I enjoy spending time by myself. Time alone allows me to focus on specific things that are happening in my life. I can be introspective, and evolve thoughts without distraction. I am able to laugh at my shortcomings, while appreciating the many blessings bestowed upon me. When I am alone, I am only accountable to myself, and the principles that guide me.
Despite the many virtues associated with solitude, when I hunt, I would rather it be with a good friend.
On opening day of Colorado’s pronghorn season, I hunted solo during the morning into the early afternoon. I was able to put the sneak on two good bucks, but passed on them as I was hopeful I could find a better animal. While I was not discouraged, I knew that I had to be cognizant of the time as Saturday would be my only full day in the field.
Soon after lunch, I asked Bob to join me in my quest for the right buck. I soon realized that my question was selfish as he had to assist other people who were less acquainted with the ranch. I made my way to another pasture with a new friend. Scott harvested a buck earlier in the day in the Two Section pasture, and he witnessed at least one more mature male during his pursuit. We walked for two hours, but only managed to locate two does. As we made our way back to my truck, I saw Bob’s truck heading down the county road in our direction. Scott had to head home, so I volunteered Bob to spend the rest of the day with me.
With just over two hours of hunting light left, we made our way to the Box Car pasture. It did not take long to glass a small group of pronghorn, including a giant buck. They were feeding, and just over 1,000 yards away from our position. We worked quickly, and closed the distance to 300 yards without spooking the 4 animals. After a 20 yard belly crawl, I set up my tripod and pointed the rifle through the tall grass at the unsuspecting buck. My first shot went high, and the two subsequent shots missed as well. Admittedly, I was perplexed with my poor shooting, as well as a bit angry and embarrassed. Instead of dwelling on my failure, Bob refocused me on getting after one more animal before the day ended. As the sun set behind us, we stumbled upon a large group of antelope facing away from our position. We got to 100 yards, and we were able to see the horns on the male. He was very average, but ostensibly in my range. Once he spotted us, he activated his 18 bedded down does, and they all started to trot west. Bob told me the male was at 200 yards, and awaited my decision. My first shot missed, but the next bullet dropped the pronghorn to the ground.
As I lay in bed that night, I reflected on the day’s events. I replayed the missed opportunity a few times, but soon recognized how gratifying the day had been despite my obvious failure. I was able to take a respectable animal, and more importantly, celebrate the success with a valued friend.
