Pronghorn Chronicles....

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Texas Pronghorn hunting is a bit different than other areas. First you must get a Landowner Tag. Typically, landowners apply to the State and get a certain # of permits that they sell to outfitters or give to friends and family. Without connections in the Pronghorn area they are hard to get. Another way in specific areas is the Experimental Pronghorn Permit. This is an over-the-counter permit that requires the landowners to sign before you hunt. The idea is you get permission to scout land and if you see pronghorn and are going to pursue them you get the "pink" tag and have it signed - and then start your hunt. This summer I got an invitation to hunt and ended up with both types of permits. The outfitter has many tags for different properties and can provide one upon taking a pronghorn on any one of them. My hunt started at the range, preparing my flintlock .54 caliber and a second percussion rifle to bring "just in case". I purchased a "full size antelope target" as it was advertised. It ended up being about 1/3 size. My range ritual was to put the target at 100-yards, jog a lap around the parking area, pick up the rifle and shoot one shot standing off my sticks. I would then shoot a second shot standing and repeat 2-shots kneeling and 2-shots sitting. If the rifle went bang every time and I "killed" the pronghorn I would go home. I did not do this with the back-up rifle, I just sighted it in and left it. I repeated this twice a week for 6 weeks total, patching my target between trips.
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My trip started with a 17 hour, 10 minute drive - and I never left Texas! If I were in NYC I would have been able to drive to Cuba in that time. Alaska is bigger! The closer I get to the destination the worse the weather gets. I break this drive into two days. The first day I drove 8+ hours North and stayed with friends that were joining me on the trip. The next day they drove their vehicle West with me enjoying being a passenger. We arrive mid-afternoon and get briefly acquainted with the owner of the company that is hosting this hunt. A husband and wife team run the operations, do the cooking and oversee happenings. The owners twin sons, and son-in-law serve as guides as do 3 other employees. Although I chose the "primitive" hunt the camp area is flooded from the 10 straight days of rain. They have set up a canopy basecamp but have booked us at the Super 8 Motel for overnight lodging. The owner and guides readily admit the closest shot this week has been at 200 yards with many much further. They have never had a muzzleloader hunter on the pronghorn hunt and never had one use open sights or a flintlock on any of their hunts. We agreed they would serve more as scouts, taking me to the various properties looking for some pronghorn. Once we located some they would leave me to hunt on my own until successful or the pronghorn left the area. If it didn't work out at one spot, we would go to another. Although our hunt is supposed to start tomorrow they encourage us to use the remaining daylight to see what happens today. They are concerned about the rain and want to get in every minute of hunting possible. I tell my two companions to go with their guide. I do not want to start in a downpour and get me or my rifle soaked. After a half hour passes, the owner says he really thinks I should at least look any maybe mark where some antelope might go to bed to have a place to start tomorrow. I reluctantly agree.
 
We load into a full sized Toyota pickup. The Son-In Law is driving, one son is passenger and an employee is the rear passenger side. I'm on the rear drivers side. We go 1.5 miles on the highway and turn onto a dirt road where we are supposed to go 6-miles. Around mile 4 the truck is sliding on the rain soaked dirt road and I am uncomfortable with our speed. Suddenly the truck turns sideways and starts sliding. The next thing you know we go nose first over the cliff. Near the bottom the truck rolls over and comes to rest on the drivers side. The son and the employee both ended up on top of me. The son is screaming that he is bleeding. The employee keep saying he can't get up and the son-in-law (driver) is out cold. I get loud and tell them to be quiet and listen up. I have the son grab the hand loop near the passenger door and pull himself up. I push the employee up and get him to hold tight to the passenger seat. I climb up towards the passenger side. Remember, we are resting on the drivers side so the passenger side it straight up. My idea is to see if we can shift the weight and get the truck to come down on all four wheels. We put hard to the passenger side and rock slightly until the truck crashes down on all four wheels. These boys, all in their early 20's are freaking out. They say we are trapped and the doors wont open. I tell them to use the manual door lock, the power locks are not working. The son gets out and the employee and I get out. The son has torn his hand open between two fingers and half way down his hand. He is bleeding badly and fainting. I have a handkerchief in my pocket that I was going to use to flag pronghorn. I make a tourniquet on his hand, bundle him up because he is cold and we're in the rain (shock is setting in) and tell the employee to walk back and forth with him. I go back to the truck and pull the son-in-law out the passenger side. He plops onto the ground and that wakes him up. He was hit with the front and side airbag and apparently that is what knocked him out. He had a broken hand, it is blue and twice the size of the other hand. I tell the employee "you are going to get in and buckle your seatbelt and see if we can get out". There is no cell phone service where we are. I told him I am not going to risk rolling the truck again and it was his responsibility to work through this and take that risk. "The truck wont start, its dead", he tells me. Put it in park comes out of my mouth. Ok, it started. Ease back in reverse and it might climb up the rocks back to the road. It is slipping. Is it in four wheel drive? "No". Now it is and it starts to climb out slowly. Eventually it is on the mud soaked road again. I order everyone in the truck. We must get back to the highway to get help. Employee says he cant see, the airbags are in the way. These kids are about useless, I am thinking. Tuck them back into the headliner. Cut the one off the dash and steering. We start down the muddy road, very slowly. Just 4-miles to go. At the end of the dirt road we cross the highway and pull over. Employee says it won't steer. "Turn the four wheel drive off", I growl. "Oh, it steers now he says". After a minute at 20 MPH I ask if the truck is pulling, not working right or something and don't hear anything like that from employee. "OK then drive the damn truck faster as long as it feels safe. We need to get son back to the camp and then to the hospital, he is turning white. We get cell phone reception and call the owner (son's Mom and son-in-laws MIL). I tell her get ready to take these boys to the ER. We exit the truck and I send the employee to get Mom from the camp-house. Meanwhile I get everyone out. Employee snaps a picture of us in front of the truck. I'm the happy fellow. Son is the big guy with the tourniquet on his hand and son-in-law is the little guy with one swollen hand.

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I haven't told anyone my left shoulder is quite swollen and sore since it went through the window and had the impact of the truck hitting the ground on that side followed by two big guys falling on me. I look for ice and end up putting a few cold soft drink cans in my sleeve. In the camphouse it is quiet now with everyone gone. I smell bacon and hear the sizzling. Upon inspection, she did turn off the stove. Suddenly, I hear a truck approach. My companions are back. One of them took a really nice pronghorn. He did it with a very modern rifle with technology and made a shot at 276 yards. This gets me thinking I should collect my gear out of the truck. Well double damn - my custom loading stick is broken in half. A few other items are bumped and bruised but how am I going to load my flintlock without the stick? It is well past dark now and we take our car and head to the motel. Immediately upon entering the room I get a smile when I realize Super 8 Motel provides loading sticks in every room. I remove the stick that opens the window blinds and try it. Half-inch round and 3-foot long, a white hard plastic material. This will work great tomorrow. I "borrow" it and slip it into my gun case..... now to bed. Ouch, that shoulder hurts!
 
Today is a new day. I wake to the pitter-patter of rain. Dang it. We make the 20-mile drive to the camp. As we slide to a stop on the mudded road I see a lot of smoke. The wet firewood is not burning well. The owner lady is trying to get breakfast done. Smoked eggs anyone? I enter the camp shelter and am greeted by what looks like a foreign military with many camouflaged actors, but now "our" new OCP camo. There is a doctor there that served in the Army. Him and I are the only ones not camo-ed up. Maybe our military service turned us off to camo? I have on my brown duck pants, woven cotton drab-dyed shirt and a "frock" of sorts that is shades of brown, grey and a touch of white made from a Mexican blanket. It is good to see the "boys" back from the hospital. They have opposing matching white wraps on their respective hands. Son has been sewn up one side and down the next. He has to heal some before an assessment of long-term damage can be made. Son-in-law has a sprained wrist and broken finger. Dad, the owner, has ordered them back to work today. I smell coffee and something baking so I investigate. The coffee and biscuits are all I need this morning. As I get past the early morning auto-pilot I realize my shoulder is swollen and sore. A new group of 3-hunters have arrived and will be going with their guide just over 100-miles from camp to work an area near Pampa, TX. My companions (a father and son) depart with their guide with hopes of their second pronghorn. When the crowd subsides a bring my flintlock in to load. Quickly a crowd gathers. I take the opportunity to explain how it works and that the vent pick and frizzen cover serve as "safeties" along with the half-cock. I talk about each component. They are amazed at the round ball and the cut-at-muzzle patch procedure. In TX a flintlock can be loaded in a vehicle as long as it is not primed. I use the Super 8 curtain rod thing to push the ball down and I point out to Son-in-Law that my loading stick and other gear was broken during "his" bad driving episode. The stick works great! I put it in the case that I rigged up. I needed a 60" case and could not find one for the trip, so I took two $9 soft cases and cut the end off of one and sewed them together. It was working but the crash broke the zipper so I use a leather strap to secure the end of the case. Today I will have both of the one-handed guides again. Son-in-law is back in the drivers seat with son the navigator and I'm in the back. We are taking son #2's truck, so neither of these kids owns it and I silently hope they will be very cautious with it because of that. We are pulling out of the camp drive and Son-in-law just asked, "are you sure you can only shoot out to 100-yards". I reply, "maybe". The boys look at each other. Then I said, "I wish the rain would stop". Here we go, time to put this computer away and pray......
 
Good luck on the hunt, it sounds like you'll need it! I've had a few horse wreaks over the years but you seem to be packing them all into one trip. Don't be silent and hope when it's their job to help you to have a safe and rewarding hunt. And you're paying for this? For me the tip jar would be empty by now.
Can you get a Texycan to wear a seat belt so they don't fall on you.
 
Today is a new day. I wake to the pitter-patter of rain. Dang it. We make the 20-mile drive to the camp. As we slide to a stop on the mudded road I see a lot of smoke. The wet firewood is not burning well. The owner lady is trying to get breakfast done. Smoked eggs anyone? I enter the camp shelter and am greeted by what looks like a foreign military with many camouflaged actors, but now "our" new OCP camo. There is a doctor there that served in the Army. Him and I are the only ones not camo-ed up. Maybe our military service turned us off to camo? I have on my brown duck pants, woven cotton drab-dyed shirt and a "frock" of sorts that is shades of brown, grey and a touch of white made from a Mexican blanket. It is good to see the "boys" back from the hospital. They have opposing matching white wraps on their respective hands. Son has been sewn up one side and down the next. He has to heal some before an assessment of long-term damage can be made. Son-in-law has a sprained wrist and broken finger. Dad, the owner, has ordered them back to work today. I smell coffee and something baking so I investigate. The coffee and biscuits are all I need this morning. As I get past the early morning auto-pilot I realize my shoulder is swollen and sore. A new group of 3-hunters have arrived and will be going with their guide just over 100-miles from camp to work an area near Pampa, TX. My companions (a father and son) depart with their guide with hopes of their second pronghorn. When the crowd subsides a bring my flintlock in to load. Quickly a crowd gathers. I take the opportunity to explain how it works and that the vent pick and frizzen cover serve as "safeties" along with the half-cock. I talk about each component. They are amazed at the round ball and the cut-at-muzzle patch procedure. In TX a flintlock can be loaded in a vehicle as long as it is not primed. I use the Super 8 curtain rod thing to push the ball down and I point out to Son-in-Law that my loading stick and other gear was broken during "his" bad driving episode. The stick works great! I put it in the case that I rigged up. I needed a 60" case and could not find one for the trip, so I took two $9 soft cases and cut the end off of one and sewed them together. It was working but the crash broke the zipper so I use a leather strap to secure the end of the case. Today I will have both of the one-handed guides again. Son-in-law is back in the drivers seat with son the navigator and I'm in the back. We are taking son #2's truck, so neither of these kids owns it and I silently hope they will be very cautious with it because of that. We are pulling out of the camp drive and Son-in-law just asked, "are you sure you can only shoot out to 100-yards". I reply, "maybe". The boys look at each other. Then I said, "I wish the rain would stop". Here we go, time to put this computer away and pray......
Good grief and good luck. If that was me I wouldn’t let them drive. Just sayn’
 
I like reading about this adventure. Thank you for bringing us along. I do know how much time it takes to document these things, and you are doing an excellent job sir!
Walk
 
Suddenly the truck turns sideways and starts sliding. The next thing you know we go nose first over the cliff. Near the bottom the truck rolls over and comes to rest on the drivers side.
Not at all the adventure story I was expecting. When I read the line below I figured the hunt would be over before it started. And it almost was, but with a not so nice alternative ending.
Although our hunt is supposed to start tomorrow they encourage us to use the remaining daylight to see what happens today.
Wish you the best of luck. Will have the popcorn hot out of the popper, buttered and ready to go, before I read your next Chronicles ‘update’.
 
Lunchtime update:
The relentless rain keeps coming down. We drove 57 miles to a dirt road and turned onto it. The boys said we needed to go 6-miles. At mile 4 we did a triple 360 on the road and came to rest facing the way we had come. Same driver and passenger from yesterday! I asked, "Is this thing is four-wheel drive"? Son says his brother told him it didn't work on that truck. Good grief, these guys are lousy drivers, are unprepared and have poor equipment. They did repeat that it has never rained during pronghorn season in the 20-years their Dad has been hosting these hunts. 3-days and I have yet to see an antelope. Heck I have hardly got out of the truck! On the way through town Son-in-law stops at a place called Lumber and Hardware Specialties. He says, "Come on Sir, I want to see if we can get you a new loading stick". The lady behind the counter is a mixture of modern gym loyalist and hardcore hardware girl. She has on spandex pants with sneakers, a too tight fitting top and a baseball cap. This is accessorized with her leather tool belt with various implements handing from it, a ruler stuffed into the waistline of her pants and a walkie-talkie clipped to the neckline of her top. We explain what we want to create and she points us to "custom rods". Surprisingly, they have various lengths and diameters of Cherry, Ash, Hickory, Pine and "Hardwood". They are out of my first choice but we get a 3-foot length of Cherry that is .50 diameter cut. Good fit for loading my .54. The warehouse workout maiden points us to "wood knobs" and we select a plain hardwood concave T-knob. She gets on the walkie-talkie and tells someone she is sending us to the shop to direct them in what we need. In the shop, the man gets the picture and he fetches a drill bit, blade and some 5-minute, 2-part epoxy. He drills the knob and slightly taps it. He then sands and lightly thread the rod and applies epoxy. Gets the knob on the rod and tells us to come back in 5-minutes. We wander around and go back. Nice sturdy loading rod. I am slightly impressed that "Crash" , his new nickname, remembered the broken rod and made the effort to replace it. He paid the $7 and change and we headed back to camp. Under the canopy Ms. Owner, the Mom, was rolling pieces of chicken in flat flour sheets, handmaking chicken and dumplings. She would wrap some chicken in the white flour blanket and then put some frosting on the fresh cake. Roll more chicken, apply more frosting. The boys are on the phone with Mr. owner, Dad, to get instructions on what truck to take. We switch gear into a different truck, Mom's. Lunch is hot and fresh and Crash, Son and I are off again in another, newer truck......rain, rain go away, come again another day......
 
Well, back at camp again. Got a call from Mom owner and she said bring her truck back.... We did at least see some pronghorn finally. The rain is taking a break. Heading back out in yet another truck.....

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First time hunting with this outfit, correct? And curious if this a paid for ‘guided’ hunt? Or are you hunting with friends? Can’t imagine them staying in business long unless the are really thick in pronghorns.
 
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