High-elevation Coues deer hunts are rarely easy, but that’s part of their appeal. In this edition of The Hole Story, Larry Weishuhn shares the story of a challenging pursuit in Mexico’s Sierra Madres, where patience, teamwork and quick thinking proved just as important as marksmanship. Along the way, the hunt delivers the kind of unexpected moments that make Coues deer hunting both humbling and unforgettable.

“I’m in!”

“But I have not yet told you all the great things about hunting Coues deer on the El Durangueno Ranch in Durango, Mexico!” I responded to my friend Terry Anderson’s statement.

“If you think it’s a good hunt, that’s all I need to know. We’ve known each other for quite a few years and we’ve never hunted together. It’s time we do so! Plus, I really want to hunt Coues whitetails. The El Durangueno, from what you told me, being at the southern edge of the Coues deer range in the Sierra Madres at 8,500-foot-plus elevations where mountains look more like those in New Mexico, Colorado and Wyoming than the big cactus country of western Mexico, plus a comfortable hacienda and delicious food — what else do I need to know?”

My friend made excellent points. “OK, I’ll put you in touch with Alonso Ayala, the owner. You take it from there.”

“Perfect!” said Terry, then continued, “Do you mind if I ask Braden Hoffman and his son Connor if they want to come with us? Braden works with us on our stream habitat reclamation projects. He’s a serious deer hunter and I think he would really enjoy hunting Coues, as would Connor. Connor recently shot a really nice whitetail on one of our Texas properties.”

As we approached January, Terry, Braden and I kept in touch with Alonso. Months earlier I had gotten all the required paperwork and photos together to send to Alonso, who would help me procure a Mexican Firearm Permit allowing me to take my 7mm PRC Mossberg Patriot Carbine, topped with a Stealth Vision 3-18x44 SVT scope, and shooting Hornady 175-grain ELD-X Precision ammo. After talking to Terry and Braden about what all was required to take your own rifle, they decided to rent firearms from the ranch.

Fast forward to boarding our plane at the DFW airport, where there is a direct flight to Durango. Two hours later, we landed in Durango, Mexico. I was the only hunter on the plane who brought his own firearm. When I tried to claim it, I was told Mexican Customs would not attempt to clear my rifle and paperwork until all incoming passengers had been cleared. I found a seat and smiled. I continued doing so until all passengers had been cleared, then got in the line of one and proceeded to the Customs agents. I followed their instructions. All paperwork had been properly done. Customs satisfied, I was told to again lock my gun case and prepare to exit.

As I was locking my gun case the military arrived, and through broken English and sign language I was instructed to follow them upstairs where they would inspect my gun, scope, ammo and accompanying paperwork. I smiled and did my best to follow them up several flights of stairs. After some discussion amongst their ranks, I was motioned to open my gun case and present my rifle, all paperwork and the 40 rounds of Hornady ammo I had listed on the rifle permit.

Three of their ranks carefully inspected my rifle, compared notes, checked serial numbers on both rifle and scope, then individually counted all 40 rounds of ammo. Finally, they started a series of paperwork that apparently had to be completed so there were four copies of everything, which I eventually signed. I kept smiling as they handed me the completed forms. I thanked them for being so thorough and their patience with me.

Back downstairs where Terry, Braden, Connor and our driver Beto waited patiently, we loaded gear into a vehicle and headed toward the El Durangueno, about an hour’s drive away, going from the flatlands to tall mountains.

Typical of my previous year’s hunt, we were greeted by Alonso and his staff along with a refreshing drink. Alonso informed us Chris Clark and his partner Lauren would be flying in two days later. Chris had bought the hunt Alonso had graciously donated to our 2025 DSC Foundation Gala.

That afternoon we sighted in the rented rifles, which frankly took a bit of doing. I was really glad, in spite of it taking much time to clear Mexican Customs and their military, I had brought my rifle! My 7mm PRC shooting Hornady ammo was still dead on at 100 yards. I then set my SVT 3-18x44 scope’s turret to shoot two inches high at 100 yards. Doing so, I knew I “was good” out to about 325 yards without having to worry about holdover or adjusting my turret.

Back home I had shot my rifle out to 600 yards. I knew if I had to, I could place a bullet in a Coues deer’s vitals at that distance. However, my goal when hunting is to always get as close to the animal I intend to shoot as possible. To me, doing so is part of the definition of “hunting” as opposed to “shooting.” I consider myself a “hunter” when pursuing animals and a “shooter” when shooting at steel plates at long distances.

After storing all my gear, over a fabulous evening meal, I learned my guide would be Zordo, who had been my guide the previous year. Zordo, “Lefty” in Spanish, is the El Durangueno’s wildlife manager. While he speaks very little English, and I very little Spanish, we somehow manage to know exactly what the other person is saying.

First morning, we left camp over an hour before first light. Our destination was quite a distance from camp in an area Zordo and I had hunted the previous year.

After a long bumpy road, we arrived where we wanted to start hunting just before first light. Clouds covered the sky; light was at best gray. We walked to where we intended to start glassing. Immediately we spotted a deer 125 yards below us. Try as we might, we could not clearly see his antlers, which gave the impression of being massive and extremely dark in color. The rut was just getting started. Tarsal glands and hocks on “machos” were darker than on “hembras.” The buck started leaving. He walked past a patch of yellow grass. It only took a split-second look to see he was a monstrously massive ten-point. Before I could drop my binoculars and raise my rifle, he was gone. What a way to start.

We spent the morning glassing canyons and slopes, saw several does, fawns and bucks, but never again that first “macho.” None of the other bucks appeared big and mature. Even so, had I not previously taken some really nice Coues bucks, I would have pulled the trigger on two of those we saw. We spent the day glassing and walking.

Back at camp, we learned Braden had taken an ancient six-point buck, his first ever Coues deer. Terry had walked many miles and had seen a few deer.

Second morning we drove ninety minutes to another part of the ranch I had not previously hunted. Zordo led the way up to a high vantage point where we could glass a large area. Shortly after first light we spotted several does feeding on a distant slope. Moments later two bucks appeared, both eight-points; one considerably bigger than the other. He made several passes at the does, then disappeared. No doubt he was big. I guessed he would score between 115 and 118 B&C. I was looking for just such a buck to hang in my office next to a non-typical I had taken several years earlier. That buck’s antlers grossed 135 B&C and easily made the record book in the non-typical category. Unfortunately, there was never a shot.

The next two days we saw very few deer, dealt with rain and sleet, but still had a great time looking at new territory high in the Sierra Madres, approaching 9,000 feet elevation.

The second-to-last day arrived. Zordo and I decided to head back where we had seen the biggest eight-point. A very long, bumpy ride, then a near-vertical climb to get high on a ridge. I had just settled next to a rock when we spotted a buck on a ridge I had previously ranged with my Stealth Vision rangefinder binoculars at 450 yards distant. One glance through my binoculars and I knew it was a huge eight-point. I tried to get into prone shooting position, rolled onto sharp-pointed agave leaves, rolled off, then got into a sitting position against a rock, my rifle rested on shooting sticks. I knew the distance, adjusted the turret, backed off the magnification to find the buck in the scope, found him, cranked back to 16x and followed the buck, which never quit moving other than when he was behind a bush. Moments later he disappeared into the trees. Almost!

I settled back to glassing. Spotted a really nice eight-point, antlers not as big as the earlier buck. He too soon disappeared.

Thirty minutes later I spotted a big buck running down the distant slope toward a line of trees. We continued glassing until Zordo suggested we walk back to the vehicle and drive in the direction I had seen the buck disappear.

Back at the vehicle, I removed my cartridge from the chamber to be safe because of the bumpy roads, even though I intended to ride with the rifle barrel pointed out the open window.

We drove toward where I had seen the buck disappear. I pointed out to Zordo where he had run. We continued another hundred yards when I spotted a big buck chasing a doe. I hollered, “Alto… stop!”

I jumped out of the truck and ran to a tree where I could get a solid rest. I had often shot running deer and knew my rifle and my capabilities with it. Just as I got a rest to shoot, the buck stopped. I settled my crosshairs, knowing a dead-on hold would be perfect; pushed the safety to fire, took a deep breath, let it all out and squeezed the trigger.

“SNAP!” It was then I remembered I had not bolted in a round when I got out of the vehicle. Quickly I chambered a Hornady Precision Hunter round, put crosshairs on the buck’s vitals. He started to take a step; I adjusted my sight picture ever so slightly and pulled the trigger. With recoil and bolting in a fresh round I lost sight of the buck. Behind me I thought I heard Zordo say, “Goooodt shaht!”

Try as I might, I could not again see my buck. But I did see a doe running away. I handed Zordo my rifle and asked him to follow the buck and finish him if needed. I would follow him down the rocky slope. He started walking briskly toward where I had last seen my buck. I followed, as best as I could...

Zordo walked about 300 yards before stopping. I remember thinking either he sees my downed deer or he has watched him run away. I continued downslope. Twenty steps from his side, Zordo turned to look at me, shrugged his shoulders and with his hands motioned my buck had run away.

I was sick but also knew my shot had looked really good. My guide again motioned my buck had gotten up and run away…

At that point he must have seen my great disappointment because he suddenly broke out laughing, then pointed at my buck lying only a few steps away!

I could see by Coues deer standards my buck was big, both in body and antlers. At my buck’s side, I marveled at his tall and wide eight-point rack, which when I picked up his head I realized had at least seven inches of main beam missing on his left side. I could not have cared less. My buck was huge. A quick glance told me had he not had a broken main beam his antlers would have easily made the all-time Boone & Crockett record book. Minimum for the typical category is 110. My buck, had his antlers all been intact, would have scored 117 or more and netted around 115. I was thrilled and happy beyond belief!

Back at camp that afternoon Lauren, Chris Clark’s partner, borrowed my rifle to take a really nice eight-point. The following day Connor shot a really nice eight-point. Only Terry and Chris remained with tags intact and unpunched. Both decided to hunt the last morning before heading to the airport. Thankfully they both shot really nice bucks — Chris a great eight-point and Terry a really nice nine-point.

Coues whitetail have always been truly special to me and continue to fascinate me. Frankly, even though I am now considered by some to be “a bit long in the tooth” to traverse the higher mountains where they live, I cannot wait for my next Coues whitetail hunt.