Bluffgruff
Well-known member
I'm an antelope enthusiast. I like to watch them, hunt them, and eat them.
The sweet spot is 2 buck hunts per year, enough meat to eat most of the year, share meat with friends, win some new converts to the culinary excellence, and the mix of type 1 and type 2 fun that keeps me in the prairies and sage flats, despite developing allergies to sage and grass as an adult. I've been throwing my name in the draws in 7 or 8 states for over a decade, and the most buck tags I've ever had in 1 year was 2, so I've never worried about too many...
until this year.
My luck started out in an unlikely spot, an archery tag in New Mexico. I haven't had a NM antelope tag since 1998, and that was a landowner tag purchased by my father so that my brother, father, and I could all go on a big game hunt together. We all killed bucks in 1 day on that hunt, quite a feat considering the two teenagers and three on one client to guide ratio (that guy must have walked 20 miles that day). So this tag, only 70 miles from the previous tag, felt special from the start.
I've been archery hunting for over 20 years, but mostly as an afterthought. I killed my first buck when I was 16. I've killed 2 whitetails and a few hogs and a few dozen armadillos since then. This hunt may change the afterthought part for me.
The bow is not new. It is about as old as my college degree, but belonged to a dear friend who is now gone, long before he should have left. The first 2 few years I had it, I would shoot it in the yard every now and then. I put some painfully errant shots downrange during an OTC hunt a few years ago, but when this NM tag came around, I felt the bow calling me to do better. I asked the 3 people who would care if I could exchange some parts on the bow to make it work better for me, and they all said that I should put it to good use, however I could do that. So I bought a new sight, a new rest, new arrows, new broadheads, and start the process of shooting well.
I get paper tuned, sighted in, and shoot almost every day all summer from the end of May until the end of July.
Sometimes I shoot 5 or 10 times, but once a week I put 100-200 arrows on target to build up some muscle.
After killing 1 arrow Robinhood style, I start shooting a different aiming point for every shot.
I stretch my range with my dialable sight to 70 and beyond,
but settle on 65 as my maximum effective range.
I [kid] you not, I don't miss the target all summer, great success!
I take it to the 3D range to get my sequence down for real life.
Nock, range, draw under cover, break cover, check my level and release.
So early August seasons sneak up on you, as does lateral epicondylitis (I have never, EVER played tennis) earned by putting together some garden beds that require 72 nut and bolt combos each. But hey, they look great and grow some huge zucchinis!
I calm the elbow down by taking a break from shooting until the last couple days before season, when I meticulously select 6 arrows that fly 100% true and identical.
The day before the season, I pack the truck, and get out of town late in the morning. I have my campsite picked out, and I'm there in time to save my spot with a backpacking tent and get out to find a few critters.
There are antelope around, as well as a few trucks, but the campsite is empty on this Tuesday evening. I decide on a pizza for dinner from town because the days are long, the nights are short, and I want to get an early start in the morning.
After cracking that badboy open, along with an IPA, I learn that I am not fully alone.
The wind has kept the flies at bay, but also masked the sound of the trash pandas trying to break into the cooler in the bed of my truck, as well as allowed another to get within 6 feet of me as darkness fell, targeting my dinner.
I chase the thieves from the truck, toss the pizza box inside and close it up, and turn my attention to scaring them all, maybe 6 of them, from my campsite with rocks and chunks of firewood.
Turns out raccoons DGAF about sticks and stones if there's pizza in play. Several times in the night I hear them trying to climb onto and into the truck, but without success as I found everything in order inside the truck in the morning. So much for setting up a "camp." Everything except my bedding would stay in the truck thev rest of the trip unless I was using it.
The next day I'm up very early, planning to get to a spot I had found the day before that held multiple bucks, only to find a truck parked 100 yards from a blind and 2 awkward antelope decoys. That guy probably killed one in comfort that morning as his truck was no where to be found the rest of my trip.
I took a nice several mile walk to ease the rust off. I blew stalks at long range on 2 adult bucks, founds a few deer and antelope sheds,
And found myself wishing deer tags were easier to come by.
It then proceeds to get misty, then starts to rain. I get back to the truck, which had several antelope visitors in range of it earlier that I could see from far away, and pile in to dry off. It rains for the better part of 8 hours, making the dirt roads absolute mush, so I stick to the paved roads and cover what little public land is visible from them. I do find some bucks on public, but I'm not really excited about getting completely coated in mud and sopping wet for the low chance of success on these few. I see more of the terrain than I expected with this 200 mile tour, but I really enjoyed the ride. The rain stops in the evening, just in time to get dinner cooked before dark.
The next day, I'm not as quick out of the sleeping bag, or camp, but 2 cups of coffee and a plan to avoid the few places trucks seem to be congregating has me hopeful. I cruise to a more obvious part of the unit due to its numerous accessible pieces of public land, and proceed to mark bucks out in the flats, and up on ridges and mesas. I drive by a buck bedded just off a county road, try to stop and circle in above him, but he senses me and is 100 yards from his previous bed when I find him. He ultimately walks within 70 yards of me, but never slows down to give me a shot, and he gets moving to the next piece of private land. Next, I make my way into a small valley containing a buck I had seen from the main road. I get to about 60 yards. Then get greedy, fail to find him while crawling, and proceed to blow the stalk by getting on my knees before I locate him behind a bunch of yucca, staring at me. He busts and runs to about 250 yards and comes back to look at about 140, then runs back to 250. This plays out with him some more, and similarly with another 4 bucks that day. I can get within 100 yards reliably, 80 on several bucks, and very close to range on a couple, with either them seeing or smelling me putting an end to it, accompanied by flared rump fur and a snort or 20.
At this point, I'm wondering how to kill one because spot and stalk is getting frustrating, even if it has lead to several entertaining encounters. I don't have a blind, and there is water everywhere. I'm eating well, and enjoying my camp, but I promised my 5 year old we'd be at a baseball game in 2 days, so there is some time crunch happening, even though I could come back for another 2 days at the end of the season.
The next morning, I am going to try the same area as the prior day, figuring i can sweat out one of these bucks. I get locked in on a couple bucks that seems to be contending for a harem. I tried to crawl between them with a buck decoy, and it almost worked, but they ran away after yo-yo-ing between 100 and 250 yards.
First rifle season must feel like ordering off a menu in this area.
Giving up on that group, I make my way over the hill in search of two other bucks i had seen from the road. They were in the wide open, but I thought I might be able to get close and wait one out.
I get to about 150 from the best buck I had seen all trip, and park it in a rare but fortuitous cactus free zone.
It is so hot, and I didn't bring any water out here, so fa... ahem, 600 yards from the truck.
I pass the time taking selfies to show Khunter to prove that I have a face.
I'm really sweating it out, salt crusts are appearing on my requisite brand gear.
Then it happens. Some dude in an unnecessarily loud pickup roars down the road and slides to a stop when he sees the buck bedded in the open. He looks for a minute, then slowly rolls away. The buck doesn't spook, but he gets up and walks the other way and out of my life.
Here's where I do my dejected walk in the other direction, trying to decide if I should be getting lunch and water, or keep hunting. I decide to keep hunting. The buck walking the other way had a buddy with him earlier in the day, and I'm looking for THAT guy.
The sweet spot is 2 buck hunts per year, enough meat to eat most of the year, share meat with friends, win some new converts to the culinary excellence, and the mix of type 1 and type 2 fun that keeps me in the prairies and sage flats, despite developing allergies to sage and grass as an adult. I've been throwing my name in the draws in 7 or 8 states for over a decade, and the most buck tags I've ever had in 1 year was 2, so I've never worried about too many...
until this year.
My luck started out in an unlikely spot, an archery tag in New Mexico. I haven't had a NM antelope tag since 1998, and that was a landowner tag purchased by my father so that my brother, father, and I could all go on a big game hunt together. We all killed bucks in 1 day on that hunt, quite a feat considering the two teenagers and three on one client to guide ratio (that guy must have walked 20 miles that day). So this tag, only 70 miles from the previous tag, felt special from the start.
I've been archery hunting for over 20 years, but mostly as an afterthought. I killed my first buck when I was 16. I've killed 2 whitetails and a few hogs and a few dozen armadillos since then. This hunt may change the afterthought part for me.
The bow is not new. It is about as old as my college degree, but belonged to a dear friend who is now gone, long before he should have left. The first 2 few years I had it, I would shoot it in the yard every now and then. I put some painfully errant shots downrange during an OTC hunt a few years ago, but when this NM tag came around, I felt the bow calling me to do better. I asked the 3 people who would care if I could exchange some parts on the bow to make it work better for me, and they all said that I should put it to good use, however I could do that. So I bought a new sight, a new rest, new arrows, new broadheads, and start the process of shooting well.
I get paper tuned, sighted in, and shoot almost every day all summer from the end of May until the end of July.
Sometimes I shoot 5 or 10 times, but once a week I put 100-200 arrows on target to build up some muscle.
After killing 1 arrow Robinhood style, I start shooting a different aiming point for every shot.
I stretch my range with my dialable sight to 70 and beyond,
but settle on 65 as my maximum effective range.
I [kid] you not, I don't miss the target all summer, great success!
I take it to the 3D range to get my sequence down for real life.
Nock, range, draw under cover, break cover, check my level and release.
So early August seasons sneak up on you, as does lateral epicondylitis (I have never, EVER played tennis) earned by putting together some garden beds that require 72 nut and bolt combos each. But hey, they look great and grow some huge zucchinis!
I calm the elbow down by taking a break from shooting until the last couple days before season, when I meticulously select 6 arrows that fly 100% true and identical.
The day before the season, I pack the truck, and get out of town late in the morning. I have my campsite picked out, and I'm there in time to save my spot with a backpacking tent and get out to find a few critters.
There are antelope around, as well as a few trucks, but the campsite is empty on this Tuesday evening. I decide on a pizza for dinner from town because the days are long, the nights are short, and I want to get an early start in the morning.
After cracking that badboy open, along with an IPA, I learn that I am not fully alone.
The wind has kept the flies at bay, but also masked the sound of the trash pandas trying to break into the cooler in the bed of my truck, as well as allowed another to get within 6 feet of me as darkness fell, targeting my dinner.
I chase the thieves from the truck, toss the pizza box inside and close it up, and turn my attention to scaring them all, maybe 6 of them, from my campsite with rocks and chunks of firewood.
Turns out raccoons DGAF about sticks and stones if there's pizza in play. Several times in the night I hear them trying to climb onto and into the truck, but without success as I found everything in order inside the truck in the morning. So much for setting up a "camp." Everything except my bedding would stay in the truck thev rest of the trip unless I was using it.
The next day I'm up very early, planning to get to a spot I had found the day before that held multiple bucks, only to find a truck parked 100 yards from a blind and 2 awkward antelope decoys. That guy probably killed one in comfort that morning as his truck was no where to be found the rest of my trip.
I took a nice several mile walk to ease the rust off. I blew stalks at long range on 2 adult bucks, founds a few deer and antelope sheds,
And found myself wishing deer tags were easier to come by.
It then proceeds to get misty, then starts to rain. I get back to the truck, which had several antelope visitors in range of it earlier that I could see from far away, and pile in to dry off. It rains for the better part of 8 hours, making the dirt roads absolute mush, so I stick to the paved roads and cover what little public land is visible from them. I do find some bucks on public, but I'm not really excited about getting completely coated in mud and sopping wet for the low chance of success on these few. I see more of the terrain than I expected with this 200 mile tour, but I really enjoyed the ride. The rain stops in the evening, just in time to get dinner cooked before dark.
The next day, I'm not as quick out of the sleeping bag, or camp, but 2 cups of coffee and a plan to avoid the few places trucks seem to be congregating has me hopeful. I cruise to a more obvious part of the unit due to its numerous accessible pieces of public land, and proceed to mark bucks out in the flats, and up on ridges and mesas. I drive by a buck bedded just off a county road, try to stop and circle in above him, but he senses me and is 100 yards from his previous bed when I find him. He ultimately walks within 70 yards of me, but never slows down to give me a shot, and he gets moving to the next piece of private land. Next, I make my way into a small valley containing a buck I had seen from the main road. I get to about 60 yards. Then get greedy, fail to find him while crawling, and proceed to blow the stalk by getting on my knees before I locate him behind a bunch of yucca, staring at me. He busts and runs to about 250 yards and comes back to look at about 140, then runs back to 250. This plays out with him some more, and similarly with another 4 bucks that day. I can get within 100 yards reliably, 80 on several bucks, and very close to range on a couple, with either them seeing or smelling me putting an end to it, accompanied by flared rump fur and a snort or 20.
At this point, I'm wondering how to kill one because spot and stalk is getting frustrating, even if it has lead to several entertaining encounters. I don't have a blind, and there is water everywhere. I'm eating well, and enjoying my camp, but I promised my 5 year old we'd be at a baseball game in 2 days, so there is some time crunch happening, even though I could come back for another 2 days at the end of the season.
The next morning, I am going to try the same area as the prior day, figuring i can sweat out one of these bucks. I get locked in on a couple bucks that seems to be contending for a harem. I tried to crawl between them with a buck decoy, and it almost worked, but they ran away after yo-yo-ing between 100 and 250 yards.
First rifle season must feel like ordering off a menu in this area.
Giving up on that group, I make my way over the hill in search of two other bucks i had seen from the road. They were in the wide open, but I thought I might be able to get close and wait one out.
I get to about 150 from the best buck I had seen all trip, and park it in a rare but fortuitous cactus free zone.
It is so hot, and I didn't bring any water out here, so fa... ahem, 600 yards from the truck.
I pass the time taking selfies to show Khunter to prove that I have a face.
I'm really sweating it out, salt crusts are appearing on my requisite brand gear.
Then it happens. Some dude in an unnecessarily loud pickup roars down the road and slides to a stop when he sees the buck bedded in the open. He looks for a minute, then slowly rolls away. The buck doesn't spook, but he gets up and walks the other way and out of my life.
Here's where I do my dejected walk in the other direction, trying to decide if I should be getting lunch and water, or keep hunting. I decide to keep hunting. The buck walking the other way had a buddy with him earlier in the day, and I'm looking for THAT guy.
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