As I glanced at the clock on my truck stereo, I knew my time was short and my hopes of tagging a respectable Colorado antelope were fading fast. I had spent the last day and a half covering as much ground as possible while glassing up every antelope buck as far as the eye could see. Though my expectations weren't high for a less than two-day hunt, frustration began to sink in as I had seen so many young bucks and managed to blow the only stalk that presented itself on a mature buck. One thing was certain, I wasn't quite ready to throw in the towel because I knew there was a good possibility of returning for the final weekend of the season.
As I began to except the fact that I most likely wouldn't fill my tag on this day, I still couldn't help but smile. I had spent an awesome weekend with my beautiful wife, Marilyn, and my 14-month-old son, Tucker. The three of us had the privilege of exploring part of God's country that we had never seen before and had also looked over a lot of antelope. Having Tucker along kept us entertained when we weren't admiring bucks and when he wasn't sawing logs in his car seat, most likely dreaming about big bucks.
Marilyn and I had agreed that we better start making our long drive home, but I decided to stop and check my GPS for an alternate route back to town. Being an optimistic hunter and willing to hunt until we had crossed the last cattle guard, I opted to take a road that we hadn't been on yet. In my mind, I knew that there was still a slight chance of locating the type of buck I had come for.
Not even half a mile down the road, there appeared a couple promising groups of antelope on both sides. After looking them over, it was clearly more of the same, several does with a handful of scattered young bucks. I started to wonder if the buck I had spooked the day before was the only mature buck in the unit. As we continued to drive, it didn't take long before I spotted the next group of goats. This time, there were only two bucks, but one of them definitely caught my eye as they walked over the hill and out of sight. I can remember telling Marilyn, "That buck had better prongs than anything we've seen." I could tell that she wasn't super enthused but gave me the okay to go and take a closer look as Tucker was still sound asleep. I told her I would try and hurry, grabbed my gun, and took off after them.
When I reached the top of the ridge, I transitioned to an army crawl and carefully peeked over the top. I quickly discovered the smaller of the two bucks with a dozen or so does. Where had the buck with the good prongs gone? I backed down the hill and crept another 100 yards to my left to get a better vantage point and see more territory. As I crawled to the crest, I could already see several more does below me. With a couple nudges forward, I instantly turned up the buck. After a quick reference with my rangefinder, I realized that I needed to close the distance at least another 100 yards in order to have a legitimate shot with a muzzleloader. Moving to my left again due to the wind, I chose to attempt a short loop around the buck.
While steadily inching my way forward, I noticed the buck had advanced several yards away from the herd. I stopped for a minute to monitor his next move, and in the blink of an eye, he had plopped down to his belly and bedded behind the only patch of sagebrush on the ridgeline. This was the break that I needed. All I had to do now was sneak into the depression below me without being seen.
Keeping Marilyn and Tucker in mind as they had been waiting for close to an hour, I began to crawl forward. As the tips of the buck's horns went out of view, I felt safe that I had gone undetected. From my position now, I was well within shooting range. Hunched over, I moved a few yards closer and started to peak over the horizon. In no time, I made out two jet black tips just above the brush line, but much to my surprise, they were only about 40 yards away. Though I didn't realize he was so close, I did notice that his prongs were facing away from me. Another lucky break.
With no cover to hide behind, I sat down and decided to wait him out. Before I could even get comfortable, a doe stood up out of nowhere right next to where the buck was lying. How did I not see her? Instantly, the buck jumped up, facing directly towards me with eyes on me. Certain that his next move was to bolt, I made an immediate decision and took a frontal shot, aiming just off the center of his chest. After a swift plume of smoke faded away, I watched him sprint straight away, gaining only another 40 yards before crashing hard into the dusty desert floor and expiring. Once I was positive that he had taken his last breath, I turned around in excitement and headed in a beeline back to the truck. I wanted to wait to admire the animal so that I could enjoy the moment with my wife and son.
Within five minutes, I was back and trading a muzzleloader for a baby backpack and a one-year-old while Marilyn threw on the empty pack frame. We made the half-mile trek back, and upon arrival, we were anxious to see Tucker's reaction to his first up close antelope. "Big buck," were the first words out of his mouth as we knelt down in appreciation and prepared for pictures. We were all smiles from there on out.
Though nowhere near a book buck, I couldn't be happier with my trophy and was happy to have shared the experience with my wife and future hunting buddy.
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