After nearly 40 years of hunting, I am uncertain if it's luck, fate, or divine guidance which leads us to the adventures we pursue. On August 29, 2017, a dear friend (“soul brother” Steve Bauguess) texted me that he had a lead on two landowner tags in Colorado to muzzleloader hunt antelope. If I was interested, we needed to commit quickly. I responded without hesitation, “Yes! Count me in!”
After I responded to Steve's text, reality set in. The season was less than four weeks away and there were a few challenges to overcome. Neither of us owned a muzzleloader, much less experience with their capabilities, and I am in the later stages of an ALS diagnosis, which leaves me with impaired speech, dexterity, and balance. I decided early not to become overwhelmed and take each challenge individually. The first challenge was to find a muzzleloader that I could operate safely. I reached out to a small network of friends. Immediately, Greg Bennett responded, saying that I was in luck. He had an option that would suit my impairment, and he would work to get me familiar and comfortable. Another text came in from General Dave Bellon with information on bullet and powder options that he had used the previous year on a Colorado mule deer hunt. A third text arrived from Jason Rolling offering a gun case that would ensure all would arrive safely on my flight. With all the support, I ordered bullets and powder and began to become familiar and confident. If needed, I wanted to be able to shoot out to 200 yards. Challenge one was quickly being addressed.
While I was working on dialing in the muzzleloader, Steve was scouting the property. Almost daily, he was texting me pictures of bucks. It was incredible what he was sending, which heightened the excitement.
We thought timing would be perfect with the rut, so we decided on three strategies. Due to the rut, decoying in a dominant buck was our first option, spot and stalk was second, and waterhold sitting was third.
As the weeks passed, my anxiety started to become overwhelming. With ALS, my balance is questionable. I require trekking poles when I hike trails. How could I sneak up on an antelope? I finally decided to be brutally honest with Steve. I told him that I may not be physically up to the task and didn't want to affect his hunt. He responded to my text immediately, saying, “We will make it together, and we will be successful. Love you, brother.” With a tear in my eye, I responded thank you. It was all I needed to set aside my fear and push on.
The day finally arrived with an early flight, and in-hand were written instructions to assist me during my travel to Colorado as my speech is not understandable. I arrived in Denver without incident, and Steve was there with a hug. We loaded up and headed south. We scheduled a day to allow me to acclimate and recover from travel. We also wanted to drive around the property to give me some perspective. We glassed several fine bucks and determined how we would begin opening morning. The balance of the night was taken up with organizing gear. That night, I thought about the antelope we had seen and I spoke to them. I asked them to give me one chance. With that, I fell off to sleep.
At the sound of the alarm, we were up and on the road. Seeing the sun peaking her rays over the prairie horizon reminded me of a glorious painting. Upon arriving, we immediately spotted the antelope buck we had seen the night before. He had eight does with him. We were able to get close, but not close enough. The morning continued with blown stalks, either being spotted or scented. The reality was that my mobility was our handicap. We ended the morning with some exciting opportunities but not closing the deal. I was just too slow. We took a break to give me a chance to recover.
Getting ready for the afternoon hunt, Steve looked at me and said, "Brother, grab my shoulder. I will lead, and we will do this together. We need to find a lone buck to stalk."
We arrived at the ranch and began glassing. It wasn't 30 minutes before we spotted a lone mature buck. As luck would have it, he was lying on a hillside that would allow for a stalk. The land features, wind, and sun were perfect, so off we went, my hand on Steve's shoulder. We went slowly, crawling our last 100 yards. As we crested the hill, I could see black horns over the grass. I set my shooting sticks, and Steve handed me the muzzleloader. Steve then raised the decoy, resulting in the buck standing. I immediately lined up on him and squeezed the trigger. Click. It didn't fire. I looked at Steve, who cocked it again. I again lined up, and this time, the shot rang out. At the report, I heard the telltale bullet hit home. Immediately, the buck took off. We watched as he slowed, staggered, and fell. As he lay there, Steve and I hugged, cried, and shared a moment where there was no fear, anxiety, or ALS, only brotherhood. We had done it together. Steve worked his way back to the truck ,leaving me time to sit and take it all in. As I sat there, I immediately took my phone out and began to text my family and core friends, "We did it, we shot a nice buck." Responses came back supporting our joy and sense of accomplishment.
Reflecting back on our moment, it was as if the antelope buck had us on a string, leading us to him. Perhaps he was listening to me the previous evening.
That evening, we decided to grill the heart and backstrap. As we were grilling, three ravens landed in a pine above. I looked up and made eye contact. I think they nodded their approval before flying off.
Is it luck, fate, or divine guidance that leads us on our adventures? After thinking about it, no way could all the pieces to this adventure fit so perfectly together in such a short period to conclude that it was luck, nor do I believe this to be attributed to fate. No, I believe divine guidance led us throughout. I give thanks to all who made this happen, especially Steve, my soul brother, and my family, who encourage me that there are no white flags, and lastly, to the antelope buck who heard my prayer.
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