First
and Finest
I
looked down at the temperature gauge in my truck as I made
my way west traveling through southern Kansas, 100?. A few
minutes later, 102?. I had left my home in eastern Missouri
earlier that morning, where the first break in the record
heat all summer was anticipated. 105?; something is wrong
with my temperature gauge, this can’t be right. A short
time later, I stopped for gas and was blasted by the heat
when I stepped out of my truck.
I
had driven into the hottest day of the year in Kansas on my
way to Logan, New Mexico for my first ever antelope hunt. After
staying the night in a much welcomed air-conditioned motel,
I made my way to New Mexico in what seemed like a matter of
minutes that next day. After a quick bite to eat, I met up with
my guides that afternoon and made my way to camp.
During
the short trip to camp, my guide, Jerome and I, talked about
the anticipated hunt that would begin the next day. I knew right
from the start, I was going to have a good time, and Jerome
and his brother James were going to be a lot of fun to hunt
with. The temperature was 100? when I arrived. With higher than
normal temps, along with an on going draught, conditions were
going to be tough.
After
setting up my tent and unpacking my gear, we piled into James’
truck with two other hunters in camp who had been hunting that
day. One had already put down a 70 class antelope that morning
and they were now looking to fill one more tag. Since I couldn’t
hunt till the next day, this was a great opportunity for me
to ride around and glass the 38,000 acre ranch and size up some
antelope for the first time.
Over
the course of few hours, we spotted three or four nice bucks
in the 70 class range, that I would be thrilled to wrap a tag
around. That night, after trading stories at camp and filling
my stomach, I somehow slept better than I would have thought,
as the anticipation of the following morning hunt ran heavily
through my mind. Right about 4:30 A.M., a great horned owl perched
in a near by tree called out eerily in the still morning air.
The only other sound came from the near by windmill that creaked
and moaned with each turn. An ideal alarm clock, and I was ready
to go.
A
little more than an hour later, we headed out with our guides
in separate trucks with full stomachs, as the night steadily
let go of its grasp of the coming morning. It didn’t take
long, and right after first light, our other hunter in camp,
pulled the trigger and wrapped his hands around a beautiful
82” antelope. Moments later, Jerome and I spotted one
of the bigger bucks we had glassed the night before. We drove
down the road a little ways and decided to make our move.
The
buck was about 400 yards away. The terrain was relatively flat,
and closing the distance would be a challenge. Using the terrain
to our advantage, as best we could, we closed the distance to
about 280 yards before the buck finally had enough, and slipped
under the fence to the neighbors ranch.
Enjoying
my first attempted stalk, I was neither, discouraged or concerned
for that matter. I was already having the time of my life on
my first antelope hunt. We continued to glass the ranch, as
I was amazed at the number of antelope we glassed. We spotted
a couple more really nice bucks that were either on the wrong
side of the fence or just too far for a respectable stalk. So
we added them to our or hit list, and would later return if
we were unsuccessful in other areas of the ranch.
One
of the prettiest bucks spied the night before was next on our
list. We drove across the ranch to try and locate him, and the
handful of does he was keeping company the night before. We
eventually reached the top of a tall plateau that stretched
a ways across the ranch surrounded by the valley below. This
gave us a clear view of the surroundings, and a good opportunity
to ambush the buck.
After
a slow and deliberate walk around one edge of the ridge, he
had finally reached the end. Jerome asked me to wait where I
was, as he wanted to peer over a small finger at the end of
the plateau that we could not yet see over. As he peered over
the edge, he quickly motioned for me to hurry over.
Sure
enough, he had spotted the does bedded about 250 yards below
us. After a few minutes of glassing, Jerome spotted the buck.
“There, under the cholla,” he said. “What
the hell is a cholla?” I quickly responded. After a quick
lesson on cacti, I quickly found the buck bedded beneath the
cactus in question.
We
inched to the edge of the ridge and quickly set up on the tripod.
The does who had been watching us inquisitively, finally made
a dash to our left, and soon after, the buck was on their heels.
I moved to the next opening between some yuccas, and the buck
stopped broadside to find out what the commotion was bout. “207
yards,” Jerome whispered. Thump… Thump… Thump,
my heart pounded, my cross hairs bounced over the buck’s
vitals, my breath erratic, as the buck stared towards us.
I
took a deep breath, held and squeezed the trigger. The buck
tore off to the next county as Jerome advised I had shot high.
“Were you shaking?” he asked. “A little,”
I greatly understated. We quickly laughed off the miss, and
on our walk back to the truck, I later admitted I was shaking
like I was getting ready to shoot my first whitetail ever.
Excited
about the encounter, and optimistic about getting another opportunity,
I was ready to get back to glassing after a quick lunch. I would
be lying though if I didn’t admit that I had in my head,
my tagged should have been already filled.
After
an hour or so of glassing different areas and another blown
stalk, we made our way down the county highway where I soon
spotted a lone doe feeding less than 200 yards off the road.
We quickly pulled over to glass the area. After a several minutes
of glassing, like a ghost, a buck appeared out of nowhere 150
yards or so away facing us. He looked at us inquisitively, and
continued to feed along with the doe as I came to the conclusion,
this was a buck I would be happy to take aim at. We drove down
the highway to move ahead of the buck, but he began running
with us, as if racing us down the road. He finally gave up and
we turned into the ranch a little ways down, and drove around
to the other side of the ridge where we observed him.
It
didn’t take long and we spotted the buck grazing ahead
of us at about 250 yards. We quickly set up and the buck continued
casually along as it glanced our way. “280 yards,”
Jerome relayed. I got a lot of jitters out after my initial
miss earlier that day. I wasn’t sure if I was even going
to attempt a shot, but I laid the cross hairs on him and relaxed
as much as I could. The buck remained wary but calm. I took
my time, and the cross hairs began to settle tighter and tighter
on the buck’s vitals. “Aim for the top of the shoulder,”
I heard and slowed my breathing.
Almost
with out warning, my finger squeezed and the gun roared. I looked
up to see the buck trotting away. Missed, I thought. I slammed
in another round and found him in my scope again. Yet, when
I located him, he was looking back my way with his chest painted
in red. He turned and trotted another 30 yards, stumbled and
fell over. I looked at my guides with astonishment. “I
can’t believe that just happened!” I exhaled. After
some hand shakes, I asked how far he was when I shot. “317
yards,” Jerome replied. If possible, the smile on my face
grew, as this shot was over twice as far as any shot I had taken
back home.
We
approached the downed buck and I noticed horns sticking up,
and I thought to myself, what nice looking animal. However,
as Jerome approached, he grew even more excited. “ I think
we underestimated this buck!” The closer we got, the bigger
he got. The mass on this buck was substantial and gave the appearance
of his horns being shorter in length. I stood over my fist antelope
dazed and astonished.
Several
pictures later, and a tattooed smile on my face, we arrived
back at camp. After caping out the buck, we green scored the
horns. Jerome looked at me at grinned, looked back down and
shook his head, looked up again. “87 1/2 gross.”
I didn’t believe him. It seemed to good to be true. After
we measured again and confirmed, I was in disbelief. My first
antelope hunt and I had taken what may be the only Boone &
Crockett animal of my life.
In
a day’s time, I took a ride on a roller coaster of events
that ultimately made up one of the most amazing times I’ve
spent hunting. From the scenery, to the vast number of antelope
we glassed, to making a shot I will never forget; I was on my
way back home with a hunt of a lifetime behind me, and a Boone
and Crockett antelope in the back of my truck.
A
special thanks to James and Jerome Provencio of Provencio Outdoor
Adventures who made the whole experience possible. They truly
have an outstanding, professional hunting operation and are
a pleasure to hunt with. If you are interested in a hunt, you
can contact James at 505-264-3534 or check out their web site
at:
Provenciooutdooradventures.com
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