FrankenMauser
New member
If you don't want to read the whole post, just skip to the bottom for an explanation of the poll.
I was raised to think the only proper method of hunting Pronghorn Antelope was by finding a way to get close in a truck, jumping out, and trying to get a shot off, before the herd reached Mach 7 (antelope will likely to be referred to as "goats", "speed goats", "horned camels", or "prairie maggots" from here on).
However, I never liked the method. It just seemed too un-sportsman-like. It felt more like "chase 'em down and kill 'em season", than "hunting season". Over the years, I had many, many encounters with speed goats, that really made me doubt my elders' 'wisdom', that, "you can't get close to antelope. They just run, as soon as they see you; doesn't matter if it's 1000 yards, or 2 miles." In my family, the thought of stalking antelope was tantamount to blasphemy. Between curious goats, that actually came to see what I was (and what I was doing), and encounters where the goats didn't care what I was, they just let me approach them; I figured it was time to make up my own mind.
So, in 2007, I tried a stalk (the beginning of which actually included being chastised by my father, for trying to stalk antelope...). My little brother, and I stalked what turned out to be a herd comprised entirely of bucks (we had doe tags), to within 75 feet. Long story short (it was a 2-3 hour stalk), we ended up taking 650 yard shots at a totally different herd. I made a head shot. My little brother made a heart shot. It was technically a failed stalk, but really opened my eyes.
2008 was a bad, bad year. I still have nightmares about what I did to that poor antelope... For those that haven't read my previous posts, I shot a doe in the butt, at about 400 yards. My brothers blame the rifle (the scoped turned out to have shifted), because I have a history of pulling off impressive shots; but I was the one that pulled the trigger. I shot her in the butt. But that's not all. She managed to evade a killing blow for 600 yards or more (I don't know how far it really was -- I couldn't run as fast as this doe was still going on 2.5 good legs). It was a horrible, horrifying, eye-opening experience.
Since those combined experiences, I have put forth a great effort to change the way I approach antelope hunting. Sure, I can use the standard "we-have-to-fill-73-tags-in-22-hours, run-and-gun" method, but it is so much more fun when the hunt becomes a battle of wits. In the last few years, I have had some amazing stalks on antelope. I have had far more blown stalks (whether the fault of myself, or other hunters), but that is inevitable.
Oddly enough, some of my favorite stalks have been blown stalks, or stalks where I actually decided not to take the animal. I knew they were dead, and, at the time, that was good enough for me. This year's hunt provided 2 new, successful stalks that will go in my top 3.
Long story short, I ended up in a shallow saddle, on a small ridge, by a water hole. The goats were all bedded-down at about 125 yards, but I wasn't happy... I needed to get closer (yea, I was pushing my luck, since they could already see me, but I had to do it... half of them were asleep!). I ended up low-crawling to within 75-80 yards of the closest buck, being in full view of the entire herd at my final shooting position (it was an area with the low, 8-12" sagebrush), and actually on the facing slope of the ridge.
I plugged the biggest antelope in the herd, a doe (odd, I know), at the longest range any of them were from me, while still lying down. I estimated her to be 100-110 yards. I actually had to click my wedding ring against my rifle stock, to make the bucks stand up, so the doe would turn her head. I had to make sure her cheeks were perfectly white (one of my hunting party got a "wrong sex" warning last year; for shooting a buck, even though the ranger admitted that the cheek patch was nearly invisible, the body smaller than the normal buck, and the horns below the ears, so he would have shot it too...).
The bullet shattered her pelvis, as it moved forward through the spine, before passing into the chest cavity. She bled out, internally. No follow-up was needed. The massive CNS trauma made gutting her alone interesting though (I was a 1/2 mile from my napping wife, and more than a mile from camp -- so, no one heard the shots, or saw me giving the "goat down" signal). Almost every muscle in her body was twitching uncontrollably, for well over an hour.
My number 1 favorite stalk was the last tag I filled (Sunday morning). One of my nephews kept telling me "there's goats just over the river, at the edge of the sagebrush"; referring to and area about 900 yards down a dry creek we were camped at the edge of (though its snow-run-off season's size would be considered a river in many western states). I kept telling him, "they're too far, I can't get close". I was wrong. One of my brothers prodded me into a "short" stalk.
I honestly can't tell you how long it took, I'd guess more than an hour, but I ended up closer than I expected. The things were in a very precarious spot. If I accidentally walked too far down the dry creek bed, they would spook before I knew they were gone. If I came up on the bank too early, I might spook them at 300 yards, and lose them over a 6 foot swell (it's a really flat area of land - a 6 foot swell can hide the goats for 1/2 mile some times).
I ended up haphazardly stumbling upon the herd by unintentionally running into two bucks that were rejoining them. I was certain those bucks were going to blow the stalk. They couldn't have been more than 75 yards away, with me hiding behind only a couple sagebrush bushes. But, my sudden awareness of the 'bucks from nowhere' drew my attention to the herd being closer than anticipated. The bucks located me, but I did some successful "antelope confusion" maneuvers (staying visible, but making them wonder what the hell I was doing -- a topic of its own), and they eventually gave up on me.
I dropped back into the dry creek, closed the gap, and popped back up. I had to crawl through a hole in the sagebrush no bigger than something a coyote would use, but took my time; to avoid the goats having the slightest idea I was there. I did a quick jump (on my knees) across a gap in the ground cover, and set up behind a dying sagebrush bush. I propped my rifle on the $2.81 shooting sticks my brother insisted I carry (thank you), shimmied a bit to the side, to line my rifle up in the V-notch of the bush, and watched the herd. They were casually feeding on a sun-lit swell, about 200 yards away.
My brothers were watching, in the distance, from a ridge next to our camp. They saw the herd spook, and knew I had blown the stalk. Each of them told me they had the same exclamation of "Oh Sh**". They knew I would have a bit of a dejected look on my face, after the walk of shame back to camp (and the search for a jacket I left somewhere along the bank). Then, the bang-thwap, made it to them. They know the sound of a good hit, when they hear it. The bullet entered the bridge of her nose, passed through the base of the skull, and exited slightly to the left, out the back of the spine. She was brain dead before here heart even knew what happened (although "canoe head" is a common occurrence around me, this doe's head looked intact... her skull and brain matter, however, were not).
For being able to use a dry creek for cover, it was an amazingly difficult stalk. My brother's inference of a "short stalk" was totally off. I covered more than 1/2 mile in loud gravel (baby stepping to keep the noise down) and loose sand, with frequent climbs up the 8-14 foot bank, to locate the herd. And that is why it will be my #1 for some time to come. "You can't stalk antelope!" will forever burn in my memory, as I remember the image I had of that doe's face, before ending her life so quickly.
My thoughts on hunting speed goats had been swaying before, but after this year, I can't imagine things any other way. I have to stalk them.
Which brings me to the point of this thread.
I was raised under the assumption that you have to run prairie maggots down in a truck, jump out, and shoot them. I never liked it, and my own experiences showed that various stalking methods can be successful in several different types of terrain (my stalking is not limited to the examples here). ...Not only successful, but much more rewarding.
How do you hunt? (I won't criticize you, if you truck hunt - I promise.)
Have your techniques changed over the years?
Have you ever tried using blinds, white flags, or other "goat bait" methods?
If you have changed your tactics, what prompted the change?
I understand that, sometimes, you have to adapt to the conditions afield. What I'm curious about, is the general method you prefer, or use most often for antelope hunting.
Please give an explanation, if you can. Long post are encouraged, and completely appropriate here. (This post was well over 4 pages.
I actually had to trim it, substantially.)
I was raised to think the only proper method of hunting Pronghorn Antelope was by finding a way to get close in a truck, jumping out, and trying to get a shot off, before the herd reached Mach 7 (antelope will likely to be referred to as "goats", "speed goats", "horned camels", or "prairie maggots" from here on).
However, I never liked the method. It just seemed too un-sportsman-like. It felt more like "chase 'em down and kill 'em season", than "hunting season". Over the years, I had many, many encounters with speed goats, that really made me doubt my elders' 'wisdom', that, "you can't get close to antelope. They just run, as soon as they see you; doesn't matter if it's 1000 yards, or 2 miles." In my family, the thought of stalking antelope was tantamount to blasphemy. Between curious goats, that actually came to see what I was (and what I was doing), and encounters where the goats didn't care what I was, they just let me approach them; I figured it was time to make up my own mind.
So, in 2007, I tried a stalk (the beginning of which actually included being chastised by my father, for trying to stalk antelope...). My little brother, and I stalked what turned out to be a herd comprised entirely of bucks (we had doe tags), to within 75 feet. Long story short (it was a 2-3 hour stalk), we ended up taking 650 yard shots at a totally different herd. I made a head shot. My little brother made a heart shot. It was technically a failed stalk, but really opened my eyes.
2008 was a bad, bad year. I still have nightmares about what I did to that poor antelope... For those that haven't read my previous posts, I shot a doe in the butt, at about 400 yards. My brothers blame the rifle (the scoped turned out to have shifted), because I have a history of pulling off impressive shots; but I was the one that pulled the trigger. I shot her in the butt. But that's not all. She managed to evade a killing blow for 600 yards or more (I don't know how far it really was -- I couldn't run as fast as this doe was still going on 2.5 good legs). It was a horrible, horrifying, eye-opening experience.
Since those combined experiences, I have put forth a great effort to change the way I approach antelope hunting. Sure, I can use the standard "we-have-to-fill-73-tags-in-22-hours, run-and-gun" method, but it is so much more fun when the hunt becomes a battle of wits. In the last few years, I have had some amazing stalks on antelope. I have had far more blown stalks (whether the fault of myself, or other hunters), but that is inevitable.
Oddly enough, some of my favorite stalks have been blown stalks, or stalks where I actually decided not to take the animal. I knew they were dead, and, at the time, that was good enough for me. This year's hunt provided 2 new, successful stalks that will go in my top 3.
Long story short, I ended up in a shallow saddle, on a small ridge, by a water hole. The goats were all bedded-down at about 125 yards, but I wasn't happy... I needed to get closer (yea, I was pushing my luck, since they could already see me, but I had to do it... half of them were asleep!). I ended up low-crawling to within 75-80 yards of the closest buck, being in full view of the entire herd at my final shooting position (it was an area with the low, 8-12" sagebrush), and actually on the facing slope of the ridge.
I plugged the biggest antelope in the herd, a doe (odd, I know), at the longest range any of them were from me, while still lying down. I estimated her to be 100-110 yards. I actually had to click my wedding ring against my rifle stock, to make the bucks stand up, so the doe would turn her head. I had to make sure her cheeks were perfectly white (one of my hunting party got a "wrong sex" warning last year; for shooting a buck, even though the ranger admitted that the cheek patch was nearly invisible, the body smaller than the normal buck, and the horns below the ears, so he would have shot it too...).
The bullet shattered her pelvis, as it moved forward through the spine, before passing into the chest cavity. She bled out, internally. No follow-up was needed. The massive CNS trauma made gutting her alone interesting though (I was a 1/2 mile from my napping wife, and more than a mile from camp -- so, no one heard the shots, or saw me giving the "goat down" signal). Almost every muscle in her body was twitching uncontrollably, for well over an hour.
My number 1 favorite stalk was the last tag I filled (Sunday morning). One of my nephews kept telling me "there's goats just over the river, at the edge of the sagebrush"; referring to and area about 900 yards down a dry creek we were camped at the edge of (though its snow-run-off season's size would be considered a river in many western states). I kept telling him, "they're too far, I can't get close". I was wrong. One of my brothers prodded me into a "short" stalk.
I honestly can't tell you how long it took, I'd guess more than an hour, but I ended up closer than I expected. The things were in a very precarious spot. If I accidentally walked too far down the dry creek bed, they would spook before I knew they were gone. If I came up on the bank too early, I might spook them at 300 yards, and lose them over a 6 foot swell (it's a really flat area of land - a 6 foot swell can hide the goats for 1/2 mile some times).
I ended up haphazardly stumbling upon the herd by unintentionally running into two bucks that were rejoining them. I was certain those bucks were going to blow the stalk. They couldn't have been more than 75 yards away, with me hiding behind only a couple sagebrush bushes. But, my sudden awareness of the 'bucks from nowhere' drew my attention to the herd being closer than anticipated. The bucks located me, but I did some successful "antelope confusion" maneuvers (staying visible, but making them wonder what the hell I was doing -- a topic of its own), and they eventually gave up on me.
I dropped back into the dry creek, closed the gap, and popped back up. I had to crawl through a hole in the sagebrush no bigger than something a coyote would use, but took my time; to avoid the goats having the slightest idea I was there. I did a quick jump (on my knees) across a gap in the ground cover, and set up behind a dying sagebrush bush. I propped my rifle on the $2.81 shooting sticks my brother insisted I carry (thank you), shimmied a bit to the side, to line my rifle up in the V-notch of the bush, and watched the herd. They were casually feeding on a sun-lit swell, about 200 yards away.
My brothers were watching, in the distance, from a ridge next to our camp. They saw the herd spook, and knew I had blown the stalk. Each of them told me they had the same exclamation of "Oh Sh**". They knew I would have a bit of a dejected look on my face, after the walk of shame back to camp (and the search for a jacket I left somewhere along the bank). Then, the bang-thwap, made it to them. They know the sound of a good hit, when they hear it. The bullet entered the bridge of her nose, passed through the base of the skull, and exited slightly to the left, out the back of the spine. She was brain dead before here heart even knew what happened (although "canoe head" is a common occurrence around me, this doe's head looked intact... her skull and brain matter, however, were not).
For being able to use a dry creek for cover, it was an amazingly difficult stalk. My brother's inference of a "short stalk" was totally off. I covered more than 1/2 mile in loud gravel (baby stepping to keep the noise down) and loose sand, with frequent climbs up the 8-14 foot bank, to locate the herd. And that is why it will be my #1 for some time to come. "You can't stalk antelope!" will forever burn in my memory, as I remember the image I had of that doe's face, before ending her life so quickly.
My thoughts on hunting speed goats had been swaying before, but after this year, I can't imagine things any other way. I have to stalk them.
Which brings me to the point of this thread.
I was raised under the assumption that you have to run prairie maggots down in a truck, jump out, and shoot them. I never liked it, and my own experiences showed that various stalking methods can be successful in several different types of terrain (my stalking is not limited to the examples here). ...Not only successful, but much more rewarding.
How do you hunt? (I won't criticize you, if you truck hunt - I promise.)
Have your techniques changed over the years?
Have you ever tried using blinds, white flags, or other "goat bait" methods?
If you have changed your tactics, what prompted the change?
I understand that, sometimes, you have to adapt to the conditions afield. What I'm curious about, is the general method you prefer, or use most often for antelope hunting.
Please give an explanation, if you can. Long post are encouraged, and completely appropriate here. (This post was well over 4 pages.
I actually had to trim it, substantially.)
believing speed will make up for inaccuracy. If you pick your shots as well as stalkers generally do, I have no problem with someone doing it.
. Closest shot I've taken was right on 175 yards, most are 250-350. Dad took a goat right at 600 yards with his .257 weatherby.
