Back in October of 2021, me and 2 buddies headed out to Wyoming. None of us had ever stepped foot in this state before, but we wanted to try our hand at pronghorn.
After building a few preference points over the years and studying the draw statistics, we decided on a unit that we were all but guaranteed to draw. There were 4 of us initially but the 4th guy bailed at the last minute due to a positive Covid test. The initial plan was to break the trip up by stopping in Memphis overnight to pick the 4th guy up and then continue the trip the next morning. With Covid killing that plan, we struck out with intent to drive without stopping.
30 hours later, we made it. It was some of the wildest country we had ever laid eyes on. We saw pronghorn all over the place as we drove north in the state. We closed in on our unit and the excitement was real. It was well into the season and all we had to do was get to the public grounds and start laying them down. Or so we thought…….
Once we got into our unit, pronghorn sightings dropped instantly. We drove 60 miles within our unit before we saw any goats.
The first herd happened to be really close to the public/private line. So we chose to make a quick stalk on them. The quick part didn’t happen since all of our gear was still packed up from the westward journey. By the time we got geared up and hiked a mile in on these goats, they made their way on to private by 1/4 mile with no chance of turning around. The travel fatigue set in quickly after that and we made our way to the rental house. Our main goal this day was to get a feel for the public access and we accomplished that.
The next day, we got up early and left the house by 4:30am in order to get to the hunting area before daylight. After the 70 mile drive, we made it with little time to spare. As we were riding down one of many gravel roads that morning, a herd of about 20 goats crossed the road in the headlights. I looked at my maps and realized that they were walking a fence row that was private on their side but public on the other. We stopped and I jumped out with my rifle and pack.Y buddies kept going in hopes that they herd wouldn’t spook. They didn’t spook and I watched them for 1.5 hours as they walked this fence looking for a spot to cross.
They made their way back to the road we came in on and 2 does and a buck jumped over the cattle guard. Due to the terrain, I then lost sight of them. Then all of a sudden the buck appears at 70 yards. I’m laying prone watching this unfold and i flick the safety off. As I laid my cheek on the rifle, I caught a glimpse of something even closer.I shift my eyes over to see a doe standing at 20 yards staring right at me. She stomps her foot and snorts and the whole herd runs a little ways behind the next hill out of sight. I then realize that the only way I’m going to make something happen is to belly crawl 300 yards. So I do just that trying to dodge the cactuses the whole time. I get to where I can see the herd and the big buck is in perfect position. I range them at 302 yards and try to get him lined up in my scope. I’m laying prone again and realize I’ve got to side shift or else I’m going to take the tops off of some sage.
After what seemed like eternity, I get a clear shot. I say a clear shot, but I still had to thread the needle between barbed wire strands. I throw the safety off and the big buck steps out of sight. Another buck stepped right in his tracks and I wasn’t trying to be picky on my first trip so I pulled the trigger to let my 6.5-300 weatherby eat. The Berger 156 EOL found it’s way to him. The entire herd took off except for him. He stood there, hit hard, and head hanging low. I loaded another round and controlled my breathing enough to put it behind his shoulder. He then dropped hard and was motionless.
We hunted hard for the next 4 days (avg. 6 miles/day hiking) and had the opportunity to fill the other 2 tags multiple times. Due to a few costly mistakes/bad luck, we only ended up filling 2/3 tags. We saw snow, 50 mph winds, and 75 degree temps, and rain all in the same week.
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