This was my second hunt with the very excellent G-Man Outdoor Adventures, hunting in Northeastern Wyoming, both in the Black Hills and the open plains, for pronghorn. But this trip was different than last year. Being that I put my buck on the ground before 10am on the first day of a 3 day hunt, this year turned in to the perfect trifecta hunt of happy fun time.
Two days before my hunt started, my guide (also the outfitter), John Geiman, took a client out to his secret hidey hole: a new lease he procured this season on a multi-thousand acre ranch south of Newcastle, WY. There they saw a nice buck for this region, but, for one reason or another, the hunter simply wouldn't take a shot. They watched that goat for nearly three hours where he wouldn't get any closer than 300 yards, and the hunter wouldn't pull the trigger at that distance (despite having a 300 Win Mag). His timidness turned in to my gain. I won't claim to be an expert shot (though I am more than competent), but if I get a shot at a nice goat standing 300 yards away, I WILL pull the trigger (whether I hit him or not is a completely different story - more on that later).
When we arrived at the ranch gate, John gave me the word: "time to get serious." I loaded my rifle and got ready to rock. After another 10 or so minutes of driving on the ranch road to the far corner of the property, I threw up my trusty Vortex 8x binoculars to start what I thought would be a long day of glassing the open plains for a good looking goat. That long day was all of 10 seconds. As if he were let loose in a staged act, a shooter ran across the ranch road about 350 yards in front of us. I wasn't even out of the truck, and we had our goat picked out; it was the same one our hunter wouldn't shoot at just 2 days prior. And knowing that John had seen every goat on this ranch multiple times (as well as dozens of other goats elsewhere on his leases), I trusted him when he said this was the one. Never for a second did I think we should keep looking. My only goal was to improve on Jackson, last year's goat, and this one was MUCH bigger.
He was headed in to a draw and as soon as he was out of sight below the ridge, we were out of the truck and running. He continued on in the draw and we headed straight for the ridge overlooking it. As we were running, John said in hushed tones, "he should be about 250 or 300 yards off when we reach the ridge top." He was right on as the range finder read 300 on the nose. I settled in a bit in a kneeling position with my Rem 700 LSS Mountain Rifle in 7mm-08 with a Bell and Carlson Alaskan stock and my trusty Hunter's Specialty Quik-Shot shooting sticks, but it just wasn't right. I was a bit wobbly and winded, and kneeling just isn't a comfortable shooting position for me. I just don't feel all that stable. But our goat was sitting pretty 300 yards off, chewing on some grass and though he knew we were there, he didn't seem concerned. So I breathed for a few seconds, placed the reticle of my Trijicon Accupoint 3-9x with Amber Triangle reticle just behind his shoulder and pulled the trigger. But I missed. Despite knowing that my reticle placement was about perfect, I shanked it a bit. It missed him by a hair. Call it buck fever, or fat guy who needs to be in better shape, or rushing the trigger, or whatever you want, I plain missed. I shouldn't have missed, but being the first shot of the season, I won't be too hard on myself.
But rather than bolting off in a cloud of dust only to be seen again 3 ridges and 2 miles away by the time he stopped, he started trotting. Right towards us. "300; 287;265;240;215;195;181;165" called out John as he watched our goat through the range finder. But when he stopped at 165, clearly knowing we were there, he was looking right at us, and I didn't want that shot. I didn't want to risk hitting him in the head, so I decided to hold off and see what he'd do. He started trotting again, from our left to right, then turned around and sat pretty for me. "265" said John. "BLAM!" rang out the shot. But, having been affected by the recoil some, all I saw was the dirt splash behind the goat which was followed very quickly by a "fuck, I missed him again" which was itself followed very quickly by John with a very confident "nooope, nope." Then I saw him start to wobble.
He walked 10 yards further and piled up. By the time we walked the short distance between us and him, he was dead. Quick and clean. A lung shot. We filled out my tag and moved him a few yards so we could get some good pictures. This hunt was less than 8 minutes from the time we spotted him until the time he was on the ground. I generally like to work a bit during my hunts (last season I walked nearly 25 miles over 4 days, oftentimes in very inclement weather, to finally get my goat). This year my (new but broken in) boots didn't even have the chance to get scuffed or dirty. They even still smelled new. But I wasn't about to pass up the best goat around just to say I worked some, so it's all good.
After getting him gutted and to the truck, we drove to rancher's house so that John could get him his state coupon and fulfill his access agreement. Showing off my newly shot goat wasn't an insignificant factor of making our visit either. After shootin' the shit with our rancher for 45 minutes or so he asks me "You got any shells left?" to which I answered, "yes sir, I got a box and a few more in the truck." "Well why don't y'all (he admitted that a stint he had in south Texas solidified "y'all" in his vocabulary) head out this road and go get some prairie dogs." Shooting prairie dogs has always been on my to-do list, but living in central Kentucky, we don't have any of those around, so I jumped at the chance, despite only having 22 bullets.
Holy shit, those little fuckers know how to mess up a field. I recall thinking that it looked like someone flew over and dropped hundreds of little bombs on this ranch, so I was even more glad to help, even if my measly 22 bullets wouldn't even begin to scratch the population. We even got to take a couple of pot shots at a coyote looking to get a free lunch of p-dog carcasses, but at over 700 yards away (using a triangle reticle scope with no dope on it), we were just throwing lead downrange.
All I can say is that hitting a prairie dog at 500 yards is a damn good time.
After lunch we took a quick nap, then went out to a new deer lease in the Black Hills to call for coyotes. I was carrying a Rem R15 in .204 Ruger with a SWFA 1-4x HD with Donut Reticle, and John was carrying my Rem 700. I was using a wooden call I bought at the annual coyote hunt at Land Between the Lakes in western KY. Less than 5 minutes after we sat down on our first set, out comes a song dog. I didn't have a shot at it, (being on the wrong side of the log we were sitting on), but John did. "Blam!" Actually it was a swing and a miss. He simply misjudged the distance and shot right over the back of him, but being that it wasn't his gun and he's not a coyote hunter, I'll give him a pass.
We made 3 more sets, but didn't see anything.
The following morning, I got up for breakfast, but wasn't really feeling it. I had decided to stay at camp and sleep in some more. But, being weak willed, I was quickly and easily talked in to going out. Today we headed to the open plains on a lease that is just under 60,000 acres. It's prime coyote territory. But it was reeeeeeaaaaaaaaaally windy, and after 6 sets all we saw was a few hawks that decided swooping down on my wiggling fingers would be fun for me (they were wrong).
That evening we went to a local friend of John's who sits on a beautiful 1000 acres of prime Black Hills land to do some calling, but again, all we had to show for our effort was a flock of crows landing in a tree I was calling under, and a few great scenes.
On the third day, a crisp morning in the high 20s with no wind or cloud cover, I was feeling like it was the day. It was the last day after all, and, why go out unless you think you're gonna get one? So we headed out after breakfast to the same ranch we had hit on the evening of day 1 (where I called one in but had a narrow miss), though on a completely separate section. We parked the truck, walked 300 or 400 yards and set up. After 20 or so minutes, I stood and turned toward John, who was on the other side of a small ridge on a finger which stuck out in to a field, to tell him that it was time to move on to the next set, and as soon as I turned, I saw a coyote across the field, and he saw me and started to slowly trot off. I immediately got down on a knee with my sticks still on the gun. "WOOF! . . . WOOF!" He stopped and turned to look back, and gave me a perfect shot at 252 yards. "BLAM! . . . BLAM! BLAM! BLAM BLAM!" I hit him on the first shot, but because he didn't go directly down (he was flailing and there was no question that it was a good hit), I decided to unload the mag on him to make sure he didn't have delusions of getting away. That did the trick.
I had wondered why John didn't see him, being that he was on the edge of the field directly across from him, but it was because there was a tree in the way. Even after I shot him, he didn't know exactly were the dog was until he stood up and I pointed it out.
2 sets later I called in another song dog, this time a big gray one, but I did the same thing John had 2 days earlier. After woofing him, he gave me a pretty shot that I gauged at 325 or 350 yards. After going right over his back and watching him high-tail it away, John ranged the shot at 285 yards. Holding on the top of his back would have been sufficient, but I held over his back by about .5 mils. Being from Central KY, I'm not used to hunting coyotes at longer ranges, and I have no real experience in gauging longer distances in big country. We'll chalk it up to a learning experience.
We made 2 more sets then, after the weather had gotten much warmer than we were dressed for, we decided to make the 2 mile walk back to the truck. We made one more set on the way back, and successfully called in a coyote, but he was, we later learned, about 650 yards away, and my .204 Ruger isn't a 650 yard gun.
All in all I had 3 separate hunts over 3 days. I got a great looking pronghorn, killed a few prairie dogs, and put down a coyote. I couldn't ask for a better time.
Here's to hoping that my return trip next month for deer will be just as successful.
Two days before my hunt started, my guide (also the outfitter), John Geiman, took a client out to his secret hidey hole: a new lease he procured this season on a multi-thousand acre ranch south of Newcastle, WY. There they saw a nice buck for this region, but, for one reason or another, the hunter simply wouldn't take a shot. They watched that goat for nearly three hours where he wouldn't get any closer than 300 yards, and the hunter wouldn't pull the trigger at that distance (despite having a 300 Win Mag). His timidness turned in to my gain. I won't claim to be an expert shot (though I am more than competent), but if I get a shot at a nice goat standing 300 yards away, I WILL pull the trigger (whether I hit him or not is a completely different story - more on that later).
When we arrived at the ranch gate, John gave me the word: "time to get serious." I loaded my rifle and got ready to rock. After another 10 or so minutes of driving on the ranch road to the far corner of the property, I threw up my trusty Vortex 8x binoculars to start what I thought would be a long day of glassing the open plains for a good looking goat. That long day was all of 10 seconds. As if he were let loose in a staged act, a shooter ran across the ranch road about 350 yards in front of us. I wasn't even out of the truck, and we had our goat picked out; it was the same one our hunter wouldn't shoot at just 2 days prior. And knowing that John had seen every goat on this ranch multiple times (as well as dozens of other goats elsewhere on his leases), I trusted him when he said this was the one. Never for a second did I think we should keep looking. My only goal was to improve on Jackson, last year's goat, and this one was MUCH bigger.
He was headed in to a draw and as soon as he was out of sight below the ridge, we were out of the truck and running. He continued on in the draw and we headed straight for the ridge overlooking it. As we were running, John said in hushed tones, "he should be about 250 or 300 yards off when we reach the ridge top." He was right on as the range finder read 300 on the nose. I settled in a bit in a kneeling position with my Rem 700 LSS Mountain Rifle in 7mm-08 with a Bell and Carlson Alaskan stock and my trusty Hunter's Specialty Quik-Shot shooting sticks, but it just wasn't right. I was a bit wobbly and winded, and kneeling just isn't a comfortable shooting position for me. I just don't feel all that stable. But our goat was sitting pretty 300 yards off, chewing on some grass and though he knew we were there, he didn't seem concerned. So I breathed for a few seconds, placed the reticle of my Trijicon Accupoint 3-9x with Amber Triangle reticle just behind his shoulder and pulled the trigger. But I missed. Despite knowing that my reticle placement was about perfect, I shanked it a bit. It missed him by a hair. Call it buck fever, or fat guy who needs to be in better shape, or rushing the trigger, or whatever you want, I plain missed. I shouldn't have missed, but being the first shot of the season, I won't be too hard on myself.
But rather than bolting off in a cloud of dust only to be seen again 3 ridges and 2 miles away by the time he stopped, he started trotting. Right towards us. "300; 287;265;240;215;195;181;165" called out John as he watched our goat through the range finder. But when he stopped at 165, clearly knowing we were there, he was looking right at us, and I didn't want that shot. I didn't want to risk hitting him in the head, so I decided to hold off and see what he'd do. He started trotting again, from our left to right, then turned around and sat pretty for me. "265" said John. "BLAM!" rang out the shot. But, having been affected by the recoil some, all I saw was the dirt splash behind the goat which was followed very quickly by a "fuck, I missed him again" which was itself followed very quickly by John with a very confident "nooope, nope." Then I saw him start to wobble.
He walked 10 yards further and piled up. By the time we walked the short distance between us and him, he was dead. Quick and clean. A lung shot. We filled out my tag and moved him a few yards so we could get some good pictures. This hunt was less than 8 minutes from the time we spotted him until the time he was on the ground. I generally like to work a bit during my hunts (last season I walked nearly 25 miles over 4 days, oftentimes in very inclement weather, to finally get my goat). This year my (new but broken in) boots didn't even have the chance to get scuffed or dirty. They even still smelled new. But I wasn't about to pass up the best goat around just to say I worked some, so it's all good.
After getting him gutted and to the truck, we drove to rancher's house so that John could get him his state coupon and fulfill his access agreement. Showing off my newly shot goat wasn't an insignificant factor of making our visit either. After shootin' the shit with our rancher for 45 minutes or so he asks me "You got any shells left?" to which I answered, "yes sir, I got a box and a few more in the truck." "Well why don't y'all (he admitted that a stint he had in south Texas solidified "y'all" in his vocabulary) head out this road and go get some prairie dogs." Shooting prairie dogs has always been on my to-do list, but living in central Kentucky, we don't have any of those around, so I jumped at the chance, despite only having 22 bullets.
Holy shit, those little fuckers know how to mess up a field. I recall thinking that it looked like someone flew over and dropped hundreds of little bombs on this ranch, so I was even more glad to help, even if my measly 22 bullets wouldn't even begin to scratch the population. We even got to take a couple of pot shots at a coyote looking to get a free lunch of p-dog carcasses, but at over 700 yards away (using a triangle reticle scope with no dope on it), we were just throwing lead downrange.
All I can say is that hitting a prairie dog at 500 yards is a damn good time.
After lunch we took a quick nap, then went out to a new deer lease in the Black Hills to call for coyotes. I was carrying a Rem R15 in .204 Ruger with a SWFA 1-4x HD with Donut Reticle, and John was carrying my Rem 700. I was using a wooden call I bought at the annual coyote hunt at Land Between the Lakes in western KY. Less than 5 minutes after we sat down on our first set, out comes a song dog. I didn't have a shot at it, (being on the wrong side of the log we were sitting on), but John did. "Blam!" Actually it was a swing and a miss. He simply misjudged the distance and shot right over the back of him, but being that it wasn't his gun and he's not a coyote hunter, I'll give him a pass.
We made 3 more sets, but didn't see anything.
The following morning, I got up for breakfast, but wasn't really feeling it. I had decided to stay at camp and sleep in some more. But, being weak willed, I was quickly and easily talked in to going out. Today we headed to the open plains on a lease that is just under 60,000 acres. It's prime coyote territory. But it was reeeeeeaaaaaaaaaally windy, and after 6 sets all we saw was a few hawks that decided swooping down on my wiggling fingers would be fun for me (they were wrong).
That evening we went to a local friend of John's who sits on a beautiful 1000 acres of prime Black Hills land to do some calling, but again, all we had to show for our effort was a flock of crows landing in a tree I was calling under, and a few great scenes.
On the third day, a crisp morning in the high 20s with no wind or cloud cover, I was feeling like it was the day. It was the last day after all, and, why go out unless you think you're gonna get one? So we headed out after breakfast to the same ranch we had hit on the evening of day 1 (where I called one in but had a narrow miss), though on a completely separate section. We parked the truck, walked 300 or 400 yards and set up. After 20 or so minutes, I stood and turned toward John, who was on the other side of a small ridge on a finger which stuck out in to a field, to tell him that it was time to move on to the next set, and as soon as I turned, I saw a coyote across the field, and he saw me and started to slowly trot off. I immediately got down on a knee with my sticks still on the gun. "WOOF! . . . WOOF!" He stopped and turned to look back, and gave me a perfect shot at 252 yards. "BLAM! . . . BLAM! BLAM! BLAM BLAM!" I hit him on the first shot, but because he didn't go directly down (he was flailing and there was no question that it was a good hit), I decided to unload the mag on him to make sure he didn't have delusions of getting away. That did the trick.
I had wondered why John didn't see him, being that he was on the edge of the field directly across from him, but it was because there was a tree in the way. Even after I shot him, he didn't know exactly were the dog was until he stood up and I pointed it out.
2 sets later I called in another song dog, this time a big gray one, but I did the same thing John had 2 days earlier. After woofing him, he gave me a pretty shot that I gauged at 325 or 350 yards. After going right over his back and watching him high-tail it away, John ranged the shot at 285 yards. Holding on the top of his back would have been sufficient, but I held over his back by about .5 mils. Being from Central KY, I'm not used to hunting coyotes at longer ranges, and I have no real experience in gauging longer distances in big country. We'll chalk it up to a learning experience.
We made 2 more sets then, after the weather had gotten much warmer than we were dressed for, we decided to make the 2 mile walk back to the truck. We made one more set on the way back, and successfully called in a coyote, but he was, we later learned, about 650 yards away, and my .204 Ruger isn't a 650 yard gun.
All in all I had 3 separate hunts over 3 days. I got a great looking pronghorn, killed a few prairie dogs, and put down a coyote. I couldn't ask for a better time.
Here's to hoping that my return trip next month for deer will be just as successful.
