Late Season Elk Hunt - 2nd Weekend

Friday night I prepared for elk hunting on Saturday – I only had time for a 1-day trip. Went to bed at 11:30. ‘Slept’ until 1:30, and awoke to get my hunting clothes on and truck packed to leave at 2:00. Dad showed up about 2:15 and we left for Craig. Arrived in Craig about 6:30, and was to the hunting unit by 7:15. Saw one heard of elk in the area – we gave chase. I came within about 500 yards, and, I could have taken a shot – but there were other hunters in close proximity and I didn’t feel comfortable shooting (even though they weren’t in my line of fire, there was one guy to the right of the herd about 100 yards and I didn’t think he would appreciate me shooting in the same general direction). We again gave chase to the herd, but, they slipped into somewhere unknown and we lost them. That was the only herd we saw all day.

On the way back we came across a wounded deer along the side of the road. I hate that – when drivers hit an animal and they don’t stop to put the animal out of its misery and leave it to suffer and die. Yes, I understand nature is cruel and predators will often make sport of wounded animals before killing them. But, you would think that we as humans would have compassion for them and end their misery before they die of their injuries. Then again, probably most drivers don’t carry stuff to put a wounded animal down, or, even if they did, might not have the intestinal fortitude to put it out of its misery.

So, I stopped and approached the deer, and it stopped struggling as soon as I put my hand on its head. In a quick motion I sliced its throat. Then we put the deer in the back of the truck and I drove into Dillon/Silverthorne, and I got a tag for it from the Silverthorne Police Dept (had to fill out paperwork and let them know where the deer was on the highway when it was hit). I was able to salvage 3 of the 4 quarters (the shoulder where it was hit was too badly damaged – broken bones, etc.) We processed the deer in the parking lot behind the Kum n Go, on my tailgate (I don’t gut the deer unless need drives me – it’s easier, but more time consuming, to quarter it and remove the backstraps) underneath a street lamp (it was dark by then). So, I came home with meat from the hunting trip – just not the kind I expected. Arrived home at 9:00 PM and was in bed by 11:30.

Next hunting trip Dec 26/27 – going back for elk. Hopefully there will be more in the hunting area by then.

Death from Above, or, It's Notch Your Elk, Matt: 4th Season Elk 2009

http://s911.photobucket.com/albums/ac312/lkhanson/4th%20Season%20Elk%202009/?albumview=slideshow
Just about anyone who goes tromping around through the woods has names for unique geographic features, sometimes corresponding with the official Forest Service or BLM names indicated on the associated maps. Where we typically hunt near Craig, we have names such as “The Notch, Notch Hill, Bert’s Folly, Shelf Road, The Fingers, the Burn Area” etc. Our 4th season elk hunt includes some of these names… I will include our names for these places in the story, and give a brief description for everyone else who may not be familiar with these terms.

The 4th Season elk hunt typically is a low-success hunt. One of us may get an elk during the 4th season, depending on the year, and the temperature/precipitation. If it has been warm weather and little snow in the high country, it means that the elk herds haven’t moved to the lower elevation feeding grounds yet. If you’re hunting in a lower elevation area (i.e., your hunt code on your license restricts you to a certain geographic area where there is no high-elevation land), your hunt might be a little tough. Sometimes early snowstorms will push a few herds off of the higher elevation areas, but often the elk come down in elevation, wait for the melt, and then go back up, much to the chagrin of the hunters. Other times the herds are pushed down by the snow, and they will hang around in the warmer, grass-laden low country and take their chances with less cover. Additionally, there are what are termed ‘local herds’ – these are herds that hang around in a certain area and don’t follow the migration path as their cousins. They hang around all-year in the rich vegetation and find cover wherever they can. However, these ‘local’ herds are still wary and hang around in the thick junipers or scrub-oak.

For our 4th Season hunt in Unit 3/301, the boundaries are on the east side at Highway 13 north out of Craig, and on the west side by Highway 40 and 318. My dad (David) and Jack drove up on Monday morning. The season started on Wednesday, however, we needed to find a camping spot. David and Jack had licenses both for 3/301, and, licenses for a Ranching for Wildlife program called Deakins Ranch. The RFW programs allow hunters to hunt on private land, and in exchange, the Colorado Division of Wildlife gives the ranch owners extra tags to sell for $$$$. Each morning the hunters need to check in to the ranch house before hunting, with check-in times at 5:30. Because our typical camping spot is a lot further away from the check-in sight, they were looking for another spot to camp a little closer.

Monday afternoon they found a spot about a mile from a cement-capped Uranium mine. Uranium used to be present in the area, in the tufaceous fluvial sandstones of the Miocene Browns Park Formation. Ore was taken from numerous open-pit mines on both sides of US Highway 40 and heap-leached, and the eluate was trucked to Wyoming for uranium recovery. Some of the pits are still open, and some of the areas have a cap with 10-feet thick cement covering it. They stopped mining in 1981; however, I would have liked to have had a Geiger counter to see if I would be glowing on my trip back. David called me and told me the location of the camp site, and I passed along directions to my other hunting buddies, Matt, Blake, and Mike.

Matt and I have been hunting together for about 5 years now, and he has recruited Blake, a 19-year-old who is the son of one of his wife’s friends. Matt had taken Blake hunting earlier this year, and, borrowing my 30.06, he got his first deer. This would be his first time elk hunting. Mike and I have hunted together since 2000, and, he has taken several deer and elk. Jack and David have been hunting together for probably around 25-30 years. Jack and David were on the same hunting trip when I got my first deer at age 14.

Mike arrived in camp on Tuesday afternoon, driving his dodge van and pulling his ATV in a trailer. The van sleeps four, albeit a little tightly. The four chairs up front combine to create two sleeping surfaces, and the back has a flat area where two grown men, sleeping head to foot in sleeping bags, can sleep comfortably (especially if there is 4 inches of memory-foam). Wednesday morning we checked in at Deakins ranch, and there were a bunch of pissed-off hunters in the parking area. I could only guess one-thing, and my suspicions were soon confirmed: there were no elk on the ranch. The guy we checked in with, Jim, said that we could drive around and familiarize ourselves with the ranch, and that we could wait and watch and listen (listen for what? Elk mating season was over – the only elk you might hear would be the thunder of their hooves running away from you). So, we drove to an area that was walk-in only. Mike and Jack went up one side of a draw, David and I walked up another side, where we saw a bunch of antelope and deer, but as Jim said, there were no elk. After driving to another corner to confirm, we checked out and drove back to camp for lunch. Lunch consisted of Vienna sausages in biscuits with mustard (Jack had a PB&J sandwich) and Tostitos with Salsa. Discussing our evening hunt plans, it was decided; we were going to ‘The Notch.’

The Notch is a road that was blasted out between a low point in a hill that ranges about three miles from north to south, and, maybe a half-mile wide at its widest point. The creation of the road, like the Panama Canal, allows traffic between a few key areas that one would otherwise have to travel a long way out of the way to access the surrounding country. We have successfully hunted elk here in times past, and it was our best shot that afternoon. We had heard reports that elk had crossed highway 13 in small herds earlier that week, but we would not have made it to that area long before nightfall. David and Jack hunted Notch Hill, and Mike and I took the Shelf Road over Bert’s Folly. The Notch road formation divides Notch Hill and the hill we call Bert’s Folly – where a fellow named Bert, about 10 years ago, had an opportunity to shoot an elk – all he had to do was wait for this string of 40-50 elk to walk right to him. David and I were watching from Notch Hill. Instead of waiting, in his nice rest in his ground blind to where the elk would have crossed at 50 yards, Bert stood up when the elk were 300 yards away and unloaded his magazine. No elk dropped, and they turned-tail and ran back the way they came. The Shelf Road cuts across Bert’s Folly, and in previous years, it was a scary road under perfect conditions (the road angled at a steep pitch, so that you were afraid the vehicle would just start rolling down the mountain). The forest service improved the road, so now it’s a ‘butt-clincher’ in perfect conditions, and scary when wet and snotty.

We happened upon a couple of guys on ATVs. I got out of the truck to talk with one of them, and he reported that there were elk in the area. There was a herd around his campsite the night before, and he had seen about 9 elk that day while driving around on his ATV. Good news! Mike and I thanked them and we continued up what seemed to be an ATV-only trail in my F150. There is nothing like going through low-hanging branches just waiting to reach out and scratch up the paint job. We pulled into a likely area, with a meadow and outlooks, and Mike took off to the north. I watched both sides of a ridge for elk movement until sundown. No elk were spotted, but, we were both hopeful. Not hearing any shots, we met David and Jack back at camp for chicken-and Rice-a-Roni dinner. Filled with good news, Mike, David, and Jack went to bed. I waited up for Matt and Blake to arrive. The lantern we set out in front of the camp is easily spotted going up the road to the camp, and it was the beacon that Mike, Matt, and I used to get us to camp in the dark. I told Matt and Blake the plan for the next day, and we went to sleep.

The next morning Mike woke up around 4:00 AM and started making bacon. He only brought 6 lbs worth, hardly enough... He made coffee, and then started cooking eggs. I contributed a bag of shredded-cheddar (I don’t really know what it was – it said ‘imitation cheddar’) and we pulled out of camp after getting our fill. Off to The Notch, Mike and Blake were going to start near the south end of Notch Hill and make their way to the top, and then come north. Matt and I drove to The Notch and parked, and walked south up the incline to the top. An ATV trail also goes across the top, and we followed it, stopping and looking down both sides where it was convenient. The land slopes away and provides excellent views. As Matt and I came around a bend in the trail, we see a bunch of hairy tan butts turn towards us and then the front ends ran down the hill. Elk! 30 feet away! And now they’re gone!

Matt and I race to where the herd ran down the hill. The junipers were thick – too thick to see through. We run further up the trail, with Matt in the lead. I come puffing up beside him. He says, ‘the elk are right down there, and you can hear them if you would quit breathing so hard!” I shut my trap and listened. Matt pointed, “There they are!” We saw two elk come out into a clearing. I said, “Let me get a range on them.” I pulled out my rangefinder, I was sure they were 300 – 400 yards away. I whisper to Matt, “228 yards” they were almost straight down hill. I had my Huskemaw optics set to 200 yards – I wasn’t going to mess with adjusting the drop-compensating turret the extra amount – it would only be a difference of about 1/8 of an inch, if that. In a kneeling position I lined up the crosshairs between the shoulder blades with my 7mm RUM Sendero. I waited about 1 second for Matt to shoot. No shot came, so I squeezed off a round using a 180 Grain Berger bullet.

KABOOM!

The shot pinned the elk to the ground, like how an entomologist would pin a butterfly to a foam board. Matt, recovering his senses after my 7mm Remington Ultra-Magnum went off next to his head, headed down the hill to try and find the other elk that was next to the one I shot. He told me he would meet me at my elk. I surveyed the area, looked for landmarks, and started down the hill. However, what I should have done is take a compass reading. The cover is so thick, and the topography so varied, that, you might start going down and think that you’re walking in the right direction, but it could lead you 100 yards or more to the left or right. Such was the case, and, I lost track of where I was and where the elk dropped. Matt and I maintained radio contact, and he found the field near where the elk was down, but, he couldn’t find the elk. As I was walking towards Matt (he blew his whistle a few times) I stumbled across my elk. I radioed him, and he found me. We then got in radio contact with Mike and Blake to let them know we had an elk down. They said they would go back to the truck to get the meat packs, and meet us at the animal. I checked the bottom of the animal – there was no exit wound. The bullet, based on the angle, went through the spine and shredded the heart and lungs.

Why didn’t Matt shoot? He was waiting for the perfect shot opportunity – he was waiting for the elk to turn broadside. He was also waiting, controlling his breathing, choosing the right moment, taking his time, lining up the crosshairs. I had already made the decision that I was going to take a shot as soon as I was ready, when I could put a bullet on the vitals so that the animal’s transition would be quick and painless, maximizing the damage to the heart and lungs so that it would be instantaneous. Matt’s decision to take a little more time to shoot wasn’t a bad decision. However, we probably could have communicated about who was going to shoot which elk, etc. I was unwilling, though, to let this opportunity to pass by waiting to decide who was shooting what and when, and let the elk slip out of sight.

After taking pictures, Matt and I started quartering the animal. Matt asked if I wanted to gut and drag it. No way. Even though we could have drug it down hill, it’s a lot of work to drag an animal of this size. Quartering was the way to go. Here’s a quick primer on quartering game:

1. Unzip (cut a line in the hide using a Wyoming-knife) the hide down the spinal column from the neck to the tail.
2. Cut a line down each leg on one side and circle the hide at the knee or elbow.
3. Remove enough skin from the shoulder/leg to remove it / + flank steaks
4. Remove the backstrap (like the filet mignon) down from the neck along the spinal column to the hip joint.
5. Continue cutting past the hip joint to the tailbone. Carefully remove all hide (except where attaching evidence of sex) and separate the meat from the hip up to the ball joint. Cut tenderloin where it passes through the hip bone and separate the ball joint and remove all remaining connective tissues.
6. Cut a line along the underside of the spine between the hip and the short ribs, all the way up to the long ribs. Push gut sack down and remove the tenderloin.
7. Flip animal and repeat steps 1-6.

After some communication and directional issues, Blake and Mike found their way over to us. Matt and Mike went back to the truck while Blake held the 1 remaining quarter as I sliced and diced. Something he said reminded me that I needed to remove the tenderloins (I’d forgotten up to that point). I finished just as Matt and Mike made it up the hill (driving the vehicle closer to where we were). We packed up the animal in the packs (all except one front quarter, which we carried by itself) back to Matt’s truck. He drove down a steep embankment to get within 300 yards of where the elk was, and on the way out, everyone got out of the vehicle as Matt drove back up the hill and launched over the edge. I guess none of us wanted to be in his meat-wagon in case he pulled another “Dukes of Hazzard” on us.

A victory lunch in Maybell was in order, and I needed to get more ice for the coolers. After lunch, we went back out to Notch Hill to try our luck again. Although Matt and I had seen two of the herd, the rest of the herd (about 9) ran to the southwest side of the area. I wasn’t sure if this was a local herd, or one that had migrated into the area. I guess it doesn’t really matter, though. I was willing to go back in with them as they hunted, and Mike carried my rifle (just in case a 1000-yard shot presented itself) – I’m always up for more hunting, even if I’m not able to shoot. We walked up the trail and made our way to the opposite side of the hill, along the mile-or-so long stretch, stopping at every opportunity to glass an area. Towards the back (the south end of the ATV trail across the top), we split up. Mike and I took one finger, Matt went further down the trail on another finger, and Blake took a third finger. Each finger angled down from the top and eventually formed a ridge line with narrow valleys in between. Mike and I picked a point on the edge of a finger before it dropped completely down into the basin below, and we had a good vantage point to see any movement on both sides.

After we set up, about a half-hour later, Blake broke radio silence. He indicated that he spooked a herd. Apparently what happened is that he walked down to a finger and started meandering through the junipers. He couldn’t quite find the place where he wanted to stop and watch for the evening hunt. So, he went through a few openings and then the smell of elk hit him, like he ran into a wall. He knew that he had distinguished that unique fragrance earlier – and so he started looking around. Then he saw the elk 50 feet in front of him. The elk quickly moved away. He put the scope on them, but, he had a hard time distinguishing which one was a cow, which one was a bull, etc., and then they went up and over the ridgeline. We heard a shot. Mike and I got up and moved down the trail towards where we assumed the youngest member of our party was hunting. We met up with Matt and Blake, estimated where the elk may have gone, and determined that no one from our group made the shot. We decided that it would be quicker to go back to the vehicles and drive around to the south side of Notch hill to intercept the herd.

Then the rain started and the sun went down. A hunter that had also heard the shot was driving just ahead of us, going exactly where we were going. I took a detour and we went down another road to get to the south edge of the hill. The wind started to blow hard, the rain came down harder, and visibility turned to just about 0 as the sky grew dark. That was it. No more hunting that day. We returned to camp and I heated up my elk green chili, made from my elk from last season. I gotta tell ya – I make some really good elk green chili. Or, should I say, the recipe followed when people make green chili with the elk that I shoot turns out really good. This particular batch I didn’t make myself – a couple of friends made it and I froze it. There was just enough for all of us, plus, Jack heated up some bratwurst. Jack’s stomach stages a revolt when it comes in contact with anything spicier than Lemon Pepper. The last time he ate my elk green chili, he ran out of Tums in the middle of the night. I didn’t take offense when he declined a bowl of green goodness.

The plan for the next day was to get up early and hit Notch Hill again. But, then, Matt had to go and check the weather report. *sigh* Winter Snow Storm Warning. Rain turning to Snow at Midnight. Accumulation 2-4 Inches. Snow throughout the day on Friday - 4-6 Inches. Snow throughout night until Saturday until noon – 4-6 Inches. A second Storm then comes in, around 6 PM Saturday night and snow continually until Monday. And sure enough, that night, around midnight, the rain turned to snow. Jack gout out of his tent to pee after he heard the rain stop hitting his tent, and promptly fell on his ass in the mud as snow came down upon him. The next morning Mike made some coffee in the van and then heated up water. He had originally tried to go over to the cook tent, but the zipper was stuck. I took the tea kettle over to the cook tent and poured the boiling water on the zipper to melt the ice, and unzipped it. I then fired up the coffee and beat the snow off of the roof of the tent, hearing it slide down the tent walls. The tent could have collapsed if much more snow accumulated on it. Cooking my antelope breakfast sausage, I could tell that because the antelope is so lean, the meat wouldn’t cook in its own heated fat content. So, I put in a quarter-pound of bacon to create a base. Then, after the sausages were done, I threw in another batch of bacon so I could cook the eggs. Matt took over the egg preparation and served it up.

During breakfast, based on the weather report, I told everyone my intention of leaving that day. It was easy for me to say – I already had my elk. I had to be back by Saturday night anyhow, for a commitment I had with Audrey on Sunday, and now I had to butcher an elk as well. Everyone else was scheduled to leave on Sunday. But, if it was going to snow as much as predicted, and our campsite was already being inundated with white flakes, it would be next to impossible to get to the areas where we like to hunt. The roads have a habit of turning to utter snot when wet. Plus, trying to get home going over either Rabbit Ears pass or Vail pass might be difficult. I’ve been stuck up there when they’ve closed both of those passes, and I had to get home via Tennessee pass through Leadville in thick falling snow. No thank you.

Everyone else decided that the best idea for them was to pack up camp and take off. I could see the disappointment in their faces. No hunter wants to admit defeat and go home early. Often I will hunt up to the last day, to the last hour, and drive home in the dark. Hunting season is a precious commodity. It is a limited time where hunters spend a lot of time and money preparing for those few days. We savor each little bit, each nuance. But, sometimes, we are defeated by conditions outside of our control. As it was, Mike’s van is 2-wheel drive, and he left first, with Matt following him in his black Dodge 2500 meat wagon. Getting down to the main road (US 40) wasn’t difficult, Matt said, but coming back up to camp, getting up those roads was a lesson in patience and being okay with having a loss of control. He slipped and slid back into camp. We packed up all the tents and equipment in about 2 hours, as the wet snow fell on and around us. We didn’t bother packing up everything neatly – just as long as everything got in the truck, or trailer, we were okay. It would be easier to sort it out later in the week when it was sunny outside.

Vail pass was another story – coming down from Craig to Meeker to Rifle. It took 2 hours to get over Vail pass – curiosity slowdown for three semi trucks that, even with chains, couldn’t get up the hill and were pulled off to the side. Eisenhower wasn’t bad. Going down the other side, though, I passed Mike. He was driving slow, taking it easy in his two-wheel drive van pulling his ATV – he didn’t take any chances. Mike had at least a two-hour head start on us – I’m glad he left as early as he did.

I hung the elk quarters in the garage, using a couple of gambrels. I’ve since deboned them and Matt and Mike came over to help butcher and package the meat. I had a total of around 90 lbs – but about 20 of that was grind/cat food (my parents know someone with a cat who can only eat wild game – all other food type is not digested and is thrown up). Portions of the meat will go to any member of the hunting party wanting some (Matt took about 20 lbs for him and Blake, Mike took about 13 lbs). I will divide it as equally as possible, and everyone gets backstrap, etc. I am elk hunting again in December and will need to save room in my two freezers for more elk, plus the bison meat from January. It’s a lucky thing that there is so many people who don’t mind helping me eat my elk meat!

Next hunt report: Late Season Elk 2009.

Playing Baseball: 2nd Season Deer 2009

Pictures - http://s911.photobucket.com/albums/ac312/lkhanson/2009_Deer/?albumview=slideshow

If you’ve been keeping track of my progress over the years of hunting stories, you know by now that I have started leaning towards highly-accurate, long-range shooting systems. I have several products to aid me in my quest towards the ability to be able to connect with animals at a greater-than-normal distance and ensure that the shots are ethical (that I’m not just firing off rounds to see if any of them randomly hit an animal because I don’t have a way to hit them otherwise). These products include:

7mm Remington Ultra-Mag – this rifle, a Sendero model with a 26” heavy stainless fluted barrel is a finely tuned ‘tack driver’ (most standard rifle barrels are 22” or 24” inches – there is a lot of debate whether longer barrels = better accuracy, but, it certainly doesn’t hurt – see http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20071024050459AAt6nbK)

Huskemaw Optics Scope – This is a 5-20 power scope, with a 50 mm lens. That means it gives me a huge picture of the animal in my scope, if set to 20x power. So, essentially, the animal is 20-times larger than what I would be able to see without a scope. Inside the scope it also has windage marks, so that I can effectively make the correct hold for a 10 MPH crosswind, or, a 20 MPH crosswind if I have the scope set to 10-power. All I have to do is check the distance, dial in that distance on my Ballistic Drop-Compensating Turret, check the wind, and hold for that wind with the correct Minute of Angle marks next to the crosshairs. See this long-range hunting article

Berger Bullet - The Huskemaw scope is customized to my rifle, to 1 specific bullet – 180 grain Berger VLD Bullet, in a Remington case, with 91 Grains of slow-burning Retumbo powder, with a CCI 250 Primer. The VLD stands for “Very Low Drag” which means that the bullet is able to ‘slice’ through the air better than a lot of bullets, because of the design of the bullet itself. It tends to out-perform other bullets at ranges longer than 500-yards, retaining more velocity for more knock-down power. The bullet, with that combination, flies at about 3144 feet per second. See “Ballistics for Dummies”

Caldwell Wind Wizard – this little device measures the wind speed for accurate hold. Even out to ranges at 1000 yards, if the wind is different at the target than it is where I’m shooting, the bullet will retain 70% of its flight path over the 1st 300 yards to effectively hit the target. See “Reading the wind”

Leica CRF 1200 – this rangefinder accurately gives me the range to a target within 1200 yards. Any living target farther than that I don’t have any business trying to shoot.

Stony Point Bipod – I have a quick-connect bipod to attach to the front swivel of my rifle, to give me extra-steady prone-position holds, required for long distance shots.

For this deer hunt, I am ready to hit a home run. I am ready to shoot any doe out to 1000 yards, or maybe a little farther.

1st Base
I arrive in Craig, CO., at about 4:45 Friday afternoon. My buddy Mike Finch has already been elk hunting there since Thursday evening, and I pick him up at the Elk Run Inn motel. On the way to my deer spot, he tells me about his hunting thus far: He has found a new area for us to hunt elk if we have a Unit 11/211 elk license. The terrain is steep, but he has found an easy access point. Plus, he knows of at least 5 elk that have been taken in that area during the 2nd season. He had been hiking all over that area for the last day-and-a-half, and found a ton of elk duds (elk poop), plus tracks and game trails and other indications of elk activity. He indicated that cover was really thick, as there is a lot of scrub-oak where the elk travel, and, difficulty seeing the elk when they’re traveling through such areas. But, he’s optimistic that we can find elk after I get my deer.

2nd Base
We travel to an area my hunting partners and I call “The Fingers” – it’s an area where a juniper-covered plateau branches out to a basin below it, and the branches, or ridgelines, which extend down to the basin floor are like long fingers, with valleys between. The animals like these fingers as they provide plenty of cover to travel down to the basin to feed, and then in the morning they can snake back up to the cover and shade of the junipers.

We begin our walk along the base of the fingers, along a fence-line. Our strategy is to spot the deer coming down the fingers, and pick one off as it snakes through the junipers. However, about 300-yards in, we spot another hunter walking ahead of us. Then, as we continue walking, we spot hunters on each one of the fingers. So, we shift our strategy to head over to the main part of the basin where all paths lead down, across the highway, and down to the Yampa river. A lot of the deer like to head down to the river to feed and drink at night. So, we continue on our journey, annoying all the hunters that are up on the fingers (because we’re walking across their viewing area where they expect the animals to cross) and hop a fenceline to get to our area. However, by the time we get there, my watch says there is about 20 minutes of shooting light left.

3rd BaseI pick out various objects and measure their distance, as I’m now looking over this vast plain of long grass. Juniper – 705 yards. Rock – 820. Different rock – 623. I’m expecting to see a deer at any moment. It’s what hunters call “the magic hour.” I’ve hunted this area before and some years you have your choice of deer. Not this year – due to winter-kill a few years ago. But, there should still be at least a few to choose from. The sun is sinking further and further, and the once bright colors of evening are now turning to gray. However, I do spot a big white ass. It’s the Caucasian version of “Refrigerator Perry” in antelope form, streaking across the plains. It must have either heard us or smelled us, and knew enough to get out of Dodge. Five minutes left of light. I pull out one of my bullets from my shell-holder on the side of my Sendero and show Mike how much bigger the 7 RUM case is vs. his 7mm Magnum. You know, because size matters. He then looks at me, looks over my shoulder, points, and says, “Deer!”

Bunt, goes through Pitcher’s legs, Short-stop overshoots the ball and trips the 2nd baseman, ball rolls to a stop just as the runner on 3rd trips over the chalk line but manages to get a finger on home plate as the Catcher misses the ball thrown right over his head

I turn around. Two deer are standing about 90 feet away. I see them, they see us, I raise my rifle and try to find the deer. Now, if I had had the scope scaled down to 5x power, I could have spotted them easily. However, when things are super-huge, and close, it’s difficult to pick them out! I spot one, and fire, but I shoot over it. Stupid. I should have dropped to a kneeling position at least, so that I could have a steady rest. Standing up (offhand) shooting is difficult, as it is extremely unsteady (especially with how heavy my rifle is – it weighs about 14 pounds). The deer squats and runs off like a greyhound. I then drop my rifle down and move about 5 feet to my right. I’m not seeing any other deer, so, I raise my rifle and look through the scope. There’s a deer in my scope! I thought, “No way,” and put my rifle down. I can’t see the deer with my own eyes. But, I raise the rifle again, and sure enough, there’s a deer standing there. It’s amazing the light-gathering power of the scope in low-light situations. I find the shoulder and squeeze off a round. It drops. It’s probably 2 minutes left of legal shooting light. So much for all of my long-range equipment and preparation! I could have made that shot easier with my $40 3x-9x scope on my inexpensive .30-06 rifle.

Mike and I approach the deer. I put my backpack down and am about to grab my knife, to slit its throat, just to make sure it’s dead. Mike pokes the eye with the barrel of my rifle. It doesn’t move. He tells me there’s no need to slit the throat. I then poke the eye with my finger. No reaction. Yep – it’s dead. He then flips the deer to the other side. The shoulder has a hole in it about the size of a baseball, or maybe even a softball.

Oftentimes, when shooting, you can hear the sound of the bullet hitting the mark. On animals, when the bullet finds its mark, you hear a ‘thwak’ sound. But, being that my bullet is travelling at 3144 feet per second, and the deer was maybe 90 feet away, Mike estimated that the bullet hit the deer in 1/35th of a second. And when my bullet, flying that fast, hit the opposite shoulder, the bullet fragmented instantaneously, as if it were hit by a small grenade. The shoulder meat, what was left of it, was absolutely ruined. I’m happy that the deer died instantly. But, as close as it was, I really could have hit it with a baseball, if I’d been able to see it.

7th Inning stretch
I put my headlamp flashlight on, and Mike dug out his small flashlight, and we unzipped the deer to remove three of the four quarters, plus the backstraps (the rows of meat along either side of the spine). I have gallon-sized Ziploc freezer bags for each of the backstraps, and Hefty 30-gallon trash bags for the quarters. I pack a shoulder and the backstraps in my backpack (recently repaired from my previous antelope hunt), and Mike, thankfully, hauls out both rear quarters in his frame-pack. It was pitch-black when we started back towards the truck. Our only guide in the dark is that we know there are some lights from a close-by town to the south, and to the south is where we pick up the fenceline that will lead us east to another fence, which we can then follow to the south back to the truck. Thankfully I knew the area, as it would be easy to get lost.

We pack the animal out, put it in the cooler, head back to town, and settle in for the night. The next couple of days (Saturday and Sunday) we hunt for elk in an area southwest of Craig. I let him borrow my rifle in case we did come across some long-distance elk. I showed him how to use my rifle, and he easily nailed a rock, the size of an elk-chest, at 500 yards. However, although we did see some amazing country, and have some great spots picked out for the next time we have tags for that unit, we were not able to connect with any elk for Mike. There was a lot of climbing up and down, and on three separate occasions I fell flat on my ass. I told Mike it was a “controlled descent.”

Post-game wrap-up
One of my buddies from work is going to turn most of the deer into Biltong. It’s an acquired taste, and not for the weak of heart. But I enjoy it – hardened, desiccated meat naturally seasoned.

Next hunt – 4th Season elk. This has typically been a low- to no-game count season. If, for some reason, we don’t get any animals, the next hunt report will be for my Christmas elk hunt (unless there’s something amazingly cool to report on – but otherwise, it’s kind of like reading a novel and the end of it is a letdown and you wouldn’t recommend it to friends, because of the utter disappointment factor).

Brokepack Mountain - Antelope 2009

http://s911.photobucket.com/albums/ac312/lkhanson/4x_Antelope_2009/?albumview=slideshow

“I wish I knew how to quit carrying you…” I said to my backback, on the side of the mountain, which had snapped under the pressure of all the antelope meat it was carrying. There was no one else for miles around to talk to…

The antelope hunt started Thursday September 24th at 4:00 PM. I had just disconnected from my work machine (VPN connection) and was scrambling like crazy to get everything in my truck. Rifle, ammo, backpack, clothes, sleeping bag, cook stove, sleeping bag/cot, 150-quart cooler, licenses, maps, rangefinder, etc. Finally underway, I met up with my buddy Kevin, his wife Jennifer, and two of Kevin’s hunting buddies, Joe and Ty, at a gas station off of I-70 and Colfax. We were headed to the small town of Medicine Bow, WY., and from there towards the “Miracle Mile” (which is actually 7 miles of river) where we would camp. There were 3 trucks; mine, Kevin’s, and Joe’s. I’m not going to specify exactly where we were camping, nor hunting, as Kevin and Jennifer want to keep it their private little spot. I certainly don’t blame them.

After stopping at Carl’s Jr. in Ft. Collins, and then in Laramie at the Wal*Mart (I didn’t pack any food, ice, gas, etc., and was hoping that we would stop somewhere), and also getting some Immodium for Jennifer (thanks to the Carl’s Jr.), we were well on our way to Medicine Bow. We kept in contact via walkie-talkie. For a short stretch Ty rode with me – and he told me about what life was like living “off the grid” in the mountains with his wife and son/daughter. It sounds like life is great until your backup generator dies, and costs just about as much to fix it as it does to get a new one… I also found out Ty is new to hunting – Kevin introduced him to it a few years ago when Ty’s wife mentioned that it would be great to be able to have your own meat instead of getting store-bought, hormone-laden, injection-filled, penned-and-slaughterhouse meat. I can certainly understand that, and, was happy to have someone new to the experience along on the trip. That way, you can tell them all of your hunting stories and they probably haven’t heard them before. I think I told him enough to scare him…

After we arrived at Medicine Bow, we filled our tanks to the very top, as that was the closest gas station to where we were going to camp, for 50 miles. It was about 10:00 PM, and we had at least another hour and a half on the road. That is, if you don’t miss your turn as you’re traveling across the prairie on 2-lane roads. But, being that went right by the turnoff, we overshot our turn by what seemed to be 20-30 miles. Nice. Always great to be out in the middle of nowhere, and miss your turn, and then having to backtrack and hopefully not miss it again.

After several close run-ins and actual hits during previous hunts, Kaoru had bought me some ‘Deer Whistles’ to put on the front of the vehicle. He had put them on for our previous antelope hunt, and we didn’t have any issues. However, as we were traveling across the prairie, I ran over 3 rabbits – two jackrabbits (the size of small coyotes) and one cottontail. As I was last in line of the three-car convoy, all of them seemed to pick out my vehicle as the one that was going to end their life – suicide-by-F150. I’m not sure whether it was the deer whistle, or, something else entirely. But, I made a few coyotes happy that evening.

We pulled into the camp site at zero-dark-thirty (after taking a different route to the camp site) and I proceeded to set up my cot and sleeping bag in the back of the truck. Because I was going to be hunting two units, I didn’t want to take the time to set up a tent, etc. Joe (and his Weimaraner, Maya) slept in the back of his covered truck. Ty had a nifty little cot pop-up tent (a cot with a built-in canvas roof). Kevin and Jen slept in the back of their pickup truck (with a covered top). I was the only one who would be sleeping under the stars. Thankfully it didn’t get too cold at night. Someone (name withheld to protect the guilty) did, however, posit the question to Joe, “Have you ever dry-humped your dog?” (This technique can apparently be used on dogs that are overly alpha and want to be the boss of their owner as well. And, surprisingly enough, it wasn’t me that posited the question.) Joe laughed and said he hadn’t done that. However, for the rest of the trip, the term “dry hump” became a running joke, and other crude humor followed. I fell asleep to the sound of coyotes howling in the distance.

The next morning I awoke to the sound of chatter, and Kevin, Joe, and Ty were up drinking coffee and getting some breakfast. I got out of my cot and proceeded to get my hunting clothes on and gear ready. After some coffee and a few morsels shoved in my mouth, we were off to go to the hunting spot, which was just down the road from where we were camped. Kevin led the way, with Jen, and Ty and I followed. I think something was mentioned about dry-humping your tailpipe on the truck before it goes out of control… Joe took his truck and headed up another road to the west side of where we were hunting. Kevin turned off on a two-track trail, and, Ty and I went about a mile up the road and turned in on another two-track that headed towards a power station (not sure what the correct term for it is). We stopped the truck, got out, and immediately saw a herd of antelope to the south-east. Ty stayed there, and, I headed to the southeast side of the power station.

When adrenaline starts coursing through my veins (I’ve never asked anyone else how it affects them) I immediately notice thing pertinent to my body: I’m thirsty (I didn’t drink enough water that morning), I’m hungry (I didn’t eat enough breakfast – two granola bars wasn’t enough) and that I forgot to put on sunscreen. But, it was too late now. I’m not going to go back to the truck and remedy these issues. There’s antelope to hunt! We only had to make sure that we weren’t in each other’s line of fire. Kevin and Jen were somewhere to the southeast of the power station, Ty was northwest. But, through radio contact, we could determine where we were in relation to each other (so it wouldn’t end up like the Politically Incorrect term ‘Polish Firing Squad’). I rounded the corner along the fence on the opposite side of the power station (which was about 15 feet below the top of the hill I would have to crest to get a view of the antelope) and went up the hill to find the herd. I low-crawled to the crest and peered over – the herd was between 200 – 300 yards away (according to my rangefinder). I could see where Ty was, and he also had a small herd making their way towards him. I imagine, in all, there were about 50 antelope in this herd. Now all I had to do was get my rifle set up on my backpack, pick out a doe, dial in the range, and squeeze off a round on my 7mm RUM Sendero. No problem…

But as I scanned the herd, it was mostly bucks! It was older bucks with 12-16 inch black branched horns, and young bucks, with 1-4-inch horns. Although the young bucks were considered ‘antlerless’ and therefore legal to shoot, I was willing to wait for a doe to present an opportunity. Finally, I spotted a doe, and all I had to do was range it and wait for it to become clear of all the other animals (moving in front of other animals, other animals moving in front if it, the doe turning to face directly towards me, etc.). I ranged it at 250 yards, held for a high-shoulder shot, and when the moment presented itself, I squeezed the trigger. The rumble of the shot was heard by all in proximity, and as I checked the area with my Huskemaw scope, I saw that the antelope was down.

In typical antelope fashion, the herd grouped up and started moving towards me. I confirmed via radio that I had an antelope down, and that I was going to pick out another one. Ty moved his position towards me, as the herd came within 150 yards. However, a few bucks walked ahead of the herd, and they spotted me from about 30 yards away. If I had had the licenses, I could have easily had three really nice bucks. But, I continued to scan the herd. It seemed that I would find a doe, but then it would turn its head, and I would see that it was a young buck. I kept scanning and scanning, but, I couldn’t see any doe antelope! Finally Ty made it over to where I was, and, he scooted up the hill. The antelope sensed something, and, the herd took off. They broke northwest, and, try as we might to go after them, they were gone. So, I went up to the antelope I had shot and started to quarter the downed beast, removing the shoulder, backstrap, hind-leg on one side, then flipping it over and doing the same on the other side. I managed to slice my left index finger across my first knuckle. Man, they ought to put warning labels on these knife things: “Warning – contents might be sharp.” I stripped off my plastic glove, busted out the first-aid kit, poured water over my bleeding knuckle, shot a wad of Neosporin across the cut, slapped a cotton-ball on it, and then wrapped it with medical tape. I then put on a fresh plastic glove and continued my work. Someone asked over the radio if anyone had ever dry-humped an antelope. Someone else responded that that technique only worked on ‘live’ antelope.

Kevin and Jen made their way over while Ty chased the herd and met up with Joe. Kevin helped hold the plastic bags as I put the quarters in each one, while Jen went to go drive my truck a little closer to where we were. Then, packed on ice, we continued the hunt. But, wouldn’t you know it, the screw holding in my sling, on the butt of my rifle, stripped its threads and came right out. Luckily I had a grip on the sling at the time, so my rifle and expensive scope didn’t go crashing to the ground. What a pain in the ass. I slipped the screw back in the hole, and used the weight of the rifle pressing down on it to hold the screw in. But it continued to pop out the rest of the day.

Later that day, on our way to a different area, Kevin spotted a herd of antelope to the northeast side of the power station, and we made a stalk up to a line of rocks that were about 400 yards from part of the herd. As we carefully crept up, I artfully put my knee down on top of a cactus. Mmmm…. Nothing like the sweet sense of a thousand needles penetrating your skin at one time, only stopping their inward entry because they hit the bone. I was able to pull out most of them, and then get in position to square-up on the antelope. I ranged it at 396, then 400. I set the Ballistic Drop Compensating (BDC) reticle on 400, measured the wind (5 mph) and held high shoulder. BANG. Right over the top. I guess the true range was 396, and as a result, the bullet sailed over the top of the animal. But, that’s okay – I would rather have a clean miss than a wounded animal. It’s one of the reasons I shoot for the high shoulder – if I miss, it’s a clean miss (not a gut shot). If the bullet drifts to either side, it will either go through the lungs, or, break its neck. If it’s low, the bullet still penetrates the lungs, breaks both legs, and the animal goes down. Then, after the shot, a portion of the herd, that we didn’t see, erupted in front of us (they were only about 250 yards away, but, because of the terrain, we couldn’t see them). They took off. We attempted to give chase, and cut them off, but all efforts proved vain.

We drove to another hunting area, about 15 miles west of our camp, and began hunting. Kevin spotted a herd on the south side of the road, so we parked and began to formulate a plan. We walked down a trail, popped up over the top of a ridge, and saw that the antelope had moved to a ridge farther south. I saw how drainage would lead down one way, and back up the other way, so that we would be shielded from the 8x power of the eyes of the antelope. Sneaking down, and heading back up the opposite side, we flushed a Sage Grouse. It’s like a B-52 taking off – magnificent and enormous birds. We continued on our way, and as we neared where the upslope would no longer cover us from the antelope on the opposite ridge, we made our way up the far ridge to see exactly where the antelope were.

BUSTED! The antelope saw us moving around and took off. And, when they travel at 60 mph across the prairie, it doesn’t take them long to get anywhere, especially anywhere out of range, even for my Huskemaw scope. So, we made our way back to the trucks and continued on.

We made radio contact with Joe and Ty, and started to scout the area. That afternoon we all tried our luck on a main herd of antelope (probably about 100 antelope in all), but, none of us were able to get in range, under the right conditions, to get a shot that dropped an animal. Jennifer had two opportunities, but, the antelope she was sighted in on happened to wander over to where a vehicle was parked behind where she was going to shoot. Ty had one shot, but missed (he was breathing too hard to get steady). I tried a stalk on a herd, but, I couldn’t get consistent readings from my rangefinder, my hat kept blowing off, the animals kept busting me, and then ran onto private land. I was within 200 yards, but, a rancher had some private land along a ditch (the land wasn’t fenced off, but the map indicated that it was private), and the animals made their way to the sanctuary.

Joe made a huge batch of spaghetti for dinner, with sausage and vegetable sauce, and we packed it in for the night (no one dry-humped the spaghetti). The next morning, I woke up first, and fired up the stove to brew some coffee. Next Ty made his way out of the sack, and he quickly got dressed, grabbed a cup of coffee, ate a few morsels, grabbed his rifle, and headed up the ridge just to the east-side of the camp site, and made his way towards the power station. Early bird is supposed to get the worm, right? Well, if he had a buck license, maybe. He came within 30 feet of a buck, but otherwise, proved unsuccessful until we met up with him later that day. I showed Joe and Kevin the stripped screw and hole, as I was trying to shove some wet paper towel down the hole and screw the post into that. No such luck. Joe handed me a piece of string and told me to tie the screw/swivel/sling to the butt of the gun, wrapping the string around the stock several times. Success! Thank you, Joe. That worked a whole lot better than the other method I was using. So, after Kevin and Jennifer got ready, we headed out. Joe wasn’t too far behind, but, had to take care of his dog, etc. Kevin headed back towards the power plant area, and I stayed east of the landmark we called “Nob Hill.” Ty was on his way towards me, and, there was a herd of antelope that was running around. None of us came within range of this herd, and eventually Ty and I headed back to my truck to head north to a rock quarry.

As we rounded a bend in the two-track, we saw a small herd of four. I pulled off the two-track and we lined up on the herd. They were 250 yards away. I braced the rifle across the hood, as Ty lined up as well, and I put an animal in my sights. I lined up on the high shoulder, and squeezed off a round. The herd took off. I was convinced that I had made contact. Ty just looked at me, and said, “I saw 4 animals run off.” “I’m pretty sure I dropped one,” I said. So – we spent the next 45 minutes looking for my antelope – a shot that should have been a chip-shot. But no such luck. No animal, and no drops of blood, anywhere to be seen. I was baffled. The shot must have, again, gone right over the top. *sigh*

Two weeks prior, I nailed a styrafoam coffee cup at 600 yards on my first shot. So, at least, under 500 yards, the elevation/altitude/air density shouldn't have an effect on the 7mm RUM Sendero with 180 grain Berger bullets. At 750 yards, it's a half-click +/-, and at 1000 yards, it's a full click, +/-. I.e., if the air is denser, (altitude lower, temperature higher) then it will require a click up. If the air is less dense (higher elevation, temperature lower) then it will require one click down at 1000 yards. (I hope that's all correct - anyone reading this who knows, let me know). But, being that my shots were high both times, and at ranges less than 750 yards, it must be just me. I can accept that. I guess I should hold about a 3rd of the way down the shoulder instead of a third of an inch down on the shoulder.

So, the antelope headed back northeast towards Nob Hill, and, Ty and I took a two-track towards the area. Kevin and Jen were also near that area, tracking a heard from NW to SE towards Nob Hill. But, they didn’t intercept the herd of antelope, and Ty and I scouted the south side of the hill for them. The herd scooted along and rounded the side of the hill and headed north again. We gave chase, and, as we found them, they took off again. Ty and I watched in our binocs as they disappeared. But, Ty then looked north, and saw a herd of 3 crossing right in front of us, at about 200 yards! The terrain was such that they must have been going up a low point in a fold of the earth. So, Ty and I aimed in. There were 2 antlerless and one antlered. I ranged them at 200 yards, there was no wind to speak of, so I aimed lower shoulder and squeezed. It dropped. Ty then aimed in on the other antlerless. The first shot went low. I was following in my scope, and told him to try again. He adjusted and squeezed off another round. It dropped in its tracks. Awesome.

Jen and Kevin then radioed and asked if I could pick them up and take them back to their trucks – Jen was really hungry and tired and couldn’t make it back. I told them that after Ty went and ensured that both animals were down, I would come pick them up. Ty radioed that he found them, so I drove to where Kevin and Jen were. I handed Jen a Lunchable and a Verve energy drink. I gave Kevin a roast beef and mustard on wheat sandwich. Kevin then walked back to his truck and I drove Jen down to where the antelope were down.

After dragging the animals back to the shade offered by the truck, I set about quartering my antelope, and Ty began to eviscerate his antelope. Kevin arrived, and assisted Ty (it takes a few animals in order to get the hang of gutting an animal cleanly). We additionally heard over the radio that Joe was back at camp with an antelope he got that morning. After packing my animal in ice, and putting Ty’s in the bed of the truck, we all made it back to camp. I was all tagged out for that unit, and still had two tags for another unit. I packed up my stuff, bade my goodbyes to the crew, wished Kevin and Jen good luck filling their tags, wished Ty good luck on filling his additional tag, and took off to Unit 45. There was no dry-humping involved in the good-byes.

The drive was uneventful – I stopped in Medicine Bow and filled up with gas and bought more ice. I called my parents to let them know exactly where I was going to be hunting (as I was going to be by myself, I wanted someone to know where to start looking in an emergency). I was going to be hunting the Strouss Hill HMA – part of the Private Land Public Wildlife program that Wyoming offers. You essentially apply for, and are granted access to, private land ranches where the rancher allows hunters onto their ranch, as long as you give them the license voucher – for every voucher the rancher turns in, they get $16 from the state of Wyoming. Not a bad deal.

At 4:30 in the afternoon, I pulled off the exit from I-80 and drove a few miles to get onto the land. My expectations were that I would see animals everywhere, and that I would tag-out with two more antelope that afternoon. No such luck. I drove all the main roads through the ranch to familiarize myself with it, and, by the time I covered all the main roads, the sun had gone down. I had thought about another night of camping, but, instead, I decided to find a hotel room in Laramie. A hot shower sounded appealing. Plus, a warm, comfortable bed, and a place where I could wash my knives, would be most wonderful. “Motel 8” did the trick, and not staying up too late (Adult Swim, on the Cartoon Network, was having their Saturday night Anime marathon, most of which doesn’t appeal to me).

The next morning I awoke to the sound of the wake-up call. The thoughts in my head said, “Hey, this is a nice warm bed. You’re tired. You can just continue sleeping, and roll out of bed at 9 or 10. There’s still plenty of daylight left after that…” But, with the same motivation that morning exercisers must feel, I got out of bed, made coffee, grabbed a few granola bars, and headed out the door. I drove back to the ranch and began again with my search for antelope.

I took some dirt roads to the south, which led me into some hilly country, and, apparently, where all the antelope hunters were. I spotted a few herds, miles away, which were being spooked back and forth from various hunting parties. “Meh,” I thought, “I’m not going to hang around here – too many people. I’m off to find unoccupied areas of the ranch.” So, after doing more cursory talks with other hunters in pickup trucks, I headed north and west.

Sure enough, going down one of the dirt roads, stopping and glassing every few 100 yards, I spotted a herd on the side of the hill, right at the edge of the antelope-hunting boundary on the ranch – about two miles from where I was (the section farther to the west was for cow-elk hunting only). I made a drive to the farthest edge of the property, where the herd, so I thought, would only be about three-quarters of a mile, up to a mile, south (I lost track of the herd due to the rolling nature of the large hill; the landscape undulated and the antelope were in a bowl-area out of the wind). I parked my truck and looked around to survey the area. Being unfamiliar with the landscape, I wanted to train my eyes to where I was, so that I could visually pick out the features where my truck was on the way back. I then thought, “well, Leif, you’ve come this far – make this stalk on the herd. If it’s successful, and you get one down, then that’s great. If you get two down, that’s going to be a lot to pack out. If the stalk is unsuccessful, then, you can go home with at least two tags filled.” It was about 10:30 AM.

I grabbed my backpack, my rifle, my rangefinder, and with one last look, I quietly closed my truck door. I headed south towards the far hill. I’m hoping that the antelope herd is still there when I come over the rise – I’ve done several stalks on animals that, when I finally get to where they last were, they have disappeared. I head across, down the hill, up a hill, down again, cross a creek, and then up again. I keep looking back over my shoulder to view my route, and finally, I come just over the rise of the far hill. The antelope aren’t there, but, there’s kind of a lip, and then the topography drops down into a bowl feature. I creep forward and I see the ears of an antelope just over the rise. I back up, take my backpack off, lay flat on the ground, and push myself forward with the toes of my boots. Thankfully there are no cacti up here, and, the stones on the ground are rounded off thanks to the passing glaciers of the last ice age that carved this bowl to begin with.

The antelope know something is up, but they’re not sure what. A herd of three breaks off to the right and stop right in front of me, 30 yards away. I pick one out, put the scope mid-shoulder, and squeeze the trigger. It crumbles to the ground. The rest of the herd breaks off, going right and left, and in general, getting the hell away from the large boom-stick. There was none left in the area for a second shot. I stand up and walk towards the downed antelope. As I reach it, I see one of the herds silhouetted on a ridgeline. I lay the backpack down on top of the body of the antelope and get in a prone position, resting my rifle on the backpack. I range the animals at 360 yards. I weigh in my mind… “Do I really want to shoot another? I have one down, it’s already going to be laborious getting it back to the truck.” While I was thinking, the antelope take off down the other side of the ridgeline, out of site. Oh well.

Then they appear again a little farther down the hill, coming down a little from the ridgeline, so they aren’t silhouetted – there’s dirt behind them, from my angle. I shift my prone position slightly. I range again. It was 340 yards. I check the wind. The Caldwell Wind Wizard indicated a 5-10 mph crosswind. I dial in my scope, pick out a doe, hold on the shoulder, and squeeze off a round. The herd turns and flies over the hill. Did I miss? Could I have missed again? It was 340 yards, and, there was a crosswind. Well, the ethical thing to do is to follow-up all your shots. I grabbed my rifle (just my rifle – nothing else) and walked the distance to where the antelope were. Nothing. I walked up over the ridgeline. Lying on the ground was the antelope. I checked for the bullet hole, and saw that the bullet entered just before the front shoulder, and exited just behind the opposite shoulder. I didn’t open it up, but, it must have been a heart shot.

Okay, now what? Two antelope down, the sun was climbing in the sky, I had to get home that day, and pack out these animals first. After stacking and making some stone pillars near my 2nd antelope, so that I could see where I had dropped it from a distance, I walked back to my 1st antelope and tagged it. I then grabbed my licenses and walked back to the 2nd antelope and tagged it. I then walked back to the 1st antelope (where I had left my backpack) and quartered it. The same voice that had told me that I could lie in bed that morning piped up again. It told me, “All right, you best be careful when you’re cutting, because there’s no one around to cart your crazy knife-wielding ass to the Emergency Room if you slice yourself open.” How true – how very true. I was extra careful, and, the only time I cut myself was not with a knife, but with my saw, when I was cutting off the bottom of the legs (like the shin area) – as there is no meat there, and I had enough to pack out as it was. It happened as I made a cut, pushing away from me, with the coarse-side of the saw. It bounced out of the groove in the bone and glanced off the base of my thumb. Nothing requiring stitches, though. I put the quarters in a bag, and then walked to the 2nd antelope and quartered it. By that time I was competing with the flies and occasional wasp. I did manage, however, to cut one of the flies in half as it landed near me. I am Leif the Viking, notorious Flying Insect Killer.

I now had a choice…. Either pack one back to the truck, walk back, and pack out the other one, or, try to pack out both at the same time. What aided in my decision was an article I had read about a hunter who was hunting coastal black tail deer in Alaska. He had shot one, gutted it, and, instead of packing the meat out, he left it to go hunt another one. When he returned, he spooked a bear in the high grass that was feasting on his deer, and the bear killed him. I decided I didn’t want to come walking back to my antelope and spook a bear that had come down from the hills above, so, I packed all the quarters and backstraps in my bag. I then walked back to my other antelope and I had enough room to pack 3 of the 4 quarters. The last quarter I strapped to the outside (back) of the backpack.

I then tried to lift the bag. It wouldn’t budge. I begged and pleaded. If I had thought crying would work, I might have shed a tear or two. It works on me when women do it, so, why shouldn’t that work on a lifeless backpack? No such luck. So, I stood the bag upright on the ground, sat down in front of it, put the shoulder straps on, fastened the chest strap, and rolled it onto my back as I got on my hands and knees. I then fastened the hip straps. Then, using my rifle (it was unloaded) as a prop, putting the recoil pad on the ground and grabbing the barrel, I pulled myself up. “Baby steps, baby steps,” I told myself, as I put one foot in front of the other. Managing the weight of the backpack, plus my rifle, with the sun bearing down on me, going up the ridge, down the hill, up the hill, down the hill, cross the stream…

As I crossed the stream, warily balancing myself on the rocks and tree-limbs, I encountered the extremely-steep embankment on the opposite side. I cleared the water, and with one heave and reaching my arm to grab sagebrush to pull myself up, I heard a clear, crisp, “SNAP!”

Using my other hand, I quickly grabbed the shoulder strap, got up the embankment, and dropped the backpack to the ground. One of the plastic snaps at the bottom had broken from the weight and my exertion. I mustered up my best gay-cowboy voice and spoke the line mentioned at the beginning of this tale. Well, maybe it was something like that, but, perhaps with more four-letter words. My meat-filled backpack again didn’t respond. I even threatened it with a good dry-humping, but it still didn’t fix the problem. Wet-humping? No dice. So, I set about trying to fix the shoulder strap. I was able to wind and twist and pull the strap through another buckle-joiner (whatever those things are called) and, yet again, had to go about getting that thing on my back in the same fashion as before. Sitting down, shoulder straps, chest strap, hands and knees, hip strap, prop myself up via my 7mm RUM… Up the hill - baby steps, baby steps…

Finally, with the truck in sight, I headed directly towards it. An antelope buck watched me the entire way across the last open field, standing about 400 yards from where I was at. I think that, given how I was walking, like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame, it couldn’t quite figure out what kind of animal I was – a lame cow? A gimpy elk? Some other creature it hadn’t seen before?

But, I eventually made it back to the truck and unloaded all my gear. I took a picture of all the bags of meat on the tailgate before I loaded it all into the cooler. After it was all said and done, all of the meat packed on ice, tarp strapped down, and I was heading home, I called to let people know where I was and that I was a successful hunter. Maybe I was bragging a little, but I certainly don’t feel bad about that. Next year, though, I might just be satisfied with two antelope.

Okay – who am I kidding – I’ll be trying to get 4 licenses again.

2 Guys, 2 Cups, 1 Antelope

http://s911.photobucket.com/albums/ac312/lkhanson/Kaoru%20Antelope%202009/?albumview=slideshow

For Kaoru’s 2009 Antelope hunt, and my initial Wyoming West-Laramie (Unit 45) antelope hunt, we left Friday afternoon (September 4th) to head up to Craig, CO. We both wanted to sight in our rifles – I was bringing my 7mm Remington Ultra-Mag, and Kaoru was bringing his 300 Winchester Magnum. I hadn’t shot my rifle since I picked it up in Wyoming with my new Huskemaw Optics Scope. Kaoru hadn’t shot his since the previous year’s elk hunt.

We decided to stop at the open-to-public range near Hot Sulfer Springs, just east of Kremmling, taking the route over Berthoud Pass. We saw the aspen changing, and, we saw a couple of herds of bighorn sheep. That’s always cool. But what wasn’t cool was the crowd at the public range. There were no open spaces – being that Saturday was the 1st weekend in the muzzle-loading season. It seemed that everyone was sighting-in at the last minute. Of course, I would never be accused of that…

So, we decided to detour to an area close to where we shot our elk last year – in unit 211. There’s an area there called Duffy Mountain that offers plenty of opportunity to pick out a rock and shoot at it. The rocks are such that they absorb the bullets – more like sandstone than granite, so we didn’t have to worry about the bullets ricochet. We arrived at 5:30 and had about an hour of sight-in time. Perfect.

We used duct-tape to secure a target on a rock and drove back about 200 yards. Kaoru nailed the target, fighting a 5-10 mph crosswind, about where he expected. Then, from that sight-in rock, I picked out a rock on a cliff-face, 350 yards away, that was about 1 minute of angle wide – or 3-4 inches. I had Kaoru both locate the rock in his binoculars, and, let me know the wind reading on my Caldwell wind wizard. The sun was shining on it perfectly. I loaded a 180-grain Berger bullet, took a prone position, held for about a 5 mph crosswind, and squeezed the trigger. A puff of dust indicated a direct hit. I then invited Kaoru to do the same. I gave him the wind readings (between 2 and 7 mph – I had him hold just inside the 1 MOA windage mark) and he squeezed the trigger. The rock was absolutely destroyed. The sun no longer had something to shine on!

We then taped a couple of cups to the rock that we had originally taped the target. 1 was a small white Styrofoam cup, the other a McDonalds large coffee cup. We then drove back 600 yards and took position. Again, I had to hold for about a 5 mph crosswind, which, at that distance, was approximately 2 MOA (Minutes of Angle). In prone position, I attached my bipod, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The small white cup disappeared. I then called Kaoru over to do the same – and he initially said ‘no, that’s okay.’ I highly encouraged him to do it, and, he agreed to give it a shot, as it were. I adjusted the scope, and he squeezed off a round. Right over the top! I checked the range again, and, adjusted the scope accordingly. He then squeezed off another round. Sweet! He nailed the cup – we could see it dangling off the rock (only through the binoculars – we couldn’t see it otherwise). After driving up to the rock, we saw that he nailed the cup right in the middle, where the tape was holding it to the rock.

Kaoru couldn’t believe it. Even though he held the cup in his hand, he couldn’t believe it. But, there it was – a large McDonalds coffee cup with a bullet hole in the middle. I told him he ought to keep the cup as a souvenir.

After cleaning up all the trash (little pieces of Styrofoam cup, pieces of the target, etc.) we headed back into town, and, I found out why Kaoru didn’t want to shoot my rifle. He said that if he made the shot, then, he knew he would have to get a Huskemaw scope. But, being that they’re kinda pricey, and his wife is in school, he wouldn’t be able to get one right away. This, of course, was unacceptable to him. But, I told him that as long as we’re hunting together, he could always use mine if he wanted. The next day, I found out he wanted…

We checked into the hotel, went to JW Snacks for the best ribs in Craig, went through our hunting gear, and got some sleep. The next morning we drove to the Blue Gravel Ranch, for their Ranching for Wildlife program. Check-in time was 7:00 AM. With an amiable smile, the guy checked us in. At the same time, another hunter and his father were checking in for the same ranch. We exchanged pleasantries and wished each other success.

After circling the check-in place, I went back in and asked for directions to the ranch – my memory had said that it was just west of where we checked in. However, I found out we had to go down the highway a bit. So, then we were off to go find the antelope. At 7:10 (after the 6 miles down the highway to the entrance to the ranch) we saw the same guys we saw at check in. They had spotted some antelope that ran off to a hillside about a mile away. He said his son was going to go make a stalk, and, that “the antelope will probably run back this way after he shoots, so, you can just wait here for them.” Yeah, buddy, that’s not how we roll. We don’t sit and wait for something to saunter by. If we don’t see them, we’re going after them. Very rarely will you see Kaoru and I just sitting and waiting for the animals. Yes, we have sat and watched a field at sunrise or sunset, waiting for the animals to come feed, or make their way back to the bedding place… but we’re not going to sit around and wait for someone else to go shoot at a herd and wait to see if the herd comes our way.

As we rolled away from there, about a mile further down the road, we spotted a herd of prairie goats. I offered my rifle, and Kaoru didn’t say no. We left the truck, made a stalk to within 500 yards, and I attempted to range the animals. Damn… my range finder works well when reflecting off of rock faces. But, off the side of antelope, I just couldn’t get a clear signal. I was able to range a post near to where they were, but, I didn’t want to take any chances with not being able to dial in the right distance. So, we stalked to within 350 yards and set up for a shot. Kaoru picked out a nice doe antelope, I ranged it at 328, we dialed in the scope, he aimed high shoulder, and squeezed off a round. It dropped immediately to the ground. It was 7:25 AM.

Kaoru walked down to find the antelope in the tall grass – it was near where Mike Finch had shot his antelope the year before. I drove the truck closer, grabbed my gear, and walked down to join Kaoru. We quartered the antelope, placing each quarter in a plastic trash bag, cut the area below the knee off, and packed out the meat. I attempted to take some pictures, but, the batteries were dead. Oh well – at least we had pictures of the cups. All the meat was in the cooler, and we were on the road again, by 8:30. Time to head to Wyoming to get two antelope for me!

A beautiful drive through Medicine Bow National Forest, on our way to Centennial and Unit 45 was our destination. This unit is west of Laramie, however, it does not contain a lot of public land. Each tract of BLM land that we went to had already been picked over by antelope hunters that morning. There were 0 prairie goats on public land. Our intention was to spend the night in Centennial, but, given the lack of public land and lack of antelope on said land, we decided to bag it for the day and drive home. I am going back to that area in a few weeks time for two antelope north of Laramie, and, I will try my luck again in west Laramie.

It was a dark and stormy night...

(Photo by Jonathan Way)

August 18th, 2009. It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the greenbelts (for it is in Highlands Ranch that our scene lies), rattling along the trees, and fiercely agitating the dog walker that struggled against the darkness.

And lo, upon coming to the intersection of the path on the greenbelt and Highlands Ranch Parkway, the lone dog walker of two canines came upon a pack of coyotes on the prowl. The wild four-legged beasts were undetermined in number at that point, but as a separate pack of coyotes opened up with their wailing further up the greenbelt where the dog walker had just passed, the song dogs near him opened up with their ghastly howl.

Sage, the smaller, but bolder, white Husky mix dearly would have loved to get closer to the pack (which was 50 feet away at this point), and as they decreased their howls, the walker could hear them growling and 'talking' amongst themselves, as Ilse, the larger, but more intimidated White Shepherd, pulled at the leash in the opposite direction, wanting to vacate the scene as soon as she possibly could, only stopping to stand and growl at the dark shapes in the grass.

Time seemed to stand still, as the pack sized up the walker and the two dogs (for it seemed to the walker like a staring contest with a blind man) and eventually he was able to get his Husky moving towards the Parkway and away from the dark menace. Upon crossing Highlands Ranch Parkway, behind him he could hear the yelps of the pack, and, going only a quarter-mile from the intersection (where the stoplights were alternately blinking red and yellow, indicating that it was after midnight), the walker saw four dark shapes running along side him, between 50 and 75 feet from the winding twisting path.

One of the coyotes stopped where Sage had his leash fully extended out into the field, and the walker imagined that the song-dog was calculating whether it could lure Sage away from the walker to go and play, and, become the evening meal for the pack. The walker was able to get Sage moving again towards home, and after trailing for a bit, the pack of coyotes ran off, only to be heard again as the walker entered his house. The dogs stopped and gazed towards the open space across the street from his house, but, a quick tug at the leash and an open door where a dog biscuit was waiting for them was enough to get the dogs in the door, shutting out the night.

New Huskemaw Optics

See more pictures by clicking this link

I finally traveled north to get my new Huskemaw Optics scope. For those who are not in the ‘know’ – a Huskemaw Optics scope is a scope that is built to your specific rifle, for 1 specific load (bullet, brass, primer, powder). It’s main feature is a drop-compensating turret, that you can dial in to just about any range between 200 and 1000+ yards. It also has built-in windage marks for 10 – 30 mph cross wind (depending on target distance). See more about the Huskemaw scope by clicking this link

Thursday morning, June 12th, I left around 10:00 AM to Worland, Wyoming. It was a great drive, especially going through the Wind River Indian Reservation and Boysen state park just south of Thermopolis. It’s gorgeous country through there, especially the Rainbow Terraces. I arrived in Worland about 6:00 PM and checked into the hotel. I then realized I forgot my digital camera so went and purchased an additional one – always good to have a backup!

Friday morning, June 13th, I checked out at 6:00 AM to drive the hour it takes to get to Burlington, Wyoming, home of the Long Range Store. The place where they build their rifles is in a converted green metal warehouse with three garage doors. There are no signs, no advertising out front. My only description to go on was “look for the building across the street from the post office with 3 garage doors.” Being that it wasn’t a very big town, I only passed it once, and confirmed that I had left the town of Burlington after that last building.

I knocked on the door. Ernie (didn’t catch his last name) greeted me at the door. It was 7:00 AM and he was the only one in the shop. He indicated that the rest of the crew would be along shortly.

After finding my rifle amongst all the other rifles they had (I was the only one who had an aluminum case) he gave me a quick tour of the scope itself, how to make the adjustments, etc. Then Mike Davidson showed up, and shortly followed by Jeremy Winters and Aaron Davidson. We talked about hunting, what tags we had applied for in the 2009 fall season, the show itself, and other general stuff. Mike and I then headed off to the ‘range’ where I would start shooting my rifle. We headed south of Burlington to some private ranch property where they had permission to shoot, and I hopped in Mike’s Suburban to ride the rest of the way down there.

It seemed like my 7mm Remington Ultra Mag took to that Huskemaw scope and load like a fish takes to water. Mike asked me how far I’d like to shoot for my 1st shot. I said a conservative “500 yards.” He then picked out a rock with the spotting scope that had kind of a black mark about 4 inches wide on the face, in a range of hills at 525 yards away. We then agreed on the distance (I used my range finder as well for comparison). We checked the wind – there was none to be had. So, I held right on and did a dry-fire. I didn’t tell him that this was my very first time ever firing the rifle! The dry-fire went well, so I loaded one of the custom bullets, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit low and to the left. He said to give him another one – so I did. The bullet impact was less than a few inches from my original impact. So, we adjusted the scope a couple of clicks up and to the right, and squeezed off a round. I took a piece of the ‘black’ off – it turned white. I was right on target.

The second rock we selected was at about 675 yards. The wind/mirage was indicating about 3 miles per hour, so I held about one minute of angle to the left, with the windage marks in the reticle, and squeezed. A puff of dust indicated a direct hit.

One Minute of Angle is approximately 1 inch at 100 yards, or 2 inches at 200 yards, etc. An accurate rifle is a rifle that shoots “sub-MOA” or, will shoot less than 1-inch groups at 100 yards. So, at 1000 yards, you have a good rifle if you can get 3 bullets in a 10-inch circle. Each windage mark is one minute of angle, and the reticle tells you where to hold based on a 10-mph wind, when the scope is at 20-power. For example, a 10 mile-per-hour wind at 300 yards might tell you to hold at 1 minute of angle, or 3 inches, opposite the direction of the wind flow. However, at 900 yards, it might tell you to hold 3 minutes of angle for a 10 mile-per-hour wind, or 30 inches. If it’s a 20 mph wind, you can reduce the scope’s power to 10, and hold at the 3rd minute of angle mark, because now each windage mark indicates 2 minutes of angle, and the hold would be 60 inches, or 5 feet, opposite the wind direction.

The 3rd target was at 957 yards. My range finder couldn’t pick up the distance, but his did. I looked through his spotting scope and saw the rock I thought he had indicated, and dialed the distance on my drop-compensating turret. The wind/mirage was negligible, then shifting again to probably about 3 mph. He said to hold a little more than a half-minute for the wind, and also because of the rotation of the earth, at 1000 yards, the bullet is affected by about 1 inch (the spiral of the bullet with the effect of the earth’s rotation during the distance it takes to travel that distance – at least, that’s how I understood it – if we were shooting in Australia it would be about 1 inch in the other direction). So, I took aim and squeezed the trigger. It hit low. He said to try it again. The bullet hit in the same place. We then discussed which rocks we were talking about – He was indicating a rock that was about 2 feet across. I was aiming at a different rock about a half-minute wide (which was about 4-6 inches wide at that distance). He said to dial my scope in to 960, as it was farther away than the rock he had picked out. Now that we were on the same rock, I again held just inside the 1st windage mark, and squeezed off a round. You could distinctly hear the ‘crack’ of the bullet impacting the rock after about second or two.

I smiled. Mike gave me a high-five. He said it was so nice to have someone out there who could actually shoot well. He said he gets a lot of people out there who think that just because they have a fancy new scope on their rifle that they can now shoot well. However, if you’re a bad shot, a greater distance just compounds poor shooting.

I then agreed to help them shoot a stack of rifles that they had – all were 7mm or 6.5x284 rifles. Some were left-handed shooters, some were right. These were all of their $4500 and $6000 rifles that they were asking me to help them ‘break in’ (there are may different methods of breaking in barrels – the link is just one method). How could I pass up that opportunity? So we set up a sticker board 100 yards away with 100 1-inch orange dots. I would shoot the rifles – 5 rounds through each, then hand them back to Mike as he cleaned, and I shot another rifle 5 times. We kept them rotating – Mike was scrubbing the barrels with KG-12 cleaner and a nylon brush, then passing a patch through at the end of a tipped Jag. These jags are apparently better than the old loop you put a patch through. The Jags provide a more even pass through the barrel to remove copper fouling, powder, etc. He would pass the nylon brush through what seemed to be 100 times to remove all the copper fouling from the barrel (20 passes per bullet). This process is called barrel break-in, and if not done properly on new barrels, performance will be affected until enough rounds have gone through it, and enough times cleaning it, so that the barrel gets into a ‘sweet spot’ and can always be consistent. I guess when you’re paying $4000+ for a rifle, you want it to be properly broken in and ready to go when you receive it. They were also using a Bore Guide – which is a device you put into the rifle when you take the bolt out. This ensures that you don’t get a bunch of grit and oil in the action when you pass the nylon barrel brush up and down the barrel to remove the fouling. Needless to say, when I got home, I ordered some Tipton 7mm Caliber Rifle Nylon Bristle Bore Brushes and some Tipton Individual Ultra Jags, and a Hoppes Universal Bore Guide w/Three Interchangeable Tips For Bolt Action rifles. The bore brushes I already had were metal, and, with the cleaning agent, it would show fouling on the white patch even if the barrel was clean. Nylon will take care of that.

Ernie came out to join us, and he was doing the same process with a stack of rifles as well. After probably 50-75 rounds, my shoulder was saying it was time to go. Plus, I had to make my way to Rapid City for dinner with my Uncle Andy and Aunt Marcia, and the drive was about 6 hours from Burlington. Ernie asked if I had 5 rounds left in me. I said sure – I didn’t want to seem like a wimp, but there might have been a little hesitation in my voice…. So he hands me a 6.5x284 and a box of nice Berger bullets. You see, when we were breaking in the ‘stacks’ of rifles, we weren’t using the Berger bullets, we were using a cheaper bullet and all the rounds were reloads. So, I took aim, and the 1st three bullet holes were stacked one on top of the other. Mike said I was just showing off. I made an adjustment to the scope, put the other two just to the left of the first 3, and called it good.

We then went back to my vehicle as Mike explained how they liked to shoot their .50 BMG at long distances, and how he really disliked it when clients sent in the big 338 Magnums and Ultra-Magnums. He thought they should charge more due to the physical abuse they take from those rifles.

As we arrived back at the shop, Mike was telling Aaron about my ability to shoot, and about the targets and everything. He then told him about how I helped break in the guns. All the guys in the shop laughed. Apparently they’re always happy to have someone volunteer to take the pounding instead of them! I bought a few more boxes of ammo, and ordered a Caldwell Wind Wizard (electronic wind measuring device), and bade the guys at The Best of the West goodbye, thanking them for having me up and allowing me to shoot at their range, and for the marvelous work they did getting the scope on my rifle. It was great to have personal 1-on-1 coaching from Mike, and I’m now ready for some long-distance hunting.

Here are the specs on the bullets:

Bullet: Berger 180 Grain VLD
Powder: Hodgdon Retumbo 91 Grains
Primer: CCI 250
C.O.A.L 3.665” (Combined Over All Length)
Velocity 3145

The shooting conditions when they sighted in my rifle:
Sight in range: 100 yards
Far target range: 695 yards
Far target drop: 33 clicks
Altitude: 4400 feet
Temp: 70 degrees

My scope markings are set for 30 Fahrenheit at 7000 feet. For every 1000 feet in elevation difference, it will affect it by 1 click at 1000 yards. For every 20 degrees difference, it will affect it also by 1 click at 1000 yards. The best I should do is, if I can, take a practice shot when hunting and adjust from there, so that I know I will be on when I shoot my animal. Additionally, because of the length of the bullets, I checked to make sure I could load them in my magazine and feed them into the barrel. Thankfully, I could. It would be most unkind to turn my rifle into a single-shot. But then again, maybe I already did.

2nd Season Doe Deer Hunt 2008, or, Turning in Circles ‘til you See the Deer

Doe Deer Hunt - Contrary to chatter in coffee shops, shooting a doe doesn’t make you less of a hunter, Kreil said. Instead, it demonstrates that you are an informed and conscientious hunter who understands that hunting is about wildlife management and not just about trophies.

The plan was to arrive at our hunting unit Thursday evening and bag two deer, and have a leisurely drive home Friday morning. It didn’t, however, quite go as planned.

Thursday morning, at about 1:00 AM, Mike Finch left his home in Evergreen, CO, to drive up to Craig for the morning hunt. He arrived early and caught some Z’s until sun up. After seeing virtually nothing, he went through some parcels of public hunting lands trying to find the doe. However, going was difficult. Last winter, we heard reports that there was a 50 – 70% Winter Kill on the deer population in our hunting unit. This was evidenced by the clear lack of deer where we typically hunt. We’ve had it in years past where we were practically tripping over them. Not so this year.

Mike continued to be on the lookout, scouting various areas, and sure enough, I got a call on my cell phone at about 11:00 stating that he had a doe down with his 7mm Mag. When Kaoru and I heard the message, we looked forward in anticipation to the evening hunt. We drove from Denver and arrived in Craig at about 5:00. We picked Mike up from the Hotel parking lot in Craig and drove to our hunting unit near Maybell. But the signs were not good. Typically, unfortunately, we can judge the amount of deer in an area by the amount of road kill we come across. On the way to our unit, we saw none. And sure enough, on the evening hunt, neither of us saw any deer in an area where we normally see plenty. But we weren’t discouraged – we were hopeful for the next morning.

Friday morning, after spending the night in a snug motel room (3 of us crammed with all our gear into a room barely large enough to fit a queen-sized bed, and just enough room at the base to fit a cot), we drove again to our hunting area. Kaoru and I part ways and we go to designated points – he’s taking the high ground on a hillside, I am further east overlooking some coolies to the east and west, and a large expanse of sagebrush and junipers to the north. It’s the same area that I got my doe 2nd season last year. Mike stays in his truck, heater on, and keeps us updated on a herd of deer that might cross the highway and come towards our position.

Around 9:30, after waiting what seemed an eternity (we’d been out since 7:00) and not seeing anything, I have to pee. I select a large juniper which I judge needed watering, and, as I’m going, I’m looking around with my binoculars. Sure enough, I see a herd of deer (just the heads, actually), crossing in a gully about 300 yards away. Being that I’m otherwise occupied at the moment, I hurry as fast as I can, scrambling to finish and get everything put away, get my backpack on, and radio that I’m going to intercept the herd. I see the direction they’re going and see a hill in the distance that I can probably sneak up and pop up over the top.

I sneak up over the ridge of the hill and spot the herd. I drop to my knees and pick out the only antlerless deer on which I have a shot (the others were all standing with one in front, one behind, etc.). One squeeze of the trigger from my 30.06, from 150 yards, and it drops. The rest of the herd run a short distance. I radio Kaoru and tell him to hurry over so that he can get one as well. However, by the time he gets to my position, they are 800 yards away and still going.

After quartering the deer, Mike and Kaoru help me pack it back to the truck. We put it in the cooler and drive into Maybell for some ice. We then head off to where Mike got his deer the day before to see whether we can find more. No such luck. At this point (about 11:30), Mike bids us farewell, and heads back to Evergreen. Kaoru and I drive to our old camp site (near the base of what we call “the fingers”) and we sight in Kaoru’s .22. He had remounted the scope previously and wanted to make sure it was sighted in for the late-season Hasenpfeffer hunt.

Now, about 1:00, Kaoru, still suffering from Jet Lag (having just arrived from Japan a few day previous), wanted a siesta. He crashed in the truck while I scanned the valley for deer. At about 2:00, I spot the outline of a deer, at about 550 yards away. All I see are the head and neck, in the shade of a juniper tree, and I’m unsure whether I am looking at a sagebrush, log, or a profile. Sure enough, after 5 minutes, it moves. I tell Kaoru to look through his binoculars and find the spot. We then come up with a plan to make a stalk. We are going to walk along the fence line, then cut a diagonal path towards the last known spot where the deer were seen.

We get all our gear on, and take off, quickly, but not noisily. We arrive at the spot where the deer were last seen. They’re not there, but after we go over a small ridge, we spot them again. They are flitting amongst the junipers, and Kaoru cannot get a clear shot. Again, they go over the next ridge, so we follow after (we give them time to settle down and scan for any additional deer in the area). After we go over the next ridge, they are gone, nowhere to be seen. So, our plan is to go over the next ridge, then if we don’t see them, we will climb up a nearby hill. Sure enough, no deer, so we walk up the backside of the hill and take a look. There are 4 deer, downhill, less than 200 feet away from us…

But we don’t see them! They are behind a clump of junipers, and perfectly camouflaged. After scanning for a few minutes, Kaoru decides to take off his jacket. It’s 65 degrees out, and he’s getting pretty warm from all the stalking. At the sound of the zipper, the deer start running out from behind the juniper. Kaoru scrambles to get his rifle, get in a kneeling position, and wait for the deer to come into view. At 150 yards away, all the deer stop and turn to look at us. But, they are all lined up one behind the other. No shot is possible. Then, one steps forward – here’s Kaoru’s opportunity!

But, he squeezed off a round on the out-breath, and the shot went low. Then the deer scrambled and disappeared. We gave chase, but, with as thick as the juniper trees were, we did not spot them again. So, we head back to the truck and devise another game plan. We go to some different areas and hunt, but see nothing. We stop and talk with some other hunters. They had been hunting for 7 days straight before they got their deer – and they were doe hunting as well!

That evening, just before sundown, we go to an area where there is a petroleum pipeline and a dry river bed where we’ve seen deer before. As I drive, just before I enter the river bed, I spot a doe on the side of the hill. I stop the truck and grab my binoculars, and the deer has disappeared. I point the general direction where we saw the deer, and we drive down into the river channel and head that direction. Sure enough, we come across the deer. Kaoru hops out of the truck and gives chase. Typically, when the deer are spooked, they run about 20 yards, turn around, and look at what spooked them. It’s a perfect opportunity for hunters, as they turn broadside to look at you, and you can then take your shot. But, this doe was smart, and it kept running. We saw nothing else until sundown.

The next morning we go back to the same spot we were the previous morning. Kaoru goes to the spot where I shot my deer, and I go to the juniper where I had initially seen the deer. When we arrive, we spot some deer walking down a ditch, a quarter of a mile away, towards the highway, where they were sure to cross. I run the quarter mile diagonal to try to intercept them, so that they turn and head back in the direction towards Kaoru. But, I was too slow. Kaoru was watching in the binoculars, and said that if I had arrived about 10 seconds previous, I would have intercepted them. So, I then hurry back up the slope towards the juniper, and Kaoru heads off in the direction of where I was the previous day.

Again, we waited about 2 hours. I have a Garmin Rino 530 GPS, and Kaoru and I had talked the previous day about resetting the compass. To do that, you go to the compass menu and select Calibrate Compass. Then you turn in a circle twice, slowly, while the satellite signal resets your compass to your position. Being that the only deer I had seen since the initial three were two that had come up a draw between Kaoru and I, and they were too far for Kaoru to intercept, I was figuring that I could take some time to play around. I walked up the slope from the juniper, and, facing towards it, I selected Calibrate Compass and turned slowly in a circle. Once. By the time I got back around to face the juniper again, I saw two deer walking beyond it, by about 75 yards. So much for calibrating my compass!

I could see that Kaoru, too, could see the deer. They were walking towards him, and as he reached the crest of the hill, they disappeared from his sight (because of the geographic features of the land). However, they emerged, and as I was watching both him and the deer, I saw a doe jump, then heard the shot, and the deer went down. Of course, the speed of light is faster than the speed of sound, so I saw the deer get hit before I heard the shot.

I walk the quarter-mile to Kaoru’s position, and he’s happy to have gotten a deer, and that it’s his 1st animal for his new rifle (300 Win Mag). I help him quarter the animal and we pack it out, put it in the cooler, and, with both tags now filled, we head back to Denver.

I spent Saturday evening and Sunday processing my deer. The meat is currently all ground up, with Cajun Jerky seasoning and cure mixed in, sitting in my refrigerator. I will be using Kaoru’s dehydrator to make jerky. I have 18 pounds of meat, so, I will probably end up with 3-4 pounds of jerky. Should be a good batch.