Pronghorn Chronicles....

L & R
the hawken shop
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Ok, whether you are a skeptic or believer in my HECS suit, I put it on right over my clothes. I pause to pray for a successful end to this hunt and then I continue to get what gear I might need. Put on my belt with extra loads, have possibles bag with wind meter and rangefinder, tripod shooting sticks (make sure they work). Whoa, it stopped raining. Timing is perfect. I pull the rifle from the case, ease the frizzen forward and pull the vent pick. I put the required amount of prime in the pan and close the frizzen gently. I have a frizzen cover in place and I check that the cock is engaged in the half notch. I instruct the boys to drive back down the road the way we came about a half mile and wait. Listen for a shot or look back with the spotting scope and look for me. The truck rolls off. There is no object to range-find so I guess the pronghorn are about 400-yards.

I walk along the road ditch about 100-yards. The pronghorn are bedded down about 45-degrees to the NE of me and about 300-yards out. I walk quietly one step at a time angling towards the pronghorn, eventually cutting the distance by another 100-yards. Now I crawl on the wet ground. Push the sticks ahead with the left arm - that sore shoulder... and push the rifle ahead with the right arm. I sit up and check the wind. 12.6 MPH from left to right. I crawl some more and wait. 1 minute, 5 minutes, 10 minutes. The antelope stand up. Slowly, the does walk single file from left to right to a break in the barbed wire fence. The first antelope goes through the opening and turns to its right, headed away from me. The second doe follows. The third doe is about to go through the opening when I think, duh, I should check the range. It says 137-yards. I check again. 137. Again. 137. She walks through the opening and turns away. I am perplexed. This buck is about to cross the opening and turn away from me. This has been a long hunt and a long stalk. I am doing math in my head. I have the rifle dead on at 100-yards. I have never shot past that range as I just don't have a place with any other distance to shoot. I have read the ballistics charts after entering my velocity, weight, B.C., elevation, etc. The ball is supposed to drop 5.25" at 125-yards. I never looked further because that is already a lot of drop. Now I'm thinking....the ball is slowing and falling. So if it fell 5+ inches in 25-yards, another 12-yards could add 3-4 inches more? 8.5" drop? Oh yeah, and then there's the wind and the fact that the buck is slowly walking into the wind. 12.6 MPH is something like 5-inches drift? I am sitting and I do have the rifle rock-steady on the tripod sticks. I set the trigger and breathe. As the breath leaves my body I put the front sight in the "L" formed by the neck and backline. That should be enough drop and drift compensation. The buck stops broadside at the opening of the fence and there is a "BOOM" followed by smoke. I did not hear the "whack" I was listening for. The smoke clears and I see the buck running to the right like he is tipping over. He falls, gets up and runs to the left like he is tipping that way. He falls again. He gets up and walks with a limp straight away another 50-yards and stands with his head low. He is about 150-yards away. I mark the spot and crawl back to the road.....
 
…. in about 5-minutes the truck shows up. They were able to see the action in the spotting scope. They think I hit the buck but didn't see where he went. I get my loading stick and reload. I give the boys the same instructions, drive off and wait. I walk down the road about 100-yards and then cut into the field. I make a "C" and come towards the buck from the way was facing. I crawl what I feel is the last 100-yards to get me back into range. I pop up sitting but can't see the buck. I stand and look. Nothing. Oops, there he is further to the right. I throw up the rangefinder. 99-yard. I hit the button again. 99-yards. I set up my sticks and rest the rangefinder on the sticks for a more solid rest. 99-yards. I can do this! I put the rifle over the sticks like I have done a hundred times at the range. I do take into account the wind and I hold 5-inches into the wind. Set the trigger, concentrate, concentrate. "Boom". The rifle has spoken for the second time in the last 15-minutes. As the smoke clears I see the buck running away, but the bright red spot on his side reassures me that he won't run far. After about a 45-yard run the buck stops suddenly and does a back flip. All is still. I look out over the prairie toward the road and see the blue pickup coming my way. I walk to the buck. The 145-yard walk is awkward with the rifle, the sticks, the mud and my fast pace. Crawling slowly was easier. Eventually I reach the buck and he has clearly succumbs to the .54 caliber roundballs.
 
I look for evidence of my shots impact. The back leg is barely hanging on, attached by just skin. My first shot did drop... more than I anticipated. The wind and the slow walking animal did drift my shot....more than I anticipated. The hit is low in the thigh and had shattered the bone entirely. There is profuse bleeding from the wound and the exit hole is about the size of a tennis ball. Not pretty or as planned but it did allow me to detain the animal long enough to make a shot that was quickly lethal. The second shot hit right where I aimed....5 inches back from where I wanted the ball to hit. I forgot that on the initial shot the wind was from West to East but my second shot was North to South directly with the wind.

PH-flintlock.jpg
 
That is awesome, congratulations on a great stalk and terrific shots. You’ve shown the young guys a whole different world. Thank you for sharing and taking us all along with you.
 
Just when I thought it was over....We load the pronghorn into the truck and put the tags on it. The driver is very excited and Crash is relieved. We start out on the muddy dirt road and it begins to rain again. I am replaying the whole thing in my mind, having a moment and thanking God for answering my prayer. I am pulled back into the reality of the moment when Crash is literally yelling at the driver. We are going 70-MPH on this muddy road on this rainy afternoon. Crash is getting more irritated and I speak up and say "Slow down". Crash says, "Yeah slow down"! The driver says in his robotic way, " Please...do not....tell me...how...to...drive...my own...vehicle". Well, here are two big stop signs, one on each side of the dirt road where it joins the divided highway. Well, I guess we're ignoring those signs! The truck jumps the incline and crosses both lanes coming from our right. A tractor-trailer and a car swerve and one passes inches from the grill of the truck while the other barely missed the trunk. We continue across the mud filled median and back up the other side. No slowing down yet! Crash physically hits the driver while admonishing him. Whoosh, we go across the lanes for Northbound traffic - thank God no cars were coming. Back off the pavement onto the continuation of the dirt road - thank God it continued. Driver finally hits the breaks...hard. We slide down the dirt road and into the side ditch. All is silent. Crash speaks up again and says, "Put this in four-wheel drive and get us out of here, and don't you dare drive one mile over the speed limit". Without a word, Driver engaged 4X4 and we slowly climb back onto the dirt and make our way to the highway. We cross oncoming lanes to the turn-around and being to head back South. Suddenly the Driver pulls to the shoulder and stops. I am in the back now and I look up at Crash and he looks back at me. We are both puzzled. Driver says, " Please...pass...the ...paper towels". Uh, Ok, now? Here ya go. Driver opens the door, steps out and pulls his pants down. He poops right there in the roadway. Put paper towels in a plastic bag and put them in the pickup bed. He uses the water and hand sanitizer to wash and then gets back in the truck. Crash and I are dumb-founded. The long ride back to camp is completed in silence. The owner is there with his wife in the kitchen area when I step in there from the processing area. I tell him about the unacceptable driving. Crash comes in behind me and repeats the same story. The owner says, "well thank you for your business". Several of the guides and hunters come to look at my buck. One of the guides says, "you are our first primitive hunter". Primitive? I think of stick bows and sling-shots when I think of primitive! A doctor that is hunting chimes in. "I have a Thompson Hawken 54 in my safe that I've never used. Can you tell me what to load in it? I want to hunt with it after seeing and hearing this". We exchange numbers and information. Crash say, "Hey if I buy an old-fashioned kind of muzzleloader will you come to the shop and show me how to use it". Sure, I say. It's 3.5 hours from my house to the taxidermy shop. I can come when I pick up the pronghorn. He says, "I'm going to look for one now. I want to hunt like you did. I will meet you somewhere half way and I'll buy dinner if you show me how. And, I'll drive your pronghorn mount to you when its done". Deal - we can meet at a friends ranch about half-way between us. There is a range there and we can dove hunt too. It going to be a long, two-day trip home some 17-hours. I absolutely will remember this trip!
 
Wow! Im sure on your end that last ordeal was a nerve wracking experience but from this end, and I hope you don't take offense to it, it was flat out hilarious! You just can't make that stuff up right there!! You might want to talk that cat into going to Vegas with you, like Tom Cruise did!!
 
Sparkitoff said:
This person took an antelope with this outfitter out of this camp. He is not in my group. To answer a previous question, I block the face because I did not obtain permission from the person to use their photo in a public forum and in this case the photo was not taken by me and I do not know to whom credit is due, therefore block the faces.....

antelope.png
Click to expand...

Understood, thank you.
 
Sparkitoff said:
Just when I thought it was over....We load the pronghorn into the truck and put the tags on it. The driver is very excited and Crash is relieved. We start out on the muddy dirt road and it begins to rain again. I am replaying the whole thing in my mind, having a moment and thanking God for answering my prayer. I am pulled back into the reality of the moment when Crash is literally yelling at the driver. We are going 70-MPH on this muddy road on this rainy afternoon. Crash is getting more irritated and I speak up and say "Slow down". Crash says, "Yeah slow down"! The driver says in his robotic way, " Please...do not....tell me...how...to...drive...my own...vehicle". Well, here are two big stop signs, one on each side of the dirt road where it joins the divided highway. Well, I guess we're ignoring those signs! The truck jumps the incline and crosses both lanes coming from our right. A tractor-trailer and a car swerve and one passes inches from the grill of the truck while the other barely missed the trunk. We continue across the mud filled median and back up the other side. No slowing down yet! Crash physically hits the driver while admonishing him. Whoosh, we go across the lanes for Northbound traffic - thank God no cars were coming. Back off the pavement onto the continuation of the dirt road - thank God it continued. Driver finally hits the breaks...hard. We slide down the dirt road and into the side ditch. All is silent. Crash speaks up again and says, "Put this in four-wheel drive and get us out of here, and don't you dare drive one mile over the speed limit". Without a word, Driver engaged 4X4 and we slowly climb back onto the dirt and make our way to the highway. We cross oncoming lanes to the turn-around and being to head back South. Suddenly the Driver pulls to the shoulder and stops. I am in the back now and I look up at Crash and he looks back at me. We are both puzzled. Driver says, " Please...pass...the ...paper towels". Uh, Ok, now? Here ya go. Driver opens the door, steps out and pulls his pants down. He poops right there in the roadway. Put paper towels in a plastic bag and put them in the pickup bed. He uses the water and hand sanitizer to wash and then gets back in the truck. Crash and I are dumb-founded. The long ride back to camp is completed in silence. The owner is there with his wife in the kitchen area when I step in there from the processing area. I tell him about the unacceptable driving. Crash comes in behind me and repeats the same story. The owner says, "well thank you for your business". Several of the guides and hunters come to look at my buck. One of the guides says, "you are our first primitive hunter". Primitive? I think of stick bows and sling-shots when I think of primitive! A doctor that is hunting chimes in. "I have a Thompson Hawken 54 in my safe that I've never used. Can you tell me what to load in it? I want to hunt with it after seeing and hearing this". We exchange numbers and information. Crash say, "Hey if I buy an old-fashioned kind of muzzleloader will you come to the shop and show me how to use it". Sure, I say. It's 3.5 hours from my house to the taxidermy shop. I can come when I pick up the pronghorn. He says, "I'm going to look for one now. I want to hunt like you did. I will meet you somewhere half way and I'll buy dinner if you show me how. And, I'll drive your pronghorn mount to you when its done". Deal - we can meet at a friends ranch about half-way between us. There is a range there and we can dove hunt too. It going to be a long, two-day trip home some 17-hours. I absolutely will remember this trip!
Click to expand...
Ha! Once again, we were writing at the same time.
Good job bringing folks around.

So glad God smiled down upon you and slipped you through another potentially bad accident.

What the heck is wrong with people in this world?
Please let us know how things go with the conversion of the Dr. and "Crash." Maybe there is hope for him yet?


I still think the father owes you one for attending to his sons after an accident that was their fault, could have been Much worse for you, and all while you were paying to be there.
 
Sparkitoff said:
Just when I thought it was over....We load the pronghorn into the truck and put the tags on it. The driver is very excited and Crash is relieved. We start out on the muddy dirt road and it begins to rain again. I am replaying the whole thing in my mind, having a moment and thanking God for answering my prayer. I am pulled back into the reality of the moment when Crash is literally yelling at the driver. We are going 70-MPH on this muddy road on this rainy afternoon. Crash is getting more irritated and I speak up and say "Slow down". Crash says, "Yeah slow down"! The driver says in his robotic way, " Please...do not....tell me...how...to...drive...my own...vehicle". Well, here are two big stop signs, one on each side of the dirt road where it joins the divided highway. Well, I guess we're ignoring those signs! The truck jumps the incline and crosses both lanes coming from our right. A tractor-trailer and a car swerve and one passes inches from the grill of the truck while the other barely missed the trunk. We continue across the mud filled median and back up the other side. No slowing down yet! Crash physically hits the driver while admonishing him. Whoosh, we go across the lanes for Northbound traffic - thank God no cars were coming. Back off the pavement onto the continuation of the dirt road - thank God it continued. Driver finally hits the breaks...hard. We slide down the dirt road and into the side ditch. All is silent. Crash speaks up again and says, "Put this in four-wheel drive and get us out of here, and don't you dare drive one mile over the speed limit". Without a word, Driver engaged 4X4 and we slowly climb back onto the dirt and make our way to the highway. We cross oncoming lanes to the turn-around and being to head back South. Suddenly the Driver pulls to the shoulder and stops. I am in the back now and I look up at Crash and he looks back at me. We are both puzzled. Driver says, " Please...pass...the ...paper towels". Uh, Ok, now? Here ya go. Driver opens the door, steps out and pulls his pants down. He poops right there in the roadway. Put paper towels in a plastic bag and put them in the pickup bed. He uses the water and hand sanitizer to wash and then gets back in the truck. Crash and I are dumb-founded. The long ride back to camp is completed in silence. The owner is there with his wife in the kitchen area when I step in there from the processing area. I tell him about the unacceptable driving. Crash comes in behind me and repeats the same story. The owner says, "well thank you for your business". Several of the guides and hunters come to look at my buck. One of the guides says, "you are our first primitive hunter". Primitive? I think of stick bows and sling-shots when I think of primitive! A doctor that is hunting chimes in. "I have a Thompson Hawken 54 in my safe that I've never used. Can you tell me what to load in it? I want to hunt with it after seeing and hearing this". We exchange numbers and information. Crash say, "Hey if I buy an old-fashioned kind of muzzleloader will you come to the shop and show me how to use it". Sure, I say. It's 3.5 hours from my house to the taxidermy shop. I can come when I pick up the pronghorn. He says, "I'm going to look for one now. I want to hunt like you did. I will meet you somewhere half way and I'll buy dinner if you show me how. And, I'll drive your pronghorn mount to you when its done". Deal - we can meet at a friends ranch about half-way between us. There is a range there and we can dove hunt too. It going to be a long, two-day trip home some 17-hours. I absolutely will remember this trip!
Click to expand...
And just when you thought it was all over it was “Toads Wild Ride” all over again. Glad you came out the other side safely. I loved the owners response of “thank you for your business”. Is this business as usual? Again, great commentary and well done!
 

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