A Story of The Hunt

The following is a story written by my uncle Greg. It is reminiscent of a hunting trip years ago in which he played the role of mentor to my uncle Hamilton in his first big game hunt. I relay it in memory of this uncle, my uncle Hamilton, who passed away at this time last year.

I have lots of stories that I can tell, some of them are actually true. But I think that under our circumstances, the story that I would give you is about the time that Hamilton and I went on our first hunt together. This hunt was for antelope, and the big buck Hamilton has mounted and always decorated with Christmas tree ornaments was the prize of Ham's first hunt.

Hamilton had moved to Montana and had moved in with us. He was a great third parent. The first year he couldn't hunt and the deer and antelope I brought home caused great excitement. Ham wanted to become a hunter.

Over the next year Ham bought a rifle and became a practiced shot with it. He studied ballistics and finally came to understand a lot about bullet flight, line of sight, and wind drift. He applied for his tags and we drew our first choice of areas to hunt antelope. The day finally came that Ham was going to hunt big game.

After a drive to Devil's Basin and setting up camp, we made out plans. I had selected a remote rise of land, flat slopes leading up to our spot from the north and west, and a sharp 50 foot drop to the next slab of flat but upward sloping earth. Three fence lines intersected along this ridge, making it an area that antelope would funnel toward. To the east was Blaine Wilkin's place. He did not allow any hunting on his property.

We were in place shortly before dawn and hunkered down between rocks in the ridgeline to make our presence hard to detect. At last it was shooting light and there was not one antelope in sight from our view, which was considerable. Hamilton and I could hear other hunting parties in the area getting some action and Hamilton soon voiced the opinion that we were in the wrong place and no antelope would be coming in our direction. I, of course, responded in an "experts" opinion voice that we ought to give it some time. Since I had the keys to the car parked 1/2 mile away in a wash, I got my way and we huddled in the wind, waiting and watching. After about 3 hours of this I was stiff and discouraged. I got up and stretched and was about to suggest moving to another vantage, and three antelope that were coming straight into us spooked and high tailed it out of the country almost due west.

I was sputtering several unprintable words as I got back down, and apologized to Hamilton for wrecking the morning's hunt. As brightly colored as an antelope is, it often blends into the sage and rock of the surrounding country in ways to make it seem as if you were looking for a ghost.

As we were considering our options, a large antelope buck appeared, approaching us from the east, from Blaine Wilkins spread! Hamilton said "what should we do?", and I replied that if that buck crossed the fence, shoot, otherwise we could do nothing.

The buck approached our position like it was following a beacon. It approached the fence a mere 50 yards from us, totally unaware of our presence. Now, anyone who knows anything about antelope knows that unlike deer, antelope don't jump fences. They will slide under a fence at full run like a baseball player taking second base, or step between the strings of wire.

Our buck came to the fence and turned right around and started walking back the way he had come. After about 30 yards he turned again and came back to the fence. Again he reversed his path and went back 30 yards. He then whirled and trotted back to the fence and JUMPED over the top wire. At some point during the arch of his leap he sensed that he was in the wrong spot at the wrong time. When he came down on our side of the fence he had afterburners going on all four hoofs. He went from landing to the top of the ridge before I could even move my own safety to the fire position. Hamilton was also startled by the sudden shift in tactics by this antelope. Hamilton rolled over, and in that instant was facing northwest and looking at an antelope that had to be moving away from us at over 50 miles an hour. He was spraying up rocks, dust, and bits of sage and most intent on getting as far from us as fast as possible. I have never seen any living thing move like that.

All of Hamilton's training during the last year was now called into play. He steadied himself in a good prone position, slid the safety off in a smooth motion, and squeezed a shot. The great buck crashed to the ground as the bullet struck home in mid stride.

The antelope had landed out of our sight and I yelled to Hamilton "Don't take your eyes off it!" Hamilton froze like a setter on point. I told him to head toward the spot he last saw the animal and he started walking like a robot in a cheap science fiction movie toward the antelope. "You forgot your pack." Without ever glancing anywhere, he reversed his field and backed up to where he had shot from and still never taking his eyes from some distant piece of sage, felt for his pack, retrieved it and started marching again toward the antelope. I went to retrieve our rig and take a ranch road nearest the area where the antelope was downed. Hamilton had made a good shot and the antelope was truly his prize. I then talked him through the many necessary steps to field dress the animal and assure that the meat would be a treat at the table. The head on his antelope measured a bit over 14 inches on each horn. The teeth were well worn and many were missing. The animal was in good shape, but it would have had a tough time surviving the next winter. It was a wonderful animal to harvest, taken surely in good health, but near the end of it's natural life.

And that is the story of Ham's first big game hunt. I only wish others could have seen the comical way in which he took my direction. Once I said don't take your eyes off him, I thought Ham's neck had locked up, I don't think he even blinked!

Well, I must be going, elk hunting in the morning.