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The Stalk

We got back to the hotel and organized gear and turned in for the night. I was up getting ready for 15 minutes before the 4:30 am alarm. My dad and son were just a bit slow to get out of bed. We got our stuff together and began the 55 minute drive to our intended spot. We arrived a little after 6 am and geared up.

I told my dad to park on the road above the WIHA, he said something about not wanting to spook the antelope and then wished us luck and drove off. We crossed the fence and I checked the wind. The goal was to get on one of the high spots that would give us options, and also be visible from the road in hopes that any hunters might see us and allow us some space.

The wind was wrong for the spot I was hoping to get to, so I decided plan b was to get to a bit of a saddle between two big hills. We dropped in to the cut in front of us and paralleled the road for a bit. As I was looking for a place to start climbing out, I noticed an antelope skylined almost half a mile out. I asked my son for the binos - he forgot them . . .

I put my scope up and it looked like a doe. It still wasn’t shooting light so we waited a bit and then antelope number two appeared. I started formulating a new plan and decided we should continue up the cut. A short while later, antelope number three popped up. I could tell it was a buck. I decided to assume it was him. It still wasn’t shooting light yet and was dark down in the cut, so even though we could see them, I told my son we needed to hustle.

We covered about 400 yards and and as the cut petered out, the antelope started feeding back over the hill. Perfect.
 
Ideally, I wanted a shot that was 250 or less so it was a dead hold for my son. Option one was to sit tight on the edge of this lip behind some sage and hope the herd would crest the hill and cover the 150 yards before the two blobs in the bushes made them nervous. Option two was to move uphill the 150 yards and get behind even less cover and hope they came down the ridge enough to provide a safe backstop.

I didn’t like either option very much. I talked it over with my son and he thought it was unlikely to work as well. We decided we were better off cutting across 300 yards of open ground to a fold in the ridge. Once we got to the fold, we could head up the ridge, get on their level, and figure out where to go from there. It was time to hustle again. We crossed our fingers, put an eye on the ridgeline, and off we went.

We made it without being seen! We worked up the ridge and started looking around as we got to the crest. At the crest I looked back to my left - antelope! They apparently had the same idea we did and moved down the ridge the same time we did. I guessed them at a bit over 100 yards. I set the tripod and helped get him in position. The whole process was a bit clumsy and slow going. Once he was on the tripod he had trouble getting comfortable. They were nervous and started moving off.

After a while, my son finally said he could make the shot. By this point, the herd was a solid 250 yards out. Based on the way he said he was ready, I wasn’t confident he was going to make the shot. I told him to take a little bit to continue to collect himself. No sooner did I say that and the herd turned and walked away. They finally stopped about four hundred yards away and 150 feet above us on the top of a knob.

We sat and watched the antelope and talked for a while.
 
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We ironed out what we could have done differently or better. We talked about how we could have prepared better for the opportunity. We talked about what to do next. What to do next was pretty obvious. Once they fed over the hill we were going to pick up and high tail it to the top of the hill.

They eventually moved over the crest and up we went. We got to the top and got set and I peaked over. A doe at 50 yards. We eased up in to position and as we peaked over the herd was moving downhill and was now close to 300 yards out. We watched them walk until they settled in on the edge of the trees some 550 yards away.

We dropped back a bit, went around the hill and settled in above the saddle where we had initially planned to go first thing in the morning. We watched as the buck cut out a doe and chased her in to the trees a half mile away. Damn, a pair of binos would have been really nice to have.

Now what? Wait it out? Bail? Charge ahead. Seeing as how my Dad was nowhere to be found, bailing was out. Given the circumstances charging in didn’t seem like a good choice. So we waited. And I gave somebody a much needed pep talk after the missed opportunities. The scenery was fantastic but the morning wind was blowing cold.
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The buck was in the trees on the left middle and the does were in the trees just above the toes of his fancy stalking sneakers.

Where we came from
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After a while we got antsy and decided to move across the saddle to the adjacent tree covered hill. We felt it gave us more options given the cover it provided. As we worked our way through the trees, a cottontail popped out. Four rabbits feet - what luck.

We took up a position about half way up the hill and watched. A bit later we noticed the buck had rejoined the herd. After some more time passed, the herd started to feed out of view. They were now almost half a mile away and we had no idea where they went or where they were going.
My gut told me to sit tight as we were between them and likely their only water source. Part of me wanted to tip my hat to them and move on. But we’re out west - and we’re not quitting now. I told my son we would make one last play.

We dropped down and stayed wide of their likely location. We swung around and no antelope. We were running out of real estate. Based on the maps, I felt like if they weren’t in the next bowl, they were gone - disappearing in to thin air.

We worked up to the edge of the next bowl and surprise - there they were! They were inside 100 yards. They started moving off immediately. He got on the tripod and they were milling around at 200 yards. We were ready. It was finally going to come together.

In the event the shot wasn’t great, I was ready to back him up. Go time. He just needed to clear the herd! So we waited and waited and waited and the 12 or so antelope stayed balled up and the group began to move off. 225 and he was broadside but not clear. 250 yards and still not clear. 275 still not clear. Then they turned and walked AWAY!
 
Here we go again. We dropped back a bit to get below the ridgeline and took off. We were headed back to the tree covered hill he had just left as they were likely to pass within a few hundred yards of where we just were. The question was, do we follow them, beat them around the hill from the other side, or go up and over.

We stopped at the base of the hill and peaked over the ridgeline to check on their position. They were milling around at the 4 o’clock position relative to the hill and within about 200 yards of the cover. We decided to head up from the 6 o’clock position and try and sneak over to 3 o’clock for a shot.

As we approached our destination I started looking around - no antelope. They had started to move again. Up and over it was. The goal now was to get to 1 o’clock and get a shot from there. I had a hunch they were moving to the water.

We get to a spot relatively high on the hill. We can’t really drop any further or we’ll lose our shooting lanes. So we set up. Three does take a line that brings them within 300 yards. I check with my son. He’s good. He’ll aim for the spine and I’ll back him up. The rest of the herd starts moving, only they take a different line. 375 - too far.

They started to pick up their pace and appeared to be making a beeline for the water. We bailed off the hill. We got to the bottom and they’re a half mile out and moving to the tank. We knew it was time to hustle again.

There was a cut a little ways up that should get us almost to the tank. But to get there we had to expose ourselves for a couple of 10 or 20 yard stretches. It had been three hours now. Time to risk it.
 
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Again we go as fast as we can. We dropped in to the cut and I took a peek. Looks like we made it OK. We moved up a few hundred and I checked on them again - still there. Go again.

We moved further down and decided to peek over for a shot. We were definitely over 300, but the herd seemed relaxed so we dropped back in and moved up again. Time to check again. 220 yards. It was go time.

The buck had his head down, as did much of the rest of the herd. We had the wind and they didn’t seem to be aware of our presence.

The problem now was that we were on the side of the cut and my son couldn’t maintain his footing. Apparently his Dad never taught him how to dig in. We tried to sit and shoot off the pack. No good. So I had him slide up the hill a bit. I kicked out some dirt and jammed my foot in the side of the hill and told him to stand on my foot. I got the tripod back up.

He got ready and so did I. He said he felt OK. I told him whenever he was ready. I waited. The rifle cracked and the buck dropped.
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My son couldn’t have been happier. I tried to balance being in the moment with him and ensuring his buck wasn’t going to get up. I had my concerns based on what I had seen in my scope. Turns out my concerns were well founded and I did what dads sometimes have to do - I took care of a situation.

At some point during the stalk grandpa had parked about 75 yards down from the waterhole. Unfortunately he was below the area and couldn’t see the action unfold, but he clearly heard the ending. My son had been able to radio him a couple of times toward the end of the stalk to let him know we were on the herd.

I took lots of pictures and then dragged him the 40 yards from the pasture to the truck and took some more pictures. IMG_2672.jpeg

My son asked if we were going to mount him. I said a euro would be good. I had already dragged him out. I looked at my Dad, one of the cheapest guys (justifiably so) I know, and said, “we don’t mount this, do we?” He said, “I think you do.” So even though he was now missing a bit of hair on his shoulder. I caped him out and cut him up.
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In three hours, we covered 3.5 miles, gained 500 feet of elevation, and lost 500 feet. The receipt.
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Again we go as fast as we can. We dropped in to the cut and I took a peek. Looks like we made it OK. We moved up a few hundred and I checked on them again - still there. Go again.

We moved further down and decided to peek over for a shot. We were definitely over 300, but the herd seemed relaxed so we dropped back in and moved up again. Time to check again. 220 yards. It was go time.

The buck had his head down, as did much of the rest of the herd. We had the wind and they didn’t seem to be aware of our presence.

The problem now was that we were on the side of the cut and my son couldn’t maintain his footing. Apparently his Dad never taught him how to dig in. We tried to sit and shoot off the pack. No good. So I had him slide up the hill a bit. I kicked out some dirt and jammed my foot in the side of the hill and told him to stand on my foot. I got the tripod back up.

He got ready and so did I. He said he felt OK. I told him whenever he was ready. I waited. The rifle cracked and the buck dropped.
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That was a very long wait but we finally arrived at a satisfying conclusion. I could use a smoke and a Tylenol after that!
 
After I got my son’s buck on ice, we went back to look for that big buck with the goofy horn. We didn’t make 600 yards before I saw a big tent camp. A group from Utah had set up in the area. So we pressed on in hopes that they hadn’t gotten him.

We found a herd of thirteen does. The buck wasn’t with them. We watched them for a half hour or so and then decided to look a little bit more. Shortly thereafter we found a fresh piece of hide, we took it as a sign they got him and decided to move on.

We decided to go back to a far corner of the unit we had been to previously. We found a few decent bucks and then close to shooting light we saw a great buck. He appeared and was gone too quickly for me to get a shot off.

We headed back to the hotel with hopes that we would find him again the next day.
 

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