Who could have known that a double size adventure was in store when we put in for the New Mexico oryx tags? My husband, Eldon, took a gamble when he put Shooter in for the youth-only hunt for an oryx on the White Sands Missile Range. He doubled down by putting me in for a broken-horned tag in the same location. God saw fit to bless us with both tags, and the excitement that our family embraced together was just the beginning of our great adventures.
The summer of 2017 was filled with a lot to do as Shooter and his younger brother, Kix, raised up two 4-H goats, rode horses, helped with the family business, and did plenty of “brother stuff.” Whenever we could fit it in, Eldon and I packed the guns and ammo and headed to the gun range with both of the boys. Practicing his marksmanship from different positions and yardages, Shooter quickly gained more confidence, even nailing his first ever shot at the 600-yard target. At 10 years old, taking an oryx for his first big game animal was a rare experience that not many kids get to have. In Shooter’s own words, “I was excited for the adventure of hunting a new place and having the privilege to be on a base where they test nuclear bombs. I was also excited to harvest an African animal that not a lot of people get to see.”
As Labor Day approached and we began to pile up our supplies, the anticipation could be felt among everyone. Neither Eldon nor I had ever hunted these animals, and we were a bit nervous about what we would encounter. However, our years of hunting experience and our family unity gave us confidence that this trip would be a success. We trusted that God had planned this and would accompany our family on everything and anything we faced.
The seven-hour drive to southern New Mexico proved to be a test of patience and endurance. Admiring oryx mounts at Sportsman’s Warehouse helped make the decision final that we would absolutely have to do a shoulder mount of Shooter’s trophy. Settling in at the home of our newfound friends, Wayne and Alisha, in Ruidoso, New Mexico was a refreshing reprieve from the long drive. We rested up, sighted in the 6.5 one more time, and hit the road for White Sands.
After enjoying a sandwich and an ice cream in the back of the truck, we met up with Gilbert Tafoya, our guide and friend who would accompany us on the hunt. With Gil’s employment as a guide, using their outfitter number had increased our chances of drawing these tags. We were happy to have him along as he had hunted the oryx in this location before and would have much advice to offer.
Arriving on base for the vehicle check and orientation was an experience in and of itself. Shooter recalls seeing the hot desert terrain and mesquite bushes with thorns like he’d never seen before. Shooter remembers, “After leaving orientation, there was a big train of trucks headed out to hunt. Everyone pulled out fast to get to the spots they wanted to hunt. It was wild and crazy, with everyone passing each other and turning off on bumpy, rough roads. There were oryx everywhere, and we had to be careful as vehicles would hit their brakes suddenly. We decided to not get caught up in all the traffic. We wanted to have our own adventure.”
We hit the hills to find a glassing point. After spotting a huge group in the flats below, we made a game plan to stalk in on them. After about a half-mile sneak, Shooter took standing aim at 378 yards from his shooting sticks, his “second best position” as he calls it. He hit a good size cow in the left front elbow, which was, unfortunately, just a few inches low to put her down. She ran off, leaving a piece of bone and a blood trail. Eldon, Shooter, and Kix set off to track her, while Gil and I headed to the truck to drive the road in hopes of spotting the wounded cow and radioing the boys of her whereabouts.
Shooter remembers, “Out in the hot, 95 degree desert terrain, we ran out of water quickly. With no shade or water sources to refresh, the tracking adventure became miserable. We hiked for a couple miles but never found my wounded cow. I felt disappointed letting her be out there wounded, but we had to move on. We loaded up and drove to a road where the next oryx waited for me. We spotted a little herd, but they were all baldies. Then we found a lone bull and decided to take a chance at him, even though we were close to the time of needing to checkout before dark. Dad quickly grabbed the sticks and set me up for a 350-yard shot, and this time, I was right on the mark. He dropped, and we hiked toward him. We took pictures and loaded him in the back of the truck and then drove to the checkout station.”
I will never forget how our younger son, Kix, compassionately cried for Shooter not five minutes before all of this happened. He was so bummed out that the cow had gotten away and wondered what God’s plan was. I encouraged him that God always has something bigger and better in store for us than we could imagine for ourselves. The tears of disappointment were quickly turned to tears of joy as he hugged his big brother tightly and rejoiced with him over his success. His exact words were, “I’m just so happy for Shooter.” While the day was exhausting and trying, we all saw the bonding and character building that God had done in each one of us that day.
We used the next day to cut up meat and rest in Ruidoso. We discovered that we’d have to make the seven-hour drive home on our spare tire as one of our tires had a huge mesquite thorn deeply embedded in it. To add to the tension of hoping the hot asphalt wouldn’t explode our spare, our air conditioner had gone out the night of the hunt. Already having to ride home with the windows down at 80 mph, the timing couldn’t have been better with Shooter getting carsick 30 minutes into the trip home and covering the truck with throw up. Oh, we can laugh about it now, but it was definitely a loud, windy, stinky trek home. It was not funny at the time, but now it's a grand finale to our first epic adventure.
Fast forward two months to mid-November when we were off again to southern New Mexico. This time, my finger was itching to pull the trigger on a broken-horned oryx. We stayed in Alamogordo, and the boys were intrigued by the presence of palm trees. Hotel camping was a ton of fun, preparing all meals from the desk in our room. This time, we knew the challenges, terrain, and the name of the game as it went with these smart and very apprehensive creatures.
However, finding a broken-horned Oryx was not an easy feat. I had numerous opportunities to shoot trophy animals, if only my tag had held that approval. We hiked a couple of miles the second day, pursuing a giant group. We figured there would have to be at least one broken-horned Oryx in the group. The boys did an amazing job with us, stalking to within 100 yards of some bulls and cows trying to lay down for a nap. Not one of them had a broken horn, so we had to walk away. We did find one shade tree to take a short nap under and refuel with a snack. While it wasn’t the scorching 95 degrees we’d battled in September, it was, nonetheless, warm and intensely trying, especially for a 10 and 7-year-old. The trying lesson was in having patience and perseverance to keep at it, never giving up the hope of finding “the one.”
After two hard days at it, we knew Sunday morning would be our last window of opportunity before having to hit the long ride home. At early daybreak, Eldon spotted a small group in the foothills. He was certain he’d seen a broken-horned oryx among them, so we made a plan of attack. After an hour of quietly creeping on top of tiny, noisy, roll your ankle every step kind of rocks, we realized our play on them was about to pay off. We could see one oryx looking our way. Her vision of us was only mildly obscured by some bush branches. Eldon told the boys to hang back while he and I snuck up another 25 yards. I set up on my sticks, standing face to face in the scope with a beautiful animal. What was that I saw? Was it a horn on her left? Yes, for sure. What was that on her right? Were the branches deceiving me, or did she truly have a broken horn? Had God really put me face to face with “the one?” Yes, she did, and yes, He had. Confirmation came when she finally realized we were someone and something she didn’t care to know. She turned and bounded up the hill at an angle. We could clearly see her horn was broken on the right. I knew my opportunity to take her was going to slip away if I didn’t act quickly. With Eldon’s help of the famous “meh” call, she stopped just long enough for me to shoot. She was hit good, but not good enough. She skylined and presented another shot. Hit. Then she disappeared over the top of the hill. We motioned to the boys, and we all hurriedly climbed the hill. There, down in the bottom, she was still on her feet, running in our direction. From the top of the hill, I laid three more shots in her. Hot brass flying, nerves of all four of us going wild, the hunt had come to an end as she finally fell.
The word “adventure” is inept in capturing everything we experienced on our New Mexico oryx hunts. To truly encompass what all God blessed us with, we had to tell of the character building, family team building, physically trying, nerve jumping, patience testing, and fun we had. Laced with moments of irritation and love, as all families have, the New Mexico oryx were truly epic blessings to each of us. Shooter’s majestic bull now hangs on our living room wall, and my one-horned treasure graces our shop trophy wall, hanging on the background of the New Mexico State flag. The Land of Enchantment held true to its name. We were enchanted by the African native oryx when we began and left enchanted, full of beautiful memories!
Login