Dad's 2008 Antelope Hunt

Here’s the official story of Dad’s 2008 Antelope Hunt. It’s abbreviated, although, judging by the words you’ll read below…you might call me a liar.

Dad and I hadn’t been very motivated to hunt antelope in the past. Some had to do with time constraints, some had to do with the stories of how bad antelope is for table fare (which is a lie by the way) and some just had to do with the desire to do other things. I am glad to say, Dani got me interested in antelope hunting after I went with her and her parents on a couple trips. Then I enjoyed my first steak. After that my Dad, Uncle Bob and I started putting in. Today, it’s one of my favorite animals to hunt.

This was my Dad’s first tag in nearly 30 years so we put as much time as we could into this hunt with scouting animals and making landowner contacts. Both proved successful and with some antelope scouted and permission granted we looked forward to the opener.

At 9:30 am Friday we found the buck we had put on our top five list. He was by himself so at first we were skeptical it was the herd buck we decided to try to get ourselves in position for a closer look. After creeping over hills and back down hills we got within distance at about ten minutes after 12:00 pm. The problem, we only had a few moments to make our minds up.

With a combination of horrible wind and little time to judge the goat once more, Dad didn't feel comfortable taking the shot. We figured we could get on him again for another look but what once was an initially easy sneak turned into a two day endeavor with many highs and lows.

After losing him we made our rounds to thank landowners with a handshake and a few gifted bags of Sakakawea walleye.

Now mid-afternoon we decided to lace up the hiking shoes and see if the lone buck was hiding in the bottoms of steeper terrain. After about three miles of walking and glassing we finally spotted him and another decent buck bedded about 200 yards from one another (it began to set in that herd bucks aren’t necessarily the biggest). We had about half a mile before we could get on him and the terrain in front of us mixed with the wrong wind made for an extended sneak. After we closed the distance and peeked over the hill we were just in time to watch him lazily stand up and begin moving back to the north (the area we had found him that morning). Again limited by terrain and wind a shot was not presented.

But the terrain did offer an opportunity to make another move. Within about another mile (give or take) we caught up to him. The problem, we were just a little too late as he wandered behind a small hill. The distance between dad’s rifle and a comfortable shot was lengthening. Once again, we were fooled by this buck. After a brief discussion it was decided I’d dead head back to the pickup while Dad tried his luck with catching up to the buck. Finally, reaching dad he explained he never saw the buck again. The advantage, however, was location. The buck had returned full circle to the same exact spot we found him earlier that morning. Maybe there was a pattern developing?

Needing a little break on the legs we went out in search of others on the top five list. Accidentally, we stumbled upon a pretty impressive antelope with nice heart shaped horns and by far the biggest cutters we had seen in three weeks of looking at antelope. Dad decided to pass on the goat because it was only Friday and well, he likes to extend his hunts (as do I). Even though this buck’s mass was a little suspicious it was probably floating around in both our minds…maybe he should have shot?

Later that evening we came upon another undisturbed herd back in the hills that Dani and I had located a week earlier. This antelope provoked a sneak but in the end, Dad chose to pass him up as well. He too was a pretty impressive buck with wide horns, good length and mass but seem to lack decent cutters. The drive to our hotel was filled with "what-ifs".

Saturday morning led us to the same location we had seen number one (or as we labeled him Friday night…the 3 Minute Buck). Like clock work, there he was, in the same coulee all by himself. But he was being rushed over the hill by hunters about a half mile away. Luckily for us, the individuals were hunting grouse. Perhaps even luckier, we were able to just get a glance of the buck. If we had not gotten that glance we probably would not have continued hunting for him. More interesting though, was the fact that AGAIN, we were about three minutes too late. This buck was beginning to wear on our minds.

After looking over the plat book we finalized a plan of where we can and can’t cross fences (hunting access). The area we were about to walk was about three square miles and without roads into it. The pickup doors closed and off we went.

About forty minutes into our walk we got on top of a herd that Dad had spotted with the binoculars earlier in the morning. We were disappointed to find the big buck was not with the group.

The doubt began to settle in but as the Badlands often do, the “one more hill” curse worked in our favor. With a few hills in our way we decided to keep moving on to each hill using the binoculars and spotting scope to search the hills. Sometimes the “one more hill” gets you deep into the country and you see nothing but sometimes, it works.

Finally, I spotted a rather large buck but it was not the buck we were after. This buck was very tall and had noticeable cutters from over a mile away. Dad showed great interest in hunting this buck but to our dismay it was on land unavailable to us. So, with little options left we started our way back to the pickup. With about three quarters of a mile left we stopped for a breather and wouldn’t you know, a lone buck popped up in the binoculars about a quarter mile behind the herd we had seen earlier. And guess what, they were heading straight for the same coulee we had just hunted three times prior.

Now at the pickup and with a little hope we made our way back to the north three miles to where we’d once again, start our accent to the vantage point we’d visited many times before. After a half hour sneak we were sitting only three hundred yards from the heard.

It took me some time to get situated and the words I didn’t want to hear came out of my Dad’s mouth, “The big buck isn’t here!”

Frustrated, I was about to admit defeat and give credit to the three minute buck but when I put my binoculars up to the left there stood an antelope with his head down just out of view of Dad. As he picked his head up I whispered, “Are you sure?”

Dad put up his binoculars and said, “Well I’ll be damned”.

Then, the Sandstrom curse set in where a bunch of “are you sure” phrases were tossed around. You see, we’re frightened of ground shrink and well, to be completely honest, the hunt coming to an end. But as a gust of wind ripped through the prairie and the forecast for rain on Sunday now in our conversation Dad extended the legs on the bipod and said, “I can’t keep passing up antelope like this…there just isn’t that many that much bigger in North Dakota”.

The adrenaline set it.

He started his shooting ritual and as he did, the does below us started to get a little leery. I imagine our slight movement was just enough to catch their eye. As I watched the buck through the spotting scope, I said to Dad that the buck for SURE had half inch ivory tips. Then he asked for a range. I measured the buck at about 313 yards.

With the does getting more nervous I had to do it and whispered, “If you don’t want this buck we can get the heart buck.”

Of course, that made him ponder one more time but as more does became alert Dad said, “We’ve hunted this guy two days.”

Agreeing it was quite the hunt, I said, “Okay, he’s at about 280 yards”.

Watching the buck distance itself from a doe through the spotting scope I heard Dad curse the wind and then exhale. The 7mm STW barked as the buck reared up like a bucking bronc trying to throw the most dedicated of cowboys. It took a few steps, staggered and then collapsed. The hunt was over.

After the congrats settled, Dad said, “Let the ground shrink begin!”

He went to tag the animal and I dead headed back to the pickup. Must admit, it was nice having permission on private land...retrieving game is much easier than having to pack it out!

As I closed in on Dad and his goat I could see the horns sticking off the ground. Excitement re-entered my mind as it seemed instead of ground shrink pessimism we should have had optimism. Although, not a giant by any means, it was an impressive animal with nice character. I could tell Dad was pleased with his trophy and that’s all that really matters. Plus, this was a hunt…no ifs ands or buts about it! He made us work and I’m sure that memory will never fade. Of course, how can it with as many photos Dad and I take!!!

Congrats on a fine animal Dad!