OH NO......IT'S SNOWING/TradGanger adventures and the hunt for old Crooked Horn.

[rabbitman]

I know you still have a buck lope tag Charlie, so I'm betting "Crooked Horn" is now history.    Now let's get on with the story.

[Danny Rowan]

I see two bloody arrows there so must be two critters down, way to go Charlie.

Danny

[Shaun]

I started reading this story before going on my elk hunt and you are still just getting to the good part. You are the best Charlie!

[Charlie Lamb]

Well, as they say, the best laid plans. I was all set to continue the story when one of our group came in all excited and will have stories of his own to add to the saga.    
     

I want to say how much I appreciate all of you who patiently sit through these ramblings. It is kinda crazy around here and what with hunting and the three of us going different directions at once it's tough to put it all together.

It isn't just a style of story telling. It's a way of life.
         

Now lets get on with it.
 

[Charlie Lamb]

I just came in from the back porch. I was standing out there having a cigar and enjoying a mixed drink and was just a little overcome by the bright harvest moon standing proud in the clear mountain sky.

A gentle breeze out of the west brings the heady scent of willow bracing itself for the fall ritual of change. My head spins a little over something more than the drink. It’s been a very full last five days.

With Vance tied up with ranch duties Brent and I started a campaign of evil against the nefarious forces of the antelope clan. I’m not complaining at all, but they’ve been long.  Damn long!!

Of course there were always cloud pictures to watch When nothing else was happening. As fine a show as anyone could hope for.
   

     

To this point we had been pretty laid back about things. Mornings were spent casually observing the movement of our quarry looking for some chink in their almost impenetrable defenses.


As it turned out we’d identified to reliable watering places. One I’d found two years ago (Vance has known about them forever, but I’m just learning) and though it normally goes dry early, this year it is still holding water and drawing antelope.

Rob DiStefano had posted on the little waterhole during his hunt with us and had seen antelope there. Unfortunately the antelope he saw there had horns and his permit did  not.
 
With Brent set up further down the draw he’d drop me off each morning with my Double Bull and wishes of good luck.
     

There was always something happening at the waterhole. Little birds that I have no clue of their identity played carelessly around the water’s edge.

Occasionally some unfortunate tweety would land on the top of the blind and with nothing better to do I got a few grins out of poking their feet with the tip of my bow.

There were antelope too, but they were a little leary of the blind. Only a couple of them actually approached the water and they presented only frontal shots and then beat a hasty retreat when finished.

There are cattle on the ranch and they are the bane of the pop up blind clan. I don’t know what it is about cows and pop ups, but they sure are curious about them. So curious in fact that if you leave your blind it’s liable to be wrecked when you return.  Not having a bottomless expendable income, I opted to remove the blind each time I left.

Since seven hours in the blind is about my limit (OK, I did eleven hours yesterday!...just so Killdeer wouldn't question my grit.         ). I’d bring my blind out with me each time I hunted. The antelope never had a chance to get use to it.

[Killdeer]

Hey Gritmeister!
I wanna see the birds near the waterhole. They might be Killdeers!    

Killdeer  

[Shaun]

A few words and I'm casting around for a pole vault stick, damn bar already moved up out of high jump range.

Killy, I am sure he would never poke a plover.

[Killdeer]

I'm sure he wouldn't, he looks like a plover lover. But, he DID say that he didn't know what the little feathered rats were, and I wanna get a gander at them.    

Killdeer  

[Littlefeather]

Hang on, wait a minute, whoa, backup! I need to know what nefarious means before I read further.   :eek:      

Nice Lambo' arra's there. Bloody too!    CK

[Tim Fishell]

Looks like a great hunt guys.  You guys must be keep Ol' Brent pretty busy up there.  I haven't heard or seen anything from the boy!!  

Keep up the good work on the stories.

[Charlie Lamb]

I’d tried a bridge crossing to no avail. An unimproved road runs through portions of the ranch and the only bridge that crosses the creek on the ranch had looked like a no fail option. It didn’t exactly turn out that way.

Though Brent and I had both witnessed antelope crossing the bridge two days passed in my well brushed in  (willow) blind with only two crossings and each of  those was the same animal.

The first time I’d been snuggled back in the blind enjoying a moment of “relaxation” when I was started up by the sound of tiny hooves on gravel. A yearling doe was trotting across the bridge and past my blind before I could put a hand on my bow.

I had a window of opportunity that was only thirty yards long. I was so close to the road that the little doe was through and gone in a heartbeat. POOP!!

I watched as she trotted out of my life.
An hour later, I was once again started from “contemplation” by the sound of tiny hooves. What I assumed to be the same doe was walking through the kill zone and had made it half way through. Once again she walked out of my life  ignorant to the potential danger (?)lurking in the willows beside the road.

Brent was experiencing the same frustration as I.  He’d watched antelope move through funnels of cover for days only to have them change their pattern when he actually waited for them in a place. I’ll let him tell of his experiences.

Rain and threats of rain didn’t help the whole antelope hunting situation. It had awakened the land. The smell of sage, thick and rank, was released from it’s stifling coat of dust and brought memory upon memory flooding into my brain with each breath.
   
But it didn’t do the hunting any good! The antelope could easily meet there moisture requirements drinking in precious liquid with each bite of forage.

[Charlie Lamb]

So now we had these cool spots located that we'd patterned the antelope at and each time we'd try one the goats were elsewhere that day.

Finally out of sheer frustration we decided to work an area that we'd both noticed antelope hanging in while we sat in our sure spots. We knew of no water sources there, but we had a good idea where the goats might be funneled down in their travels.

We abandoned our blinds and switched stride to ghillie gear.
Our general plan was to move into the low ground where we had been seeing the animals well before daylight and await their arrival.

Each night they'd move from the lush bottom meadows up into the sage covered hills. In the morning they'd slowly make their way back to the bottom along well established routes once the sun was well up.

At first light of the next day we dropped off into a dry irrigation ditch and moved like ghosts into the scattered willows a half mile from the truck to await the arrival of the goats.

It was working pretty well from the beginning. There was a matter of sage hens that didn't like our bushy looking forms at all. Two different groups flushed on our approach and we were thankful that the antelope hadn't arrived yet.

We were approaching our intended ambush site when a flicker of white caught our attention. Up ahead behind some talk sage we could make out the forms of three antelope. A doe and two yearlings.

The stalk was on.

Having the advantage of not trying to be quiet or remain unseen the trio slowly outdistanced us, but we moved on anyway.

Finally we were well into our area of operation for the day. Antelope were starting to filter off the hills above but were assembling another quarter mile ahead. We decided to split up at that point.

[Charlie Lamb]

While Brent chose to stay close to the hills and the cover of the dry ditch, I chose to split off toward the creek. Originally I'd thought I'd take cover in the willows near a "pinch point", but after a short while realized that the antelope I could see weren't headed our way. In fact they weren't going anywhere in particular.

I decided to take a more aggressive approach and started off down the creek to close the distance.

Anyone who's been west will know that these little trout creeks meander through there meadows like a snake. This one was no different.

I hadn't gone far when I ran out of cover on my side of the creek. There was plenty on the other side, so I made a decision.

I backtracked to a shallow stretch of the stream and prepared to cross. I'd stay on the far side until I was closer and then recross to move on the goats.

There was no way I was going to walk around all day with wet feet (it's a personal thing for me) so I pulled off my boots and socks, rolled up my pants legs and stepped off into the water. Brrrr!

The water was like two degrees above the temperature of ice, but it felt pretty refreshing.

The sun had climbed slowly above the adjacent hills and now shone down on me with it's full power.
I'd dressed for the chill of pre dawn and now found that I was way over dressed. I stopped once I'd crossed the creek and took off a layer or two before suiting back up.

With the prospect of having to recross the creek because of unknown obstacles, I chose to remain barefoot.

I couldn't remember ever having gone barefoot in this country and wondered what the footing might bring. I soon found that it wasn't bad going at all.

I crossed the stream two more times before I'd gotten in range of the antelope which now numbered close to fifty in three separate groups.

I'd moved down close to the stream as a wall of willow completely shielded me from all those prying eyes. I could easilly observe without being observed. Now all I had to do was figure out how I was going to sneak my bulky form out into that meadow to get a shot.

 
r

[Charlie Lamb]

As sometimes happens, fate took over the planning and I was caught up in it, like it or not.

A lone doe spit from the herd and moved toward the creek. If she got close to the edge I'd have a fifteen yard shot. All I had to was jockey through the willows for fifty yards to where she was headed.

By the time I'd swung around behind heavier cover and closed the distance she had moved down into the creek and was watering. I could see that there was a break from the usual vertical sides of the bank that allowed easy access by the doe.

Looking up I could see other antelope moving toward the spot and knew that it was about to get real interesting.

I had a second doe tag in my pocket and would have happilly filled it. The kicker was that there was a nice buck in the group headed my way and I still had my general license in my wallet.

Soon there were eight animals in and around the water including the buck which had gotten better looking the closer he came.

I had him at fifteen yards but he was facing head on to me and of course there was no shot.

Soon a doe turned broadside in front of me at the same distance. I thought about Old Crooked Horn and my plans for him. There was no need to rush things. I was going to shoot the doe.

As I started to draw the bow the buck started back up the bank and the doe suddenly lost interest in what she was doing. She bolted from the stream and up onto the flat where she slowed to a walk, but heading straight away.

Surely the rest of the antelope in the meadow would come down to dring if I was patient, but the buck was now standing at 30 yards and completely broadside.

I made a decision.

(cont. tomorrow morning)

[pdk25]

It's tomorrow morning here, Charlie.

[Guru]

your the best!!!!  

[Charlie Lamb]

Where as antelope are always hyper alert when approaching water, they become almost complacent when leaving it. After all, they'd checked carefully on the way in and had drunk with out being molested, so surely things are safe in the world.
That was exactly the attitude the buck showed. He was much more interested in surveying his girls than looking for danger.

He was more than a respectable buck and would top any I'd ever shot before. The notion of collecting Old Crooked Horn two miles further up the stream faded from my thoughts.

[Charlie Lamb]

Now I shifted my thoughts, my concentration, my entire being toward the buck that stood across the babbling stream in front of me.

With my prey at thirty yards I eased the nocked arrow to full draw and held for an extra instant.
I knew that at that distance if I paid extra attention to my left/right alignment my subconsious vision would find the elevation automatically.

Like a Perigrine falcon in his stoop the white fletched shaft darted across the entervening yards, spinning true and deadly in the clear morning air.

There was the sound of steel on bone and soft flesh and in that instant when our minds are  captured by the moment and the action, he whirled away. I had a picture for an intant of the arrow buried deep and low behind the front shoulder.

The big, razor edged, Magnus I w/bleeder would do it's job... NO DOUBT!!

[Shaun]

You are - spinning a yarn true and deadly in the clear morning air

gotta go fill my coffee cup

[Rob DiStefano]

You go Charlie, you GO!