LAST EDITED ON Jul-02-10 AT 10:00 AM (MST) by Founder (admin)
Thread Views Counter....
The high plains of Wyoming’s wild and wind swept call was calling again. I drew first blood on big game long ago in 1972 as a twelve year old. Seems like 50 lifetimes ago and many ways it was. Last year I found myself back. It was much like it had been 35 years ago a few towering windmills trying to tame the untamable Wyoming wind, yet everything else seemed the same. The relentless wind, the sweet sharp smell of autumn sage and the same vast vistas that had been vast vistas then and for the last countless centuries. But it was antelope I was after, and it was a big buck or bust. There are hunts that strike deep in your hunter’s heart and animals that live there well after the hunt is over.
It was hunt to remember and I was able to tag the biggest buck I had ever laid eyes. A towering tall buck I nicknamed “Black Bart”, a black masked hard rutting gunslinger with long an and wicked sabers taking all comers and quickly turning all contenders into cowards. With Pronghorns if you are looking for a real stud and you glass them and find yourself trying to talk yourself into him being the one…he ain’t. The instant the Spotting scope focused hard I knew he was the one. In used the same .270 I had mowed lawns for as a kid. An upgrade to Ziess Conquest but the same guts and glory action I had counted on for the last 35 years. The 16 ½ inch seven inch base buck had set the bar high for the rest of my life.