buckpasser
Senior Member
…well, maybe it wasn’t a deer, but it was a big four legged critter that sheds horns each year.
My dad has been kind enough to manage his and my Wyoming priority points for many years now. The ball actually got rolling before I was a father myself, way back in the 90’s when he started taking Wyoming trips for Mule deer and Pronghorn. I always thought it would be great to see what those guys saw and get after some new game animals. For the trip, I broke out my first deer rifle that he bought me, a Ruger M77 .243 and bolted on a new Vortex scope.
I don’t like to take a lot of time off work and away from the family, so I opted to fly out. Daddy drove out, loaded with our hunting, camping and fly fishing gear. When I landed, he informed me that the Pronghorn numbers weren’t what he remembered, and it might be tough. Turns out, there was a substantial winter kill in our unit this March. After glassing a few areas, we had at least four solid options ready for opening day.
The first morning I snuck in close to a good looking tank to see what might come in late morning for a drink. My Dad drove on to a similar setup. We were out of cell range, but I told him, “You’ll be tagged out by 7:30.” as he’s just always been a hazard to any and all big game. This morning would be no exception. After being inundated by hunters at my spot, I hiked out to the hill and immediately got a text: “got him”.
Indeed he did. Very heavy buck with three extra points! 175 yard stalk up shot.
After a serious 1/2 mile drag uphill, and a victorious trip to town to get his carcass hung at the processor it was time for lunch. There we laid out the plans for getting rid of my tag. I imagined a solar well my Dad found being the ticket near dark, but wanted to try spot and stalk until near dark. One stalk was a close call, but they can appear and disappear in that country easier than you might think.
Shortly afterwards I spotted a buck and doe about 600 yards off the highway near a public/private boundary. After inserting my share of cactus quills into my forearms, I was blessed to make a 209 yard semi freehand shot on a buck I was proud to bring back to Dixie land! (Semi freehand meaning I laid my fat gut on a big sage brush plant and popped him after being noticed by the then bedded pronghorn!)
I’ve just got to say, the first day kills were nothing short of a blessing. The number of hunters and scared running speed goats was way higher than I had imagined. The early success gave us time to scout for mulies and try to capture some Bighorn mountain trout, which we intended to locate.
The tent came in handy back west of Sheridan and we spent two nights scouting the area from camp. Trout were plentiful, as were mule deer and elk, not to mention elk hunters!
From there, we traveled back south and checked out some very promising units for our future mule deer hunt on the way back to Casper and my plane ride to Jacksonville FL.
When I got back I was lucky enough to track down the same taxidermist that mounted my Dad’s record Chickasaw buck and his first Pronghorn. That really capped off a trip with my father that I won’t soon forget. We talked one evening at camp about just how fast this life goes. His Dad is now gone, and our time is coming too, but if heaven is even half as beautiful as the Bighorns, believers will be just fine. In the meantime we’ll both treasure memories like these.
My dad has been kind enough to manage his and my Wyoming priority points for many years now. The ball actually got rolling before I was a father myself, way back in the 90’s when he started taking Wyoming trips for Mule deer and Pronghorn. I always thought it would be great to see what those guys saw and get after some new game animals. For the trip, I broke out my first deer rifle that he bought me, a Ruger M77 .243 and bolted on a new Vortex scope.
I don’t like to take a lot of time off work and away from the family, so I opted to fly out. Daddy drove out, loaded with our hunting, camping and fly fishing gear. When I landed, he informed me that the Pronghorn numbers weren’t what he remembered, and it might be tough. Turns out, there was a substantial winter kill in our unit this March. After glassing a few areas, we had at least four solid options ready for opening day.
The first morning I snuck in close to a good looking tank to see what might come in late morning for a drink. My Dad drove on to a similar setup. We were out of cell range, but I told him, “You’ll be tagged out by 7:30.” as he’s just always been a hazard to any and all big game. This morning would be no exception. After being inundated by hunters at my spot, I hiked out to the hill and immediately got a text: “got him”.
Indeed he did. Very heavy buck with three extra points! 175 yard stalk up shot.
After a serious 1/2 mile drag uphill, and a victorious trip to town to get his carcass hung at the processor it was time for lunch. There we laid out the plans for getting rid of my tag. I imagined a solar well my Dad found being the ticket near dark, but wanted to try spot and stalk until near dark. One stalk was a close call, but they can appear and disappear in that country easier than you might think.
Shortly afterwards I spotted a buck and doe about 600 yards off the highway near a public/private boundary. After inserting my share of cactus quills into my forearms, I was blessed to make a 209 yard semi freehand shot on a buck I was proud to bring back to Dixie land! (Semi freehand meaning I laid my fat gut on a big sage brush plant and popped him after being noticed by the then bedded pronghorn!)
I’ve just got to say, the first day kills were nothing short of a blessing. The number of hunters and scared running speed goats was way higher than I had imagined. The early success gave us time to scout for mulies and try to capture some Bighorn mountain trout, which we intended to locate.
The tent came in handy back west of Sheridan and we spent two nights scouting the area from camp. Trout were plentiful, as were mule deer and elk, not to mention elk hunters!
From there, we traveled back south and checked out some very promising units for our future mule deer hunt on the way back to Casper and my plane ride to Jacksonville FL.
When I got back I was lucky enough to track down the same taxidermist that mounted my Dad’s record Chickasaw buck and his first Pronghorn. That really capped off a trip with my father that I won’t soon forget. We talked one evening at camp about just how fast this life goes. His Dad is now gone, and our time is coming too, but if heaven is even half as beautiful as the Bighorns, believers will be just fine. In the meantime we’ll both treasure memories like these.
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