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Great Basin Bucks: Hunting Pronghorn Antelope

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An Overlooked Hunt

I’ve lived my whole life in the great western state of Utah, and when people think of our state they often think of red rocks and scenic desert vistas. For those of us with hunting in our blood, other things like the roar of a rutting bull elk are a more common thing to imagine. That or a mythically large monster mule deer slinking through the brush like a grey ghost.

As a resident I have been lucky to experience plenty of both but today I bring you a tale of something a little less famous, and a hunt that is not so commonly associated with my home state. Pronghorn antelope are an extremely unique animal that are far more commonly hunted in Wyoming and Montana than here. But I was finally able to draw a tag for one this year, and today I bring you the adventure I was lucky enough to experience.

The Great Basin

The Great Basin is a massive expanse of land that covers almost all of Nevada and several other surrounding states. The water that falls from western skies into the Great Basin is captured and either evaporates or sinks into the dry ground.

The Great Salt Lake of Utah is the result of countless centuries of this process turning it into a briney inland sea surrounded by hundreds of miles of incredibly flat sedimentary valleys and salt flats. That is where today’s story takes place.

The topography is scattered with particularly rugged mountain ranges that typically run north and south. Cedar trees and sagebrush are variably scattered across the dry landscape.

a typical sight in Utah’s west desert

The Great Basin is home to the pronghorn antelope, the fastest land animal in the western hemisphere. Despite the dry and hot climate, they thrive in this open desertscape where their eyes and speed are the only defense they need.

The Hunt

the Desert Tech SRS M2, I LOVE this thing

Speed goats as they are often called aren’t as plentiful as Utah’s other famous big game species, and are therefore harder to get permits for. This year the state saw fit to issue me one of the buck pronghorn permits, and I was excited to fill it.

I’ve done several of these hunts with others but this time it was my turn. And I wanted to make sure it was a good one, so I selected my Desert Tech SRS M2 rifle and I installed the 6mm GT barrel for this particular hunt. The lightweight pronghorn are lucky to top 150 pounds, so a 6mm rifle is plenty of power.

It was very early on a Saturday morning, and I stood on top of one of the many rocky ridges that divide the landscape. The cool air of fall felt amazing in my lungs, but it was accompanied by the stinging bite of voracious mosquitos eager to feed before the desert heat of day turns them into dust.

a lone doe antelope bedded approx. 400 yds, as seen through my Nikon Field Scope

Through my Kilo binoculars I surveyed the sea of dry grass and green tumbleweeds that expanded for twenty or so miles. The terrain is scared with natural drainage formations and the occasional sand dune, any of which could easily hide the small bands of pronghorn that scrape out a living here.

This year was exceptionally wet compared to our normal precipitation, a lingering winter followed by a rainy summer actually kept some of these valleys green instead of the completely parched yellow I am used to. As I panned across the seemingly endless plain, the occasional raven would glide through the spotting scope. I even laid eyes on several coyotes who were so comfortable and unaware of me perched in the distance, they sat and watched as the sunlight moved across the valley for twenty minutes or more.

A mother coyote watching her pups play

The much wetter than normal year had resulted in widespread greenery, and puddles of standing rainwater in low spots everywhere. This predicament, though a welcome one, had resulted in something I hadn’t anticipated. The antelope were scattered for countless miles due to abundant water and food, and they had no reason to congregate as they often do.

Time for Action

As my brother and I sat and watched the sun creep across the valley, I fumbled cartridges into my rifle magazine. Not just any cartridge, these were Alpha Munitions 6GT cases loaded deep with RL-16 and 100 grain Cayuga Solid bullets from Patriot Valley Arms. I’d used them on many occasions with incredible accuracy and devastating impacts.

The cold air kept my fingers from working right, but once loaded the magazine went into the rifle as we continued searching for a buck. There were antelope scattered  and bedded for miles, despite their bright white color they are easily hidden by terrain and brush when bedded.

we watched this lesser buck follow my buck and his does for miles

We’d seen a couple bucks the night before, but only one of them looked good enough to burn my tag on, and we sifted through miles of desert to find him. After a couple hours of watching, we found a particularly large group of twenty or so antelope together near a low spot that surely held a puddle. They were so far away that mirage prevented any realistic judging of horns, but we figured that with that many animals together there was surely a buck with them and possibly our guy.

From our elevated observation perspective, we picked out a drainage that would provide some concealment to get me closer to them. In a stroke of luck they seemed to be working parallel to the drainage which could provide me an opportunity.  With all my gear in tow, I hustled down into the ditch, and hunkered over I started working my way towards them.  I had to keep low, because if any of the dozens of eyes on that plain spotted me they would likely all run for several miles before stopping.

I’d managed to cut the distance from a mile, down to twelve hundred yards, and then down to only five-hundred yards. And almost exactly as I had planned, I lay there in my position as several animals popped into view through the tall tumbleweeds. As the previously identified buck followed a doe I zoomed in my US Optics FDN25X to have a better look at him. Even at five hundred yards the mirage made it hard to make out his horns, but pretty quickly I decided that he was not the buck I was after. I lay there and shot him in my mind a few times, just in case that was the closest to a trophy I would get. 

Another buck we didn’t pursue

I called my brother to tell him the deal was off, and he told me to hurry back as he’d spotted another buck a mile or two north of me and moving further away. We hustled to the truck and drove a few miles to the north to see if we could sneak ahead of his path. And with almost no time to spare, we were setting up in front of him as he worked his way up and over a small rise in the valley.

The Shot

Seconds before the shot

The moment I saw him in the rifle scope, I knew he was the buck we’d come for. He was for sure the best buck we’d seen during both the hunt and scouting trips, and now it was time to take him.

When I fired the shot, he was standing quartered to me showing his left side. I watched through the light recoil of the rifle as the bullet flew the 480 yards to him. The bullet struck him centered in his left shoulder, shattering the bone.

It carried through the ribs puncturing one lung and cutting through the top of his heart. The angle of the shot continued through the liver and all the way to the back of his belly coming out just in front of his right hip. He took several backwards steps as his rump dropped to the ground and he toppled over. We gathered our things and moved in to find him.

Hands on

As I neared the downed buck, I was quite impressed with how handsome he was. He looked even better up close than he had in the scope, and he was for sure significantly better than any other buck we’d seen.

The Desert Tech SRS M2 suppressed by YHM R9 and scoped with a US Optics FDN25X

He had decent cutters and deeply hooked horns, he was just a fantastic specimen of his kind. And one I could certainly appreciate for years to come. A good friend of mine and his son had also joined us by this point, and the four of us stood there appreciating this magnificent little buck. The bullet had hung up in the skin just before exiting, which rewarded me with an additional souvenir.

the 100 Grain Cayuga bullet after traveling 24 inches through bone and flesh

After taking a bunch of good pictures, we cleaned him up and filled him with ice to get the meat cooled as soon as possible. Then it was time to head back to camp for food and drinks while we recounted each others perspectives over and over.

Note damage to heart, lungs, and liver

Conclusion

I don’t blame people who don’t get excited about antelope hunting, I can understand that the call of a big bull elk or moose might be much higher on their list of dream hunts.  But in my opinion hunting pronghorn antelope is an absolute riot of a time.

Make sure you wear your hunter’s orange, but keep it fresh

They are incredibly cunning animals with eyes that will pick you out of the brush, and when they want to get away from you there is almost nothing you can do but stand amazed at their speed.

the four of us with our prize

I typically do all my antelope hunting in the great state of Wyoming, but this hunt here in my home state has been a fantastic adventure. The desolate lands of the Great Basin are some of the most remote in the lower 48, and it feels incredibly romantic if only to find yourself here when the sun dips from view. Watching stars shoot across the silent night sky as coyotes bark in the distance brings a feeling you won’t find other places.

I am incredibly lucky to live like I do, and it is by no mistake that I am surrounded by such good company. I promised my brother I’d give his guide service (unofficial and sure as hell not licensed) a five star google rating, but the five stars go to the great family and friends that love these adventures as much as I do and make it worthwhile.

-CBM

Hunting with kids: more effort with more rewards

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Kids and Hunting

My son started coming hunting with me as soon as he could walk, he would toddle along behind me always excited for whatever it was we were going to do. I took every opportunity to bring him along, though sometimes the days  events were too rough to bring a small child. This was a lesson I learned myself as a youngster, but I was determined to make sure I pushed the endeavour as long as it stayed fun for him. My Ridley is a legal adult now, and I often wonder if I could go back in time, would I have done it the same way.

My Ridley on one of his first deer hunts.

A Father’s Guidance

I grew up under the watchful eye of my father, himself quite a dedicated hunter. I often speak of how my dad was also raised hunting these same dry desert mountains of Utah, so it should come as no surprise that as far back as I can remember I wanted to hunt. So many of my most memorable childhood experiences were related to the times that I was able to tag along with my dad or my grandfathers. You can read more about those Memories right here.

A shot of my dad from the early 80’s

That was a different time I suppose, different rules and more hunting options that were much easier to participate in. My dad is a bowhunter, while he’s shot plenty of animals with a rifle I think in his heart he truly enjoys the thrill of the ancient art of archery.

I’ve been on a few bowhunts in my lifetime, and looking back I can better understand why I never got to go as a child. Sneaking into archery range of a Mule deer is hard enough when you have the wind, concealment and noise working against you. I can’t imagine trying to put the sneak on one with a child by your side.

the freedom to roam and explore are the currency of boyhood, let him spend it often

My Experience with Kids

As a young man, I too was bitten by the bug carrying the archery pathogen, and spent countless hours preparing myself for an eventual bowhunting trip. Unfortunately I grew out of it by the time I had reached the age to go, that and the fact that teenage girls existed greatly reduced my dedication to the sport.

Ridley packing around his first rifle, the Cricket EX17hmr

Many years later I would find myself longing for hunting memories that never were. So when my lifelong dream of becoming a father was realized, I made a mindful decision that my own son would never want for the chance to join a hunting adventure. In fact I hoped that conversely he might someday look back, and wish he’d taken the opportunity more often.

One of the many adventures involving my son, also happened to involve my dad. It was well over a decade ago, and my father and I were situated along the spine of a steep ridge in Utah’s Wasatch Mountains. One side of the ridge was a traditional slope that had a trail we had come in on ATV’s that morning, the opposite side of the ridge was as steep a hill as you can imagine. It was littered with thick brush and deadfall, and dropped for over a mile into a thick wooded forest below.

I consider my kids lucky, I sure hope they do too

We were after Mule deer bucks that morning, and I had learned the pattern of them crossing this ridge spine over the years. Dad and I had spread out several hundred yards across the ridge to better cover potential bucks crossing over. Ridley was probably four or five years old at the time, and he sat near me quietly munching snacks and watching the sunrise. We’d spent the morning softly answering his many questions about trees and squirrels and every other thing that caught his curious eyes.

As we sat there in near silence, I heard a noise that immediately captured my own curiosity. It sounded like sticks breaking and the occasional rustle, I closely paid attention to the sound, and told Ridley to do the same. It would come and go, but I knew that something was moving up the steep drop off below us. As minutes passed, I continued to listen.

After a few minutes I knew action was at hand and I motioned to my dad to come toward me, in anticipation of something stepping out. As dad made his way towards me, my son in a whisper asked me if he could walk over to the fourwheeler to get something. Sensing his pocket to snack ratio reaching critical, I told him he could go as long as he stayed quiet and in sight.

Once again I heard noise coming from the drop off, and this time it was much closer. My heart nearly stopped when I heard the familiar chirp of an elk from below. Now, I had said we were deer hunting but it just so happened that my father also carried a cow elk tag in his pocket that was still good. I immediately started making frantic hand motions for him to hurry to me, he had clearly understood the message, all but the frantic and hurry parts.

a shot from years long passed

As he made it to me I told him what had been happening just over the edge of the ridge. We sat there quietly listening to rustling brush, and the occasional elk chirp. Ridley was quietly refilling his pockets with goldfish from the backpack on my fourwheeler as dad and I watched carefully for the sign of an elk coming through the trees.

Like they often do, the elk made their way so close to us under cover that we were quite surprised when they emerged. Barely sixty-yards or so away, two cows came up through some aspen trees. It was quite obvious that they knew nothing of our presence.

As dad lifted his rifle I remember thinking to myself; that’s it, we’re gonna have elk for dinner. As the front elk cleared the second one, I knew that dad was probably starting to press the trigger.  That’s when things went south…

Perhaps fifty yards away in a different direction, my son continued his supply mission. I was of course looking at the elk, so I can only imagine what it was like from his little guy perspective when he too spotted the elk standing on the edge of the treeline. Forgetting all the counsel I’d given him that morning, he saw the elk and in the most excited voice he shouted out: “Dad there’s two elk!”. I can just imagine his big brown eyes wide open, spitting bits of goldfish as he belted out his discovery.

I’ll spare you the rest of the story, and the rest of that hunt for that matter, it was uneventful after that morning. I remember hurrying over to the fourwheeler to him, his face lit up with excitement. I remember a sense of calm that came over me, and despite my internal rage of missing an easy opportunity, I calmly explained to him the consequences of him breaking silence. I distinctly remember wanting to make sure not to chastise him, and sour the experience of hunting for him.

Dad and me were both a bit sour though, we’d been so close.

No Regrets

I’ve never regretted taking Ridley along, not that day nor any other. He learned his lesson about keeping quiet, and that was his very first experience with elk, but it would not be his last.

My 12yo Ridley with his first elk, you can read that story here

We’ve been on so many hunts together since, and my daughter too has come along with us. She has an elk tag of her own this year. I think back to all the times where I had to carry extra snacks, make fires to keep kids warm, and hold chubby little hands as we descended a sketchy trail. And there is no amount of venison, or bones on the wall that would mean more to me than the adventures we have shared together.

I can guarantee that the elk we didn’t get that day isn’t the only animal lost because I had one of my kids along, but the experience is far more valuable to me. I don’t blame my dad for not taking me hunting more when I was younger, but someday when I’m long gone I hope my kids will remember all the adventures we made, and smile. And more importantly I hope it serves as inspiration for them to raise the next generation of adventure seekers.

Kids cant see the magic of hunting if you dont bring ’em

-CBM 

Ridley with his buck from last season

Major League Chuckers 9: Chuckageddon

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In this latest installment of the Major League Chuckers film franchise, we again take you into the high Rocky Mountains. Both my brothers, my father and myself running the guns.
This incredibly fun hunt is part of my spring hunting regimen, and it helps keep me active as well as sharpening all the shooting senses. Spotting these cunning little creatures takes talent at times, as does hitting them in their low-lying hideouts. Sometimes you go for the direct hit on their tiny pudding pot, and other times you literally bounce the bullet (or splatter it) into the target if it needs so.

Give this one a watch, and share it with your like-minded friends:

Elk Hunting: Double down in deep snow

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I have lived most of my life here at the feet of the Rocky Mountains, and I’ve been lucky to enjoy much of what this beautiful landscape offers. This winter (22-23) has been one to remember, not only because of a welcome change in weather patterns but also because of the circle of life that is affected by it.

As a child and teenager, I remember epic snowstorms that would pile ice deep around our yard. So deep in fact that my siblings and I would burrow around through the piles of snow that Dad would stack up while cleaning off the driveway. But those distant memories have faded now, partly because snow like that has been scarce for nearly as long as I’ve had children. This year the snow came back, pummeling our mountains time and again with an ever deeper snow pack. So deep in fact that many of the herds of animals that often winter in the canyons around this valley have been driven right into town, even causing serious traffic delays on interstates.

As a hunter, I was excited to see how this welcome return to normal snow-pack would improve the hunting situation in the state. Surely the heavy snow-pack will help fill our water bodies back up, but what about the herd of elk that I chase every winter here in the mountains above my home?
The early snow had fallen, and had begun to push the animals down in elevation and much closer to the canyons and draws where I wait for them every November. This year myself and a good friend we’ll call Dustin both had antlerless elk tags. I’m torn by the premise of these tags, I have little faith that my state’s wildlife agency has anything other than budgets in mind when it comes to them. I suppose the purpose is to keep the number of elk from getting too out of hand, and perhaps the light hunting pressure on the herds keeps them just far enough out of suburbia to prevent unwanted interactions. In my experience from watching many other hunters with the same tag, I think it is a fairly low success for most. Our experience however has been one of great success, due mainly to the fact that we live close enough to watch the mountain every day, keeping tabs on when they arrive and where they go every year. The fact that every year we return, to pattern their habits also adds a great deal of experience that improves to our success.

Can you spot all five bulls?

With the return of heavy snows, Dustin and I spent weeks watching elk, calculating when the right time would be and where we could intersect with them. For those who have never taken elk, I’ll explain why. Elk can be very large animals, getting a whole elk off of a mountain in four or five feet of snow can be very taxing on your hunting energy.

A picture from a past hunt, in these conditions it can get dicy quick

Rather than overexerting ourselves and pushing everything to our limits, we prefer to tactfully engage with our prey. Waiting for the right time and place can greatly reduce the effort needed to extract our prize. I prefer to get them out whole, to reduce lost meat, so that is always my first choice.

After watching several bulls for weeks, I was starting to get worried that their cows had perhaps had gone another way this year. And our season was quickly coming to an end, with less than a week left I was becoming more desperate.
Luckily, Dustin was also looking, and he had a bit more luck on his side of the mountain. I walked into my office on a Friday morning, only to get a text from him that he’d spotted some cows, and they were definitely doable. I gathered my things and jumped back in my truck to head towards Dustin, knowing that I would at minimum be able to help him get one out should he shoot one and potentially shoot another myself.
Before I could get there Dustin already had put one down, taking a mature young cow from a group that numbered around a dozen. The rest of them made their way over the ridge into the next drainage. After showing up, I helped him get his cow the rest of the way back down to the trail. Despite being his first elk ever, Dustin already understood the how and when to shoot an elk. Ensuring it was all downhill to our destination, and with minimal obstacles allowing two guys to get her down without further assistance.

After a surprisingly easy extraction, we decided to see if we could find the others since it was still before noon. We knew the direction the herd had gone, so we decided we’d go that direction to see if we could find them, or another group of elk. This time of year, elk typically don’t go far even after having been shot at.

Dustin and Benson

We found ourselves looking up into another drainage, hoping that there were more elk hiding within it. The plan we agreed upon was to hike up to a small saddle that would give us better perspective of the area, and with any luck we’d get a shot from there.

Of course the sunshine was quickly covered up by menacing clouds as they began to drop snow on us and the temperature began to drop. Still uncommitted to making a full effort to the bowl above us, we chose to take the easiest path which was a game trail that worked around a south facing ridge with less snow-pack. We worked around the edge of the bowl until we had to directly cross over a hilltop through some trees. Our approach had unbeknownst to us presented us with a near perfect scenario, as we skylined over the hilltop our silhouettes were obscured in the treeline. It was at that point I picked out the shape of three elk, laying in the snow a mere 250 yards away.

Just before the shot was fired

We quickly got into position to make a shot, the deep snow making a perfectly comfortable and stable shooting position. I laid my gun across my backpack to get the right angle on the unsuspecting elk. One of the three must have noticed the goings on, and stood up to get a better look at us. The other two lay next to each other, perfectly aligned.
I told Dustin I was going to shoot the standing animal, and we waited for her to present a perfect broadside shot. As usual, I carried my Desert Tech SRS M2 that day. But this time I had installed my 7mm Short Action Ultra Magnum barrel, something I hadn’t hunted with for several years. I’d taken another elk and a deer with it some years prior, but today it was chambered with something new. I was shooting the 151 grain Cayuga solid bullets from Patriot Valley Arms. The SRS M2 and the 7SAUM have been incredibly consistent and deadly for me, so as I closed the bolt looking at these elk I knew we were about to embark on a lot of work.

As the young cow turned giving me a good broadside shot, I put my finger to the trigger and began to press. The snow slightly obscured the view through my Steiner scope, but I still had every confidence as the trigger broke. The incredibly fast bullet impacted the elk before we even heard the shot go off, but it echoed across the canyon, muffled by the dense and snow-filled air.
The elk immediately reacted, lurching forward into a sprint across the top of the ridge. I watched as she ran, favoring her right shoulder. The stiff leg she clearly didn’t want to use bounced as she hurried over the hill in what could only be described as a fast hobble. The other two elk followed her after leaping to their feet.
Much like times before, despite not seeing the elk after they crossed the hilltop, I had a warm feeling knowing that the 7SAUM does not take prisoners.

We hiked across the draw and found their bedded imprints in the snow, and easily found the ungainly tracks in the snow with the crimson confirmation that I had indeed hit the mark. We followed the tracks and blood which at first seemed less than ideal, but the closer we got to the downed elk, the blood trail became extremely evident. Surprisingly we never saw the other two elk again, but we laid hands on our prize for the second time that day. The Cayuga had hit the mark perfectly, breaking the right shoulder, passing through the lungs then exiting just in front of the left shoulder.

Clockwise from top left: Blood trail, bullet impact, broken shoulder, and pulverized lungs

I’ve lost count of how many elk we’ve shot with the Desert Tech SRS

I had to go against my own preferences, as the lay of the land would certainly not allow us to drag her our whole. We decided to cut her up, and pack out in pieces with the help of some friends who were quick to respond.

For the next couple hours, Dustin and I went to work reducing the animal to carryable portions. My dog Benson eagerly lent his assistance and attention while trying to stay warm.

Once again I stand here in my kitchen with freshly packaged meat neatly wrapped and ready to freeze. The venison we take every year fills our freezer and helps sustain the clean and healthy meals for our families. As I look out the window at the deep and cold snow in the mountains around us, I can’t help but feel thankful for the bounty we’ve been given. And thankful for friends with whom I can share the experience of thriving survival, and with whom I can share the delicious cuts of meat.

-CBM

I process all my own meat, with Outdoor Edge knives

Is .223 good for hunting deer sized game?

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Who doesn’t love a good cartridge debate? Whether its sitting around a campfire in the cold autumn woods or typing furiously back and forth on internet forums, we seem to revel in the pros and cons of different approaches to hunting. I’ve sat through several of these types of debates, and have prepared some thoughts for today’s topic; Is a .223 Remington suitable for hunting deer?

The .223 Remington

The 223 has been around for a long time now, and it has seen use in nearly every shooting application people can find. The small case Remington shoots .224 caliber bullets typically in weights between 40 and 75 grains. Though recent bullet developments have broadened that spectrum to include bullets as large as 90 grains as well. Many rifles chambered in .223 Remington feature a 1-9 twist which allows for shooting most bullets that fit in the traditional 40 to 69 grain category. While many of the newer rifles chambered thus utilize faster twists like a 1-8 or 1-7 twist barrel, which allows to shoot seventy-five and eighty grain bullets. The more specialized eighty-plus grain bullets likely need a 1-6.5 twist in order to stabilize the long and heavy for caliber bullets.
The .223 has enjoyed a great deal of attention in the varmint, predator, and small game hunting circles, shooting the typical 50-55 grain bullets it achieves fantastic velocities in the neighborhood of 3200 to 3400 fps depending on load. As bullet weight increases, the velocity decreases generally speaking. But the larger and more efficient bullets often carry their energy better, and further. These heavier bullets are ideal for shooting further, and delivering higher energy on target. (remember that, we’ll come back to it later)

Deer Hunting
Perhaps the oldest and most celebrated hobby of American’s is that of pursuing deer to feed their families. Every year we all prepare with excitement for the annual event, even as I type this there is dried deer blood on the backs of my hand from earlier this morning. The smaller members of the deer family typically pursued by American hunters consist almost entirely of the two most prolific species found in North America; the Mule deer, and the Whitetail deer. Even a large deer of either species can be handily put down if enough energy is put in the right place, countless deer have been killed by a diminutive .22LR to the head. (though I wouldn’t recommend it)

Deer are typically targeted in their vital organs which are mainly the heart, lungs, and liver as a distant third. Deer are certainly not bulletproof, even the meatiest and ‘big-boned’ of deer can be penetrated by modern bullets fired at reasonable velocities. The bone structure surrounding their vital organs can either be perforated by powerful bullet impacts, or circumvented by cunning shot placement. Continue Reading Here…

Twice the Experience: Pronghorn Antelope Hunting with the Next Generation

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Perhaps one of the greatest experiences I’ve been able to accomplish in my life has been to introduce new hunters to the adventure of the hunting lifestyle. Taking a person on their first hunt is not something I take lightly, everything from ethics to shooting skills are things that I enjoy teaching to anyone willing to learn. My oldest son’s first hunt was quite a milestone for me, as was introducing my wife to deer hunting. Her very first successful hunt was everything I could have hoped for, and ended up giving her a bit of her own excitement for fall. And good friends alike have come along with me for their first hunt. Would the persistent experience of taking new hunters continue to enrich my own experience? Or would every new hunt be a little less rewarding, and more repetitious than the past?

This year again I was given the opportunity to take a special young man on his very first hunt. My wife’s oldest son Leo had expressed a great deal of interest in coming along with us hunting this year. Perhaps due to listening to his mother’s experience from last season. Leo had recently enlisted in the Army when the time was drawing near to apply for hunts in our state, but in the very short holiday break while he was home, he pushed through the hunter safety program online and managed to squeeze into the only class available before he had to report back for a few more months.
With his hunter safety completed and armed with his information, I added him to the same list of hunts that we all apply for every year. One of the many applications was for two doe antelope tags in the great state of Wyoming. This hunt in particular is one of my favorites for new hunters, not because it is easy, but because of many opportunities. New hunters frequently make mistakes, even seasoned hunters do it often. The rolling rugged mountains of southwestern Wyoming are filled with antelope, so many in fact that a guy could screw up over and over and still find another opportunity for a stalk.

Alpha Munitions 6GT brass loaded with 100 gr. Cayuga solid copper bullets make a wicked combo

Leo was excited to go, I’m not sure if he was as excited as I was though. But as the time drew near for the hunt, we prepared for the task I was sure we would be successful in. Plenty of practice was in order before we actually pointed a gun at an Antelope, several guns in fact. We were unsure which rifle was the best fit for him, as he unfortunately identifies as left-handed, and yet preferred to shoot a right-handed gun. We practiced with several rifles, but in the end we decided to go with the SRS M2 chambered in 6 GT. I feel no guilt about spoiling my apprentices with exceptional equipment, and the SRS M2 is certainly that. The 6MM GT cartridges were loaded with Cayuga 100 grain copper solid bullets from Patriot Valley Arms. I have used these bullets in several rifles including this one with excellent results, so I was quite confident it would work well for Leo as well.

Day One
As the sun began to rise that first morning, we were already in place. Overlooking an incredible view of brush-colored valleys and flats, the occasional trail cutting through the brush as well as prairie dog mounds scattered about. Antelope could be seen meandering through different shallow drainages, everything felt right.
We decided to move into some slightly rougher terrain, as the barren flats would offer fewer options to stalk into a shooting position. We searched instead for something with a little more topography and brush, giving us a better opportunity to sneak in.
We passed a large herd of animals, mainly because I knew they had already seen us, and with that many eyes on us we never stood a chance. So we continued searching for a smaller more secluded group, which we found about a half hour later. We sat behind a cedar tree, hiding in its shade while we devised a plan to work down a ridge where we could get a closer shot.
With our best plans made, we grabbed our gear and snuck quietly down the tree line. As we closed the distance we kept checking in with the small group of six or so animals, several of them still lay bedded confirming that they were unaware of our approach. As we reached the point we had planned on shooting from, we made one of the classic hunting blunders. Passing into the open between two trees regardless of how slow and quiet was not the move to make, and before we could get setup to shoot, the antelope leapt from their beds and ran for better than half a mile before looking back.
As we watched them off in the distance, I did the old guy thing where you remind the new guy that it cant be that easy. You gotta work for it, and put in your time and learn your lessons before you win. As we hiked back towards the truck, we discussed our next plan. But before we had gotten to the area we had planned on hunting next, we spotted a couple small groups of animals out grazing on a wide flat near a rainwater accumulation. We talked it over, and decided it was certainly worth a try. So we made our way around a rise that lie between us and the herd. We knew that we were going to be crawling for quite a ways, as the ground was too flat to even duck-walk without presenting a significant profile. We grabbed only the essential gear we would need, and began crawling across the dry dirt and prickly ground. Every few yards I’d pop up just enough to see if they were still there.

When we finally reached a spot where Leo could lay proned out behind the rifle and see the herd, we did some preparation. It turned out there was two groups of antelope, a close group of about five animals and a larger group of seven or so further out. There wasn’t enough brush to conceal us if we moved any closer, so the call was made to shoot from right there. After we’d both given the group a thorough good looking, we determined that there was only one mature doe in the group. Keeping our eyes on her to avoid any mistakes, we watched them move along waiting for the right shot.

Leo loaded the rifle, and dialed the elevation correction. We had practiced shooting this far with no issues, so we both had confidence in his ability to make the shot. But for several minutes they moved along a distant brush line, stopping only with her white rump pointed directly at us. They were working away, after checking the distance again we corrected the elevation. It was shortly thereafter that she stopped, Leo whispered that the next time she stops he would dispatch the chambered round. I watched through my own optic as she slowed to a stop and looked around the arid country beyond. Just as anticipated the suppressed gasp from the rifle came, and I watched the trace travel across the six-hundred yard gap between us. The hundred grain Cayuga found its mark, pushing its way through the unsuspecting doe sending her straight to the ground.

We both erupted into a celebratory cheer as the rest of the antelope nearby slowly scattered. We continued watching to ensure that she had expired completely, but a curious development occurred as we watched. The other group of antelope that had been feeding further away seemed to have also been spooked by the excitement, and they moved closer to us as we lay waiting. After just a few minutes they had closed the distance over two hundred yards and they were now slightly closer than the first group had been when we started. Leo and I still laid in the low spot we had chosen for a hide, still concealed and in our shooting position. “Should we take another one?” he asked, and not being one for complicating things that don’t need complication I told him it was his hunt and his call to make. We both inspected this new group of antelope, and again found only a single mature doe mingling among a few juvenile bucks and this years fawn.
We kept track of her, and reset the elevation on the rifle for their location. Again we waited as she slowly walked through the brush, waiting for a shot opportunity where she stood still with her side to us and apart from the other animals. When the time came, we were ready. Again the GT released a burst of gas as the next bullet hastily made it across the five-hundred and fifty yards, and we watched the doe drop to the ground.
Our plan had put us in the right place for a perfect double. We again reveled in our success and shared a hug, no longer concerned with concealment or making noise. We gathered our gear up, and made our way down the drainage towards our prize, the two animals laid only a hundred yards or so from each other.

The 24″ ES-Tactical 6GT barrel pushes the 100 gr. Cayugas at just under 3,000 FPS and 1/4MOA groups are the norm

We gathered them up, and took some pictures. For Leo it was the first time handling a large animal that he killed himself, I watched as he curiously inspected them occasionally pointing out some of the puzzling characteristics of these unique animals.


It was time to give a lesson in gutting though, so with knives in hand we started whittling away. Dark storm clouds rumbled in the distance so I didn’t want to take too long. We made short work of the two animals, and into the truck they went where we had bags of ice waiting for them. We also brought along the hearts and livers to use as much as we could.

Incredibly heavy rain began to pour over the prairie as we rode out, washing blood and dirt from the bed of the truck. But as we rolled down the highway I thought about the fun we’d had and our shared experience that no amount of washing would rinse away. Our clothes on the other hand could use a good torrent and rinsing rain, but we still had work to do. Once home, we hung the two antelope in my skinning tree and skinned them out. A quick wash with cold water to get as much blood and other contaminants from the carcasses before putting them into the cooler on ice for a weeks worth of aging was all that remained.

Once again I was lucky to share the spoils of a new hunter’s prize, we had antelope for dinner the next day and it was good. Not just because of the flavor, but also because of the adventure and satisfaction we shared in getting it. I don’t think I’ll tire of helping new hunters anytime soon, and I cant wait for the next opportunity.
-CBM

Perfectly rare antelope tenderloins were delicious

Blessings in Disguise: A deer hunting story

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This was originally written in October 2011

As some of you may or may not recall, after a lot of health problems and a Kidney transplant, I took my Dad hunting with us this year. He drew a cow elk tag, and a Buck tag, myself and my brothers had similar tags to go along.
Well, this year things were a bit off. Everything that has ever worked for me in the past didn’t work, we were always in the wrong place or something else happened to screw it up. My elk hunting honey hole seemed to have plenty of elk, but never any close enough for Dad to feel comfortable with. We usually get a bull or two, and always the cows. But this year we didn’t get a thing, I felt horrible because Dad was so excited to go, and there was simply nothing that could be done. We still had as good a time as we could, and enjoyed the time out.

After a dismal elk hunt, the deer hunt started. I had high hopes, but I was worried after the elk hunt turned out to be a bust.
The deer hunt turned out to be quite the same, the first four days we didn’t even see a buck. I gave up on that spot and we left and headed home, I asked Dad if he wanted to try another spot a little closer to home. The next day we went to another of my old standby hunting spots, that was a bad move. Not only did we not see a single deer but on our way out, we were climbing up an ugly hill on the 4wheelers and Dad hit a rock just right and knocked his machine over. His pride and joy Grizzly rolled over the top of him and end over end for a hundred yards or so until it luckily stopped in a tree. Had it not it would have been gone forever. I stopped to see what was keeping him, and I thought for sure he was dead when I heard his bike rolling down the mountain behind me. He wasn’t hurt too bad, just scratched up and a bit bloody. I was working in a panic to get his bike out, gather his stuff that was scattered all over the hillside, including his broken rifle, just in case he needed medical attention, but by the time we got out it was pretty clear that he was gonna be ok. After that mess, Dad was pretty much out of excitement for hunting, and I had pretty much given up as well.
My brother in law called me Friday night and asked me if I wanted to go out with him Saturday morning, I didn’t know what to expect but I knew I’d never get a deer sitting home doing honey do’s.

So I went out with him, we saw a lot of this kinda stuff:

But we kept after it, and went on looking. After a couple hours and a good nap, we found a bunch of does out on a brushy flat. Several more kept appearing in the distance. I kept watching, and at the end of the flat I saw a deer that was too heavy to be a doe, I looked hard and quickly put antlers on him. I couldn’t tell how big he was, only that he was a buck, and that was good enough for me at this point in the game.
I hit him with my rangefinder, and he was around six-hundred and fifty yards moving just fast enough in the wrong direction. I watched him go into some deep and tall sagebrush, my brother in law sat and watched, while I sprinted towards the brush patch. On my way there, four more doe’s jumped out and started running towards the buck’s last known position. I knew they would tattle on me as soon as they got there so I kept running. The fleeing does seemed perplexed that I continued running but not after them. As I moved, I scanned the terrain ahead for a good shooting position. I found one, a clear spot in the grass slightly elevated with a good view of the patch where the buck was still hidden. I laid down and ranged the doe’s as they began emerging on the far side of the brush patch, just shy of four-hundred yards, one after another they came out, I figured he would be last. He came out of the brush like a ghost, he just appeared, I had already dialed my elevation, I was doping the wind which was left to right. I held my wind correction and pressed the trigger, the buck reared up on his hind legs as though I’d hit him, I listened for the familiar smack sound to return to me, but it never did. I settled back upon him and to my surprise he was still there, I ran the bolt fast and sent a second shot. I watched through the recoil and saw only his shape settle in the tall grass, his feet up in the air. My brother in law was still four-hundred yards or so behind me, and didn’t even know I had taken a shot. I had to do a victory dance with my hat in the air for him to start making his way down.

I made my way to the buck, still unsure of how big or small he was. I was quite surprised when I saw this:

He was definitely past his prime, his teeth were about to fall out. I was nonetheless happy to have found him, and we took him home happy as we’d been in weeks. It was a rough hunting season, and he is perhaps the ugliest buck I’ve ever seen, but he was a blessing in a very ugly disguise.

-CBM

My Wife’s First Buck

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Women are perhaps the fastest growing group of hunters, and they makeup a large subculture in the gun community overall. Being myself a staunch advocate for the hunting lifestyle, I always embrace the opportunity to add another hunter to our community. But in today’s case it was part of my own family that would join the fold.

My wife grew up in a family where hunting was not the norm, but it was common enough for her to be familiar with the idea and even a little excited to try it. The 2020 hunting season was her very first opportunity to take her first big game animal, together we made it an adventure that was nothing short of a perfect introduction to hunting as a lifestyle. She has since been preparing delicious meals for our children with meat that she took herself.

This year was her first time going after a Mule deer buck, and our goal was to make it as fun and meaningful as possible. A large part of this plan was to make her a self sufficient hunter, able to accomplish the task on her own merits. Since she has used my rifle in the past, a rifle of her own would be fundamental. And as it happens, the perfect rifle just happened to join our collection. My wife is quite petite, so a rifle small enough to manipulate and carry would be crucial for her.


The Browning X Bolt Hells Canyon Speed

The Browning X bolt is a fine rifle, and the Hells Canyon (HC) model is a fancier version of the base rifle. The X Bolt HC Speed came to us in a twenty-two inch 6.5 Creedmoor, in a composite ATACS camo stock and burnt bronze Cerakote. It is a very refined hunting rifle, with many great features such as a detachable rotary box magazine, recoil reducing muzzle brake, and a soft recoil pad at the rear. It’s quite a handsome little rifle, and it functions as good as it looks. The sixty-degree bolt throw is shorter and faster to run, and the adjustable trigger breaks like glass rod. There is much more to say about the X Bolt, click here to read all about it.

In order to match the rifle to it’s new owner, I mounted a Crimson Trace Hardline 3-12 scope in a set of low Warne rings. I wanted the rifle to fit her as best it could, I would have liked to chop a couple more inches off the barrel but time wouldn’t allow. Using a thread adaptor from Xcaliber Firearms I was able to mount a suppressor to the rifle, which is also another advantage for someone new to hunting. I mounted the very lightweight Yankee Hill Machine Nitro N20 suppressor built from all titanium, the recoil reduction and comfort far outweighed the ounces added to the rifle.

Practice Practice Practice

Despite having spent a fair amount of time behind a riflescope, I wanted to make sure she was comfortable as possible with her own rifle. So we spent a few trips going into the mountains to ensure she was familiar with every aspect of the rifle, and how to operate it quickly and under pressure. We took shots at targets out to five-hundred yards, and once she was comfortably hitting them with predictability, we added a time crunch. Putting a ten-second time limit to get on the rifle and make a good shot became a fun and useful game. With both rifle and shooter working in harmony, we counted down the days till the deer hunt started. Continue Reading Here…