Mexico’s 200-Inch Mule Deer: Legendary, but Not Easily Killed

FOR THE SAKE of the story, I’d love to tell you I had a long-term relationship with the biggest mule deer of my life, that I had watched him for days and discreetly patterned his behavior. Or that I had tracked him for hard miles across the deep desert of northern Sonora, Mexico.

The truth is that I had seen him for only about 30 seconds before I shot. The steady stream of trucks on Mexico’s Federal Highway 15 droning in the distance, my rifle bouncing on the rail of my mobile deer stand. I could see only one antler and not quite half his body through a window at 180 yards. I missed that shot.

Maybe it was what happened next—walking to the spot where he stood, searching in vain for blood—that makes this a story worth telling.

“High-racking” in the Sonora Desert involves glassing for deer from a mobile deer stand. Andrew McKean

Everything up until this moment had been a gift. The fact that I was here, a guest of outfitter MX Hunting, the appearance of the buck itself, the dimensions of the one antler I could see before my miss, were all gifts.

But on my walk back to the pickup, carrying the weight of failure and sensing silent judgment from my hunting companions, these gifts felt as heavy as lead.

I climbed back into the high rack, an 8×8-foot cage welded to a steel scaffold ratchet-strapped to the bed of a pickup. Kobe Carlson, my guide and interpreter, used it as a verb.

“Looks like we’ll be high-racking,” Kobe had told me. “It’s about the only way to see deer when you’re down on the desert floor.”

This wasn’t how I anticipated hunting Sonora’s mule deer. I expected climbing ancient volcanoes, cutting big tracks, and making offhand neck shots. Instead, we were close to civilization, in a lush desert, hunting with an entourage.

Among the terms I heard Kobe and Hector trade throughout the day: el camino. The road. Any buck I’d have a hope of killing would have to have poor judgment to loiter in view of the rough ranch roads that we crept along.

Today, we’re joined by Martin, the owner of this cattle ranch. As we drive, I wonder if he’s suspicious of us or just curious about how I might tag a deer in cover better suited for a shotgun.

My gun—a Browning X-Bolt chambered in 28 Nosler—feels like overkill. I turn the scope down, set the parallax at 50 yards, and practice swinging through moving targets.

Yesterday, we busted a small group of does and fawns. Around the next corner a buck stood frozen in the brush. Kobe figured him a mid-180-class buck, but we couldn’t see all of his wide rack. Just as we were about to inch backward, the buck busted and as he juked through the mesquite he showed us the goods. He was a handsome 4×4.

The antlers of Sonoran burros are wide, symmetrical, and score so high because they have few deductions. Andrew McKean

They keep coming because Sonora produces the largest mule deer on the continent. The desert’s capacity to grow wide racks with deep forks, combined with the region’s unique factors—low deer density, impenetrable brush, extreme age classes, lack of competition—make it an alluring destination for serious mule deer hunters.

Less clear to me is whether Kobe or Hector is my guide. Kobe seems to take control of each situation, but he’s deferential to Hector when it comes to hunting. Two more dissimilar rackmates, both trying in their own styles to find me a buck.

Kobe, 22 and dressed in Kuiu camouflage, the overeager Western hunter. Hector, a clipped mustache framing his craggy face, central casting’s idea of an Old Mexico hunting guide.

Kobe returned from his Mormon mission to Argentina with fluent Spanish and a job at MX Hunting. Hector, who was born into Old Mexico’s hunting culture and has worked as a full-time guide his entire life, helped spot game with his excellent eyesight and indefatigable work ethic. That apprenticeship eventually matured into regular guiding gigs.

In many photos, Hector posed with his head between the antlers or horns of the dead animals, his brow to their brow. These days, Hector runs a sporting goods store, makes knives and guns, and works as a seasonal guide.

Now, our second day trolling this desert-floor ranch. A redemption moment is about to happen.

Another buck appears and swiftly disappears into the brush. I hold up my end of the bargain and take a quick shot, capped off with a few more that miss. The buck is ultimately found, and it’s clear that he is a true trophy.

The remaining tension dissolves, and I am overwhelmed by the benevolence of the hunt. Holding the incredible buck and basking in the appreciation of my companions is the greatest offering a mule deer hunter could ask for in a lifetime of hunting.

As we drag the buck out for pictures, Don Hector turns to me, holds my gaze for a second, and throws me a wink.

Andrew McKean

Hunting and Conservation Editor

Drilling into issues that affect wildlife, wildlands, and the people who care about them. Also OL’s optics editor, helping readers make informed buying decisions.