OK, here?s the story:
This all starts about five years ago on my Rhodes Canyon OIL, when I shot an oryx at about 20 yards as the sun was going down the first evening. I knew immediately that I'd hit it a little too far back, and it ran a couple hundred yards into some thick brush. We were tracking it down when a patrol pulled up to my truck and called us back, saying we needed to immediately exit the base. We were back at first light the next morning and started tracking, a track which lasted several miles and well into the afternoon before the blood trail completely disappeared, just before it crossed a paved road, and we could not determine which set of tracks on the other side was my oryx...
I was sure that I blown my OIL chance at an oryx and thought that the only way I'd ever get one now was either a game ranch in TX or an African safari, neither of which seemed feasible.
Nevertheless, I continued to put in for all the non-OIL hunts hoping someday to redeem myself. I seriously doubted that I would ever again draw an Oryx tag, so I was shocked this year when I was one of the 25 non-militarys that drew the January McG hunt. To be honest, I didn't even know which unit or where the McG was.
Within a short period after drawing the tag, Compass West Outfitters contacted me and offered their services. At first, I was probably a little dismissive--I'm 50 years old, and (except when overseas) been hunting something almost every month of my life since I was 12, and have never once ever considered using a guide. Just the thought seemed almost blasphemous. But the more I thought about not wanting to blow this opportunity, the more reasonable CWO seemed, especially after I compared their offer to the oryx prices of TX game ranches/African safaries. I checked a couple references and decided to accept CWO?s offer.
First met Jim (my guide) at the orientation, but knew immediately that I'd made a good decision. Opening day we worked really hard to get within range of/pursue a couple different herds, both of which included some really nice animals, only to have it blow up in our faces by other hunters stalking the same from opposite directions. I imagine those hunters were just as frustrated as we were.
By mid-afternoon the wind really picked up, so we decided a better use of our time would be to drive to some new areas and check for fresh sign. Not much luck with that and we were fast running out of daylight, so we headed back to the check station.
The sun had just started dipping behind the mountain when Jim started to say something about keeping eyes peeled as we might just see one on the road. I don't know if he'd even got the words all the way out when we came around a sand dune and there they were, just standing off to our left.
Slam on the brakes, jump out the door, keep my head down, sneak back behind the truck, jam a round into the chamber of my 300 WSM, hear Jim tell me to shoot the one on the left, raise up, locate the oryx at about 65 or 70 yards, put the crosshairs on the shoulder, and squeeze the trigger.
The 180-grain MRX rocked her, and her head nearly hit the ground as she struggled to get her feet back under her as she disappeared over the sand dune. We headed to the spot where we last saw her and saw the other one (a 37-inch skiwampus horn) that had been with her standing alone broadside out at about 150 yards. Looked that one over long enough to determine that it didn't already have a hole it, and assumed that the one I shot must be down already. Assumed wrong.
After looking around for several minutes and not seeing her, I headed back to where she was originally standing to look for blood. There it was in the sand, but not the red kind?it was the sucky watery kind. Gut shot. My Rhodes Canyon deja vu. We followed for about 1/3 mile, running out of daylight, when Jim suggested it would better to come back the next morning.
Now I was literally getting sick to my stomach--feeling snake bit by these oryx. I hated 'em, and how in the crap did I manage to make the same dumb mistake all over again?
After a very restless night we were back on her trail the next morning. The good news was that it had gotten down to 8 degrees during the night, and we hoped that caused her to stiffen up. The bad news was a couple coyotes had picked up the scent of blood sometime during the night and were also on her trail, and could potentially have run her all night.
The watery blood was hard to see and the tracks in the sand started to mingle with other oryx tracks. We soon figured out that her tracks were the ones the coyotes stayed with, but after what was now a mile and a half, I was getting in an even deeper funk, playing the shot over and over in mind, and living Rhodes Canyon all over again. Man, I hated these friggin oryx!!
We were coming up on two miles when Jim exclaims: There?s your oryx! And looking up, sure enough, there she was, laying on her side, frozen stiff, and not a coyote bite mark on her. I love these oryx!!
Coyote tracks all around, but from what we could tell, it appeared that a few other oryx had also bedded near her and they must have kept the coyotes off all night.
I was so relieved and so grateful to the powers that be that this was not another repeat of my Rhodes Canyon hunt--it seemed almost an afterthought when Jim got out his tape measure: 36, 37, 38...
Holy Crap--a 39-incher!!
And a one-shot kill, too. What can I say? ;-)
I've field dressed, quartered, and packed a bunch of animals in my life, but I really enjoyed watching and learning from someone who is actually good at it. We took the hind quarters on the first trip out, and then brought Jim?s cart back for the rest.
We drove to the check station and Jim finished caping and quartering it on one of their provided lifts.
I saw twenty oryx the first day. The few other hunters that we talked with hadn't seen close to that many. Looking back, I don't believe I've ever had it so good... ;-)
