All here is my Story for this hunt, sorry for the delay but my Dad was too proud to wait...
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It was Friday October 11, 2013; and
I was completing the instruction for my class. For the first time in a long time I was anxious about finishing on time, as I had a plane to catch. I was anxious to see my father and to once again return to the Durham Ranch. In truth I was also worried about catching my plane. Although I had plenty of time, the finality of a plane taking-off always seems to worry me.
I rushed home to grab my gear and headed off to the airport. Said a hurried ‘good-bye’ to my wife and son as they dropped me off, and I proceeded to check in. It seems to me that the procedure for checking my fire-arms in changes from year to year as well as airport to airport. After following all the TSA’s instructions to the letter I was on my way.
I had been on this particular adventure about a dozen times over the years, and it is always a blast. However I was deep in thought about this trip due to the fact that my Father has been going through some rough times lately. My main goal was to re-connect one on one with him and to spend some quality time together; shooting an Antelope was simply a bonus. On the last few hunts we had been on together, he had guided my wife to her first 2 big game animals. The first of which was the
HHI Antelope Hunt in 2010 which was also the last time I had been to the Durham Ranch.
And the second trip a trophy Mule Deer in Colorado last year. -AND-
I got one too!Time skipping ahead, we drove up to the office on the Durham Ranch to meet up with the other hunters that my Father was guiding on this 'Little Gun Invitational' Hunt. Here I met Greg (PythonHunter) and his two lovely daughters, Abby age 13 and Taylor age 15. I had heard that these young girls were real tom boys and ready for anything, but I was not really convinced until I got to spend some time with them. The first thing we accomplished after check-in was going to sight in the firearms at the shooting range. Despite having a shooting bench table at 100 yards, these young ladies jumped down onto the wet muddy ground lying prone behind there AR-15. For the record, every time I had been out to this shooting range, every hunter I witnessed sat at the table to verify and sight-in their firearm. And yet we all know that the actual shooting position for taking game is NOT going to be sitting at a nice shooting bench. I was impressed.
After the range we went out hunting. Abby was first on the shooters list. And I will refer to
Greg’s story for most of the details about their hunt(s). However, when we found some antelope both Abby and Taylor were gung-ho about stalking, and were both very stoic in all situations. Clearly Greg is doing an exemplary job in raising his daughters. In between stalks the two girls entertained us with their un-characteristically close and precious sister to sister relationship. Bantering back and forth with jokes and random stuff, it was highly amusing. Needless to say we were not board.
The third day brought a ground blizzard and the
third buck which was awarded to Greg. We assisted Greg and his daughters pack their game for the trip home. With about a day and a half left, I started to think about my turn at a Buck. It was NASTY weather, as the blizzard kept hammering the plains. We went out searching for Antelope in vein, only to admit defeat. Going back to the hotel we looked forward to the following day despite having heard mixed weather reports. Ultimately knowing it was up to the big guy up stairs, so we were confident.
The fourth and final day of the hunt the weather had improved to dreary overcast conditions. Much like the first 2 days had been before the blizzard. Windy, cold, and wet, this had been the worst weather trip I have ever experienced here on the Durham Ranch. Sure, there was an occasional bad weather day here and there in the past, but on this trip so far the sun had been out for a grand total of about 6 hours.
Easily finding Antelope usually means spotting there white rumps, but with the snow covered ground everywhere it going to prove to be more difficult then that. Searching we did manage to find ONE lone Buck, in fact the one and only antelope we saw that morning, and luckily I was able to get close enough for a shot. So I lined up the cross hairs and sent a round down range at him. It felt good, and it looked good in the scope when the gun roared at my command, but to my disappointment some muddy snow kicked up about 8 feet below the Buck whom was approximately 250 yards out. Then it dawned on me, Greg had given me his left over box of high performance 165 grain .308 Hornady SST ammo. And the loose bullets he had left from his stalk I had put into my pocket when he handed them to me; which was the same pocket that I had just loaded my .308 Encore from. Obviously not the same load I had used at the range days before, *(150 grain .308 Winchester Super X). Alerted the buck mooned us and never let us get close again. We put the .308 on paper, and had to dial it up 8 inches at 100 yards. But I was not going to miss like that again, or at least not because of the ammunition.
We met up with Sharkey (the Ranch Hunting coordinator) for lunch. And he agreed to take us out to find a buck. He knew all the hiding spots where the Antelope hold up for bad weather. He managed to locate some groups of antelope for us. The first group we came upon resulted in a stalk ending in a belly crawl of about 125 yards. The last 2 yards of my crawl I managed to find the first cactus of the trip without my eyes, and there it was sticking into my right hand. It is hard to forget that stinging sensation but it immediately reminds you that you’re out of your comfort zone. I had been so careful and diligent to avoid them this hunt so far.
When I got into position the Antelope were still out of sight, so I waited for them to cross out in front of me as they had been grazing in that general direction. But as I looked to the West I located the herd and they were running away. I don’t know how or why they get spooked, as I never gave myself away. After that failed stalk we caught up with another group of Antelope in the pasture called the Goodman Flats. They were out in the middle of this huge flat prairie. Because it was so flat there was no way to get close to them without being seen as there is nothing to hide behind. However on the boundary of this ‘flat’ area (affectionately named the ‘Serengeti’ by a past handgun hunter) are some medium sized hills, so we went stalking up to a high point on the hill to wait them out. And as we waited, the Antelope went exactly where we did not want them to go; farther and farther away from where we were. Again, I doubt they even knew we were there. Having another busted stalk we went out in search of some more Antelope.
As the hours were fading away on this last day of the hunt; the realization that I may not get a Buck started to creep into my head. I said a silent prayer and the good Lord answered as we found another group. We got close enough for a shot as the sun was racing for the horizon. Ironically the herd with the Buck I was gunning for was in the direction that the sun was setting to the west. I kept looking into the sun through the scope to find the Buck but with eye strain it was not going to happen. So we waited a few minutes for the sun to make its way behind the hill that the herd was on.
Even then after the sun retreated I struggled to see the Buck in the shadows of the hill, as the brightness of the sun was still illuminating the scene enough to provide a stark contrast between the lighted sky and darkened background. Switching from my scope to my binoculars I located him. Then switching back again to scope I waited for all the other Antelope around the Buck to clear. I touched one off and the entire herd now alerted to our presence scattered differently than I had ever experienced before. Usually they run off together in the same direction away from you, but this time it was like a fire drill, some went over the top of the hill; others ran towards us, and still others ran out in front of us to the left, and so on. In a matter of moments they were all gone, including my buck.
So what had just happened? I felt confident about my shot, I had taken a deep breath and squeezed the trigger with the cross hairs in the right place; I was aiming slightly to the right of dead center of his chest as he was quartering towards me to the left. I had heard the telltale ‘thwack’ sound that a bullet makes as it hits flesh. Even my Dad looking through the video camera at the Buck could not tell where the Buck went, but he had also heard the impact sound and thought I had hit him. Again the contrast of the lighting was making this particularly difficult. We covered the 186 yards over to where the buck had been shot. Found some blood, confirming a hit. With another few minutes of searching we found the buck no more than 15 yards away, dead. He had been one of the Antelope that chose to run out across to the left in front of us, but I don’t think he expected his heart to give out during the retreat.
Having had another fantastic trip with my Father I look back on the experience with fond memories, the most important of which are spending quality time with my Dad.
