BuzzH
Well-known member
Knowing what you're looking at is a good place to start, when considering "what yer after".
Great "meat buck" Randy, glad it all worked out.
WY pronghorn leftovers
- Thread starter Big Fin
- Start date
Knowing what you're looking at is a good place to start, when considering "what yer after".
Great "meat buck" Randy, glad it all worked out.
AZ402
Well-known member
Very nice!!
Big Foot
Active member
Nice work Big Fin!
genesis273
Well-known member
You have a knack for killing really good bucks. Nice job buddy!
stillkickin
Well-known member
I've seen a couple other picts and this one doesn't do it justice. The truck ahead of Randy must of been Greenhorn's outfitter friend who judged that bull elk at 330He probably would call this one a 65
+2 on that Bart!
Well tell us Howdy Doody, from that pic what's he score?
ashersdad
Well-known member
You are an antelope killin machine! Nice job.
The Hedgehog
Well-known member
- Joined
- Dec 19, 2000
- Messages
- 11,641
I did tell you.
Brandenbowhunter
Well-known member
awesome, great curls!
BuzzH
Well-known member
I think it scores about 71 5/8 net...similar, only smaller, than the hundred bucks you passed up on your hunt.
Oh, and one more bit of advice...try researching before you draw tags...lack of research isn't the game and fish's problem.
D
Deleted member 20812
Guest
If you can't look at that buck and see a heck of a lot of inches of horn, I don't know what to tell you. 86" doesn't surprise me one bit.
Outstanding buck Randy!
Just done with the filming gig. Sorry for the delay, but lots to do and very little time to get it done.
This hunt almost didn't happen. I'll try to explain and Mrs. Fin, the most modest person in the world will be mad at me for telling the background, but I suspect some of you would want to know. So, here goes.
We were supposed to do this hunt as a five day hunt, starting on Wednesday. It was going to be me and Uncle Larry. We had hoped to get two episodes from it.
But, a few weeks ago, Mrs. Fin started having some health issues. I was on the road and felt very absent, not being there. Thus, I came home early from my Utah elk hunt. Last week, Mrs. Fin was told by her doctors that she needs to have a pretty major surgery and they wanted to do it this week; Thursday.
Given her surgery will require a pretty long recovery period, I will have to cancel some hunts for this season that I hope to make up later in the year. She did not want me to lose any more hunts, so she suggested I come down yesterday, hunt today and tomorrow, then get back by Wednesday night, being home for her surgery.
With her blessing, I loaded the truck, found a camera guy (Derek) at the last minute, and we came to Wyoming yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, the changing of schedules and such short notice did not allow Uncle Larry to change his medical appointments in Houston, so he was not able to join us. Too bad, as he is more fun to hunt with than most any person you could bring along.
Even with all that, we would hopefully get an episode. Or, at least we would give it our best shot.
Yesterday we were able to hunt about four hours. I have hunted this unit twice before, so I have a pretty good feel of where to look/not look. The same patterns were pretty much in play when we headed out yesterday afternoon, hoping to get Acts 1 and 2 done for the show. And along the way, check to see if the normal spots would hold bucks again this year.
Saw one really good buck, but he had a broken prong. If not for that, the hunt may have been over around 6:30pm last night. But, given I had Mon and Tue, I just wasn't ready to fill the tag that quick, especially with so much TV work to do over the next day or so.
Last night I met with Eli and Tony Grimmett for dinner. Their hunter had shot a really good buck that afternoon, in the unit across the highway from where I was hunting. Tony told me of a good buck he had almost run over in the road a week prior. He said it headed over to my unit. He and Eli hadn't had much time to look for him in the last week, being busy with clients. They had spent a few hours looking on a couple different occasions. They found no sign of him, either in my unit, or the unit across the highway where they were guiding.
I told them my plan for the next morning. Tony told me I should go and see if I could find that buck. He gave me a general area of where it had crossed and where it headed. I figured if they had spent a few hours over two different days, and found nothing, it would be a waste of my time to scour that basin. It could easily be glassed from one location, so I doubt he was still there. But, what the heck.
I told Derek we would climb a big knob where I had glassed before and we would have the sun at our backs, glassing the big basin where this buck had been seen a week earlier. If the buck did not show up, I would go shoot the buck with the passenger side "Joker" horn I had seen the night before. Given season had opened for two days, I shared with Derek my concern that any buck who decided to hang out near a highway was probably dead after the two days and lots of tagholders. We had seen plenty of ravens on gut piles on our jaunt the night before.
But, given I knew where a funky looking Joker-horned buck was living and how stupid he was, I was pretty confident I could relocate and kill the "Joker" buck without much problem. Seemed like a worthy risk to spend one of the two mornings looking for a buck that might be a good one.
We were on the knob in time for Derek to capture a great sunrise. As the sun tried to filter though the clouds, the white butts of antelope were becoming more visible. A nice buck and his dozen does fed below me about 400 yards. Three other bucks pestered him, risking a hook of his horns when they got too close.
Almost a mile off, the brightening sun showed two more bucks out in the basin. The spotter could not reveal them to be anything like the "Joker" buck or the buck with the broken prong. And they were not anything like Tony described of the buck he almost ran over on the highway.
I told Derek we would work our way along the old two tracks that followed the gas lines and paralleled the highway for the most part. I wanted to go check another buck that looked to be trying to find a hole in the fence that was across the ditch from the highway. He was too far off to make out, even at 60X.
Off we bounced, heading west with the rising sun at our backs. We stopped to glass the remainder of the basin. Nothing.
On the road in front of us about 500 yards was another truck with binos/spotters sticking out the windows. I told Derek it looked like the gig was up. Maybe those guys had seen the highway buck and they were also looking for him. They rolled forward a few hundred yards, then took the first road back to the highway.
I put it in swift and fast, covering the ground these guys had just glassed. No need to worry about this basin or waste time glassing where they had been looking all morning. Hopefully I would shoot the "Joker" buck sometime today.
This hunt almost didn't happen. I'll try to explain and Mrs. Fin, the most modest person in the world will be mad at me for telling the background, but I suspect some of you would want to know. So, here goes.
We were supposed to do this hunt as a five day hunt, starting on Wednesday. It was going to be me and Uncle Larry. We had hoped to get two episodes from it.
But, a few weeks ago, Mrs. Fin started having some health issues. I was on the road and felt very absent, not being there. Thus, I came home early from my Utah elk hunt. Last week, Mrs. Fin was told by her doctors that she needs to have a pretty major surgery and they wanted to do it this week; Thursday.
Given her surgery will require a pretty long recovery period, I will have to cancel some hunts for this season that I hope to make up later in the year. She did not want me to lose any more hunts, so she suggested I come down yesterday, hunt today and tomorrow, then get back by Wednesday night, being home for her surgery.
With her blessing, I loaded the truck, found a camera guy (Derek) at the last minute, and we came to Wyoming yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, the changing of schedules and such short notice did not allow Uncle Larry to change his medical appointments in Houston, so he was not able to join us. Too bad, as he is more fun to hunt with than most any person you could bring along.
Even with all that, we would hopefully get an episode. Or, at least we would give it our best shot.
Yesterday we were able to hunt about four hours. I have hunted this unit twice before, so I have a pretty good feel of where to look/not look. The same patterns were pretty much in play when we headed out yesterday afternoon, hoping to get Acts 1 and 2 done for the show. And along the way, check to see if the normal spots would hold bucks again this year.
Saw one really good buck, but he had a broken prong. If not for that, the hunt may have been over around 6:30pm last night. But, given I had Mon and Tue, I just wasn't ready to fill the tag that quick, especially with so much TV work to do over the next day or so.
Last night I met with Eli and Tony Grimmett for dinner. Their hunter had shot a really good buck that afternoon, in the unit across the highway from where I was hunting. Tony told me of a good buck he had almost run over in the road a week prior. He said it headed over to my unit. He and Eli hadn't had much time to look for him in the last week, being busy with clients. They had spent a few hours looking on a couple different occasions. They found no sign of him, either in my unit, or the unit across the highway where they were guiding.
I told them my plan for the next morning. Tony told me I should go and see if I could find that buck. He gave me a general area of where it had crossed and where it headed. I figured if they had spent a few hours over two different days, and found nothing, it would be a waste of my time to scour that basin. It could easily be glassed from one location, so I doubt he was still there. But, what the heck.
I told Derek we would climb a big knob where I had glassed before and we would have the sun at our backs, glassing the big basin where this buck had been seen a week earlier. If the buck did not show up, I would go shoot the buck with the passenger side "Joker" horn I had seen the night before. Given season had opened for two days, I shared with Derek my concern that any buck who decided to hang out near a highway was probably dead after the two days and lots of tagholders. We had seen plenty of ravens on gut piles on our jaunt the night before.
But, given I knew where a funky looking Joker-horned buck was living and how stupid he was, I was pretty confident I could relocate and kill the "Joker" buck without much problem. Seemed like a worthy risk to spend one of the two mornings looking for a buck that might be a good one.
We were on the knob in time for Derek to capture a great sunrise. As the sun tried to filter though the clouds, the white butts of antelope were becoming more visible. A nice buck and his dozen does fed below me about 400 yards. Three other bucks pestered him, risking a hook of his horns when they got too close.
Almost a mile off, the brightening sun showed two more bucks out in the basin. The spotter could not reveal them to be anything like the "Joker" buck or the buck with the broken prong. And they were not anything like Tony described of the buck he almost ran over on the highway.
I told Derek we would work our way along the old two tracks that followed the gas lines and paralleled the highway for the most part. I wanted to go check another buck that looked to be trying to find a hole in the fence that was across the ditch from the highway. He was too far off to make out, even at 60X.
Off we bounced, heading west with the rising sun at our backs. We stopped to glass the remainder of the basin. Nothing.
On the road in front of us about 500 yards was another truck with binos/spotters sticking out the windows. I told Derek it looked like the gig was up. Maybe those guys had seen the highway buck and they were also looking for him. They rolled forward a few hundred yards, then took the first road back to the highway.
I put it in swift and fast, covering the ground these guys had just glassed. No need to worry about this basin or waste time glassing where they had been looking all morning. Hopefully I would shoot the "Joker" buck sometime today.
Lawnboy
Well-known member
There's a few people I can think of for hunting various species that I'd love to have on my Fantasy Hunting league. I'd have Eli & Fin in for sure for my antelope category. I think a big antelope buck would even beat out a DQ blizzard for Fin.....yea he's just that crazy about them.
As we got to the turn off where the other truck had been glassing, I stopped. I figured I may as well give one more look to the two bucks out in the basin and the other buck who had now found a way through the ditch fence and had crossed the two track the other truck had just driven.
Being in no hurry, I stopped the truck, put the big spotter on the tripod and looked at the two bucks in the basin. They were only five hundred yards off. One nice buck that with a few years of growth would be one to consider shooting. The other buck was stubby and his horn hooked way back. Probably only 12" tall, but I've never seen a buck whose horns laid back like that one.
Neither of those bucks itched my trigger finger, so I tried to find the buck that had been trying to get through the fence and had crossed in front of the other truck. He was now about five hundred yards away from the fence. His diagonal distance from us was probably a thousand yards.
The sun lit him up. At 20X, he looked pretty good. Mass seemed very good. I cranked it to 60X. From the side view, he still looked pretty good. He trotted off and from behind, he looked even better. But, I know better than to rely on a buck's impressions from a rear view. He dropped into a coulee on some private ground before I could get a better view.
I told Derek the buck seemed to be worth waiting around for a reappearance. Given those other guys had been glassing not 300 yards from his morning position along the ditch fence, I was most likely "hoping" for him to be good. But, what the hell. We were not in too big of a hurry and the light was making for some great scenic shots that Derek was capturing.
As Derek continued about his work, I kept panning the scope across the cuts and coulees of the basin. More antelope appeared/disappeared/appeared/disappeared. Yet, no glimpse of the buck that had made it through the ditch fence.
Derek and I contemplated what to do. I could see some bucks chasing and racing over on the private, but I really couldn't make them out. As I stood at the spotter, one buck came racing out of a coulee and stood 800 yards off, staring at us in a manner rutting antelope often display. Seeing what seemed like good mass, I put my binos back in the harness and leaned to the spotter.
The buck was looking right at me. The sun was in his face. Holy (*&$#, or something like that. Derek looked at me as I pulled away from the spotter to readjust my view. My tone of surprise/excitement must have been obvious. This was a really good buck. Or at least to me it was.
He turned sideways and I could now see it was the buck who had come through the ditch fence over by the highway. Same side profile. Same side mass and good prongs. But, the front view was even more impressive than this side view. I waited for him to turn and look again. He didn't. He was now going even further into private. Damn it.
Being in no hurry, I stopped the truck, put the big spotter on the tripod and looked at the two bucks in the basin. They were only five hundred yards off. One nice buck that with a few years of growth would be one to consider shooting. The other buck was stubby and his horn hooked way back. Probably only 12" tall, but I've never seen a buck whose horns laid back like that one.
Neither of those bucks itched my trigger finger, so I tried to find the buck that had been trying to get through the fence and had crossed in front of the other truck. He was now about five hundred yards away from the fence. His diagonal distance from us was probably a thousand yards.
The sun lit him up. At 20X, he looked pretty good. Mass seemed very good. I cranked it to 60X. From the side view, he still looked pretty good. He trotted off and from behind, he looked even better. But, I know better than to rely on a buck's impressions from a rear view. He dropped into a coulee on some private ground before I could get a better view.
I told Derek the buck seemed to be worth waiting around for a reappearance. Given those other guys had been glassing not 300 yards from his morning position along the ditch fence, I was most likely "hoping" for him to be good. But, what the hell. We were not in too big of a hurry and the light was making for some great scenic shots that Derek was capturing.
As Derek continued about his work, I kept panning the scope across the cuts and coulees of the basin. More antelope appeared/disappeared/appeared/disappeared. Yet, no glimpse of the buck that had made it through the ditch fence.
Derek and I contemplated what to do. I could see some bucks chasing and racing over on the private, but I really couldn't make them out. As I stood at the spotter, one buck came racing out of a coulee and stood 800 yards off, staring at us in a manner rutting antelope often display. Seeing what seemed like good mass, I put my binos back in the harness and leaned to the spotter.
The buck was looking right at me. The sun was in his face. Holy (*&$#, or something like that. Derek looked at me as I pulled away from the spotter to readjust my view. My tone of surprise/excitement must have been obvious. This was a really good buck. Or at least to me it was.
He turned sideways and I could now see it was the buck who had come through the ditch fence over by the highway. Same side profile. Same side mass and good prongs. But, the front view was even more impressive than this side view. I waited for him to turn and look again. He didn't. He was now going even further into private. Damn it.
I walked to the truck and grabbed what was left of my very bitter latte. (Yeah, Mrs. Fin has me addicted to lattes, even if I have to get them in some crummy little Wyoming java hut.) I told Derek I had seen enough of that buck to at least spend some more time in hopes he would reappear and maybe come over to the BLM grounds. I would give it until noon.
Well, I didn't have to give it much longer. Across the basin came three bucks. Two darting and dodging, trying to avoid the horns of a PO'd buck. Seems they had tried to take his girls and he was intent on teaching them a lesson. As antelope often do, they ran for the better part of a mile.
And one of the bucks running for his life seemed to be the buck I had hoped to confirm my first impression of. Chasing him was a stubby 13" dude who meant business. Ahead of the pack was the buck with the slicked back horns.
They were not only covering ground at Mach 1, but their current course had them really close the the BLM grounds, albeit, a half mile south of our set up. The herd buck finally relented, having convinced the other two bucks this girls were not worth the thrashing. Those two bucks slowed to a trot, heading up a long gentle slope that would take them further into the BLM. From their side view, I could tell the back buck was the one I wanted more confirmation of.
They appeard/disappeared in the coulees. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse as they moved through the taller sage growing the low areas. I was sure this buck was a good one. I just needed one more frontal pose to confirm.
The bucks had now been out of sight for ten minutes. My eyes were working the glass like a mad man. I stepped away from the scope to see two bucks now out in the middle of the basin, maybe 600 yards away, though back onto the private. The side view again confirmed it was the buck with good mass and prongs. He was horning some brush in the flat. As if on cue, he lifted his head and looked right at me. Holy (&#@. Yup, he is big. He has a really long inside hook He looks even more massive from the front.
We had a stare down. My heart was beating so fast, I had to take my had off the tripod handle. I even dialed the power back down to stop the shake. Yup, I would shoot him, if he came to BLM and offered a shot.
He turned and started his ascent back up this little ridge to the rolling undulations of the BLM ground. I watched, hoped for some good luck, and told Derek to get ready. If this buck disappeared into the folds of the BLM, we would take off after him, hoping to use the terrain and taller sage to disguise our approach. Within five minutes, he had disappeared again and was 500 yards back into the BLM. Time to saddle up and cover some ground.
Well, I didn't have to give it much longer. Across the basin came three bucks. Two darting and dodging, trying to avoid the horns of a PO'd buck. Seems they had tried to take his girls and he was intent on teaching them a lesson. As antelope often do, they ran for the better part of a mile.
And one of the bucks running for his life seemed to be the buck I had hoped to confirm my first impression of. Chasing him was a stubby 13" dude who meant business. Ahead of the pack was the buck with the slicked back horns.
They were not only covering ground at Mach 1, but their current course had them really close the the BLM grounds, albeit, a half mile south of our set up. The herd buck finally relented, having convinced the other two bucks this girls were not worth the thrashing. Those two bucks slowed to a trot, heading up a long gentle slope that would take them further into the BLM. From their side view, I could tell the back buck was the one I wanted more confirmation of.
They appeard/disappeared in the coulees. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse as they moved through the taller sage growing the low areas. I was sure this buck was a good one. I just needed one more frontal pose to confirm.
The bucks had now been out of sight for ten minutes. My eyes were working the glass like a mad man. I stepped away from the scope to see two bucks now out in the middle of the basin, maybe 600 yards away, though back onto the private. The side view again confirmed it was the buck with good mass and prongs. He was horning some brush in the flat. As if on cue, he lifted his head and looked right at me. Holy (&#@. Yup, he is big. He has a really long inside hook He looks even more massive from the front.
We had a stare down. My heart was beating so fast, I had to take my had off the tripod handle. I even dialed the power back down to stop the shake. Yup, I would shoot him, if he came to BLM and offered a shot.
He turned and started his ascent back up this little ridge to the rolling undulations of the BLM ground. I watched, hoped for some good luck, and told Derek to get ready. If this buck disappeared into the folds of the BLM, we would take off after him, hoping to use the terrain and taller sage to disguise our approach. Within five minutes, he had disappeared again and was 500 yards back into the BLM. Time to saddle up and cover some ground.
jryoung
Well-known member
As always it a joy to read your stories, but this is over the top awesome...I can only hear it in a Thurston Howell III accent.
In less than five minutes we were right where I wanted to be. Sneaking toward the crown of taller sage on the first little undulation. The buck had quartered away from that spot and if all went well, should be 200 yards down in the next little fold.
I peaked over, expecting to see him. Nope. I moved forward. Still no buck. I reached through the last bit of sage, revealing the entire cut below me. Void of pronghorn. WTH? I told Derek he had to be close by. We would sit and wait him out. I rose as high as I could from my knees, glassing right, then all the way back left.
Damn it, there he was, looking at us 90 degrees to my left. How did he get there? His buddy was feeding and scraping while the bigger buck kept and eye on us. I took a range - 350 and straight downwind of what had now become the typical 20mph WY breeze.
I dropped the MR Metcalf and took a prone position across some of the shorter sage. The buck continued staring us down as Derek got him focused. A bit far for good antelope footage, but it would have to do. I waited from him to turn broadside. The CDS was dialed and the Howa ready.
He turned and slowly walked across in front of us, into a little grassy area. Now, a little bush was starting to obstruct my view. I pulled off and slid around the bush. Derek told me he had stopped and was broadside. I settled in and found him looking north, seemingly content that we were not any danger. I tucked the rifle into the seem of the pack lid and started my breathing. As can happen in hunting, an immediate turn of fortune caused him to take off like he was stung by a swarm of bees. Before I could draw a good settled fix on him, he headed back across the basin. Withing a minute, he was now back on private. More expletives and lots of them.
How could I screw that up? Still not sure what caused him to dart off, but he did. Rutting antelope do some strange things, and often at the most inopportune times. Proof positive. Dang the luck.
He and his buddy were now burning across the basin, getting even further into the private. If they continued on that course, they would leave this one square mile of private and hit the BLM bordering on the other side. I told Derek we would retreat and get back to the truck, hedging our bet in the event they left the private on the other side and got into that BLM section.
As we snuck back, I had plenty of choice words. None seemed to change the situation.
Back at the truck, I set up the spotter and kept and eye on the bucks as they milled back and forth. Another half hour passed as they loafed around. The two bucks seemed to have a high tolerance for each other, one time both horning opposite sides of the same bush. Where one would go, the other would follow.
I now had too much invested in this effort to give up on this buck. I would hunt him until the last hour of the hunt. If need be, I would shoot a ten incher the last hour to fill my freezer long since void of pronghorn meat.
Derek and I talked about what we should do from a TV perspective. From a filming standpoint he assured me all things were going well, with the exception of not getting the buck on the ground. From a hunting standpoint, all was going well ..... with the exception of not getting the buck on the ground.
We had now driven the two track back toward where the bucks were headed, hoping if they crossed to the BLM on the opposite side of the basin that we would be that much closer. Plus, it was easier to glass them from here, given they had moved 3/4 mile further east.
Time for a Twix bar. Candy always helps. Or, usually helps.
I asked Derek how long it would be before the same old herd buck tired of these two bachelors getting closer to him and his does. Within about five minutes we had the answer. Here they came, hauling the freight across the basin, dust kicking up behind them as the two nitwits headed back west to the same BLM ground that had provided them refuge from the last charge of this cantankerous buck. This time the herd buck did not pursue them as far, but they did not let off the throttle until they felt completely out of his striking distance.
And just like that, they were now back on the BLM ground where a little while earlier a chance had slipped through our fingers. I told Derek if they disappeared, we would again try to use the taller sage and small rolls of topography to our advantage.
The smaller buck with the slicked back horns could take no more. He laid it down right out in a little grassy opening. He was plumb tuckered. Big Hank continued further into the tall sage, milling around as if he had left something nearby. I watched him in the spotter. With almost no warning, he buried himself into a small cut of taller sage. I could not see him and if not for having seen him disappear in the spotter, I would have sworn he vanished into thin air.
As I shouldered my pack and put my rifle in the gun bearer, I told Derek to grab his stuff; fast. Round Two.
I peaked over, expecting to see him. Nope. I moved forward. Still no buck. I reached through the last bit of sage, revealing the entire cut below me. Void of pronghorn. WTH? I told Derek he had to be close by. We would sit and wait him out. I rose as high as I could from my knees, glassing right, then all the way back left.
Damn it, there he was, looking at us 90 degrees to my left. How did he get there? His buddy was feeding and scraping while the bigger buck kept and eye on us. I took a range - 350 and straight downwind of what had now become the typical 20mph WY breeze.
I dropped the MR Metcalf and took a prone position across some of the shorter sage. The buck continued staring us down as Derek got him focused. A bit far for good antelope footage, but it would have to do. I waited from him to turn broadside. The CDS was dialed and the Howa ready.
He turned and slowly walked across in front of us, into a little grassy area. Now, a little bush was starting to obstruct my view. I pulled off and slid around the bush. Derek told me he had stopped and was broadside. I settled in and found him looking north, seemingly content that we were not any danger. I tucked the rifle into the seem of the pack lid and started my breathing. As can happen in hunting, an immediate turn of fortune caused him to take off like he was stung by a swarm of bees. Before I could draw a good settled fix on him, he headed back across the basin. Withing a minute, he was now back on private. More expletives and lots of them.
How could I screw that up? Still not sure what caused him to dart off, but he did. Rutting antelope do some strange things, and often at the most inopportune times. Proof positive. Dang the luck.
He and his buddy were now burning across the basin, getting even further into the private. If they continued on that course, they would leave this one square mile of private and hit the BLM bordering on the other side. I told Derek we would retreat and get back to the truck, hedging our bet in the event they left the private on the other side and got into that BLM section.
As we snuck back, I had plenty of choice words. None seemed to change the situation.
Back at the truck, I set up the spotter and kept and eye on the bucks as they milled back and forth. Another half hour passed as they loafed around. The two bucks seemed to have a high tolerance for each other, one time both horning opposite sides of the same bush. Where one would go, the other would follow.
I now had too much invested in this effort to give up on this buck. I would hunt him until the last hour of the hunt. If need be, I would shoot a ten incher the last hour to fill my freezer long since void of pronghorn meat.
Derek and I talked about what we should do from a TV perspective. From a filming standpoint he assured me all things were going well, with the exception of not getting the buck on the ground. From a hunting standpoint, all was going well ..... with the exception of not getting the buck on the ground.
We had now driven the two track back toward where the bucks were headed, hoping if they crossed to the BLM on the opposite side of the basin that we would be that much closer. Plus, it was easier to glass them from here, given they had moved 3/4 mile further east.
Time for a Twix bar. Candy always helps. Or, usually helps.
I asked Derek how long it would be before the same old herd buck tired of these two bachelors getting closer to him and his does. Within about five minutes we had the answer. Here they came, hauling the freight across the basin, dust kicking up behind them as the two nitwits headed back west to the same BLM ground that had provided them refuge from the last charge of this cantankerous buck. This time the herd buck did not pursue them as far, but they did not let off the throttle until they felt completely out of his striking distance.
And just like that, they were now back on the BLM ground where a little while earlier a chance had slipped through our fingers. I told Derek if they disappeared, we would again try to use the taller sage and small rolls of topography to our advantage.
The smaller buck with the slicked back horns could take no more. He laid it down right out in a little grassy opening. He was plumb tuckered. Big Hank continued further into the tall sage, milling around as if he had left something nearby. I watched him in the spotter. With almost no warning, he buried himself into a small cut of taller sage. I could not see him and if not for having seen him disappear in the spotter, I would have sworn he vanished into thin air.
As I shouldered my pack and put my rifle in the gun bearer, I told Derek to grab his stuff; fast. Round Two.
D
Deleted member 20812
Guest
Lots of choice words Randy, have you been spending too much time with Bernie?
