North Dakota Pronghorn --
Drawing an Elk, Moose, or Big Horn Sheep tag is a once in a life time tag for North Dakota residents. Other seemingly near impossible tags to draw are Mule Deer Buck tags for certain units and an Any Pronghorn tag. After applying for only 5 years, I did draw a tag for a South Central Hunting unit known for plentiful animals and good Pronghorns.
I spent a lot of miles on the road, in the field, and knocking on doors to get permission to hunt. I was pleased that landowners were helpful and appreciative that I asked and the gates opened. Now with several areas to hunt, I was sure that I would find the animal I wanted and get close enough to take him.
I never hunted Pronghorn before but was vaguely familiar with some of their behaviors from my life growing up on the farm. Needless to say I was mildly frustrated after the first 3 days of hunting. They seemed to easily spot my shabby stalking attempts or even more frustrating they seem for no particular reason would decide to run off and not stop for miles. I had to change my game plan if I was going to take a decent Pronghorn on my first year hunting them.
The second weekend of the season was not much better. Temperatures reached in the upper 60’s by mid day and the dry pasture lands offered nothing to cover my silhouette. With countless eyes watching for the slightest glimpse of movement, my technique would get me within mailing distance. It was simply a lack of experience in hunting these animals coupled with trying to hunt them in almost no cover made it a very difficult but exciting hunt.
On the last day of the hunting season, I asked two of my long time hunting partners to escort me a field. With their company, they tend to give my more patience and strategy. We approached an area that I had scouted a few weeks before and knew where a few groups where hanging out. As we drove down the road, we noticed a fairly large group of Pronghorn hanging out on some private land on the south side of a hill about 600 yards off the road. They seemed to enjoy it there possibly to get out of the 30+MPH north blowing winds. As soon as I slowed down the pickup to get a look, they didn’t care about the wind and they scattered! I could not believe that they spooked that easy and I was getting really frustrated.
Like a swarm a bees, the Pronghorn zigzagged along the hill and eventually went over the top. Curious and with the wind in my favor I decided to cut around the hill and walk after them. As we approached the back side of the hill, to our advantage there were several smaller knolls that worked great for stalking. Amazingly, the Pronghorn did not go far this time and the lead doe seemed to slow them down and settle them behind one of the smaller hills and out of the winds.
From about 200 yards out, we watched the Pronghorn mingle amongst each other. As I glassed the herd, I found the biggest buck in the group and decided that I would harvest him if I could get into a better position. I retreated from my post and headed to the area my hunting partner was at about 75 yards to the left of me. From his vantage point he had a great view of the herd and was completely down wind. I low crawled along the hill side to get into position and placed shot from 125 yards. It was truly and great, rewarding season I will never forget and I will take a lot of knowledge with me from this hunting experience.
Grandma's buck. -- Posted by Scott Patton, Texas, USA
( A story from my 2007-2008 whitetail deer season)
As a whitetail deer hunter, you often have experiences that you find hard to describe, or explain. I had several of those occasions this past whitetail deer season, in the Lone Star State near Brady, Texas, but one stands above all, and will for years to come.
It all started the day after Thanksgiving. I had to work Thanksgiving night, so I got home early the next morning, and loaded my truck with me, all my hunting gear, and my Mom and little brother Spencer. It was cold, 24 degrees, and misting rain, with occasional snow flurries. It was the kind of weather we all dream of here in Texas. We started out on the 5 plus hour drive to Brady. When we arrived, it was about eleven o’ clock a.m. The weather had gotten increasingly worse the closer we got to camp. I jumped out of the truck, and began putting on my realtree camo. After I got my bow ready, I went into the camp house, just to see what they had seen that morning. My dad said he had seen several deer, and a big 7 point with a huge body. I didn’t think much about it, and headed to my ameristep ground blind. I arrived at the blind, and settled in for a long afternoon hunt. When I got into the blind, I tried to open the windows. The zippers were frozen shut. After 15 minutes of trying, I managed to get my necessary windows open. I nocked an arrow, and settled in. I had only began to settle in, when 4 does came into the feeder. I thought about taking the larger doe, but decided to wait. The does fed around for a while, but quickly left out of sight. The next hour or so was very slow. Only a few birds, and a crazy armadillo. I was sitting there, trying to fight the jet lag, I had from being up all night, and lack of deer activity. I was leaned back, watching the front opening of my blind, when a huge body appeared. He was less than 10 steps away. I could tell right away, it was a huge 7 point! Could this be the buck my father had seen? I slowly got my bow up, and began to draw back. The buck was 7 steps away! I got just about to full draw, and the old buck looked right at me, and jumped the fence. I was heartbroken. This buck was awesome. The buck was obviously mature, and the seven point rack just stole my heart. I sat there for the next few hours, and saw lots of deer, but not my seven point. I hunted hard for the next few days, but never saw him. My parents, and both my brothers, left late Monday morning. After I said goodbye, and got something to eat, I went back to the blind. I sat there, in the ice and snow, for what seemed to be forever. I saw only a few does, and several small bucks. I decided to make a move. I headed to the Marksberry blind, where our good friend Steven Marksberry usually hunted. I sat there for about 5 minutes, and had 8 does come in. Good start! I sat there for the next hour or so, and saw 14 deer, but no shooters, and no 7 point. Finally, I caught a big body coming through the oaks. When the buck appeared, I could tell instantly that he was mature. I put the sights on him, and shot. Perfect hit! The buck ran about 35 yards, and piled up. It was a beautiful 5 ½ year old nine point buck. I was very proud to get him, but in the back of my mind, I still wanted this 7 point. I hunted him hard for 2 weeks, and never saw him. It was now early December, and I was headed back down to try to catch a glimpse of the seven point. I was about 2 hours away from camp, when my cell phone rang. It was my mother, and she told me that my Grandma had been diagnosed with cancer. I went from being pumped about my trip, to being devastated. I pulled over on the side of the road, and was going to turn around and go home, when it hit me. My grandma wouldn’t want me to turn around, she would want me to go and get a big one! I continued on, with much skepticism. I arrived at camp, with less than ideal weather conditions. It was windy, and 88 degrees. I got dressed, and headed to my blind. I sat there sweating, and didn’t see anything for 2 hours. I just kept thinking about the news that I had gotten on the way there. It was 25 minutes before dark, when he appeared, just as before 5 yards away, dead in front of me. I couldn’t believe it. I put the sights on him, and this time, he didn’t get away. The buck ran 40 yards, and piled up. I let out a loud YES!!, and sat back to reflect on the hunt. After a short wait, I went and recovered the buck. What an animal! A 5 ½ year old, mature hill country buck. I sat up my camera, and took dozens of pictures. As I sat there taking pictures, I said to myself, this buck is for you Grandma. I sat up my video camera, and told how the hunt had unfolded. Then I dedicated the buck to my Grandma. A couple months later, my grandma came down. We all sat down, and I let her watch the video. She instantly began to cry, and watched it over and over. She was absolutely honored that I had dedicated something that I cherish so much, to her. As I sit writing this story, several months have passed. My grandma is now cancer free, and is doing very well. From the first time I saw this buck, I knew he was special, little did I know how special. To some people, dedicating a deer to your grandmother might sound silly. But to people like me who live for Family, Friends, and the outdoor experience, it is one of the highest honors imaginable.
In closing, I would like to thank my wonderful Grandmother, Betty Jean Patton, for being both the inspiration for this story, and for being such a wonderful grandmother. I am proud to say that this buck, which meant so much to me, ended up with the distinguished honor of being called, “ Grandmas Buck”.
Scott Patton
June 28, 2008
This story is dedicated to my wonderful grandmother, Betty Jean Patton. I love you grandma, and always will.
A Hunting Partner for Life -
Posted by Scott Patton / Texas, USA
In a world where most things come and go, one thing I have found that lasts forever, is a good hunting partner. Denver Hall is one such hunting partner. Denver has been hunting with me and my family since I was barely walking. Now, at 26 years old, he is still as good a friend, and hunting partner as he was the day we met him. The memories that we have had together hunting, are some of my most cherished. We have been hunting together for over 15 years, and he has been hunting with my father a lot longer than that. One of my favorite memories of hunting with Denver, happened in the Hill Country of Texas, near Brady, Texas. We headed to the blind about three o clock in the afternoon. We got settled in and prepared for the action to begin. About four o clock, a few does, and a couple of young bucks made their way across the mesquite flat. They fed around, and chased each other for about an hour. As we sat watching them, the two younger bucks snapped their heads up, and looked toward the back fence. I immediately focused my attention on the fence, and there he was, a beautiful hill country buck. He was about a 120 class eight point. He was very mature, and was heading right toward us. Denver had not noticed the buck, so I said “Denver, get your gun up”. He looked at me, and I pointed in the direction of the buck. He saw the buck coming, and gave his trademark comment “Heavenly Days”! He immediately put his rifle up, and began to prepare for the shot. The buck was broadside at about 100 yards. Denver took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger. The buck jumped straight up, and ran into the brush. We gave the buck about 20 minutes, and headed to the spot where the buck has stood. Nothing!! I could tell that Denver was heartbroken. I said, “you got him”. “I saw it hit”. I started walking in the direction the buck had run, and immediately got on the bucks trail. I followed the buck about 50 yards into the brush, and saw the beautiful rack sticking above the hill country brush. “There he is”!!!! Denver ran up, and gave me a hug. He was so excited! He kept shaking my hand, and thanking me for finding his cherished trophy. We got up to the buck, and he was just as beautiful as we had hoped. The buck was eight points, seventeen inches wide, and scored around 120 inches. He hugged me again, and we headed to camp. After my father and brother arrived back at camp, Denver, my entire family, and myself went to recover the buck. Denver was so happy. We took pictures, and stayed up reliving the hunt over, and over. Since then, I have shared thousands of memories with Denver. The memories will be forever cherished by me and my family for the rest of our lives. It is not every day, that you meet someone that means as much to you as Denver does to me and my family. I am very blessed to have met him, and am proud to call him my hunting partner for life. Now, some 15 years after I started hunting with Denver, both the booming cost of hunting, and Father time, have taken a toll on the amount of time we spend together in the woods. Even though we do not get into the woods as much as before, there is not a single day that goes by that I don’t wish he was sitting in the blind next to me, or sharing a long drive to the deer lease with me and my family. Denver, I want to thank you for the countless memories you have shared with me and my family, and for being one of the greatest friends a person could ever have. I look forward to sharing a hunting camp with you again soon, and am indeed honored to call you my “Hunting Partner For Life”.
I would like to thank my father, for introducing me to both the sport of hunting, and Denver. I would also like to thank Denver, for the countless hours of enjoyment, and memories he has provided me and my family. Thanks “Clabber Head”, we love you, and always will.
"Good 'Ole Boys Havin' Too Much Fun."
"Arise, Kill, Eat" Orders From Headquarters.
"A Duck Call is only as good as the man behind it" Phil Robertson.
"I do my grocery shopping in the woods."
2008 south 40 buck
Posted by Eric Glasser / North Dakota, USA
This whitetail buck was taken in North Dakota on Sept. 19th, 2008.
I had watched this buck through the summer months but when the season came he had seemed to disappear from the area I was hunting. So I started to think maybe it was time to set my sights on some of the other deer in the area. Then on Sept. 11th, I saw him at about 60 to 70 yards and he was walking right to me.
So as I started to get ready I heard what sounded like kids laughing. Well the buck had heard this also and stopped in his tracks. As I thought two young kids came out of the woods and started to throw rocks into the nearby creek. The buck spooked and my night was over.
I continued to passing up good bucks in the area knowing that the one I wanted was still there. Then on Sept 19th he made the fatal mistake of walking in to a Goldtip arrow.
I took him with a Mathews Outback, Goldtip arrow, and a
100 gr. Spitfire head.
