12 YEARS TRYING FOR A BULL ELK TAG

            12 YEARS TRYING FOR A BULL ELK TAG - LUCKY 13_

Utah issues a limited number of mature bull elk tags for specific areas in the state that are inhabited by big old bull elk.  I have been trying for a tag for 12 years.  On my 13th try I got lucky and drew one in the Utah big game lottery of 2013.  The tag I drew allowed me to hunt in the Bookcliffs area in the northeastern part of the state.  My hunt was late though, starting November 9th.  It was after the rut and the animals in the area had already been hunted since August by archers, muzzle loaders, and early rifle hunters.  I was after some rather skittish old bull elk.  I have hunted bears and cow elk in the area before and liked the high desert conditions mixed with quaking aspen and some pinion and juniper forest.   My son, Dax, was going to take some time off work and hunt with me.  He really likes the area and has hunted bears, cow elk, and deer in the area.  I am so glad he could go with me.  I am getting older and younger eyes and legs are such a help.  Besides I just love to hunt or camp with my sons.

I got notice of my tag via the internet and preceded to go nuts for a few days. I was so excited.  I was thinking constantly about the hunt to come.  I was deciding where exactly to hunt, what rifle would be best, and what gear would be required.  I know in November it can get pretty cold and snowy in the northeastern mountains at around 8,000+ feet elevation and I am a desert guy.  I need to take enough warm clothes.  I also needed to arrange for a 4-wheeler to move me from spot to spot in the hunt.  My best friend told me I could borrow his so things were starting to come together.  Last thing I would think about at night and first thing in the morning was the up coming elk hunt for months prior to the hunt.

GEAR WISE:  I decided to take my .300 Remington Ultra Magnum rifle as my son told me there could be some long distance shooting involved.  The elk were spooky and shots may be across canyons sometimes.  I started to practice shooting here in Santa Clara between 100 to 450 yards.  Ammunition used was handloaded Barnes 180 gr. Triple Shock bullets powered by 96 grains of Hodgdon Retumbo powder generating a muzzle velocity of 3,330 feet per second.  Practicing I got to where I could hit a 6" bullseye prone off my bipod pretty regularly at 450 yards.  I though "no problem" on an elk, who's vitals are lots bigger than 6" in diameter.  {I didn't know my shooting would be stretched in the end.}  I also have the philosophy to take a back-up rifle if I hunt over 100 miles from home.  I sighted in my trusty .30-06 with 165 gr. Hornady GMX bullets for back-up.  My Leupold lazer range finder and spotting scope both came in handy on this hunt.  I took 3 large coats, 3 hats, and 2 sets of thermal underwear.  Two pair of water proof boots and lots of dry socks were packed.  It seemed as if I were moving out and taking all my hunting stuff.  I was taking my mobile motel, the good old Alpine camper towed on the trailer hitch and the borrowed 4-wheeler in the bed of my truck.

DAILY DETAILS:
Wednesday 11-6-2013 I arrived in Roosevelt and visited with my son, his wife, and children.  I was fed well and then wrestled and read books with the kids.  I spent an anxious night and was ready to head on to the adventure.  We were enjoying sunshine and mild for season temperatures.  I was hoping the temperate weather were going to continue for two weeks.

Thursday 11-7-2013 we journeyed out to the Bookcliffs area.  We made camp, off loaded the 4-wheelers, and then drove around to some likely spots looking for big bulls.  We went down a ridge above a  east-west drainage and spotted 4 raghorn bulls feeding in a meadow.  We watched them from the truck at 800+ yards with the spotting scope and didn't want to disturb them.  I was so excited to know there were bull elk in the area!  Thursday night we had dinner at camp of cheese and crackers.  That is all I could think about eating as I was so excited.

Friday 11-8-2013 we were up and out early, 6:15 a.m. to scout.  We drove then hiked down another ridge above a drainage to the south and we got a good look at several big bulls feeding just as the sun came over the mountain.  One bull seemed to interest my son lots.  He had bladed number 4 antlers, maybe 3" wide all the way up to the ends.  He was not exceptionally large score wise but his antlers were indeed unique.  I was just jazzed as I could be to know we had a tag and were in an area where there were some bulls worth going after.  We also saw several groups of wild turkeys and a smattering of deer in our travels.  We ran into some bear houndsmen and they were not having any luck finding bears to chase.  I was glad the bear chasers were coming up empty as the elk would not be stirred up so much with dogs running and barking all over the mountain.  We scouted all morning and then wandered back to camp for lunch.  After turkey sandwiches and chips my son had to leave for home.  He had some work to be done.  I took a brief nap for an hour.  I awoke and test fired my .300 RUM at 115 yards and made sure the scope was right on, I had come 400+ miles from Santa Clara with the last 30 miles on dirt roads after all.  The rifle shot fine.  It is actually lots more accurate than I am capable of shooting.  I took the 4-wheeler to the north of camp and looked for game.  I covered a few miles and hiked around just seeing 2 dozen deer and 1 coyote.  I went back to camp around 6:30 p.m. in the dark, on frozen cold roads.  Dinner was ramen noodles, hard rolls, sharp cheese, tomatoes, and turkey lunch meat.  I fired up the heater and was rather comfortable in camp.  Dax came back to camp late in the evening having eaten and showered at home.  I nestled down in my double sleeping bag and had visions of big bulls dancing in my head as I went to sleep.

Saturday 11-9-2013 up at 6 a.m. still dark outside.  We have a quick meal and take off in the truck to a southern situated drainage.  {A quick meal is a cheese danish while driving to the ridge over the drainage before a hike in the dark.}  We park the truck and hike very quickly and very quietly to the ridge crest overlooking the meadow where the bladed bull was yesterday.  By now Dax is calling him "Blades of Glory" and I just go along with it.  We sneak along the ridgeline in the juniper trees north and east of the meadow.  We are at about 250 feet higher elevation than the meadow.  The meadow is +/- 400 yards away.  Dax sees the bulls feeding first and signals me to look and be more than quiet.  I kind of hold my breath and try not to move.  The sun is behind us and now just on the horizon to break dawn.  Blades of Glory is there with maybe 10 amigos.  They all look great to me.  I crawl to a small clear spot in the trees and put down my bipod legs and turn up my rifle scope to 20X.  Dax sights with the lazer and says 388 yards.  It is a do-able shot.   I am looking through the scope and checking out all the bulls.  Dax has a spotting scope on a tripod and at 75X is also checking out all the bulls in the meadow.

Dax cautions me Blades of Glory will not score real high, about 310" we guess, but is super interesting.  I watch through my scope and can't decide whether to shoot or not.  It is opening morning and the 9 day season has just been going for 30 minutes or so.  Do I want it all to be over?  Maybe we can find a bigger bull that is more traditional?  Can I really make the shot?  Lots of questions are running through my mind and we converse about pros and cons for what seems like an hour.  Dax keeps saying "It's your call."  He is so good to me.  Actually our deliberations are for about 15 minutes and the wind shifts some, the bulls smell us.  Their noses go up and into the wind -- POOF -- they are gone into the trees.  {I guess I won't shoot.}  Dax has a Masters Degree in wildlife biology he really knows his stuff.  I am so lucky to have a son that likes to hunt more than me and is smarter about it than me.  He doesn't let on but I think he's disappointed I didn't shoot.

We hike back to the truck and drive to another drainage further south and east from camp.  We park the truck way back in the trees and walk silently toward a big open meadow we had found by way of Google Earth.  We see 15 - 16 bull elk grazing in the open space.  We don't see any big ones but there are several we can't get a good look at.  As we watch something spooks one or two elk on the west side of the meadow and the rest follow them into the trees to hide.  I can't believe it, it's 11:00 a.m. and I have seen 24 or more bulls in my hunting area.  This is great.  We head back to camp for lunch and a nap.  We get out again around 2:30 p.m. and go to some of the same places we have already been and to some new ones nearby.  We see deer and wild turkeys but the elk seem to be all sleeping in the trees and out of sight.

Sunday 11-10-2013 up at 6:00 a.m. I am resolved to shoot Blades of Glory today if we can see him.  We travel to near the meadow where he was last seen, park then hike to the lookout point we were at yesterday morning but alas, no elk at all in the meadow.  We travel again to the area where we saw 15 bulls yesterday morning and hike silently to a lookout spot,  NO ELK.  I think they have all gone to elk church?  We head back to camp and Dax grills some double elk cheese burgers for lunch.  Burgers are from the cow elk I shot last year in this same area.  The lunch is great.  A small nap follows then out to look again for elk.  This time we drive 4-wheelers south and hike ending up in a large oval shaped meadow from Google Earth.  I walk quietly to a spot with a 2-way radio in one end of the oval and Dax takes an overlook spot on the other end.  The terrain raises some so we can't see each other.  Dax calls me on the radio at around 5:00 p.m. and says he saw 5 bulls walking toward the trees on the east.  I am excited to maybe see something.  A few deer come out to feed and I take some photos.  The deer are not afraid of me.  They don't know what I am I guess.  They never see humans out this far. 

Dax calls me on the radio at 5:30 p.m. and says there is a big bodied 5X6 bull elk grazing in the meadow 176 yards from him.  I sneak over his way to get a look.  I stay low and all of a sudden there he is.  He is really big.  I drop my bipod legs and sit down for a steady shot.  I put the crosshairs on him and have a tag in my pocket.  I know he is big but I have seen bigger.  It is really hard to let him go.  He doesn't know I am there for several minutes.  It gradually gets too dark to shoot and I stand up to meet with Dax.  We walk back to the 4-wheelers parked in the trees and drive to camp.  It would have been great to shoot that 5X6 bull because I could have gotten the pickup truck to within 10 yards of him.  He was grazing just off a fire road.

Back at camp I am in for cheese and crackers for dinner, Dax has a grilled cheese sandwich.  He has brought a keylime pie for desert, this is a great elk camp for food.  Dax knows how to make things great.  I have had great conversations with my son for 3 days and we have seen some of God's best country.  No interruptions of people or phones it's great to be out camping or hunting or both!  I feel so blessed as I look up at the millions of stars.  I've been given a life much better than I deserve.  Thanks be to God for all I enjoy.

Monday 11-11-2013.  We are up early and out looking for Blades of Glory in his usual spots.  In route to B of G usual spots there are several cow elk, 2 spikes, and raghorn bull elk that see the truck.  They spook and head down the canyon to the bottom and west at a trot.  We see B of G grazing on a hill about 8/10ths of a  mile away.  We stop and look with the spotting scope and the rascal takes off.  I can't believe it, later we hiked it, Blades of Glory was a GPS measured 1,328 yards away and he still took off when he saw the truck or heard the elk trotting down the canyon below.  Crap-o-rama.  We explore around the area on foot looking for elk without results.  We return to camp for lunch at 11:00 a.m.  Ramen noodles with a teaspoon of salsa in the water for new a flavor.  Chips, salsa, and turkey sandwiches for lunch.  I nap until 1:00 p.m. then we take a 4-wheeler trip to  Chipeta canyon area.  We travel due east to circle the Rat Hole canyon area and through Colorado a bit and back to camp.  No elk to be seen.  Arriving at camp we have elk steaks and mashed potatoes for dinner -- excellent food thanks to Dax.  Dax takes off after dinner to find a cellular phone connection spot.  He needs to check in with his wife.  She is such a sweetheart to let him go hunting with me.  I tell him to talk to her for an hour if necessary, don't worry about me.  I sleep with desires to shoot an elk tomorrow.  I am thinking if I can get Blades of Glory or get the 5X6 to stand near the road again I will fill my tag tomorrow.

Tuesday 11-12-2013 up at 5:50 a.m. another quick breakfast, however, this time it is deluxe with a berry danish and even hot chocolate to drink.  We give Blades of Glory a day off to settle down.  We drive the truck with a 4-wheeler in the bed to the big meadow area again.  It takes about 20 minutes in the truck south and east of camp.  We have seen elk in this meadow three times so we are hoping there is a big boy waiting for us.  We park well back in the trees.  I walk down a trail westerly I had found the day before deep in the trees to a center overlook of the oval meadow.  Dax says he is walking down the road another 300 yards and will circle around and meet up with me overlooking the big meadow.  He just wants to check out the east most side of the meadow.  I am only down the trail about 100 yards when Dax comes running up behind me.  He says there are 6 big bulls grazing in the eastern side of the meadow.  I follow him anxiously back to the road.  When we get near the road again he tells me to take off my coat "big red" and use his coat as it is much more quiet.  Big red is warm but nylon and really loud when small tree branches scrape against it.   I comply first the blaze orange vest and then big red is off.  A wool coat replaces it topped with the blaze orange vest and I feel extra stealthy.   We walk down the road 30 yards and I can see with my naked eye the bulls grazing the meadow.  They are a long way off and they don't see us.  We are concealed in the trees and 200 to 350 hundred feet higher in elevation above them.  The trees almost make a tunnel for us to hide in as we walk down the fire road.

Dax sets up his spotting scope and takes a long look at 75X examining all the bulls.  I look with my 10X binoculars.  They all look big to me.  Dax lazers the range and indicates the largest one to me.  We have a bit of a discussion as to whether we can get closer for a shot.  Maybe we could walk down the road 30 yards closer but to get within 150 yards would take 20 minutes we don't have and require someone like me to be more quiet than is possible at my age and physical condition.  Dax asks me if I can make a 552 yard shot.  I say let me see, and I drop the bipod legs and lay down in the fire road.  It takes me a minute to get the bipod level and Dax is running out of patience with me being so slow.  He doesn't say a word to his credit and wisdom.

                     (blue X is shooting spot and red X is where bull was)


I finally get the bipod level for a shot and look through the scope.  We make a small diagram on the ground with pebbles of which elk is the largest.  I place a stone in the middle of some others representing the group and say this one.  He agrees that is the one.  I'm to shoot the middle rock.  I turn my scope to 550 yards for parallax and turn the power to 20X.  I take careful aim and hold appropriately on the elk with the stadia line on the vertical crosshair between 500 and 600 yards.  I ease off the safety and hold my breath.  I pressure the trigger and a loud .300 Ultra Magnum boom wakes up the entire forest.  I  hear within a half second the slap sound of the bullet hitting the elk.  I didn't see the bullet impact due to the recoil of the rifle but knew it hit.  Dax is all excited and says you hit him good.  He had seen bullet impact the chest cavity and the ripple that went through the elk when the bullet hit.  I chamber another round and watch very closely through the 20X scope. I don't want a wounded elk to make it into the trees.  The big bull tries to trot with his mates to the tree line but stops in 30 yards.  He stretches out and lays down like a dog would then topples over.  We are both ecstatic.  I say, lets give him a few minutes to bleed out before we start down there.  The elk was far enough away to not hear the rifle report until after being hit by the bullet.  We all were taken by surprise this November morning, Dax, me, and the elk.  I have shot antelope in Wyoming at 425 yards or so but never any game at 552 yards.  I am so happy about how it all turned out.

               Latitude North 39º42.428'  Longitude West 109º08.708' Elev. 7,218 feet

We leave to walk down and examine the elk in 15 minutes or so.  We get down face to antler with the beast and he is great!  I am so happy.  So happy we could do it together and that he is a very mature bull.  He has great antlers with none broken off and the number 3's have a turn outside and a wave in them.  His 5 and 6's are a real "whaletail".  This is a great bull.  We take lots of photos and are really on a high.  Finally we start to figure how we can get the animal out of there for processing.  There is a fire road near by like 100 yards east.  If we can get him to the fire road we will load him in the truck.  Dax hikes back the truck and I take some photos.   

We {Dax} field dresses the elk.  Dax takes the 4-wheeler out of the truck bed and digs a small hole for each back tire of the truck to drop into.  He backs the truck up to a small hill and we use the 4-wheeler ramp to slide the elk almost level into the truck bed.  We tug on ropes and antlers lots and get the elk in the truck.  Dax drives the 4-wheeler back to camp and I drive the truck.  I can tell there is definitely some heavy weight in the truck as I go up the fire road back to camp.

I am writing this down over lunch of elk sirloin tips over pasta with mushroom gravy.  Utah doesn't allow me to apply for a limited entry elk tag for 5 years.  If it takes me 12 more tries to get a tag I would be only 78 years old when I get my next tag.  THIS WAS A ONCE IN A LIFE TIME HUNT.  Thanks to God for this special experience. 

WYOMING Pronghorn (Antelope)

I have been putting in for a tag to hunt pronghorn in Wyoming for the last four years.  I was pretty much tired of not getting a tag, then this year a miracle happened -- I drew a tag.  I was not so lucky in the deer, bison, and bear, hunts for Utah so this was going to be the big one.  My son also drew a tag and we were looking forward to go hunting together.

Opening day was Tuesday Sept. 17, 2013.  I had driven from my home base about 500 miles the two days before.  I was truly tired and wondering if it was all worth it?  I woke up Tues. at 6:00 a.m. and went outside my camper to answer the call of nature.  While standing there in the trees in my slippers and my pajamas I saw a really nice buck about 150 yards from my camp just posing there staring at me.  I was impressed that he was just standing there like he wanted to be shot.  I was impressed that he had really large horns with lots of mass.  I went over and got my .300 Win. Mag. out of the truck and loaded two rounds in the magazine.  I called to my son in the camper to come and look at this animal.  Dax came out and saw the lone buck standing big-as-life-soon-to-be-dead.  He said "Yes, it is a good one, but this is the first hour of the first day so wait."  I turned my scope up to 20X and watched as the buck sondered around and ate some grass and gradually walked to about 350 yards west of camp.  He was not afraid nor in a hurry.  He found a nice place to lay down and proceeded to have a rest.  I was amazed.  I kept thinking how great the story would be to harvest a reasonable buck pronghorn in my pajamas and my slippers just a "rifle shot" from camp.  I didn't shoot.

I put the rifle away and went in to get dressed and eat a donut.  {Donuts are the fast food of antelope hunters.}  Dax and I were rather excited to be able to see a good antelope buck in camp, more or less, on the opening morning of the hunt.  We went out to hunt around 6:30 a.m.  We saw immediately several bucks gathering does for their harems.  The rut was on and the antelope were not shy about being out in the open.  Some bucks had accumulated over 12 does and were busy herding them around.  I thought the bucks with the most does would be the largest horned.  NOT SO.  Many of the most "popular" bucks had rather small horns.  They must be tough fighters to run off potential rivals.  On opening day we saw just two other hunters in our area and maybe 120 bucks plus hundreds of does.  I was amazed.  We even saw one group of 8 bachelor bucks cruizing around together kind of at a loss for what to do.

After a lunch of camp made ramen noodles and turkey sandwiches we went out and continued our hunt.  There seemed to be pronghorn bucks around every corner and just over every hill we went up.  It was so fine to see so many animals.  I was reminded of certain days hunting in Africa where there is actually game to be seen.  We kept looking for the "big one."  We would spot a nice horned animal and then get out the spotting scope for verification.  Usually we would agree there is something to be desired and therefore not plan a stalk or even try to get a shot at the less than stellar animal.  I was having a great time!  We hunted around until dark and then went back to camp to eat dinner and rest.  Dax made some chili and ham sandwiches and I was full and very content.  We exchanged plans for the next day and went to sleep at 10:30 p.m. or so.

Nature called me collect again in the night. I got up to answer her at around 2:30 a.m. and was amazed at the clear sky and the number of stars shining down from the heavens.  I was almost dizzied standing in the quaking aspens at the fact that I was such a small speck in the grand view of things.  One lone guy hunting pronghorn under an infinite sky filled with millions and millions of worlds and stars out there.  I am humbled at nature.  I am so grateful I can enjoy this life and the wonders of it.  I am blessed to have such a great life and a family to enjoy it with.

Wednesday morning I hoped to see the venturesome pronghorn again near camp and this time I was not going to let Dax talk me out of harvesting it.  He didn't show up.  Dang!  We went off and drove along the oil exploration and development roads and saw again many bucks with does.  We check out various animals with the spotting scope and never saw one big enough to shoot.  We had lunch out of the cooler out in the field.  We sat on lawn chairs and ate turkey and cheese sandwiches with chips and soda.  I watched all around for pronghorn bucks and we saw some small guys but nothing real big.  I am still pumped because we are seeing so many bucks.  This area is great for me.  I just wish I didn't have to wait four years to draw a tag.

Around 3 p.m. Dax saw a buck with four does that looked larger than the rest of the antelope already seen.  I said check him out with the spotting scope.  He was examined with the 60X scope at about 800 yards and he looked good enough to merit getting closer to re-examine.  When we stopped the truck he took off herding his harem up a small hill maybe 100 yards tall and away from us to the north.  We suspected he had been shot at the day before or that morning.  We parked the truck and hiked over to the crest of the hill the antelope had run over.  We kind of belly crawled the last 30 yards to not give away our position.  Pronghorn have 6X eyesight and could see us easily if we were to stand up.  We had both brought our rifles, the range finder, and the spotting scope for a closer look.  We set up the scope and watched as the buck pronghorn had met a challenger buck pronghorn on the other side of the hill.  The terrain kind off flattened out and there the two boys were posturing to see who gets to keep the four doe harem.  We watched for some time.  The does didn't know who to follow so they just stood there and watched the bucks stare down each other.  Dax told me he thought the pronghorn we were after was not a shooter.  I said "Fine, then I am going to shoot it as it is a big one."  Then the competition between father and son set in and Dax re-evaluated the pronghorn and said "I am going to shoot."  I agreed to spot for him on the shot.

The first round from the .338 Win. Mag. rifle was 3-4 inches high at the ranged 350 yards.  When the projectile flew over the bucks back and hit the dirt behind the pronghorn he was startled and ran toward us.  This was a tactic Dax had used in Africa with great success on a big old kudu bull.  Scaring the animal closer for a second shot.  The pronghorn buck ran to within about 300 yards and Dax nailed him in the left front shoulder the bullet exiting into the chest cavity and destroying the heart and lungs.  DRT {Texas speak for DEAD RIGHT THERE}.  The awestruck challenger buck scooped up the does and off ran the harem with a new master far to the north.  Talk about a luck day for the challenger buck.  Not to be shot and at the same time inherit a four doe harem.

There was no ground shrinkage of the buck as we walked over to claim the prize.  However, there was no ground growth either.  When we finally laid hands on the beast it was a big old guy with lots of mass.  I indeed would have shot if Dax hadn't of.  The buck was later measured at 78 4/8ths inches and the Boone and Crockett record book will take listings over 80 inches.  It was a darn good pronghorn, just 1 4/8ths out of the record book!  The hooks on the horns looked like deep sea fishing gaffs.  Really cool.

After we took some photos it started to rain.  We raingeared up and started the cleaning process.  We removed the meat from the animal and put it on ice.  We then washed up and drove to the house of a good friend and USU classmate of Dax in Pinedale, Wyoming.  He is an avid hunter and was pleased to see us and the size of Dax's antelope.  {It was bigger than the biggest one he had ever taken.}  We were invited to dinner and one of us had a hot shower.  As I had not been bloodied yet it wasn't me singing in the shower after dinner.  We had a nice visit and returned to camp at around midnight.  We were both really tired.  I asked what time should I set my alarm for?  Dax said 6 a.m. again.  I set our alarm to get up at 6:20 a.m.

When the alarm went off on Thursday morning we were both hammered.  I said lets sleep some more and go out at 8 a.m.  Dax in a semi-conscious state agreed and I set my alarm for 9 a.m.  I knew there were lots of pronghorns waiting for us.  When we finally did regain consciousness and went out side it was raining, foggy, and rather cold.  I though crap-o-rama, what have I done waiting this long to shoot a pronghorn.  I knew the wet weather was in to stay for a few days and I think we could only play cards for 24 to 36 hours before we went nuts.  I said let's go see if there are any bucks waiting for us on top of the southern hills by the oil pumping areas.  Dax agreed and we went off.  The soil around our camp when wet from the rain was a greasy clay and and almost too slimy to exit our camp spot in the truck.  Even with 4X4 drive it was scary to try and get to the road to start toward our intended hunting area.  I knew we would never get out pulling the camping trailer with the slimy camp access road.  We went hunting anyway.

We saw a small buck out by the road just out of camp.  I was glad to see some thing huntable.  As we drove to the south Dax saw a pretty nice buck kind of bed down 200 yards east of an oil pumping station.  We stopped and looked at him with the spotting scope and he continued to lay there.  Fortunately the majority of the oil trucks are white long bed pickup trucks.  Mine also is white and long bed.  So the pronghorns thought we were just some oil workers doing a job around the oil pumping station.  I drove down an access road toward the oil pumping area.  I drove slow like I was being paid by the hour.  When we were within 75 yards of the oil pump house I stopped the truck and got out.  I pretended to get some tools from the bed of the truck and came up with a .300 Remington Ultra Magnum rifle.  The pronghorn stood up at 180 yards but didn't move.  I looked at the oil pump equipment and carefully scanned for NO SMOKING, NO FIRE or FLAME signs.  I didn't want to get cooked when I took my shot.  No signs -- and the antelope just kept standing there looking at the truck.  He was kind of like an oil company spy keeping track of how long it takes us to fix or adjust the oil pump equipment.  Dax read the range on the range finder and forwarded to me the yardage and I held the cross hairs on his chest behind the right front leg.  I squeezed the trigger and bam the antelope dropped to the shot.  It was over before he heard the sound.  It was a foggy day and we were lucky to have seen the antelope.  I was even more lucky to have a shot at it.  We loaded the pronghorn and took him to a less traveled area to clean him.  I saved the skin and the meat went into the cooler with the other meat and ice.

We packed up camp and I drove 4X4 overland about 150 yards through the sagebrush to get back to the graveled road.  I was pulling a camp trailer and  avoiding the teflon covered greasy clay trail that had been a reasonable road when I first entered the area a few days ago.

I am so thankful for the opportunity to hunt with my son for a few days in Wyoming.  I am grateful for the success we had.  I am truly blessed to have this type of adventure.

Windy but deadly conditions ...

I stole a morning for chizzler hunting last week.  I really have too much work stacked up at making a living to miss a morning but I called a old pal to go hunt. When asked to go hunt he said not just "Yes" but "Hell, yes" let's go.

We went up to the Beryl area in Iron County and the wind was blowing really hard from the southwest.  We were shooting .22LR firearms and found that holding about 3" into the wind was making the bullets connect at just 50 yards -- that is lots of wind.  I think my pal got tired of the wind so he got out his .223 Rem. rifle to shoot.  It was very effective even with the wind.  He was shooting the old "herd bulls" out standing up in the alfalfa field looking back at us.  The alfalfa is about 10" high so most of his firing were head shots on big boys at from 50 to 150 yards.  He did well, the chizzlers not so well.

We shot for about two hours and did our duty.  The wind was not slowing down and we both had work to do back in town.  We left the fields.  We drove home and had a great conversation.  Hunting is kind of a mix of friendships, marksmanship, nature study, and the primal need to exert dominance over varmints.

I want to go to Beryl again soon, especially if the farmers mow their hay and the agricultural cover for the critters is removed.

Can you have too much fun? I doubt it.

Early in May I have been to Beryl several times to hunt chizzlers.  I have been with various of my pals and we have had a great adventure every trip.  I will say there is some doubt as to whether a person can have too much fun.  I am trying though.  

I have been shooting mostly a .22LR for chizzlers and have taken some with my .22 magnum.  Of course I have used my .22-250 and vaporized some at over 300 yards for old times sake.  My pals seem to always prefer their .22 magnum rifles.  Either .22LR or .22 magnum caliber is fine for the type work we are doing.  I try to think we are saving hundreds of dollars worth of hay and grain when we do our duty shooting varmints.  All the farmers tell us thanks for hunting in their fields.  A farmer we didn't know even drove over on his tractor and asked if we could come shoot in his fields.  He liked our style and maturity I guess.  He said if you could shoot them all it would be fine with him.  I guess we could attempt total annihilation but the animals seem to have 2 - 3 litters of 6 - 9 pups each in a year so getting them all without chemical, pyrotechnical, or nuclear weapons is an impossibility.

I had a bit of remorse one morning for laughing when the target of my volley was launched into the air with its entrails stringing out for 10 - 14 inches in a big red fan after being smacked by a .22LR round.  I asked an older wiser hunting pal if it were bad form to laugh when death was being dealt out?  He told me NO.  Then we both got back to shooting and kind of snickering from time to time as the blood covered the pasty tan dust they call dirt up there in Beryl.  We ended up the day with over 400 varmints taken!  {check out the pile of brass photo from just one of our three shooting spots during that day.}

The first batch of babies are out and although they are a small target they are dumber than the dirt they stand on.  They wait in groups of 3 - 5 to be shot and don't run away as various members of their gang are hambergerized.

I look forward to going back to hunt as I am able within the parameters of work and edicts from the Supreme Commanderette.  Ammo is kind of hard to acquire and I have to be careful to not shoot too much.  The other day I actually ran out of ammo, 5-3-13.  I had to borrow some rounds from my pal.  The stores don't seem to have .22LR ammo in stock for very long.  If the season progresses as it has been I will be standing in line at Wal Mart with the rest of the chizzler army waiting for the shipment truck to arrive before I can go do my duty to preserve agriculture in Iron County, Utah.

Wildebeest Tough Old Antelope

Thursday 23 August 2012.   I have shifted hunting locations to Otjinuke Hunting Ranch, http://www.huntnamibia.net/index.php in Namibia.  It is 1 1/2 hours drive distance south and west of the capitol Windhoek.  The area is not as mountainous as at Farm Garib but there is lots of game to be seen even from the road while riding in the car.  Our driver is Marina Muller, Ph.D. in statistics at the National University, and wife to our hunting guide host Gert Muller. Marina is fun and tells us lots about the country, the area, the hunting, and generally is very entertaining on our trip.  Our P.H. is a younger fellow named Berger.  I ask if his first name is Berger or his last name is Berger.  He says just Berger.  I call him Berger.

My pal, Ken, hunts the first day at Otjinuke and bags a nice impala ram.  Then it is my turn and I am on the look out for a blue wildebeest or zebra.  We spot a group of blue wildebeest in some trees about 300 yards from a dirt road.  We glass them for 30 minutes or so and I think none of them look like mature trophies.  {My other P.H. Sigi Hess at Farm Garib has taught me what to look for in a trophy animal.} I keep glassing in case other blues come out of the backdrop tree line to meet up with the group.

Berger says "Look at that bull on the right, he looks pretty good."  I answer that the animal doesn't even have the horns as wide as his ears and the tell-tale blue coloring of a mature bull is not visible.  Berger agrees and says "We can find a better one."  We continue to travel to the southeast always watching for blue wildebeest or zebra.

There are giraffe all over the place.  Marina Muller had told me they were her pets and she didn't want anyone to hunt them.  I have no interest in shooting one but the opportunity to photograph giraffe is amazing.  This is the first time I have been this close to a giraffe in the wild.  The babies are taller than me.  The giraffe move with big long legs and seem to walk briskly away from us.  Their legs are so long there is no way I could keep up with one even running as fast as I could.  They can cover over 10 yards with one step!  I take lots of photos as does my pal, Ken.  Ken is a really good photographer and I am glad he can record our adventure via the camera.

We continue hunting and Berger spots some blue wildebeest in some trees resting in the shade.  I glass with him and we both see a pretty nice bull at the same time.  I say let's see if we can get close enough for a shot.  Berger and I walk in single file keeping behind a termite mound directly at the group of wildebeest.  We always make sure the termite mount, which is about 6 feet high and 4 feet wide, is between the animals and us.  A soft wind is blowing from our right to the left so wind is not a concern for now.  We have to walk about 250 yards from the dirt road where we came in to the area.  I am so anxious the wildebeest will see us or the wind will shift and we will be busted.  We walk low and slow trying to stay hidden behind the termite mound.  We get to the termite mound and I sneak a lazer range on the bull we are after -- 162 yards.  It is a doable shot.  I turn my scope up to 9X or so and ease my rifle over the top left side of the termite mound.  I can stand at the base of the mound and use it for a rest and to stay hidden.  No need for the shooting sticks when I am 6'6" and edge of the termite mound is about 5'6" where I am resting my rifle.  The big old bull has seen us I think as he turns to look directly at us.  We are in a staring contest.  I want a broadside shot.  My .338 Win. Mag. with 225 gr. Barnes tipped triple-shock bullets does it best work on broadside targets.  We stare at each other for what seems to be a long time, maybe 3 - 4 minutes.  I am looking through my scope, the wildebeest is looking through his natural 6X eyeballs, and Berger is crouched down behind the termite mound with his fingers in his ears watching both of us.  I pick a spot and put the crosshairs on the wildebeest's chest between his front legs.  I think the shot will take out the heart and at least one lung.  I ease up on the trigger and wait for him to turn.  Some of other wildebeests are getting up and looking to move to the northeast deeper into the dense trees.  I figure it is now or never so I press the trigger and boom the rifle goes off.

The wildebeest does a 180º turn and starts to jog away.  I work the bolt and take another shot at the "Texas heart shot" location.  I have hit my target both times but the beast won't go down.  He angles off the the right walking briskly, southeast, and I rack in another round.  I shoot again and miss.  I manipulate the bolt and prepare to fire another time.  I can't believe this guy, he has 450 grains of copper at 2,700 feet per second in his vitals and is still on his feet.  I take aim and shoot again hitting him in the chest area.  Blood is visible on his blue hide in the sun.  I reload my rifle from my belt loop carrier.  The wildebeest walks slowly about 60 more yards to the southeast and then falls over.  We give him a 3 - 4 minutes to bleed out watching closely all the time with my safety off and the rifle at the ready position.  I am impressed to the max how tough the animals are here in Namibia.  When he lowers his head we walk to within 15 yards of him and he lifts his head up.  What the crap?  He has 675 grains of triple shock copper in his vitals and is still able to raise his head.  Berger offers to go cut his throat and I say no if it has to be done let me do it.  Then I flick off the safety and take careful aim at the neck region just behind where the head and neck join.  I fire and the animal is gone.  I can't believe he took four .338 Win. Mag. shots to be finished.

We take photos and I am so glad to have met this tough old guy.  I appreciate so much his toughness and beauty.  I will have the hide tanned and I will remember this hunt for years.  The locals will really enjoy the meat from this tasty animal so nothing will go to waste.  Overall a resource has been used, there is an inflow of cash to the local economy, people are fed, and I am going home with a trophy and a great experience.

JACKALS ARE CHEEKY BUGGERS

Tuesday 21 august 2012  Farm Garib, Namibia, Africa

Up at 6:00 a.m. Breakfast of 5-lbs. bread, cumquat marmalade and off to hunt.  It is my turn first to hunt and I am looking for a 40 inch oryx.

40" oryx cow

three young kudu bulls

Sigi Hess, the P.H., told me the oryx I had already harvested was about as big a  bull gets around that particular hunting concession.  I asked if it would be OK for me to take a cow to harvest a trophy of more horn length.   Sigi  agreed to take a cow if she is without calf, old, and skinny.  Sounds like my type of girl, I told him.  We found a group of three oryx cows that filled the requirements of being old, without a calf, and skinny up on a hillside of Look-Out-Mountain.  We watched them from the base of the mountain for about 10 minutes.  I could have fired from near the truck at any time for a kill shot, they were less than 350 yards away.  Sigi didn't want to shoot from the truck area as the animals get "truck shy" and run away when they see a truck coming. We all drove away around the base of the mountain to the east and tried for a stalk on foot.  We were quiet and slow.  As we neared the area where the oryx were holding I told Sigi to go up over the top of a small saddle and come down on the oryx girls from above as the wind was bad for blowing our scent toward the oryx otherwise.  He said let's try the sidehill approach and we did as he, the P.H. had suggested.  In our final stalk we rounded a ravine and three juvenile kudu bulls busted us.  The kudu took off away from us at light speed to the northeast for about 2 - 3 kilometers.  The old oryx girls followed and headed for Botswana in the kudu vapor trail.  A small herd of hartebeest stood up a kilometer away below us to the southwest and readied to run. We had definitely made an impression on all the animals for a long way around the saddle and the mountain.

We walked another 1.5 kilometers toward the northeast always watching to
see if any oryx doubled back, alas no.  Hans Peter Luhl was there at a cross road in the truck to pick us up.  I was tired, hot, and thirsty from the stalk.
After mounting the truck and traveling a short distance a jackal ran across the road in front of us from left to right.  Hans Peter stopped the truck with the appropriate knock on the roof from us riding in the back.  I had the best shot so I stood up and took aim when the jackal had turned to sneer at us.  He was a mangie beast with some type of disease.  I shot him at about 55 yards with a .338 Win. Mag.  Needless to say -- he more or less exploded when hit by 4,000 pounds of kinetic energy.  We took some photos but didn't touch him out of respect for the disease he carried.  As we drove off in the truck someone asked "Wasn't that shot left handed?"  I said, "Sure, I practice that all the time."  We all had a good laugh.

Location:  South  23º05.802  East  017º41.502  elevation 4,756 feet

ORYX STEAKS !

SUNDAY August 19, 2012  Namibia, Africa

This is actually my first day of the hunt.  I have been traveling for what seems like forever to get here. I had left Santa Clara for Africa on Thursday August 16th and finally, 3 days later, I am here in the veld.  It is so great to be back at Farm Garib with the Luhl Family.  Our relationship is more than just hunting guides and a client, these fine people from the other side of the planet are good friends.  When I arrived yesterday afternoon it was wonderful to see again Frauke, Hans Peter, Jule, and meet Sigi, Jule's husband, for the first time.  I have traveled over 8 time zones and maybe 10,000 miles to this red sand desert and yet feel right at home here.

7:00 a.m. we are off to check the zero on our rifles at the family shooting range about 3 kilometers from the house.  Everything seems to be OK after about three shots each at a target in the firearms department so we are off looking for quality game to hunt.

Ken is first up and he really wants to get a Kudu this trip.  We drive on the farm roads and look all around for some time, maybe 3 - 4 hours.  We stop and glass from atop several hills for kilometers in 360º fashion for just the right kudu bull.  While driving around on the southeast end of the farm the trackers notice a large kudu bull laying under an acacia tree.  The natural camouflage of the kudu makes him hard to spot.  Hans Peter and I stay in the truck and the others get down to try a stalk.  We drive the truck about 1.5 kilometers away and turn off the motor.  While waiting we watch a watering hole about 500 yards to the west.  A lone warthog comes in for a drink.  He was rather small and we just enjoy the morning air, the birds, the big sky, and the warthog.  After 15 minutes or so we hear a shot, then a couple of more shots.  I think Ken has something going on.  Hans Peter and I wait and look toward where the shots sounded. A tracker named Frans comes out of the heavy brush to the road where we had come in and waves us over.  We start the truck and drive to the Frans' waving spot and follow the tracker on a semi-cleared path to where Ken has his kudu bull down.  It is a big nice bull and really old.  He measures 53" and is aged to be around 15 years old.  Some of his teeth are worn out completely.  A great trophy.  Ken will post more on his own for this hunt.  We take photos, gut the animal in the wild {something I've never seen done in Africa}, and take the beast back to the farm house to cool the meat.  Kudu meat is excellent by the way.

It is lunch time and  we dine on oryx backstrap, boiled potatoes, gravy, and fresh green salad.  Maybe one of the reasons I like this place is the food is always delicious.  After lunch we have a short nap and wake up to gooseberry tort, biltong, and coffee or diet coke at 2:30 p.m.  Then we are out to hunt for my turn.  I am looking for a trophy oryx or warthog.

We drive to the north end of the farm for 20 minutes or so and then start to scan for oryx.  There are some rugged foothills around and my son had taken a large kudu in the same area in 2010.  Sigi is telling us stories about the hunt and various hunters he has guided.  He is really a character and so entertaining.  We were seeing lots of oryx but no trophy caliber ones.  Oryx are in groups of 3 to 6 members and when we would put glass on them they are just not that big, reasonable but not BIG.  As we drive to the west on a farm road I spot a lone oryx on the hillside to the north.  He seems really big to me.  Maybe he seems big because he is all by himself and there are no other oryx to compare him to?  I tell Sigi to check him out.  Sigi signals to stop the truck.  I ask "Is that a big one?"  Sigi says, "Yes, that is about as big as they get around here."  I ask if I can shoot from the truck or near the truck.  My heart condition is limiting me from doing a lot of hiking.  Sigi says there are no other oryx around and given that I have a bad heart he can "close one eye for now."  Sigi really doesn't like to shoot from around the truck as the animals get truck shy and scatter when they see the truck coming.  I completely understand and that is why I had asked permission.

I laser range the oryx at 208 yards and Sigi says there is a branch in the way at the oryx's heart line.  I should aim abit high.  I take careful aim on the oryx standing broadside sighting straight up the his left front leg to about 8" into the chest cavity and flip off the safety.  I place my finger on the trigger and hold my breath.  My heart is pounding, even more that usual.  I am surprised when the rifle goes off and the unmistakable sound of "plop" is heard by all as the bullet finds its mark on the oryx.  I watch through the scope and chamber another round.  The oryx takes about two steps up the hill and falls over.  I am so excited.  We give the old bull some time to expire and then hike over to the hillside to check him out.  My .338 Win. Mag. 225 gr. Barnes tipped triple shock bullet had entered his chest cavity just about exactly where I was aiming.  I can see the bullet under the skin on the far side of the oryx, it is still in there.  We do the Vikeman's Hiel ritual and I give the oryx his last bite.  I am grateful for the oryx and the many circumstances that have brought me back to Africa again.  I feel so blessed to be able physically to get out and do financially do what I am doing.

            Location:  South 21º04.456'  East 17º43.775' elevation 4,760

We all 5 load the oryx into the truck and take him back to the processing area on Farm.  I have the oryx weighed and he is 338.5 kgs. or about 498 pounds.  I think he will measure around 37" of horn.  I am way pleased.

This has been a good day.

African Review

Monday August 27, 2012 in Namibia, Africa

We are up at 6:10 a.m. and have a breakfast of rusk, yogurt, banana, and homemade donuts.  {The cook is trying to show off with donuts and it is working!}

We are out to hunt at 7:00 a.m. We see many animals mostly black wildebeest and springbok.  Finally around 9:00 a.m. we see a group of 15 or so zebra.  They are Burchell {Equus Burchelli} or plains zebra native to the Kalahari desert and a fine stallion zebra is in the group.  We go on the stock.  Stalking are Loki, the assistant guide, Berger the P.H., and myself.  We have been looking for a zebra for three days and have a) not been able to get close enough for a shot while stocking or b) there hasn't been a mature stallion in the groups we have found.  We follow the zebra herd on foot and try to get ahead of the wind and the herd for about 1.5 kilometers.  Finally, we are in position as the zebra are crossing a small clearing maybe 50 yards wide and I take one .338 Win. Mag. shot off the sticks at a lazered 92 yards.  I hear the Barnes 225 grain triple shock bullet impact the beast but the P.H. says maybe I had missed the shot.  I know it was a hit and I don't argue; we just walk toward where the zebra had been standing and look for blood.  We find lots of blood and some lung tissue in the grass.  My hunting pal Ken, and the tracker, Andres, heard the shot and drive up in the pickup truck within a few minutes.  The P.H. takes a smoke break and waits for the hit zebra to settle down or expire.  Ken tells me he has seen lung tissue before both from animals and from men in the Vietnam war.  None of them survived very long after a hit to the lungs.  Ken wagers we will find the zebra within 100 to 200 yards of the original shooting location.  Loki starts tracking on the blood spore, we all fall in behind and try to keep quiet.  We track teh blood trail a short distance and indeed we find the zebra lying dead in some brush within 200 yards of the place he was shot.  He is balled up in some 7 foot tall brush/trees on an escape trail that the herd had taken when startled at the sound of my shot. 

We take lots of photos with the animal and I get a GPS mark for my records. 

          GPS:  South 21º37.591  East 17º10.063 elevation 4,924 feet 

It takes all four of us to load the zebra into the back of the pickup truck.  The zebra is really heavy, like 800 pounds or so.  The locals eat the tasty meat and I want the tanned hide for a trophy.  Nothing will go to waste from this fine old animal.  We head back to the farm house in the truck and it is really great to have finally scored a success on a zebra.