Craig Bonham
(Living)
This page is intended as a tribute to one of the finest people in my life--my oldest nephew, Craig Bonham. I lived close by when he was born and I have watched him at every step of his life including his professional career as a top rate home builder, as a successful family man, and as an outdoor enthusiast. I am flattered that he calls me "Unc."
During the course of my career of over thirty years, serving as Director of Wildlife Services in three separate western states--Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah; and as Assistant Regional Director for the western United States including Alaska and Hawaii. I knew personally, hundreds of men and women who served in various jobs from administrators and research biologists to dedicated field specialists whose vernacular title "government hunter" evolved over time via political correctness to that of ADC or Wildlife Specialist. Most of these individuals lived and worked full time in rural areas removed from population centers. Most obtained their jobs by virtue of their work ethic, personal character, reliability and their innate skills to understand and successfully outsmart troublesome members of the wildlife population of everything from green tree snakes to mongoose to introduced birds to the larger avian and mammalian predators, including "wily coyote." I grew to admire many exceptional individuals who were gifted with creative, inventive and poetic minds and generous spirits who frequently worked long hours beyond what they were paid for. I have attended the funerals of several "great hunters," some who died while doing their job, and I still know some "great hunters."
Now, to the point of this essay. I have never met, nor do I know of a "greater hunter" than my nephew, Craig Bonham.
Craig is not a professional hunter in the elitist academic sense. He is just a professional human being, an artisan home builder, who has gone more places and done more things in the outdoor kingdom of our mother earth than most men have dreamed. Craig is a journeyman marksman, a journeyman fisherman, a loving husband and father of six sons and two daughters, and an absolute prince of ethical hunting for game birds and trophy wildlife. He is a self-taught naturalist of the first order with an honorary degree in helping others and serving his living God. And, most remarkably, he has done it all on his own dime with an astute sensitivity to preserving for future generations his touch with the Master's creations. It is with great pleasure that I assign him this space.
-- Robert Newel Reynolds, Littleton, Colorado, December 2010
Now, to the point of this essay. I have never met, nor do I know of a "greater hunter" than my nephew, Craig Bonham.
Craig is not a professional hunter in the elitist academic sense. He is just a professional human being, an artisan home builder, who has gone more places and done more things in the outdoor kingdom of our mother earth than most men have dreamed. Craig is a journeyman marksman, a journeyman fisherman, a loving husband and father of six sons and two daughters, and an absolute prince of ethical hunting for game birds and trophy wildlife. He is a self-taught naturalist of the first order with an honorary degree in helping others and serving his living God. And, most remarkably, he has done it all on his own dime with an astute sensitivity to preserving for future generations his touch with the Master's creations. It is with great pleasure that I assign him this space.
-- Robert Newel Reynolds, Littleton, Colorado, December 2010
NOTE: For a living person to earn a page on this website is equal to being voted into the NFL Hall of Fame while still playing on a team.
CRAIG'S SONS -- Please click to go to this page to witness a modern day miracle.
A couple of Craig's hunting stories...
Personal Account
2009 Wyoming Deer Hunt
by
Craig Bonham
I have hunted all my life and now at 60 years old nearly everyone I see in the woods is younger than me. And so it was this particular morning. It was dark and there was already a truck where I had hoped to park. I would have to hurry to be the first one to the top of the mountain. After about fifteen minutes of hiking in a foot of snow I could see ahead of me two images in the trail. They were going slowly but tried to stay ahead of me for a while. When I caught up to them we chatted for a few minutes. They were local boys about 25-30 years old. They had hunted here before. I thought to myself, that is good for they must have had good luck.
About three years before I had snowmobiled on this mountain and was impressed by the terrain. It was perfect deer country. A lot of steep hillsides with small patches of pines. Down lower on the mountain were quakies and sage brush meadows. As it began to get light I realized I was not where I wanted to be. There were a lot of tracks in the snow. Mostly deer. The snow was fresh and the tracks even fresher.
When it was light enough to start glassing I looked toward the nearest mountain peak and saw one deer by itself and then several hundred yards from it was another group of four. I could see antlers against the snow even though it was a mile away. The sight of these nice bucks renewed my energy and I started in their direction. After about two minutes I heard a rifle shot from the top of the mountain. Hurriedly I glassed the ridge where the bucks had been. I saw one deer running for all its worth down into a patch of pines. After a couple of minutes I saw a nice bull elk run around the big mountain above me and then after a few minutes more a lone horseman wearing orange came below where the elk had been.
I decided not to hike to the top of the mountain but thought that if I just spent the day walking and watching I would probably see some deer. For the next six or eight hours I saw quite a number of does, a few elk and sixteen bucks, mostly small but a couple of nice four pointers. Nothing that tempted me. I have shot so many deer that I actually enjoy watching them and passing on them unless I see one that is extraordinary.
In the early afternoon I passed through a meadow into some pines where I saw three fresh beds in the snow on the edge of the trees. There where three more much larger beds about ten or fifteen yards deeper into these pines. The larger beds had big tracks showing the story of them sneaking off after seeing a hunter walking out into a meadow. I should have been more careful. I followed the tracks for a couple hundred yards but knew I would never see these deer again. They know the game.
It was a pleasant day as are most Fall days after a good snow. The clouds were clearing and it was not too cold. The deer were moving about even in mid day as they had been made hungry by the storm. I did see the two young hunters again. Way below me they were slowly moving along a ridge. They would be gone home long before I got back to my truck. I had my lunch and enjoyed the quiet of being alone and making my own decisions. There is a feeling you get by being alone in nature that energizes the soul. This was one of those peaceful days.
At about two in the afternoon I began to make my way back down the mountain. As I looked along the ridge I had been on several hours before I could see something that was out of place. I put my binocs up and immediately could see a deer. Even though his head was down eating I could see his tall wide antlers. I watched for awhile and could see he was a 5X4. His rack was about 28” wide with an inline point between the back two points on his left side. As he fed along another buck came out of the pines behind him and started to feed. This buck wasn’t as wide but had similar long tall points and more mass. The two bucks were feeding down the ridge to another patch of pines. They were about six hundred yards away.
When I was younger I might have tried a shot from there but I don’t like to shoot at anything over 300 yards. Part of the fun is the challenge to get closer. So I stayed behind cover and made my stalk until I was about 200 yards from them. The two good bucks were just disappearing when I got ready to shoot. Rather than take a quick shot I decided to wait and watch. I had several hours of daylight left. Presently, four more bucks came out of pines above the two nice bucks. They were smaller bucks. A two point, a three pointer, and two small fours. They were good looking deer and would be great bucks if they could live long enough. These bucks walked along one of those terraces built during the great depression by the CCC, a federal project designed to put dollars into the economy. As these four bucks walked along, one of the bigger bucks reversed directions and began to follow the smaller bucks. This bigger buck came out in front of me right in the open. I could see he had good long points and some extra stuff. I got excited. My first shot was high. But my next two shots were right where they were supposed to be. The buck jumped and kicked and disappeared behind a small hill.
As I walked up to this buck I felt both exhilarated and sad. I had just taken one of the best bucks of my life but there is always some sadness when a beautiful animal is killed. I paused and gave thanks and then grabbed the antlers. It’s a great feeling to lift a big set of antlers for the first time. This buck had seven points on one side and eight on the other, besides nice brow points. He would score 210 inches. But the best part was showing the antlers to my sons. Two of them came up and packed this buck out the next day.
Hunting is a great privilege. The older I get the more I appreciate it. It helps me feel a connection to nature and my creator. I guess you can get this by just being a hiker but the trophy on the wall brings back the memory of the whole experience.
October 2009
Draper, Utah
About three years before I had snowmobiled on this mountain and was impressed by the terrain. It was perfect deer country. A lot of steep hillsides with small patches of pines. Down lower on the mountain were quakies and sage brush meadows. As it began to get light I realized I was not where I wanted to be. There were a lot of tracks in the snow. Mostly deer. The snow was fresh and the tracks even fresher.
When it was light enough to start glassing I looked toward the nearest mountain peak and saw one deer by itself and then several hundred yards from it was another group of four. I could see antlers against the snow even though it was a mile away. The sight of these nice bucks renewed my energy and I started in their direction. After about two minutes I heard a rifle shot from the top of the mountain. Hurriedly I glassed the ridge where the bucks had been. I saw one deer running for all its worth down into a patch of pines. After a couple of minutes I saw a nice bull elk run around the big mountain above me and then after a few minutes more a lone horseman wearing orange came below where the elk had been.
I decided not to hike to the top of the mountain but thought that if I just spent the day walking and watching I would probably see some deer. For the next six or eight hours I saw quite a number of does, a few elk and sixteen bucks, mostly small but a couple of nice four pointers. Nothing that tempted me. I have shot so many deer that I actually enjoy watching them and passing on them unless I see one that is extraordinary.
In the early afternoon I passed through a meadow into some pines where I saw three fresh beds in the snow on the edge of the trees. There where three more much larger beds about ten or fifteen yards deeper into these pines. The larger beds had big tracks showing the story of them sneaking off after seeing a hunter walking out into a meadow. I should have been more careful. I followed the tracks for a couple hundred yards but knew I would never see these deer again. They know the game.
It was a pleasant day as are most Fall days after a good snow. The clouds were clearing and it was not too cold. The deer were moving about even in mid day as they had been made hungry by the storm. I did see the two young hunters again. Way below me they were slowly moving along a ridge. They would be gone home long before I got back to my truck. I had my lunch and enjoyed the quiet of being alone and making my own decisions. There is a feeling you get by being alone in nature that energizes the soul. This was one of those peaceful days.
At about two in the afternoon I began to make my way back down the mountain. As I looked along the ridge I had been on several hours before I could see something that was out of place. I put my binocs up and immediately could see a deer. Even though his head was down eating I could see his tall wide antlers. I watched for awhile and could see he was a 5X4. His rack was about 28” wide with an inline point between the back two points on his left side. As he fed along another buck came out of the pines behind him and started to feed. This buck wasn’t as wide but had similar long tall points and more mass. The two bucks were feeding down the ridge to another patch of pines. They were about six hundred yards away.
When I was younger I might have tried a shot from there but I don’t like to shoot at anything over 300 yards. Part of the fun is the challenge to get closer. So I stayed behind cover and made my stalk until I was about 200 yards from them. The two good bucks were just disappearing when I got ready to shoot. Rather than take a quick shot I decided to wait and watch. I had several hours of daylight left. Presently, four more bucks came out of pines above the two nice bucks. They were smaller bucks. A two point, a three pointer, and two small fours. They were good looking deer and would be great bucks if they could live long enough. These bucks walked along one of those terraces built during the great depression by the CCC, a federal project designed to put dollars into the economy. As these four bucks walked along, one of the bigger bucks reversed directions and began to follow the smaller bucks. This bigger buck came out in front of me right in the open. I could see he had good long points and some extra stuff. I got excited. My first shot was high. But my next two shots were right where they were supposed to be. The buck jumped and kicked and disappeared behind a small hill.
As I walked up to this buck I felt both exhilarated and sad. I had just taken one of the best bucks of my life but there is always some sadness when a beautiful animal is killed. I paused and gave thanks and then grabbed the antlers. It’s a great feeling to lift a big set of antlers for the first time. This buck had seven points on one side and eight on the other, besides nice brow points. He would score 210 inches. But the best part was showing the antlers to my sons. Two of them came up and packed this buck out the next day.
Hunting is a great privilege. The older I get the more I appreciate it. It helps me feel a connection to nature and my creator. I guess you can get this by just being a hiker but the trophy on the wall brings back the memory of the whole experience.
October 2009
Draper, Utah