Dukats Journal of Hunting

As I pulled into the headquarters of the ranch, I could see my compadres had arrived.  My trip from Arizona was a relatively short one in comparison to the trek from Idaho, but I never seemed to beat my hunting buddies to the ranch.  The fact that it was only a seven hour drive gave me all the more reason to procrastinate until the last minute.

Luckily they had been out all day scouting for antelope.  Unfortunately, by the time I made it, they were deep into telling tales of the previous year to the ranch hands and I could see if I was going to get any last minute scouting in, it would be on my own.  I finally drug Steve away from the laughter and we set out across the closest flat to see what the year had produced.

New Mexico is an amazing place for antelope and although you don't see the numbers you find in Wyoming or parts of Montana, the quality often makes up for it.  Not far from the house we found our first two bucks of the year.  We took a quick look and headed on to a large open pasture that seems to be a magnet for rutting antelope.  We did find the antelope, but unfortunately, they were on the wrong side of the fence and were not the class of bucks we were searching to find.  We glassed near and far until the sun disappeared and ended our scouting for the night.

Hopes were high for the following day and we started with the sun.  We soon found several good bucks and their groups of does.  The mid September season lasts only two days in New Mexico, so time is short for picking out a good buck to follow.  The previous year, several good bucks had been spotted, but time ran out before we could capitalize on shooting the bucks.  They eluded us, thanks to missed shots, rattlesnakes, and various other mishaps that seem to charm monster bucks of all species.

We spent the full day watch buck after buck and I listened to my buddy Steve tell me how small they were, and I would never kill a monster if I couldn't pass up the dinks.  For the first day, his constant harping kept me off the trigger and we did enjoy a lot of antelope.  We finished the day with no monsters spotted, but happy with the days success.

Day two dawned with the knowledge that even though the hunt had just begun, there was only one more day.  We again glassed until our eyes were sore, spotting numerous bucks, including many we had seen the previous day.  Not once did we see a buck that even gave Steve a heart flutter, but to me all the bucks were looking better and better.  As the day wore on, I couldn't take it any longer.

As we climbed a mesa and were checking out the last pastures on the ranch, a herd shot past us on the road.  The area is covered with ten foot high cedar trees, so the antelope don't have to move very far to disappear.  I had just resorted to calling Steve the "antelope grinch" because he had talked me out of taking a shot at yet another buck.  Fortunately, this was the insult he needed and he decided he would no longer hold me to his standards.  As the buck crossed the road, we stopped the vehicle and he jumped out with rifle in hand stating "that's the best buck we've seen."

It wasn't, but by this time, all I needed was confirmation it was a buck and I was ready to shot.  I dropped the bipods and made sure I was in his way so he had to let me take the shot.  Unfortunately, while we were discussing the buck, he disappeared into the cedars.  I wasn't so easily discouraged and loped out after him, hoping he would slow down with his does and I would see him before he discovered me, something nearly impossible to ask for when hunting antelope.

After jogging a half mile or so, I saw the back ends of antelope in the distance and I slowed my pursuit to a brisk walk.  I made sure to keep the cedars between me and where the antelope had disappeared and as I came up to a cedar, I would sneak to the side for a look.  After four or five of these peeking sessions, I round a cedar and found the herd about 250 yards ahead and looking straight at me.  I dropped to the ground, settled the crosshairs on the bucks chest, and squeezed the trigger.

At the shot, the buck accelerated into a mad sprint, with his does at his heals.  I had no idea whether he was hit or not.  As he continued, a red stain began to color his chest and I knew my aim was true.  He disappeared into the cedars, but when his does reappeared, he was nowhere to be seen.  After a couple hundred yards of searching, I found him lying in a heap nearby, stone dead.  As I walked up to him, I knew he wasn't the biggest we had seen, but he was a beautiful antelope with a respectable set of horns.  I had my trophy, not to mention an extremely enjoyable hunt.  Sometimes it's not about killing a record buck, but more about the hunt and the satisfaction in taking game.