MACK vs. Chizzlers . . . MACK wins!

Wednesday morning 3-19-2014 Mack, his dad (my son), and I went to hunt some chizzlers in Iron County.  We left home base rather early but arrived just in time for the little rascals to start coming out of their dens looking for food and companionship.

 Mack takes a big one.

It was cold and windy.  Mack had not come prepared with a coat so I loaned him a down vest and hat that were behind the seat of the truck.  He and I set up a card table in the back of the truck at around 9:15 a.m.  We started seeing chizzlers right away.  We set up the smallest repeater .22 L.R. I had on a bipod and a sand bag for a rear rest.  Mack took careful aim and fired at many chizzlers.  He finally got the "hold your breath, squeeze the trigger, and follow through" fundamentals down and started to connect with the vermin.  Mack is only 6 years old and has hunted very little in his life.  He is a natural though.  He can hunt chizzlers with the best of them.

Mack's dad brought a bolt action heavy barreled .17 HMR rifle with a 4-12X scope and commenced to do major damage on the chizzler population out to 150+ yards from our shooting station.  The telltale "ploop" of a chizzler exploding was heard every half minute or so.  The slowest part of the carnage was the reloading of magazines.

Mack at one period was so cold he was shivering.  He couldn't hold the rifle still so I took over and he got into the cab of the truck to warm up.  I shot 10 - 12 chizzlers with Mack's small rifle and had a good time.  He then told me to come sit in the cab of the truck and let him shoot out the window opening.  Of course I obliged and we sat in the truck for another hour and harvested a couple dozen more varmints.  All the while we were shooting from inside the cab of the truck we listened to Mack's dad making the "ploop" rhythm from the squirrel-o-matic in the back of the truck again and again.

A farmer near where we were hunting came by to thank us for helping lower the number of profit eaters.  The farmer said this time of year each big chizzler you take out is 10 - 12 little ones that won't be born and eat even more alfalfa later.  We were helping agriculture and having fun at the same time!

Mack's dad had a meeting to go to so we cut it short and headed home at 11:30 a.m.  It was a short but good hunt.  Mack is a great hunting pal as is his father. 

We stacked up a few of Mack's varmints.

Mack had to bring back a dead chizzler to show his mom and grandma.  We let him bring one in the back of the truck.  He was so proud to carry it around the yard and tried to bring it in the house to show everyone.  Everyone has a different definition of what a "trophy" is, Mack had his on Wed. morning.  For a six year old kid with a borrowed rifle in the wind and the cold truly his chizzlers were all trophies.

VENGEANCE OF THE SUPREME COMMANDER .. or .. Spring Break boredom

 On target, hold breath, squeeze the trigger, . . . pop goes the chizzler

Spring break has been upon us in Southern Utah.  The Supreme Commander slept in multiple days.  She and I went to Las Vegas shopping.  She worked in her garden.  All is well except she was bored on Friday morning, 3-14-'14.  At noon I suggested we go hunt some chizzlers in Iron County.  She was so bored she agreed to go!  I was so surprised and happy at the same time.

We arrived at a nice location, set up the squirrel-o-matic and I gave her the basic instructions on how to load and fire a .22LR rifle.  She had some trouble finding the little vermin in the scope for the first 45 minutes or so; then all heck broke loose.  She was doing head shots and jumping them up in the air and even giggled once or twice I think.

I was shooting a .22LR also and we were doing our duty to help the farmers preserve their alfalfa profits.  All in all I think we did rather well.  We shot for about 4 hours and then took the drive home.  On the way home I heard the words that every husband longs for, "I really had fun, I think I could get into this".

Who knows maybe in two more years she will have spring break and we can go hunting again.  I love this girl.

Take no prisoners!

CHIZZLER SEASON IS OPEN ... maybe?

 A serious moment

Thursday 3-6-2014 Bounty Hunter 6 and I went to Iron County and surveyed the prospects of chizzler hunting.  It is early in the year.  Usually we don't get into the chizzler hunting until mid-April.

We saw some varmints and did our duty; in early March, mind you.

Just a little longer in the year

It was a cool day with significant wind.  We took out a dozen or so chizzlers who were looking for food and companionship.  Things kind of slowed down and Bounty Hunter 6 said, "Let's go, it's too early in the year still"  I replied, "Just wait awhile, the little varmints are hungry and horny and will be out yet this morning."  Sure enough within15 minutes or so we started to see the rascals come out of their burrows and start toward the alfalfa fields.  We started to shoot at a consistent and reasonably rapid rate.  Bounty Hunter 6 could just keep up with his magazine loading at his rate of firing.   He actually did really well.  I could hear the tell tale "ploop" of various vermin getting hit by a .17HMR round very regularly.  I also could hear the sly snickers of a man that really enjoys his work in preserving the profits of agriculturalists.  Overall I estimate he connected about 75% of the time he fired.

I was shooting a .22LR cartridge and with the wind as it was I had to use more than Kentucky windage.  I was using Louisiana--Texas windage.  At a lazer ranged 106 yards I was holding off about 4 chizzler body thicknesses.  I did connect with many varmints and feel like I did a good job.  I averaged at least 50-60% connection with my rounds fired.

We had great conversations on the travel to and from the hunting area.  We had a fun lunch at Karl's Jr. The fact was proven again:

ANY DAY HUNTING IS BETTER THAN A DAY WORKING!

Although, I did some get real work done when I got back to my office in the early afternoon and evening.  The farmers are happy, the IRS is happy, and I am happy.  The only one not enthralled was the chizzler population.

More to come ...............

Bald eagle buffet

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.