WTH are those guys doing??!!! We were all set to make this happen and what do we see? 2 guys walking right up the middle of our set, with the wind. At first I couldn't even be angry, I mean, this is public land, it's a OIL hunt and maybe someone besides us saw those bulls too.
But these guys weren't even hunting. They were....flagging. I recall doing something similar during my college field biology days. Transecting and such. Were these biologists?? Whoever they are, they are about to completely jack up our evening set. So I walk over to introduce myself.
"So, uh, what are you guys doing?", ask I.
"Confirming GIS data for a road survey", says Guy 1.
"Interesting" say I. "Did you know there is a hunt going on right now?"
Guy 1: "Uhhh, no, we weren't told that".
Me: "Yeah, a bison hunt. See that guy up there? He's waited his whole life to do this, and we have 3 bison bulls bedded in this cedar pocket, and you guys are about to really make a problem for us. Do you have to do this today"
Guy 2: "We are on a timeline, sorry. The BLM didn't tell us there was hunt going on. Geez, maybe we should put on some orange or something"
Me: "Well, you don't look like bison, soooooo. Anyway, can I ask you if you have to go beyond this trail here? Can I ask you not to? Just for tonight? Please?"
Guy 1: "Well, we probably shouldn't have to go higher, no. But we have to get this done today".
Me: "ok, fine. Just don't go beyond that trail, and please can you be quiet about what you're doing?"
Guy 2: "yeah, ok".
So I stomp my way back up to Dave, muttering under my breath. Our luck, I swear. We pick the ONE drainage on the entire Henry Mountains that we know has bison in it and run into SURVEYORS, fer cryin' out loud! I told Dave what was up, we looked over at our spotters on the other side of the drainage and held our hands up as if to say "what are the odds".
And went back to waiting. In the meantime, those two idiots starting jib-jabbing back and forth, and we could hear them plain as day. I was disgusted. If we could hear them, surely the bison could. And we saw no bison, we felt now we wouldn't see bison, so we started back out a little early. We had already made arrangements to be picked up on the main road, and headed to that area.
Then we heard yelling. It was Mark, at the pickup point, yelling that he had bison spotted and we needed to hurry. We were now in a literal footrace against the sun, which had just gone down. I turned to Dave and told him we needed to go, right now, as fast he could, and began jogging toward Mark. Dave wanted to slow, but I wouldn't let him because I didn't want him to think too much and give up. We had been so close the last couple days that I didn't want to lose what sounded like our best opportunity yet. We made it to Mark, threw ourselves in the truck and he took off, telling us that as they drove in to get us, he happened to see bison in the next chaining.
We drove like we were in the Baja 500. Light was waning, we had only 15 minutes of shooting light left. We found Stuart and he pointed out the bison, which we could only see through a small lane in the trees. At least 2 were bulls, and I couldn't see why the third wouldn't be. Could this be them? The same 3 we had seen on Day 1?
The range was 400 yards with no place to rest a rifle. I could see Dave starting to think. About the range, about the darkness approaching, about everything. I knew if I let him think about it, he wouldn't try the shot. I knew I needed to get him closer and within the next 5 minutes, or these bulls were safe for another day. So I grabbed him by the shirt, said "let's go" and started running into the trees towards a higher spot that might cut 50 yards off the distance and give us a shooting platform.
As we entered the trees, I saw it-a shooting lane. Not only a shooting lane, but a shooting lane with a rifle rest right in the middle. As we got closer, I couldn't believe our luck. There was a perfect bow in a tree limb that would allow Dave a standing rest.
NO WAY! NO FREAKING WAY!! I tapped the limb and yelled "Right here, put the rifle right here".
I ranged the bulls-279 yards. Awesome, we didn't have to account for bullet drop, either. Now I had to decide which bull to shoot, and Dave was asking, and I could hear the stress in his voice as the light really started to fade. The bison in the middle, the one we hadn't been able to see the obvious signs of bull-ness, suddenly turned broadside, and he looked like a tank compared to the other two. "THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE, SHOOT THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE", I yelled. I reminded him to breathe.
The rifle went off, and that bison did a face-plant, clearly Dave had put one right where it counted-through the shoulders. The bison tried to get up again, and fell again, then rolled over into some brush. We lost sight of it, but didn't see him come out. I was pretty sure it was down for good. Now a second race began, that of trying to cross yet another drainage to get at least in the area before full dark and locate what we hoped was one deceased bison bull.
We didn't beat the darkness, and again found that where that bison lay looked nothing like what we had seen. It was pretty steep and everything looked the same in the dark. By now we had radios turned on, and Mark had stayed where we had shot from to direct the search. With his help, I finally saw what we had all been waiting for-one very large beastie, dead on the ground. It was with great pleasure that I announced "Attention please: Buffalo down, boys, buffalo down!". And it was a bull, after all. Dave found his way to me and we both marveled at the size and the beauty of his bull.
Within 25 minutes, we had made contact with most of our party and even the other camp. Everyone was ecstatic for Dave, and congratulations were made all around.
By the time the moon came up, we had 6 knives running, 2 people sharpening and everyone else holding lights. We had that bull broken down into pieces in about 2 hours, believe it or not.
The only thing left was packing it out. The other camp had offered the use of their horses, but wanted to see if that was possible with daylight. The real work was left for the morning.