Hammsolo
Well-known member
- Joined
- May 16, 2020
- Messages
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Just got up my pronghorn from last year. My cousins asked me the story, so I texted it and thought I would share.
Alex and I got him after a few days of hunting and not spotting anything mature.
We found a hidden strip of public behind a ranch and solar farm. There was a literal 20 yard strip to slip around. We scouted it out in the evening and spotted a herd sneaking up a draw in the right direction.
We busted out at zero dark thirty to hike the mile and a half strip to just get to the public. We then had to hike a moonscape from a fire for a couple of miles to be sat down a half hour before light began to crest.
At first light we spotted a few does, but no bucks. After about 30 minutes a tiny buck and two does appeared. They quietly walked up the ridge to our North as we hid in the sage brush. They sat on the crest as the sun broke. I watched him prone through my scope for what seemed like forever. I had aspirations of a mature buck, and the shot wasn’t ethical. I sent up a prayer and thanked God for the opportunity, and remembered my hunting mentor’s wise words once again, “you can’t shoot big bucks if you shoot little bucks.”
We watched he and his ladies walk quietly across the horizon.
We went back to glassing and a large sage brush hill sat in front of us. A doe walked around the edge and started up the draw toward us, then two more. Then a buck appeared.
Quickly we realized we were going to be busted and out of range as the light was creeping towards us and the angles were bad. Alex holed up deep in some bushes and I slithered down into a seem and found a fissure to sneak up a neighboring rim.
I began the long crawl up the hill, while I assumed the pronghorn worked up the other side toward me. O moved from one Sage brush to the next and watched for ears. Alex could watch the whole thing, me climbing one side of the arc while the pronghorn ascended the other side with a doe in the lead.
Suddenly I spotted her at about 250 yards, and slithered under a sage brush. I couldn’t move any longer. I set up my bipod, dialed to 250 yards, and hoped for the best.
The doe gradually appeared and kept coming, and the buck’s antlers appeared! She was getting close, about 180 yards. The buck’s fully appeared, but was head on. She stopped and fed. I could feel the breeze on the back of my neck.
It was no or never. He took on last nibble. I went slow motion and ranged him one last time, 258 yards. I checked my dial. I brushed my fingers prints along the ridges of my trigger as I always do to set the softest of straight squeezes. One breath, two breath, hold, and squeeze. I watched the bullet find the nape of his neck. Recoil, and then I watched him sprint down the hill about 50 yards before he toppled over.
The best part was that my brother charged down the hill and we celebrated. He was able to recount the whole thing, and how he was certain I was going to get busted.
Brother hunts are the best!
Alex and I got him after a few days of hunting and not spotting anything mature.
We found a hidden strip of public behind a ranch and solar farm. There was a literal 20 yard strip to slip around. We scouted it out in the evening and spotted a herd sneaking up a draw in the right direction.
We busted out at zero dark thirty to hike the mile and a half strip to just get to the public. We then had to hike a moonscape from a fire for a couple of miles to be sat down a half hour before light began to crest.
At first light we spotted a few does, but no bucks. After about 30 minutes a tiny buck and two does appeared. They quietly walked up the ridge to our North as we hid in the sage brush. They sat on the crest as the sun broke. I watched him prone through my scope for what seemed like forever. I had aspirations of a mature buck, and the shot wasn’t ethical. I sent up a prayer and thanked God for the opportunity, and remembered my hunting mentor’s wise words once again, “you can’t shoot big bucks if you shoot little bucks.”
We watched he and his ladies walk quietly across the horizon.
We went back to glassing and a large sage brush hill sat in front of us. A doe walked around the edge and started up the draw toward us, then two more. Then a buck appeared.
Quickly we realized we were going to be busted and out of range as the light was creeping towards us and the angles were bad. Alex holed up deep in some bushes and I slithered down into a seem and found a fissure to sneak up a neighboring rim.
I began the long crawl up the hill, while I assumed the pronghorn worked up the other side toward me. O moved from one Sage brush to the next and watched for ears. Alex could watch the whole thing, me climbing one side of the arc while the pronghorn ascended the other side with a doe in the lead.
Suddenly I spotted her at about 250 yards, and slithered under a sage brush. I couldn’t move any longer. I set up my bipod, dialed to 250 yards, and hoped for the best.
The doe gradually appeared and kept coming, and the buck’s antlers appeared! She was getting close, about 180 yards. The buck’s fully appeared, but was head on. She stopped and fed. I could feel the breeze on the back of my neck.
It was no or never. He took on last nibble. I went slow motion and ranged him one last time, 258 yards. I checked my dial. I brushed my fingers prints along the ridges of my trigger as I always do to set the softest of straight squeezes. One breath, two breath, hold, and squeeze. I watched the bullet find the nape of his neck. Recoil, and then I watched him sprint down the hill about 50 yards before he toppled over.
The best part was that my brother charged down the hill and we celebrated. He was able to recount the whole thing, and how he was certain I was going to get busted.
Brother hunts are the best!
