heard someone else up the coulee yelling something I couldn't understand. . . I fired more shots. . . I missed. It turns out he was duck hunting yelling at his dog. My sister was shooting. I didn't know why I was missing. I was aiming. . must have been jerking the trigger. Buck fever. Why?
This was not exactly the start of the trip I was looking for. David scolded me for hours. This left me more determined than ever to leave my fever in the dust.
We walked/ran all day chasing 3 mules up and down the hills. Never could gain any ground on them. . .We had just about given up on those deer, when we saw more. Well, David spotted them first. A new group of deer to pursue. . . We could see them on the side of the mountain hundreds of yards away. This was a new kind of hunting. No trees. Man, it felt good. We drove around to where we knew they were.
David had just drank an energy drink. He started running up the mountain. I was not far behind him. They came over the hill. I expected it, but not like this. They were booking it out of that place. I put my scope on the doe, I fired. . . probably more than once and out stepped this buck. Obviously, I never shoot at running deer. This was my first time hunting East. . . He was big. . I would not get fever though. I was determined. Beetle was working on emptying her magazine. I carefully aimed, following it with my gun, but probably not enough. I squeezed the trigger. I didn't have fever, I promise. David yelled, "No more shots, it's over the fence." It was gone. "Check over that edge." I walked over there were 4 more deer. I aimed, I fired, I aimed, I fired. Beetle aimed she fired. . . when all was done we had no reason to believe that we had hit anything. We were hiking along when we saw one. She looked shot obviously limping on three legs. Beetle managed to shoot it in all the wrong places. After a short chase, we brought her down. It was a fawn. At least we wouldn't have to face the embarrassment of going home with nothing. A fawn never felt so good. The rest of the day I spent limping up the mountains. The blisters in my feet hurt so bad, but I wasn't going to give up. No way! I'm pretty sure we saw nothing the rest of that day. . .
After dark, we arrived at the gas station. Running out of water at three in the afternoon had left me quite thirsty. I drank a Sobe and bought 2 more boxes of shells just in case. . . and the monster I bought for the next day was bigger than any monster you've ever seen. I knew I was going to need it. Me and Beetle decided to split it. I slept like a rock that night besides my random sense that 1:30 in the morning was time to go hunting. . .
The next day, I was convinced I would do better. . . There would be more chances. . . We hunted all day. I drank a monster. It gave me so much power. I ran up and down those mountains. After one particular very long hike, when we were driving out; I saw them. A bunch of deer on top of the mountain. I had no words. . . I said something that kind of sounded like speaking in tongues. The deer were headed to the same spot we just had hiked. I knew we were dedicated because my little bro was wearing out. Pretty epic. I didn't care how bad my feet hurt or anything else. I was determined to shoot something. We marched up that mountain. . . crawled quietly on the top, all the way back around to the same mountain we just conquered. Beetle's tennis shoes I was borrowing had no ankle support and I was feeling it skirting the side of that mountain. We didn't see them. Anywhere.
The rest of the day, the pressure was building. Oh well, everybody has bad hunting days, right? The time dwindled. 1 hour left. That was all. Nothing mattered. The sunset was so beautiful. I wanted to just stay here. . . We were walking up this mountain. . . I turned around and saw her. I was convinced this was probably our last opportunity. She was running at 250 yards. Because Beetle had the gun with the bi-pod, I decided to let her shoot first. "Squeeze slow, Beetle," I could hear David's counseling. She did and she missed. I tried. . . twice. It's hard shooting running deer at 250 yards.
That was it. . . Our last opportunity. The remaining fifteen minutes I thought if I ran maybe I'd find something. It didn't work.
I got back in the truck. Not exactly what I was expecting, but I will look on the bright side. They say you learn the best from your own mistakes. I learned to never fire at anything in haste. . .Slow down. I learned to not let the desperation to get an animal make you lose the very chance you have. I will look at my cup as 3/4 full, instead of 1/2 empty. I'm so blessed to live in this beautiful state, to have an amazing family to hunt with, to still have the right to hunt, and to know no matter what happens I'm still blessed and God is still with me.