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Family, Hunting

Cage Ranch

About 100 miles southeast of Denver, Colorado there is a large tract of land that symbolizes the spectacular prairie of the western United States. The property bisects route 94, and rests in an unincorporated village called Wild Horse . For over 70 years, the Cage family has raised cattle on nearly 50,000 acres of sage, yucca and switchgrass. They are responsible land owners as well as astute custodians of this ground. Fortunately, the Cages are kind and generous people who allow some of us to experience their stunning piece of American history.

The first time I visited the Cage Ranch I was awestruck at the incredible size of the property, as well as the many species of animals that call the eastern plains of Colorado their home. While I eventually adapted to the vastness, I will always be captivated by the variety of prairie critters. In the early days, I could not tell where I was without a compass. Additionally, it took me a while to learn how to unlock and relock a barbed wire fence gate. I was appreciative when Bob installed a few cheater-bar-latches around the opening to the pastures that I frequented. Navigating the roads around the ranch took time to learn. My sense of direction is poor when the streets have no names. To that point, the more ranch driving I did, the more comfortable I became transitioning from one pasture to the next. It has taken years, but I can now successfully maneuver without oversight. My attempts at branding calves each spring had the hired cowboys mocking my unrefined methods. I persevered, and I eventually learned how to execute my menial yet fun role. When fall arrived, hunting season started. We harvested our fair share of pronghorn, deer and even an occasional duck.

On January 1, 2021, the Cage Ranch will change hands, and formally end a glorious era. There are so many things that I will miss about the ranch; the long drive from the highway to headquarters. The two golden eagles that always seem to appear when I enter The George pasture. The remarkable sunrises and sunsets that light up the golden grasses.

Bob, thank you for extending yourself beyond our friendship. You gave up your time to teach me about many things ranch related. You rarely mocked me for the many mistakes I made, and you were patient when I asked you the same questions multiple times. As you stated, I will continue to use the many things I learned on the ranch for the rest of my life.

Hunting

Failure

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“We pray our sights be straight and our aim be true.  We pray for no pain to the game we pursue. We thank you, Lord for this land. We thank you for the sights from our stands. We pray for safety one and all.  We pray we may return in the fall.”

-Camille Pissaro

Failure brings on all types of undesirable emotions. For me, failure usually creates a gut-wrenching, remorseful reaction to whatever I was attempting to accomplish. Many times, these feelings negatively impact my frame of mind for the foreseeable future.

On the second day of Colorado’s deer rifle season, my plan involved putting myself in an advantageous position before sunup.  I drove down the main road leaving headquarters at a quickened pace. It was 5 am, 33 degrees and shooting light was over an hour away. Towards the end of five mile road a truck was parked about 150 yards inside the entrance to the Ranch. I cautiously pulled my pickup next to his vehicle. He was an older man dressed in camo, highlighted with the proper amount of hunter’s orange. He told me that he was waiting to contact the owner of the property.  I asked him who he was specifically looking for. When he could not come up with a name, I politely asked him to leave. As he turned his truck around, I looked up the hill to the west, and saw the outline of the buck that poacher was eyeing. I trained my binoculars on him, and I was able to discern that he was a deer that I wanted to take.

I grabbed my rifle and bipod, and made my way across the cattle guard. The buck was feeding uphill, and he did not seem aware of my presence. I put my rifle into the bipod, and got comfortable. The buck was 151 yards from my shooting position, and he decided to lay down. The sun was coming up behind me, so I felt confident that I could remain concealed until I was permitted to shoot him. About thirty minutes later, the buck stood up and took two steps to his left. With my crosshairs on his shoulder, I squeezed the trigger. The buck kicked hard, and spun around as he fell to the ground. I stood up, as I thought the animal was fatally wounded.  Suddenly, he raised up, obviously injured, but able to walk. I attempted to shoot him off hand, but I missed.  He made his way over the hill heading southwest.  I ran towards the buck, realizing that I needed to kill him before he got beyond from my effective range. The noise I made startled the wounded deer, and he unexpectedly turned and jumped the adjacent fence and then ran across the highway. Recognizing that the animal was hurt, I made the difficult decision to pursue him, even though I would no longer be in my game management unit. I know the pasture where he entered, and I scoured the land both on foot and in my truck.  This section of the Ranch abuts the neighbor’s property just one mile to the north. That landowner leases his land to an outfitter who charges a lot of money for guided hunts. The deer needed to be recovered before he became inaccessible. As I drove to the north end of the land, the injured deer jumped from his bedded position, and he made his way over the fence.  My heart sank as I drove to the fence line, and watched him limp away at fifty yards.  I quickly received permission from the ranch manager to take the deer, but I hesitated because I figured that the outfitter would be present.  Recognizing I was shaken up, I took a few deep breaths, and I tried to collect myself. I drove to an area where I had both mobile reception, as well as data access.  My objective was to contact the outfitter, and determine if he was hunting with clients.  It took me well over one hour to figure out who was leasing the property, as well as to find his mobile number. Soon after getting the outfitter on the line, he accused me of trespassing, lying, and many other unseemly acts. He threatened to call the CPW, and told me to expect a hefty fine. Recognizing that I had done nothing wrong, I called the CPW, and asked them to meet me at the Ranch. The officers listened to my story, and completed an extensive investigation of the incident. Hours later, they absolved me of any wrongdoing, and offered to help me locate the deer.  Despite looking all over the pasture for two hours, we could not find him. Discouraged, embarrassed, and angry, I packed up and headed for home.

I have replayed my initial shot multiple times over the last couple of weeks. I cannot determine what occurred on such a routine shot. My subsequent range work did not reveal the issue, as my aim proved to be spot-on. The guilt I feel for wounding the deer will never leave me.  I accept responsibility for my failure, and I hope it will never happen again.

Hunting

Echo – Season 2

I listen to veteran wing-shooters talk about that one dog they own or owned that is special.   They describe a dog that instinctively works in harmony with them.  Beyond locating and retrieving evasive birds, the dog understands how to put their partner in a position for a successful shot.

This is my 7th year in the field, and Echo is my second gundog.  We adopted our first gundog, Pride, when his original owner passed away. He was 7, and had already spent many days in the field.  Pride’s initial reaction when I tried to hunt with him was to run to the truck.  His bond with Dick was obvious, and it took time to build trust with him. Pride and I had 4 great hunting seasons together, and he seemed to always salvage a difficult hunt by locating a deceptive rooster as the day was ending.

Echo is my first gundog that we are raising as a puppy. 2016 was our first season together, and she performed admirably from the start.  She was not even one, when I shot my first wild pheasant over her.  We spent many days in the field last year, and in all types of conditions.  The one characteristic that I noticed from day one, is that she always looks to see where I am positioned. She never catches a scent, and takes off in a futile chase to locate a running rooster. Echo  is a quick study and intuitively hunts within my shooting range.  She seems to understand my limitations, and works to get me a makeable shot.  Echo possess an accurate nose, incredible speed, and a high prey drive.   She will hunt from dawn to dusk with a never-quit attitude.

I don’t have enough experience to confidently state that Echo is a once in a lifetime gundog.  That said, she is proving to be everything I want in a hunting companion.

Video of Our Second Upland Trip of the 2017 – 2018 Season

Hunting

Experience

After spending over two hours sighting in my X2, I headed to the Shipping Trap pasture in order to do some late afternoon scouting.  It was the day before the Colorado deer rifle opener, and I was curious to see if there were any animals worth pursuing.  The wind was blowing hard from the northwest so I walked into the stiff breeze using the trees as cover.  It did not take long to find the first buck.  He was 500 yards north of my position, and he stared at me for thirty seconds before trotting further north.  My binoculars revealed he was young and unimpressive.  I continued my walk for another one-half mile and then noticed movement far ahead of me.  Although I was quite a distance away from the deer, it was obvious that a few bucks were intermingling with does.   I managed to stay concealed as I got closer to the herd.  At about 200 yards, I poked my head out from my position behind a thick cottonwood.  There were nine does and five bucks, and it was obvious that the rut was on.  One of the three big bucks was mating with each female. If another buck challenged him, the dominate male knocked him away.  I had never witnessed anything like this so I decided to take a risk and move closer.  I did not need my optics when I got to within 100 yards.  The dominate male eventually spotted me, and stared at me for five minutes through the trees.  Realizing it was important to keep these deer on property, I slowly backed out of the area.

Saturday morning we entered the pasture about 20 minutes before shooting light. The wind was blowing directly from the west, so my strategy was didn’t differ from the night before.  I weaved my way along the dry creek, glassing the landscape every 30 yards.  The rising sun started to reveal animals moving around the western portion of the land.  A small buck slowly walked 200 yards in front of me, seemingly unaware of my presence.  Thirty minutes later, a group of five does and a young buck spotted me and stopped.  I ducked down and remained motionless on the ground.  When I picked my head up minutes later, the buck had made his way to me and stopped just thirty feet from my position.  Eventually I stood up and spooked the herd.  The good news is that they ran south, leaving everything to my west intact.  My pace slowed when I was 250 yards from the area where I witnessed the rutting bucks.  While there was no visible action, I glassed in and around the trees. I first noticed a few does bedding down, then a large rack appeared from the tall grass.  My heart started to race as I was looking at the stud from the day before.  Concealed behind a set of trees, I put a plan together to stalk the buck.  The tree closest to him ranged at 240 yards.  A small berm kept me hidden as I belly-crawled to the next set of trees.  After picking cactus thorns out of my knees & thighs, I rose, keeping my back against the cottonwood.  I was now 180 yards from my target, so I put my crosshairs of my scope where I thought his back was in the tall grass.  Twenty minutes went by and the buck barely moved.  The doe that was laying with him stood up and he followed. He took one step in my direction and I shot him in the heart. As the buck collapsed another big buck rose from his hidden position in the meadow. Seemingly confused at what just transpired, he walked towards the dead deer, and actually gave him a slight knock before moving on.

I approached the downed old buck with excitement and pride.  His face and antlers confirmed years of dominance.  While my adventure was over quickly, the memories of the event are forever etched in my mind.

Hunting

Alone

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.