A Passion for Living conquers the Trials of Life

Occasionally, a story comes along that inspires us to reevaluate our passion for life, and for the things that we love to do with our lives. A few weeks ago, I became aware of just such a story; the story of a unique hunter, Mike Sanders. And even though this story has nothing to do with Hunting in Patagonia; it needs to be shared with our readers.

Mike was born in Willets, California and raised in Ft. Defiance, Arizona. He began a life as an avid outdoorsman, learning to hunt and fish at a very young age with his father. Mike was only 12 when his father passed away, but the roots of outdoor adventure had already buried deep by then, and Mike continued with his passion for hunting. 

In 2004, Mike’s life took a dramatic change; he was critically injured in a fire and explosion. He was burned over 80% percent of his body; lost the fingers on his left hand; and was left blind. He spent 16 months in the hospital recovering, and has endured over 30 surgeries. After leaving the hospital, Mike’s friends encouraged him to hold on to his passion for hunting; and he did just that. After learning to shoot right handed, (because he was predominantly left handed before the injury), he had a special rifle assembled with a scope that delivers an image to a small screen that can be viewed by a spotter, to give him verbal assistance in aiming; a job frequently performed by his wife, Michele. Mike carries and fires the rifle completely unaided. Last year, he decided to apply for Tags to hunt Antelope, Elk, and Deer in different areas of New Mexico; and was fortunate enough to draw all three. This is a story of courage, passion for the outdoors, and the determination to continue living a full life.

The following is Mike’s own account of his Elk hunt, conducted at Brazos River Ranch in New Mexico, accompanied by ranch owner, Bo Prieskorn, and Mike’s wife, Michele.

Memo Stephens

 Managing Editor, Patagonia Journal

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My Return to What I Love to Do. 

By Mike Sanders

      We woke up at 4:30am on October 1, 2009, for the first day of my Elk hunt at Brazos River Ranch, in the northern mountains of New Mexico. It was very cold out, and Michele and I prepared our hunting gear and headed out to the dining hall for some much needed coffee. Boy was it cold. We met Bo Prieskorn and the rest of the hunters and made a plan.

  We loaded up in the Jeep, that had no top on it, and I thought," my wife is going to freeze back there!" She said she was ok, so off we went into the darkness down a dirt road. A couple of miles in, we stopped at an old wood pile next to a trailer. Bo said," Mike, we need to walk down this road about 150 yards. Are you ready?" I said, "Yes, let’s go".

  Once we got down the road a ways, Bo started to call in the elk. We stood there for a bit and heard one coming in. Bo asked, "Where are we going to set up?" Michele said, "How about over there in the trees across the road?” "Ok" said Bo. As we were setting up, Bo’s calling drew the bull closer and closer; then Bo looked up and said, “There he is, a 6x6, 80 yards away”. As I was listening and he came in closer, I thought he was going to run right over the top of us. It was eerie. We fumbled around trying to get set up on him and he just stood there like, "ok are you going to shoot me or what?" I guess he finally got tired of waiting, and he trotted off. Michele spotted him behind some trees and Bo asked her if she could get a shot off through the trees. She said she would try, but he walked off again. We were still fumbling to get ready, and my hands were freezing; I could no longer feel my gun. Michele spotted him again in the trees further away; Bo bugled and he stopped, but all the vital areas were blocked behind a tree; there wasn’t a clean shot. He gave one more snort, and then he was gone. Bo said that meant he wasn't going to play anymore; so we packed up and headed back to camp for breakfast.

  That evening we went out again and saw a small spike bull, out in the field all alone; but no large bulls to be seen. We hunted the next couple of mornings and evenings but saw very little. I believed the wind and the full moon were affecting the movements of the elk, but we did see some antelope the morning of the third day.

  It was a rather warm day October 3, 2009 on the Brazos River Ranch in New Mexico. Our guide, Bo, said we were going to go out to Mohawk and set up at around 2:30 in the afternoon. My wife and I were excited, and we left camp and headed out around 3:00. Once we arrived at Mohawk we got set up and the wait began.

  Bo and my wife, Michele, scanned the terrain off and on for about 3 hours; the sun was hot and then came the wind. As the hours went by and the wind continued to blow I became more frustrated, saying to my wife," I am never going to get a shot." She replied, "Yes you will; be patient." So we sat. At around 6pm, Bo started to call the elk in. Far off in the distance we spotted a couple of cows. Michele and Bo watched intently as they moved around. And then Bo turned to Michele and said, "The bull is coming out".  Michele shook her head in acknowledgment; "Gotcha". They watched the bull for what seemed an eternity; Bo bugling and the bull bugling back, but he wouldn't come to us. He stood there for a long time, and then he disappeared into the timber. "Darn it!"

  While we waited patiently for the sun to set, Bo called again; and lo and behold, the bull came back out. Bo used a range finder to determine the bull was 342 yards away. He sat and thought for a minute, and then turned to me and asked, "Do you want to take a shot?" I said, "Hell yes, I want to take a shot!" Bo said, "Let's do it!" He and Michele helped me set up on the target, but the bull just stood there facing us head on; not moving for 10 minutes. He wouldn't turn and offer a clean shot. Bo kept repeating," Come on turn, turn, come on!" Just then, the bull turned. Bo told my wife to help me aim about a foot over his back and she said, "You do it, I don't know how to aim at that distance." Bo guided me to the correct hold-over… "GUN!" he said, and I let one fly. We missed. It went way over him. The bull just stood there for a minute and started to walk off. Bo bugled and he stopped again. Bo got me back on target again, and whispered, "GUN". I squeezed off another round, and heard the telltale, "THWAP" as the bullet struck it’s mark. "I got him Bo, I got him! Is he down?” I said. Bo and Michele were looking, and Michele said he stumbled for a minute and then fell, but she couldn't see him behind the tree. I was ready to load another round; I kept asking, "Is he down? Is he down?" Bo was looking and thought he was, but wanted to make sure. I kept saying," Let me shoot again; is he down?" Bo said, "Shut up Mike, I'm looking! Sorry Mike, I didn't mean to say shut up". After a few minutes, Bo headed out to go check on the bull to make sure it was down.

Michele and I sat there for what seemed like forever and waited for the news. "Do you see Bo?" I said. "Yes, he is on his way down the mountain; he looks really small from this distance."  The wait was agonizing. I kept asking Michele, "Where is Bo; is he coming back yet?" Finally, Michele said, "he is bending over to check the bull, I think you got him." "I KNOW I got him!" I said. Soon, Bo was walking back towards us, and Michele could see him in the range finder, and he saw her through his binoculars and raised his hands as if to say "Victory is ours!" Michele turned to me and said, "You got him!" I erupted with joy and excitement. Bo said that the 2nd shot was perfect; right behind the shoulder, center mass.

As he returned, Bo yelled at the top of his lungs; “ Woooooo Hoooooo!”. “What in the world did we just do? That was absolutely Awesome Mike! I can’t believe it”.

  The rest of the guys showed up to help us recover the bull. We had Austin, Art and Clay to field dress our monster Elk, and take him back to camp. After all was said and done, he turned out to be a nice 5x5 bull; and I made the shot at 355 yards. At camp, we were greeted by the rest of the hunters and congratulated with open arms; and the party was on.

    After 16 months in the hospital, I had returned to what I love to do. HUNT!