My second antelope was when Karyn was a baby and David was about 3 years old. He took his little play rifle along. Tom spotted a nice little buck taking a nap alongside a hill. We all got out of the truck, walked carefully and spotted the antelope. I took aim, David took aim, we pulled are respective triggers at the same times and the antelope was bagged. David was quite excited about his "first kill" and even to this day he argues with me about who shot that antelope.
My best friend, Lee, and I were taking a breaking while the guys were beating the brush for deer. A buck came peeking out of a grove trees. Lee told me to take the shot. I did, hit it, it turned and went back into the grove of trees and fell at the feet of the guys. Fortunately - they got to gut it.
I have hunted now and then since then but mostly I just tag along and enjoy the "hunt" the "kill" isn't my favorite part. This past summer, Tom was getting his hunting licenses in order. He asked if he should buy an antelope license for me. I think the devil took hold of me and answered, "yes!" I tried to take possession of my mouth and change my mind but Tom's obvious joy at my affirmative answer kept my mouth closed. He was like a kid in a candy shop - I couldn't take that joy away from him.
His attempts to encourage me to go to the shooting range with him, fell on deaf ears though. I wasn't too concerned about really shooting anything. By having a license I could have a rifle and if something dumb came my way, I'd probably be good enough to bag it. After all I hadn't spent hours on the shooting range before and I was successful (with some guidance by more successful hunters.)
Opening day was fast approaching. We have a number of rifles and Tom asked which one I wanted to use. I said "mine". The .243 is actually mine, Tom bought it for me and it is the one I used before. However, my eyes are doing weird things and when I compared the scopes on that one with the new Thompson Center 7mm-08 scope and it was better for me. So I shrugged and said, "Sure, I'll try the new one." And promptly forgot about it.
Tom's daughters, Kristie and Lorie, dropped by one evening and visited with us. Tom was busy loading shells at the dining room table. Yeah, it's his house, too. He was loading lots of shells. Kristie and Lorie noted this and asked what he was doing. I really didn't know either that he was loading shells for my gun. He was on shell #25 when this conversation took place.
I quipped, "Why, so many? I only need 1." Lorie and Kristie howled.
Opening day - September 10. On September 8th, we left for the family cabin which would be our base.
We got to the cabin on Thursday evening. Had a nice meal of bacon wrapped, marinated in OJ doves that Tom barbequed. Yummy! We played a few games of cribbage and headed to bed. In the morning we got up and went scouting. We called long-time friends - Dallas and VivienneTalbott who now lease the land we wanted to hunt on. Vivienne was busy but invited us to dinner, and she told us to hunt up Dallas. We found Dallas with no problem - got permission to hunt, exchanged a few pleasantries and hugs and were on our way.
Tom insisted I needed some target practice and since I can't seem to hit anything when I'm on the shooting range (that's why I don't go), he was probably right. We found a place on the Forest Service and practiced with the 22. When I sit on my rump and use my knees for a rest, I do pretty good hitting what I aim at. Then it was time to get out the big rifle. No problemo. I'm a dynamo!
We decided to explore the woods a bit and found what looked like an abandoned campsite. There was a tent on its top, a very nice sleeping bag out in the woods, a three shelf bookcase, a plastic patio loveseat, fireworks in a campfire ring and more junk just scattered around. This didn't seem right to us. We got the coordinates (but no pictures, dumb us) and thought we might report it to the Forest Service. As we were headed down the main road, a dilapidated van was headed up. I told Tom that looked like just the kind of vehicle that would belong to such a campsite. Tom doubted me.
We pulled off onto another dirt road for a bit of lunch and one more shooting lesson. As Tom is taking aim, I hear a vehicle coming up the road. Guess what? It's the dilapidated van. The young man waves and smiles at us so we wave back but as he passes us, I look in the back of the van and see the 3 shelf bookcase! Strange. Tom finishes shooting and we decide this is just too weird so we go follow him and see he is parked off the side of the road. We take down his license plate and head out to the main road.
We both decided we're curious as to whether this van did go to the original campsite. So we go back. Yep, most of the stuff is gone and now there is a fire burning in the fire ring. The fireworks are off to the side but unlit matches are in the fire ring.
The fire is mostly smoldering but it is still a live fire and a bunch of junk the guy didn't want to take is burning slowing in the ring. We do take pictures this time and Tom finds some water and pours it on the fire.We are now mad! So we go to the Centennial Information Center that is closed but 3 US forest people are working on it, taking down the old getting ready for the new. We tell them what we know and they call their FPO - Fire Protection Officer. He shows up, we tell him what we know and promise to send him the pictures when we had access to the internet. We kind of want to be his posse but he doesn't invite us along so we sadly head up to the cabin to get ready for our dinner date with the Talbotts.
The Talbotts have a beautiful spot at the foot of Sheep mountain. Dallas is a workaholic after he works all day at the ranch he comes home and is turning the backyard into a beautiful outdoor patio/garden area. It was too chilly to stay out there (darn!)l so we head inside and exchanged stories and health histories because that is what old people do. Dallas bbqs some lovely beefsteak and Vivienne put on quite a dinner for us. Gotta love those ranch wives, they sure know how to cook!
Charlie, the dog, is our kid now, so he just goes along with us and rarely complains. He was a digging machine up at the cabin. Whereas at home, he'd rather be underfoot all day, up at the cabin he'd rather just check in at supper time. He generally came when called. At the Talbotts he hung out in the pickup and was happy to reclaim his spot - the front passenger seat.
We were up early for opening day and on the land before sunup. We heard shots just as the sun rose. We saw those folks on the other side of the fence. One hunter said he took a shot but it was too far away. We spooked up lots of antelope and they all ran up the side of Sheep Mountain. Tom found a good spot for me and said he'd take a hike and see if he could push them down to me. While he was doing that another herd came up behind me. They were kind of far and I just saw does. Does are okay but it's hard to tell if they are does or fawns so I waited to see if they'd come in closer. Then the herd on the mountain headed towards me. A number of bucks in that group. They get closer and I have one spotted but I'm not sure just how far back Tom is and I can't see him. Then they start moving and I'm not sure how much to lead on a moving animal so I let them go. But the other does are closer now so I take aim and shoot and miss. Oh well. I guess I'm not as good as I think I am, I still need instruction.Tom comes back = he also took a shot but no animal. He's all smiles because he watched me through the binoculars and says he could tell what was going through my mind. He pretty much did. That's what happens when you've been married a long time.
We go over to the leased ground and look it over. Plenty of antelope but pretty far away and kind of stirred up so we are making our plans when this dumb buck comes over the hill. He stops sideways and looks at us. We move slowly and look at him. He just stands there like the welcome committee. I get out of the truck and plant myself over the hood and take aim. He turns his chest to me. Hmm, not sure if I should try a chest shot or not. The truck is still running and I guess Tom is telling me to wait until he turns but I don't hear him. I figure I better take the shot, aim at the middle of his chest,- the buck's not Tom's - pull the trigger - kawaam and kathunk and and the antelope quickly turns over the hill. Tom asked where I hit him and I said the chest, and he said why didn't I wait for him to turn and I said, " I dunno."
We wait for a bit, because we know I broke the buck's leg. Then we drive towards where he ran. Conveniently, he is lying up against the bank of a road and he is dead. I did hit him in the chest but the bullet went through and broke his shoulder and pretty much pulverized one shoulder's meat. We take pictures on the camera and the phone camera- gotta brag, you know.
Tom is getting ready to do the gutting stuff, cuz I don't do that. A white pickup turns on the road. We are sort of in the middle of the road. We approach the truck to tell him we will get out of his way when he says, "Who gave you permission to hunt this land?" I immediately respond, "Dallas Talbott" Tom says, "Who wants to know?" The fella whips out a badge and says, "Deputy soanso of the Albany County Sheriff's Dept." Gulp. Well we know we have permission but we don't have written permission. We tell him again and his name finally registers with me, "Are you Rory?" I ask. He affirms this. Rory is Dallas' son and we met him when he was a snot nosed kid. Anyway all ends up well and he tells us to check in with him or his wife next time we hunt because he needs to know who is hunting. We agree even though Dallas never said anything about that. Since Rory and wife live on the house that is part of this leased ground it isn't a big deal.Tom and I finish prepping my "goat". I do watch and try to take lessons and help here and there. We get it loaded up. Look around for another antelope - it's getting hot and they are kind of skittish now so we decide to get my goat up to the cabin where it is cool and take a break. Antelope and "goat" are the same thing just in case you didn't know.
We take a nap, have lunch, do a few chores around the cabin - I paint around the new door. Tom fills the marmot hole with cement, we play some cribbage, visit with the cabin neighbors have supper and go to bed.
On 9/11 we got up a bit later cuz we didn't want to wake up Rory's wife too early and let her know we'd be on the property. But we were still out the door before 7. We headed down Towner Lake road and had to slow up for the Moose parade. There were 3 of them trotting down the road. I told Tom that a cabin trip wouldn't be successful if we didn't see moose from now on.
We should've left a little earlier because going east on the road is blinding when the sun hits the horizon, however, we didn't run into anyone or another moose.
Tom stopped at the house and got permission to hunt. The gate was locked so we were told to go into another gate. Wouldn't you know there was a dumb as a post buck standing out there in that pasture. We were far enough away from the road, so Tom got out, situated his rifle on his shooting sticks (I didn't need those) took aim and shot. And MISSED! The buck took off and headed toward the does and fawns who didn't seem disturbed by any of this action at all. Well, Tom decided that he forgot to sight in his rifle to he grabbed "my rifle" aka "Antelope Killer". We got a bit a closer and Tom tried again. He shot at the buck who was standing sideways but was farther away than mine had been. Tom hit him, this time and the antelope went down.
The herd of does and fawns could care less -fickle females and children. We were able to drive right up to buck and throw him in the back of the truck. We weren't far from a dump sight so we drove there and gutted him and then went back to the cabin to finish the job. All this by 8 in the morning. Hardly seems like a hunt but I'm not complaining.
Tom spent most of the morning taking care of his goat and I cleaned up breakfast - took a walk over to the snow that is still behind the cabins. I sccoped some into a container to keep our food cool. I can't believe there is still snow that close to the cabin! So we just kind of puttered in the afternoon and visited with cabin owners - a nice relaxing time at the cabin.
On Monday morning we did our chores, got the cabin cleaned up, our stuff loaded up and headed out. No moose parade this time. We decided we were curious enough about the weird campsight and wanted to check it out. So we did - the fireworks were gone but it was still junky. Then we decided to see how much the van guy dumped at his new parking spot so we went there, too. He wasn't parked there so we walked into the woods and found quite the compound - outhouses, shelters, tables - whiskey JUGS on the table, what a mess but spooky. We didn't see anyone so we got out of there - took the coordinates and left.
We stopped at the Forest Service office in Laramie and gave them the new info. We ran into the FPO we talked to on Friday. He said he had picked up the fireworks and then found the guy in the van and took pictures of the license plates when the man suddenly appeared out of the woods. He said it was creepy. I don't think the FPO did anything - he's a bit wet behind the ears. Anyway by the time we got home, we got a call from the Enforcement Officer asking for more info. I wonder if we will hear anymore about it.
Our friends, Barb and Ted, have a place that family and friends can processes game. We are considered friends. It works great - very handy! So we got it all done in an afternoon. Kind of easy to do when 3 shoulders were destroyed by our fine marksmanship. It is now in the freezer and what we have sampled so far has been very tasty. I keep hearing that folks don't like antelope. I always have - maybe it just tastes better when you are the one hunting and processing it?
