The makings of this special hunt started a long time ago. It was 1894 when my three greats grandfather, Will Raber, purchased a Winchester model 1886 chambered in 45-70 from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. Although he mainly hunted deer in Northern Michigan, I can’t help but wonder if he dreamed of chasing the iconic bison of the Great Plains.
Fast forward 125 years. After many years of applying unsuccessfully for bison in the state draw, I decided to up the ante and apply in the Fort Peck Tribe lottery as well. As luck would have it, I finally drew a tag! My first call was to my grandpa, Don Bentley, in Michigan. It had been nearly 20 years since he told me if I ever had a chance to hunt bison I could use his grandpa’s trusty “buffalo thumper.” Excited and nervous doesn’t even begin to describe the emotions I felt as I asked if the offer was still on the table. I listened in disbelief as he told me not only could I use it, but I could keep it as well! Feeling as if I had truly won the lottery, we began to make plans to get the rifle from Michigan to Montana.
With two weeks to go before my bison hunt was scheduled to begin, I finally held it in my hands. I headed to the range to practice and reality quickly set in. I needed a lot of practice if I was going to take down a bison at 200 yards with iron sights. I shot every day for the next week until I was comfortable out to 250 yards.
The day before opening day, I packed up and started the 14-hour trek to my area. I picked up my cousin, Cory Wolff, in Billings, and we finished the drive in a blizzard. Thankful to have made it safely but excited for the adventure ahead, neither of us slept much that night.
November 6th dawned clear and bitterly cold on the Northern Plains. We strained looking through our binos into the darkness trying to make out the shape of a bison in the distance. An hour after daylight, we found our first herd of bison. There were 50 of them. They were over a mile away and perched on a knob with absolutely no way to get close to them. We decided to head right at them and see how close we could get before they spooked. This plan was short lived as they noticed us right away and wasted no time moving off. I could tell that we needed to be more careful when the next opportunity presented itself.
The next herd we came across was much smaller at six cows and two bulls. They were close to a mile away but in a pretty good spot to make a stalk. We made a big circle to get downwind of them and started to close the distance. I crawled up to the knob where I thought I was going to have a shot within 200 yards and ranged them at 417 yards, too far for me to shoot. The only choice I had now was to stay low in the grass and crawl to the next ridge. We lost sight of them for a few minutes during the stalk. When we saw them again, we noticed the cows were watching us. I chambered a round and knew it wouldn’t be long before the biggest bull stood. I ranged him at 171 yards, and when he turned broadside, I let one fly. The big bull went down instantly, and the rest of the herd made a dust cloud across the prairie.
We spent the next few hours taking pictures, field dressing, skinning, and quartering the big bull. How much different would this have been 125 years ago? After pondering it for only a moment, I realized probably not much. There is a certain deep kind of satisfaction that comes from hard work and providing food for the family table, just as my ancestors had done using the same rifle. I hope that 125 years from now my grandkids cherish this family heirloom as much as I do. Maybe this story will inspire them to dust off the old rifle and add another chapter to this rifle’s legacy!
Montana Bison Hunting
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