151" 11 Point Archery Buck on Public Land

Saturday, October 5th, I was working and Matt was in the deer stand. We were texting back and forth as he passed the time and I was wishing I was there. At 9:30, I receive a message stating he just had a huge buck walk out at 40 yards and angle away from him, never presenting a shot. Matt said he could've been a 12 point and it appeared like he had some non-typical points off his antler bases. We immediately put a plan together to ambush him the next day with our stand selection.

Sunday morning was cold for the beginning of October at 45 degrees with a windchill flirting with the high 30's. I convinced myself to get out of bed. When cold fronts push through, you have to get in the stand. I meet Matt at our typical prep spot. He brought Mike, his soon to be brother-in-law, to hunt as well this morning. Mike was going to sit where Matt had been the morning before. I had trouble making up my mind as to which stand I was going to sit in. We have 2 trees 70 yards apart in a bottom. I made up my mind to hunt the one that I shot my 7 point out of last November. I get setup in the tree 20 minutes before shooting light. I have my camera with me, but this tree just doesn't allow for self filming due to the paths the deer use and the camera arm preventing certain shots with a bow.

As the sun came up, it was cold. Fog rolled in and the wind picked up out of the Northwest as planned. Matt was about 400 yards to my Northeast and Mike was 200 yards to my East. The wind began to swirl where I was and I started to question sitting there. Knowing the wind was going to be about 15mph eventually, I stuck it out. The morning was uneventful for all 3 of us until 9:15 when Matt had a 4 point walk almost directly under him. We were all surprised with the weather being what it was, that we weren't covered up with deer. At 9:50, Matt and I decided to give it another 20 minutes, then call it a morning.

At 10:00am, I put my bow on a gear hanger and grabbed my drink. As I had the drink to my mouth, I hear a stick snap. I look to my right, mid-drink pose, and see a 2.5 year old 6 point. I quickly made the decision to pass, but also to put my drink back in my backpack. As I released my grip from the drink, the 6 point gets spooked and takes a few bounds to my East. Movement in the direction the 6 point had come from catches my attention and all I can see is antler, 15 yards away, following the 6 point to the East. I grab my bow and pull it next to my chest. The two bucks stop behind a group of trees and thick brush. My safety harness is wrapped around my right-side, forcing me to turn 270 degrees instead of 90. I slowly turn to my left, having to turn my back on the deer for a second. I quietly cursed my decision to wear the harness.As I spun, the 6 point abruptly turned South and bounded through the last shooting lane the deer would intersect on their path. I knew I had no time to lose. The 6 point stopped at the far edge of the shooting lane. I smoothly drew my bow as the large buck began to enter the shooting lane, broadside. I put my 20 yard pin on his chest, just above his elbow. Knowing the small buck was spooked, I was not going to attempt to stop the large buck. As I squeezed my release, he stopped, at 25 yards, broadside. I hesitated for a second, verifying my pin placement. My index finger curled, releasing the arrow. I watch the arrow head for it's mark through the sight. I hear a solid "thwack" as the arrow passes through the buck's chest.

The bucks tear out of there, running through waist-high grass, and disappearing to the south. I tried to listen for their movement, straining to hear anything to give me confirmation as to my shot placement. The woods are quiet as I begin to fall apart. I hadn't had time to process what was happening prior to the shot, instincts had taken over. My safety harness assisted in keeping me stable as my knees became weak. My eyes watered as I whispered a "thank you" to the Lord. I try to call Matt, but cell phone reception prevented the conversation from happening, so I shoot him a text. "Uh, I'm going to need help". He asks if I got one, to which I reply, "Yeah, he's big". I let my bow down from the tree and begin to get situated for my decent when I spot movement to my West. A 4 point is quartering toward me at 20 yards. I pull out my phone to snap a few pictures as he makes his way under my stand. He almost steps on my bow. He jumps up and back at the same time, not knowing what it was. Another 4 point appears 30 yards behind him. For the next 5 minutes, the 2 small bucks work their way around me, following the same path as the deer I just shot. Then angling toward Mike. I text him to let him know then I began to climb down from the tree.

I find my arrow, and confirm it is covered in dark blood. I set my bow down and head to meet Mike and Matt. I relay the story to Mike and Matt as I set my gear down and we head back to the arrow. The blood trail is slow to start with a few drops here and there. I grow concerned as the next 50 yards pass and we are still only finding small areas of blood spray. As we enter a more wooded area, we find where the wound has opened up, leaving much more blood behind. We hit a dead end at the edge of a thicket. I backtrack a few yards, and see where the buck made an abrupt left turn. We've already trailed 150 yards. Pools of blood cover the leaves. I look up to verify my path and spot the white of the inside of his legs. As I make my way to him, I am in awe of the rack. The shot had happened so fast, I hadn't been able to count the points, but I knew he was bigger than any other buck I've killed.

After I caped him out and the meat was safely in the cooler, I went to the store and purchased a flexible measuring tape. I looked up the measurements to take on a rack and started putting the tape to him. The gross green score totaled 151 inches. I was shocked when I saw the total. What a trophy. I couldn't be more proud. The taxidermist began to skin him out while I was there and gave me a look at the teeth. The Taxidermist aged him at 6 1/2 years old. I'm sure I'll still be smiling 6 months from now when I pick him up from the Taxidermist.

Mature Public Land Buck Down

November 4th, Matt and I decided to hunt out of the same tree for filming purposes. As we headed to our area, we couldn't decide where to sit. The fact that the sky was turning blue pushed us to our closest stand. The tree is pretty small in diameter, so Matt hooked his climber up and went as high as he could, I followed suit and had mine directly below his where I could stand and not hit his foot platform. This only put me 10 feet off the ground. I had set out 3 scent canisters with doe estrous hoping to draw in a buck looking for an early doe. The wind was out of the northwest and the temperature was around 38 degrees.

Shortly after shooting light, I saw movement to our south. I couldn't tell if it was a doe or a buck, so I grunted. Since Matt had already taken a doe during muzzleloader season, I handed him the camera. Neither of us could spot the deer and we spent 20 minutes watching the area for movement. Eventually, we determined the deer had moved off and we started talking. Typically, in this stand, the deer movement happens around 9am, and with the time change, we expected 8am to be the time for deer to move through.

At 7:30, I use my doe bleat. 5 minutes later, a small 8 point came in. Neither of us were going to shoot a smaller buck this year, so we watched as he fed through at 10 yards. The buck walked directly under a scent canister without so much as lifting his head to check it. As he moved off to the south, it seemed as though he got wind of the scent and milled around a bit, but continued to work off to the south. 5 minutes after he disappeared, I bleated 3 times. Matt and I were talking when I looked to the west. There, at 40 yards, was a large buck looking directly at us. I told Matt to not move and get the video camera going, there's a big buck behind him. He whips his head around and sees the buck. Matt tells me he's not filming, but taking a shot with his bow. I replied, "whoever gets the shot first, takes it." The buck works his way through the brush from the west to the southwest, circling our stand. As he's behind a large brush pile, I draw. Matt draws his bow as the buck begins to move again. The buck spots the movement and stops, staring at our tree. What felt like an eternity passed before he continues down the trail. I had previously ranged this shooting lane at 35 yards as it's the same spot I missed a doe 2 weeks prior. I managed to keep my composure, not giving in to buck fever as the buck emerged in the shooting lane. I was lined up, following the buck with my pins on his chest as he walked through the shooting lane. The only thing I forgot was to bleat at him to get him to stop. My brain had quit functioning after I reached full draw. Matt let's out a bleat which snaps me back into reality and the buck stops. My 30 yard pin was high on his chest with the 40 pin near the bottom of his heart. When the buck stopped, I squeezed my release and watch the arrow in take off in slow motion. Life was now playing frame by frame. The arch of the arrow is on target when the sound every bow hunter loves, breaks the silence. THWACK. The fletchings disappear into his chest and he tears off into the thick stuff. I hear Matt say some colorful words about me shooting so quickly as we listen to the buck blazing a trial. "You literally shot him out from underneath me" he says. He circled back to our west, 20 yards further out then where we had originally seen him and his legs started to give out, as did mine. He gets back up, makes two more lunges to the west, and crashes. I lose my composure and set my bow down, getting a firm grip on the stand and what just happened.

A few minutes pass with my gaze set intently on the buck. Matt and I trade verbal jabs and enjoy the moment of success. Successfully killing a large buck with your best friend there to witness it only added to the experience. My composure returns and I lower my bow. After I get my climber removed from the base of the tree, Matt tosses me the video camera. We wait about 15 minutes before going to retrieve my arrow. We find it under a bed of leaves, stained completely red. We look for a blood trial for several minutes, but to no avail. I'm scratching my head as I knew it was a good shot, the arrow is covered in blood, but no trail. We trail deer even when we see them crash to maintain our tracking skills. Not wanting to bust up the area with our scent any more, we go back to our stands and I grab my bow to be safe. As we approach the fallen buck, the dark antlers emerge from the brush and it's apparent he's expired. I set my bow down and grab my trophy. All the hard work before the season to scout, clear stand locations, and go further than the other hunters on public land have culminated into this moment. We guess the buck at 3 1/2 years old and a broken off G3 tine on his right side makes him a large 7 point. He had the remains of a ravaged tree in the base of his antlers and his tarsals were starting to darken. The only blood around was at his mouth. We drag him two hundred yards and gut him. There is a perfect broadhead cut through his left lung, with the right lung decimated. Due to his body size and a slightly high shot, all the blood was held within his chest cavity instead of spilling from the entry and exit wounds. After an extremely long drag, we get him to the truck and make our way to Matt's dad's house to weigh him. Even gutted, he weighed 150 pounds, which is huge for this area of Central Oklahoma. The inside spread of his rack is 14 5/8" with an outside spread of 17".





I decided to attempt my own Euro mount of the skull and will have a "how to" writeup posted once completed.

 

 

Pronghorn Draw Hunt - No Easy Task

Back in May, I entered my first draw hunt application. I applied for several of the coveted hunts like elk, but often times, those take decades of preference points to draw, if ever. I looked at the pronghorn options. Two counties offer pronghorn with both buck and doe tags as options. I apply for both buck options and a doe. Pronghorn rifle draw hunts are once in a lifetime draws. Once drawn, you will never have another chance at public land pronghorn with a rifle unless you hunt private land with land-owner tags.

In mid-july, the draw was completed. I checked the site, and had been drawn for the rifle pronghorn doe hunt! I was excited as I have never hunted an animal that solely inhabitted flat-lands where they can see for miles. I made arrangements to travel to the panhandle of Oklahoma for the hunt. I opted to wait until the weekend the season was open to not take as many days off of work.

My wife, 18-month old, and I hit the road at 8:30am. Once you are 2 hours northwest of Oklahoma City, the terrain is flat. You begin to wonder how far you really can see. Then you keep driving another 5 hours. Your definition of flat has been rewritten by this time. We pulled into Boise City, Oklahoma around 3:30 and got settled into the hotel room. There were 3 other hunters in the parking lot cleaning a doe they had just harvested that morning. My confidence is now much higher. After a brief chat with them, I headed to the Rita Blanca WMA to start glassing.


The first 6 units I checked were barren, not even a prairie dog. The Rita Blanca WMA is not one large section, but rather broken down into 30+ sections spread across the entire county. I drove back by one of the units on my way to another area and spotted a group of pronghorn on the horizon. The wind was blowing right to them and by the time I got my rifle and started their way, they showed why they are referred to as "speed goats."

As I arrived at the next section, it was shaped much like a "T" between private land and several hundred acres in size. I spotted two pronghorn heading east from my southwest. I got on all fours and proceeded to crawl 300 yards to a barbed-wire fence to setup for a shot. After trying to avoice cactus, and not always successfully, I was within 200 yards of the buck and doe. I steadied for a shot and double-checked my map. I then realized that the doe I had dead to rights was on private land. It was a disappointment, but a rush as well. As I walked back to my truck, the sun had started to set and I saw a piece of bone 50 yards away. I noticed it was a vertebrae and found several other ribs and leg bones. I then spotted the skull, confirming it was a pronghorn. Closer inspection showed the bases where the horns should have been. As I scoured the area for another 30 minutes I found both horns with one of them being 100 yards from the rest of the skeleton as I was headed to the truck. This had me pretty excited.

The next morning I head back to this same unit as it had a water tank and I was hoping the pronghorn would wander back by for a drink. I was not expecting the 43 degree temperatures that morning as the forecast showed mid-50's. About 8:30am, I was packing up to warm up in the truck. No pronghorn were within 2 miles and it's rather pointless to sit when pronghorn are not visible while other hunters chase them around.

I had to drive into Texas twice, just to turn around, while glassing the land that Rita Blanca had to offer. I also noticed a bluff appear to my west while checking out unit 102 and 101. The bluff was in New Mexico. By lunch-time on Saturday, I had seen 6 pronghorn and driven 150 miles. Those pronghorn were on a section of private land 400 yards from a very small unit of Rita Blanca. They didn't move more than 100 yards in the 3 hours since I had seen them the first time that morning. I went back to the hotel and picked up my wife and daughter for lunch. We headed to the Rockin' A Cafe there in Boise City. After we ate, I got to talking with the owner. He asked about my luck during the hunt. I told him the pronghorn were scattered and I was unable to even find any on public land that day. He picked up his cell phone and made a couple of calls. A few moments later, he told me to head to Keyes, Oklahoma (about a 20 minute drive) and meet a gentleman by the name of Mr. Stewart. I thanked him and headed to the hotel to grab my gear. My wife wanted to go with me even after I warned that we would most likely be gone for the next 8 hours hunting.

I met Mr. Stewart who provided me a map of all of his land. He must've had 40 different sections scattered across Cimmaron County. He also called a neighbor who owned the land he had just seen a group of pronghorn on and secured permission for me. He said "you'll have a doe dead in 30 minutes" when he got off the phone. I thanked him for giving me permission and rushed to the area. There was a heard of about 15-20 bedded in a field of knee-high milo with 3 standing as sentries. I parked the truck 600 yards from them and started crawling through the field to close the distance. When I got to within probably 350 yards, I noticed several pronghorn standing up and acting skittish. I prepared for a shot, but could not single one out that didn't have another right behind it. When I finally located one by itself, the group took off at a run before I could squeeze the trigger. I dust myself off and watch the heard disappear over a rise. I jump back in the truck only to spot them 2 miles down the road. I had my wife drop me off to start my stalk of them and had her drive around them in an attempt to spook them toward me. Before she could circle them, they took off for another 2-3 mile run. At this point, I decided to try and locate another group. After checking another 10 sections, we ended back near the same group. I parked the truck behind some brush, closed the distance by 400 yards, and estimated they were still at 500 yards. I steadied my bipod and waited for the pronghorn to settle down. I place the crosshairs roughly 2 1/2 feet over the back of a large doe and fired. A cloud of dust kicked up 100 yards short and they didn't stop for probably 5 miles.

As we continued to drive, I spotted a lone doe in a field. I was able to get up on the fence post for a rest. I estimated her to be at 250 yards, then she trotted another 50. When she stopped, I placed the crosshairs a foot over her and fired. Another dirt clod was misted. It was at this point I knew my scope had taken a lethal knock at some point. The scope rings were still tight and the scope was wiggle-free.

At another property, about two hours later, we spotted another group of about 15. My wife drove behind an oil rig and dropped me off before she drove off to keep their attention on her. I kept the rig between them and I and got to within 200 yards. I thought "this is it, I'm going to make it happen finally." I see one doe poke her head around the oil rig so I sit down, prop up my leg, throw the sling around my elbow, and get ready. As the heard steps out, I settle on a doe, place the crosshairs behind her shoulder and pull the tripper. Another dirt clod is sent to heaven. As the pronghorn trott off, I reload and fire twice more at the slowest doe, each time killing dirt successfully.

We spend another 2 hours trying to get shots on this group, who had by that time joined 30 more pronghorn, making it impossible to get anywhere near them. Just as we were about to head back to the hotel for the night, I spot a pronghorn not 100 yards off the road. I pull the truck over, jump out, slide into the ditch, and get ready to fire. I double-check the head only to see antlers that were previously hidden by the ears and a black patch on it's cheek, confirming it is a buck. Going from fever to let down in 5 seconds is a harsh reality at the end of a long day of chasing pronghorn.

The owner of the diner had told me to come back on Sunday morning if I wasn't able to harvest one. Sunday morning, at 7:30 like he had said, I was there drinking a coffee. The farmer that he had arranged for me to meet with didn't show up. I figured I would head back to Mr. Stewart's land and try one more time as the drive home is 7 hours and I wanted to be home by dinner. As I was getting ready to leave, the owner tells me to jump in his truck and we'll go look around. We hit all the land he has access to for about 2 1/2 hours, before seeing a lone doe at the last spot. He slowed down and I jumped into a ditch and took cover near a fence line. Just as I settled my scope, she started to trot. I didn't feel comfortable with taking the shot. With that, I watched my last chance at a pronghorn disappear out of range.

Although I had a wonderful meal of tag soup, the experience was great. Hunting big game in the west is a whole different game and something I'm interested in trying again, but for now, bring on deer season.