Story By: Taras Smerechanskyy
I’ve been a loyal Huntin’ Fool subscriber for years, using their tools and resources to chase big-game dreams across the country. Their online application deadline calendar has become one of my favorite features—a simple but powerful way to keep track of draws and plan future adventures.
One hunt had always stood out to me: the South Dakota Custer State Park bison hunt. For years, I applied and hoped, and this year, I finally drew the tag. After so much anticipation, it was hard to believe the wait was over.
My twin brother Andriy Smerechanskyy and I traveled to Custer State Park, a place that truly feels timeless. The Black Hills are unlike anywhere else—the dark evergreens give the rolling hills their name, and, in the early light, the land seems to breathe. It’s quiet, powerful, and steeped in history. The Lakota people hunted bison here for generations, and, standing among those same hills, you can feel that legacy all around you.
On the cool morning of October 14, 2025, we met Chad Kremer from South Dakota Game, Fish, and Parks. Chad is the kind of person who immediately earns your respect—humble, kind, and deeply knowledgeable. He met us before sunrise, spent some time getting to know us, and then we set out together, glassing the open ridges as the sun began to rise over the pines.
It wasn’t long before we spotted a herd of bison grazing on top of a hill that overlooked a spectacular, endless landscape. The scene was everything you could hope for in a hunt—crisp air, golden light, and a horizon that seemed to stretch forever. Among the herd stood one massive bull. As we approached, he turned and locked eyes with us, the morning light catching his thick winter coat. You could see the tension in his frame—alert, tail up, and ready to run.
Chad quietly signaled that this was my moment. I motioned to Andriy for the shooting stick and rested my rifle, then took two deep, steady breaths and squeezed the trigger.
The shot was perfect. The bull kicked once, took a few powerful steps, and went down. It was quick, clean, and humane. Chambered in .308, my Remington 700—a Christmas gift from Andriy back when we were still in college—performed flawlessly. Later, we discovered that the Buffalo Bore Supercharged monolithic copper round had entered precisely between the ribs, passing through the arteries above the heart and both lungs before exiting cleanly without fragmenting. It was exactly how every hunter hopes a shot will go.
When we walked up to that incredible animal, a wave of emotion hit me—gratitude, awe, and a deep respect for what had just happened. The size and presence of a mature bull bison command reverence. Standing there with Andriy beside me, in the same hills where hunters have walked for thousands of years, I felt connected to something much larger than myself.
This was more than just a hunt—it was a moment of reflection, tradition, and brotherhood. I’ll never forget it. And someday, I hope my own children will stand in those same hills, feel that same wind, and understand what it means to be part of something sacred.
It was, without a doubt, the hunt of a lifetime.