Pronghorns of the Lemhi

Pronghorns of the Lemhi

Horns & Hooks Outdoor Magazine I Spring, 2015

Story by Jack Hutson

October 1st, 2014

October is not usually the month we hunt pronghorns but elk hunting dominated the September schedule. My older son, Makary, was hunting eastern Oregon while I was hunting with good friends in the Seven Devils Wilderness of Idaho. Both of us ate our elk tags this year and were aching for another shot, pun intended.

Joining us for this hunt was my son-in-law, Steve, who has not had the outdoor opportunities that my family have been blessed with. He has come to tag along and see what hunting is all about. Antelope hunting is an excellent choice for those that want to experience hunting. There is usually plenty of wildlife and beautiful scenery along with a comfortable camp to return to each night. There is ample space to park and camp using our tent trailer. We used the same trailer the last trip but this time we owned it – last time we borrowed it from Mak’s friend, Shawn. We arrive at our site and have camp set up by 11:00 PM and are in our sleeping bags just before midnight.

October 2nd

We are up just before dawn and made our way up to an 8000 ft. mountain vantage to put our optics to good use. From there we were able to spot several pronghorns running in bands held together by rutting bucks. There were many single bucks to harass these band-masters and even one bachelor group of about a half-dozen young bucks roaming the sage flats. One harem of pronghorns were across a large canyon in the foothills of some of Idaho’s tallest peaks! With a back-drop of desert floor and snow-capped peaks, Makary and I played a little toss with my rain jacket while deciding what our first stalk would be.

There were good concentrations of antelope within hiking distance of camp so we decided to evaluate all the possibilities there first. The largest band was led by a smallish buck and groups of threes and fours held nothing of interest. We returned to camp for breakfast and to formulate a new plan. Over the years we have hunted much of the lower half of the unit and have several favorite areas. Makary has a particular place and we head there in the late morning. We hiked across the ridges and draws and was only able to stir up one mule deer doe and her twin fawns out of the largest draw. The winds picked up and the previous night’s lack of sleep was catching up to us; a little rest before an evening hunt was needed.

All day we held that band of antelope we spotted in the foothills in our back pocket. It was time to drive up the canyon to take a closer look at its buck. They must have felt secure because we spotted them easily from the dirt road on the same hill-side they grazed at first light. We could see that the buck was fair but Makary chose to pass on him. I liked the challenge of the climb that would have to take place to stalk this obviously smart buck. He had his band a couple thousand feet higher in elevation and miles away from the sage flats below. In addition, they had several sets of eyes to take advantage of their position and we were running out of daylight!

Makary set a rapid pace as Steve and I remained close behind as we quickly ascended over 1000 feet in elevation! Nearing the rim of a shelf that might hold the band, Makary and I continued up-slope on hand and knee while Steve remained slightly behind. Peering over the edge we found the flat free of antelope but as I stood just a bit taller, I spotted a lone doe grazing along the ridgeline above us and to our right.

As we slipped to our right they began to move down a slight depression; all but one doe that remained higher on the ridge. I could not move close enough to see the rest of the group in the bottom. Time was running out, Makary whispered that I only had fifteen minutes of shooting light remaining and I haven’t even seen the buck yet! Then the doe went over the far rim and the band began to follow her over in a line; I knew the buck would be last. He faced my direction slightly as side-hilled his way up and I still could not move to clear myself from the sage for a shot - the clock was ticking!

I was ready to give up when he turned straight away and began to feed at just over 200 yards. I dropped my pack and ran at him maybe 20 yards until I could drop to a seated position for a shot. He turned broadside to see what I was as I fought to hold the crosshairs of the Leupold scope on his shoulder! I felt I had a good line and began to squeeze the trigger until the Winchester model 70 Featherweight jumped against my shoulder! I was steady enough but I could see the dust cloud burst just over his back beyond him! He spun and was gone over hill - lost for good, or so I thought!

As I sat a moment I caught a glimpse of a doe coming over the ridge back in my direction! Soon, the whole band was just above me on the ridge with the buck in tow! I tracked the buck in my scope as he tried in desperation to stop the stampeding harem. When they came to a halt they were 150 yards straight above me with one doe between the buck and me. All I needed was a step – just one step forward - and there were only minutes left! I held steady to a point just in front of the doe as the buck stepped into calm crosshairs; the effects of the sprint had passed. The buck dropped at the sound of a 30-caliber bullet striking its target and was done! After several sunset photos and the field chores, Steve volunteered to drag my buck back to the road.

October 3rd  

This was a day of scouting, stalking and a few missed bucks for Makary. The largest of those bucks was the most disappointing in that it offered the best and most opportunities. Mak had a couple good opportunities at 200 yards and even closer a second time. He had to text me at camp to bring more ammunition since he hadn’t expected to shoot that many times. In his defense, there aren’t many opportunities to use a rifle in Oregon.

He had one last stalk but the buck caught on to Mak through an unlucky switch in the breeze. The buck headed up-slope and over a steep ridge with Makary a few hundred yards below. His last chance was a standing shot at the buck on top of the ridge. A 200 yard standing shot after a near-vertical quarter mile climb didn’t leave much room for success. Later on Makary checked the sight on his rifle and verified that it was, indeed, on target. A bit of good news and bad.

October 4th   

This morning we spotted several pronghorns from camp. Makary and Steve set-off for one band after another. We all remained within hiking distance of camp most of the morning and finally returned for a quick breakfast. Our return was cut-short by a band of perhaps 20 pronghorns apparently being pushed over the ridge by another set of hunters that had just recently arrived.

Steve and I dropped Makary off and then continued along the two-track road in an effort to hold their attention until Mak could catch up. The pronghorns sensed that something was up; the band cut behind us and sprinted across the sage flats toward the alfalfa fields beyond. We figured that Mak had given up and was hiking the half-mile back to camp. He was almost there when he abruptly changed course at a trot. His pace quickened like a Kenyan distance runner and soon he was out of sight over the ridge!

Shrugging our shoulders, Steve and I pulled up a couple camp chairs and a bag of peanuts and began discussing what we just witnessed in a comedic sense. It wasn’t very long after that that we heard one lone shot in the distance; we dared not imagine! After a while a lone tired figure was seen at the top of the ridge.

As I drew up my binoculars for a closer look, I could see Mak was watching me through his. Then, to our collective amazement, Mak’s arms rose to signal that he either had scored a touchdown, or perhaps was surrendering? No – he seemed filled with relief as he continued his trek towards camp! I trotted up with a bottle of water and tossed it to him as I leaned forward to shake his hand.

This is Makary’s story in his own words, parenthesis added. “He (the buck) was in a herd of about 20 animals, which were moving fast. As the pursuit played out, leaving my hunting pack behind, I ended up running about one-and-a-half miles with just my rifle to intercept the herd before they crossed a fence into private property in the valley bottom. Not surprisingly, the entire group of antelope out-paced me. But as I crested a small hill and watched the does a couple of hundred yards away in the alfalfa field, I noticed a bit of movement in the corner of my eye. The sprint had paid off! I had managed to get a close range - 70 yard - shot at the buck who had lagged behind the group!”

Yes, as it turned out, the band of pronghorns didn’t realize that Mak had continued to pursue them. The surprised buck was separated by a fence that had sheep wire along the bottom instead of just barbed-wire. Since antelope as a rule avoid jumping fences, he slowed to search for a crossing under, which gave Makary the chance he needed.

His shot at a trotting antelope went through the neck, just under the chin; dropping the buck instantly! We boned-out the carcass and packed it into a large ice chest along with the other pronghorn meat. Camp was taken down with the anticipation of one last night at one of Mak’s favorite places on earth, the Locsha River.

We had time to fly fish a couple of hours on the river the following day. A handful of cutthroat and a few whitefish came to the net, completing a very rare “cast and blast” and a fitting end to our hunt for the pronghorns of the Lemhi.