Found this guy at 7:30 on the last morning of our hunt. Fog and snow squalls ruined my first two attempts at him. With no signs of the weather breaking I chose to get aggressive and track him through the fast accumulating snow. I bumped him at 35 yds around 1:30 and couldn’t get a clear shot (through my scope cover). With no other good options I stayed on his track until I hit a large group of does in the timber. I stood for almost three hour’s convinced he’d show back up, who would just walk through a party full of girls on a miserable day? At 4:30 the snow turned on heavy, I was frozen and starting to feel good about the effort and my choices but sad that my time in the woods was ending. When that last squall lifted I looked up at a big frost covered body and said “I knew you’d be back” . He was bedded 407 yds away facing the opposite direction, I got a rock solid rest, dialed my scope and attempted to fight off the shakes waiting for him to stand from his bed. Then his rack tipped over. Apparently rutting all day had tuckered him out, and I thought; is this really how you want this to end? 407 yds? With minutes of foggy grey light remaining I chose to stumble my frozen self forward, creeping low and stiff through the snow. That 407yds took just long enough for me to doubt my landmarks, second guess my relative location, weaken my confidence. Then he stood, I dropped to a knee, no shot. We stared at each other through the now gently falling snow at only 75 yds. I held my breath and shuffled two steps up slope cushioned in over 18 inches of sugary powder, the crosshairs held a slow rhythm on the bucks chest. I expected a big bang, but the air was so thick with humidity the, ground so thick with snow, all I got was a “pop” and the buck was gone in a tumble of powder, flying does, and lesser bucks. Hard to explain how much I love hunting these mountain mule deer. Got this guy when I was 39 had him packed out at 40+ it was a heck of a birthday.