Archery Antelope In Nevada

Dan took this picture through his spotting scope and you can see Joe's buck coming to water behind the blind.

The Double Bull Blind

“Looks like you drew your last choice bud,” my friend Mike said while we anxiously poured over the Nevada draw results Memorial Day weekend. Having only applied for archery tags in 2011, we knew statistically speaking that I was assured an antelope tag at least. The only real mystery was the “where” part, but all my application choices were solid units so I was still excited. With Nevada’s booming (human) population, tags aren’t easy to come by these days. I had decided to go primitive this year after only drawing one rifle tag in the past three years. I am 35 years old and had my first antelope tag.

Joe's Base Camp for the Opener

  Every adventure has it’s fair share of challenges and this one was going to be no different. The obvious obstacles were 1) I’ve never taken an antelope myself before, 2) I’d never taken any animal with archery tackle - which is a low percentage affair, 3) I hadn’t shot a bow in almost 20 years, 4) I sucked at it 20 years ago, 5) I was completely unfamiliar with my unit , and 6) we had just had our first baby in March. However, I was motivated and already well invested into my equipment and shooting routine. I had gained some antelope hunting knowledge last year helping my dad get his second speed goat with a rifle. My hunting buddies had taken an antelope with their bow so I had excellent support.

Remi & Joe, In It To Win It!

  Over the next two months I shot my bow in the early mornings and crammed in late-night Google Earth marathons after baby was asleep. My lovely wife also took extra baby time so I could get a total of seven days of on-the-ground bonsai-type scouting missions before the season. For the opener on August 1st, I decided to focus my efforts in the southernmost section of my unit where I ‘d seen a trophy buck (probably 80”) and 3-4 other mature bucks. Spotting and stalking for antelope (outside the rut ) with a bow is basically an exercise in futility, so I opted to actually have a chance and hunt over water. But 2011 was a record year for precipitation, so the pronghorn in my area code had lots of options. They were still cycling between several water sources unpredictably in late July. On the last evening of scouting we finally found what we all felt was a very promising situation: a small, secluded water hole with plenty of antelope sign on it. We put up the Double Bull and everything was set.

One of the bucks Joe was able to capture on a Trail Camera

  I was glad to finally crawl into the blind on opening morning and hunt. I could hardly sleep the night before. My friend Remi was with me, and the smell of death was in the air (literally)! Just 30 minutes after sun up the first pronghorn were in, a dozen does and a nice buck (~73"). It was no surprise that they didn’t like the new structure sitting on top of their water one bit. However, at some point during the hour or more of theatrics, they each stuck their nose into the puddle. I drew back twice on this buck, but both times decided to let down and wait for a better shot. While drawing the second time, the buck and a doe either heard me or saw movement and quickly scattered out to 35 yards. With their excitement came my excitement which translated into the high-frequency full-body shaking (aka buck fever) that I had been warned about ad nauseum. There was no way I could ethically let an arrow go at that point. Soon afterwards these antelope had had enough of us and exited stage right. 

A Coyote

  Before we'd really had time to talk about it, a second buck - almost on cue - appeared stage left. I recognized this buck immediately. His freakish headgear swept forward and hooked back about 3” in front of his nose. “The freak” was pretty big also (probably 74”) and had the same reaction to our blind. He too, however, eventually presented himself broadside at 35 yards for at least 10-15 seconds while I somehow failed to take a shot or even draw down on him. And, just like the others, he eventually caught our scent and bugged out for good before making the same mistake twice. With all the antelope well-hydrated now, we spent the rest of the day in the “crock pot” stewing over the missed opportunities and sweating like fat Elvis - before loading up and heading home for work the next day.
   It may sound a bit pathetic to the hardcore’s out there, but I was disappointed at not getting a buck opening morning. I had put in some good preseason work and I was really looking forward to sharing my success with my family. I still had an archery deer tag to be away for later this month, so it would have also been nice to spend an extra weekend with wife and baby. But, it was like doing most anything for the first time – by the time I realized the ball was hit to me it was already too late. I understand that this is a necessary part of the learning process. Anyways, I had three days of work back home before heading back out Thursday afternoon. This time I’d be alone for the first day and a half, and then two friends were to join me for the weekend. After no shooters came in to water while solo-hunting either Thursday or Friday, I was glad to have some company again and spotters on the hill for my final two days of the season.  

An all too common and unwelcome sight.

   At first light on Saturday, August 6th, things were looking good again. Dan radioed he already had a mature buck spotted nearby. Soon both he and Mike also began seeing other bunches of antelope only about a mile to my south. Unfortunately they were all feeding in the wrong direction. About the time we were getting real concerned they would use another water source, which would’ve effectively ended my hunt that day, a loner buck stood up and began moseying my direction.  At 10 a.m. this buck finally came into my view ~75 yards behind the blind. He wanted water. With just one quick peek at his horns I decided he was the unlucky one, and readied my arrow.

Some Antelope and High Desert Country

  The goat slowly circled downwind to better analyze his situation. I focused on his body language instead of his headgear, and distracted myself by filming. He walked in - then ran back out at least three times. I had two decent shot opportunities at him quartering away inside of 50 yards, but wanted to get the shot on film so I waited. At about 10:15 he deemed it was safe and stepped down onto the shore line. The buck stopped just before coming into view of my camera, but he was now broadside and relaxed at 18 yards. It simply does not get any better than that and I couldn’t wait any longer. I postured up, reached forward, slowly rolled the cam over and aligned my sights. When I saw my 20 yd pin was dead steady on his chest it was hard not to smile. The sound of the release and impact was almost simultaneous. He whirled around and ran. At about 60 yards he began to slow. At 70 he began to stumble. At 80 yards he was dead.     

  To say I was elated is an understatement. I had dedicated myself to this process and it had just paid off. The guys came flying off the hill and there was plenty of machismo all around. I think I may have even unretired a few break dance moves. Santa Claus landed a second time when we walked up to find he was much bigger than I had thought. It was hard to get my hands around his bases and he carried mass all the way up to his ivory tips. It was just an awesome first buck, and everything a hunt should be.

 Although I gladly worked hard for this animal, the hunt would not have been possible without the help of so many:

• My wife Chantal - I love you!
• Tom Belaustegui - Thank you for beating up your truck and generously letting me use your ATV’s
• Mike Marchese - Thank you for sacrificing 7 days of your summer to help
• Remi Warren - Thank you for the mentoring, encouragement, equipment and spending a day sweating in the blind with my stinky feet and ass
• Dan Furman - Thank you for sacrificing 4 days of your summer to help
• Tony Diebolds and Todd Jaksick - Thank you for your valuable input.
• The Young family: Thank you for all your support, enthusiasm and confidence.
• Josh Langham and Jon Lesperance - I appreciate the advice, encouragement, and excitement.  
 

Mike, Dan, & Joe

My Notes:
Joe became intensely interested in bowhunting last year and we talked at length about all things archery over the last 8 months.  Eventually he purchased a bow and began to put in for archery-only permits last spring.  His hard work and dedication paid off when he took an excellent pronghorn that blows past the Pope and Young minimum with a green score of 74 3/8" gross, 73 2/8" net.  My favorite part of this hunt was the constant text message updates from Joe and Mike, and ultimately the phone call from Mike atop his vantage point over the blind.  It started out as just a routine "Joe's in the blind and there's bucks on the plateau, preparing for a long day..." but quickly turned into "Wait, there's a buck walking in to water."  I could hardly contain myself while listening to a play by play run down of the hunt.  "He's in the mud, getting ready to drink," Mike said, "Oh wait, he's running away from the blind!  He's slowing down!  He just tipped over, Joe got him!"  I could hardly contain myself and I'm sure I looked pretty silly on the phone hollering in a Payson parking lot.  Great job Joe!   

Packing Out After a Successful Hunt

And So It Begins: 2011

This beautiful black tail marks the last of my snake wrangling days.  It nearly got me last week while helping a friend on an archery hunt in central AZ.

 Hunting season is here again! The archery hunts for antelope and deer are well underway, with archery elk just around the corner.  This year finds me the fortunate recipient of two tags: an archery mule deer tag in Nevada's high country, and a rifle Coues deer tag in one of Arizona's border units.  Having spent the great majority of my hunting efforts and passion chasing the most cruel of hunting's maidens, viz. bowhunting, I have of late fallen into a bit of a love affair with long distance centerfire rifle hunting.  Since my last Coues deer hunt, I've come into the acquisition of a Remington Model 700, chambered in 7mm Remington Magnum.  Spending weeknights in the backyard with my bow, and weekends in the desert with my rifle, I find myself occupying two niches on opposite ends of the spectrum.  The choice of weapons and hunting methods provides an interesting juxtaposition, with more in common than one might expect:

Bowhunting is measured in tens of yards, while rifle hunting is often measured in hundreds.

With my bow I have a sphere of influence about as far as I can throw a rock, with a rifle it stretches canyons.

With my bow groups must fall within a pie plate, with my rifle - fractions of an inch.

But they both start with glassing.

They both require significant skills, despite claims to the contrary by many regarding rifle hunting.

They both require an intimate knowledge of the quarry.

Most importantly, they both require a love for the pursuit of game.

This is where my borderlands hunt starts: the bench.

And this is probably about where it will end:  Prone, off the bi-pod, squeeze bag, across a canyon.

Preparation work.

My friend Joe and I will be chasing mule deer in Nevada together next week, bows in hand and packs on our backs.  He was able to slip away for a day and do some scouting and sent me these pictures.  After an unreasonable heat wave this week in Phoenix (every day peaking over 110) I am relishing the chance to be around 9000 feet and feel some chilly nights!  I wouldn't mind perforating the hide of an old mossy antlered mule deer too, but as I mentioned, bowhunting is a cruel maiden!

From the Nevada unit, you get an idea of the terrain, especially the slope!

Again with the steepness!  My calves are screaming already.

Glassing

 

Archery Reflection - January 2011

Spring is starting to bloom in its annual resurrection of new life from winter's death.  Wildflowers and green-up are appearing; antlers are one by one falling to the ground to return nutrients to the source that sustained their growth the year before.  Amorous turkeys are calling for companions and soon calves and fawns will drop in meadows. 

It's a convenient time for reflection - for the introspective it's almost mandatory.  Perhaps the 23rd Psalm was written in spring.

Last January I had the privilege to pursue Javelina and Coues deer with my bow.  I was unsuccessful in harvesting either one, though I came quite close to both.   Close, however, is too often the excuse for an empty freezer.

I saw more big bucks this season than I ever have.  This is the largest buck that I have personally seen in the field.  I was 100 yards from him three different times.  Close, yet so far. 

 

White Flags in the Tall Grass: Part IV

View from the Sky Islands

After watching Jon and Joe take two great bucks, and just watching Mike drop a buck in his tracks, I was ready to put the crosshairs on a buck of my own. After hiking up to take some pictures with Mike’s deer, Joe and I decided to keep hunting for another deer for the rest of the day.

 I was semi-determined to at least explore around if nothing else. I have this bad habit of wandering as some may call it- I like to call it getting to know the lay of the land. However, this need to explore often leads to many long days and later nights. Whenever I hunt a new area, I like to explore because to me I get to discover something new, see something I have never seen before, and oftentimes find the magic spot in the process.

Sitting in the glass - this is Coues hunting!

I was glad to have Joe with me on our afternoon walk-a-bout as it provided another set of eyes and good company. By mid-day we found ourselves making our way up a canyon toward the highest point we could reach in the range we were hunting.  Along the way we jumped a peccary who was feasting on a patch of prickly pear in a small close quarter ravine. He jumped out right under our feet and stopped at fifteen yards; dropping his hard earned succulent to let out a snort-grunt as awkward as his miss proportioned body. It was the first time I had ever seen one up close and by the way he acted I think the encounter was mutual. He seemed as surprised and curious as we were.

We continued up the mountain seeing only a few small bucks and does. We passed some of the best looking country I had seen all trip including a few pockets we figured had seen very little hunting pressure. We tried a push in one of the pockets to see if we could bump out a well hidden buck, but all it availed were a few does. We felt that the push was enough to scare any close deer out of hiding and did not garner a patented Mike Marchese warning shot.

Remi ready for the long pack out.

We continued on to the top curious to see what was over the next rise. When we reached the top we setup and started glassing. I spotted a few does over 800 yards away and watched them feed around a small tree cluster. I continued to glass for a buck but nothing materialized. I looked back at the does to see if they were still there and to my surprise there were now three bucks right where the does had been standing. As I watched, different bucks would appear and disappear. It was hard to keep track of them as they seemed too appear and vanish out of thin air. After watching for a while I concluded that there were at least five or six different bucks including one decent 4x4 buck. He was a neat deer but I wanted to look around more and decided to pass on him.

Check out how the main beams wrap outwards!

Knowing it was going to get dark on our way out, I took advantage of our elevation and plotted a way back to the truck. From our vantage point we could see that the wash we were above weaved its way through the cactus covered flats back to where our truck was parked. This would make it easier to navigate the long distance back to the truck in the dark, just as long as there were no surprise cliffs or illegal immigrants hiding out deciding to improvise an ambush for our guns and food.

The sun was starting to set so Joe and I decided to head down the mountain before it got too late. As we descended I spotted a couple of bucks across the canyon. One looked pretty good. We decided to get a closer look since it was on our way. Once we got down to their level we setup the spotting scope to tried and relocate them. The sun was starting to go down and the hill the deer were on was covered in shadows. It was hard to pick the bucks out again.

Good to have a camera with a flash for night time photos!

 Once we re-spotted the deer we were able to get a better look. The bigger of the two bucks looked pretty good. He had long main beams, decent tines, and was the largest deer we had seen the whole trip. Joe watched the deer through the spotting scope as I moved up to a spot where I could lay down and look through the rifle scope at the buck who was 500 yards away.

Joe asked if I was going to shoot him. I said “no” figuring we were running out of light with a possibility of not finding him in the dark. Joe told me that he was on the buck and suggested that I take him. I debated for a while and wanted to make sure that if I was going to pull the trigger the deer would drop. I did not want to wound a deer just before dark.

I put my 500 yard mark on the buck and knew that I was steady enough to make an ethical shot. At this point I decided that I was going to take the deer. However, I am not sure I relayed this thought to Joe, who was watching behind me in the spotting scope.

I steadied my breath, took careful aim, and squeezed the trigger. The buck instantly dropped in his tracks and began rolling down the mountain. I made my way across the canyon as Joe kept an eye on where the buck had stopped rolling. It was going to be near dark by the time I got to the buck but Joe was able to walk me right in to where the deer was laying.

We took some pictures and boned the deer out for the long pack back to the truck. It was definitely close to five miles and several hours over unfamiliar terrain back to the truck. Fortunately following the wash worked out for us and lead us back to where we were parked.  We rolled into camp late that night. The glowing fire and warm food back at camp was a welcome sign. Fresh tenderloin for the third day in a row combined with Jon’s amazing potatoes and pork chops were the perfect ending to a long day. We all sat around the fire sharing stories of the trip and regaling in our success. We had all tagged out on great bucks and done so in only three days. All-in-all it was a great trip spent with great friends.

 

White Flags in the Tall Grass: Part III

My name is Mike Marchese and I love Sporks: spike by forks. After Joe shot his buck Jon and I decided to go after the non-typical spork (he was sick) while Remi and Joe boned out Joe’s deer.

Jon and I worked our way over the ridge when I spotted the buck. I watched him walk behind a small bush and never saw him come out. I told Jon where the buck was and he suggested that I walkover there to see if we could find him. “Screw that” I said, the deer was only two hundred yards away. Then a light bulb turned on, “I am going to take a warning shot!” before Jon could ask what that was I blasted a rock with the .284 up the canyon. The percussion from the rock was almost louder than the shot itself. I figured that should get the buck out of hiding, however, nothing materialized. To this day I have no clue how that deer just straight up and vanished.

Mike surveys the land as Remi and Joe hike up.

I thought the warning shot was hilarious and quite fun to me but Jon was less than impressed. I could not help from laughing the rest of the trip every time I thought about it.

The next day we started glassing in the same spot where we started the first day. After a few minutes Remi had spotted a group of bucks with a nice wide three point in the mix. The deer were feeding on a cactus covered hillside as me and Jon moved in. We moved our way up the canyon to a small rock outcropping 250 yards from where the deer were last seen. When we got there we saw three bucks on the hill, but the one buck that we were looking for was not there.  The next minute seemed like an eternity as we both scanned the cactus covered terrain, then all of sudden the buck we wanted stepped out from behind a giant octotillo plant.  Jon quickly ranged him and said 200 yards, I then settled the cross hairs down on his shoulder only to find his nose nestled into it.  I wanted to shoot, but Jon convinced me to wait – as soon as his head turned bang!!  By the time I was reloaded and had my gun back on him he was hanging from a cactus that he had accidently ran into.

As the buck lay - suspended in Staghorn Cholla.

This was by far the best stalk of the hunt so far because from start to finish it was roughly 10 minutes.  This was much to the pleasure of the spectators with the spotting scopes, so that they didn’t have to sit on a freezing hillside forever and wait.  After Jon and I made it to the deer Joe and Remi quickly followed so that we could do a full picture shoot.  Once that was complete, Remi and Joe went on their way Jon and I were left to do the dirty work.  In no time flat we had the deer in the packs, and were on our way back to meet Hans who was more than ready to go back to camp have a cold one, shoot some quail, and suffer through yet another night of tenderloins.

Hammin' it up on another poor'boy sheep hunt in AZ!

Mike shows how the Washoe Valley boys do it: Short, Sweet, and to the Point!