On the road again back to Montana to see if I can become the Bow Huntress. First we made to see the Grannies at the Clyde Park ranchero for a few days. After hugs and kisses from not only the Grannies but the babies especially "Sid", we loaded our gear, our bows, my clothes....and headed off to Broadus.
Upon arrival, we were escorted to a brand new cabin fit for a queen huntress. The owner of Gardner Ranch Outfitters was kind to allow us the private suite equipped with 4 bunks and a double mattress in the loft. Since I was the only Huntress in camp, my Outfitter choose to give us the cabin with the private shower. At first I felt a little odd but was soon very grateful to have the luxury. So I unpacked my girly things, put on my hunting wear, made sure my diamonds were in place (ear and ring finger) and headed to the Large Red Suburban.
Day 1:
Sunday evening we began with fellowshipping Paul our guide for the week. License reviewed, practice shots made at targets to verify our equipment and knowledge of archery, and gear stored.
Paul drove Chris out to his first White Tail Deer sit he was to embark on and gave him the scoop of which way the wind was blowing and where the deer would come from. The box blind was not a stand but big enough for Chris to sit and wait.
Then Paul and I set off for an evening of running up and down the main drag near camp to scout Mule Deer and Antelope. Seems that Mule Deer hunting was a little different than White Tail. I was learning the art of spot and stalk. My first evening on the hunt proved to be an eye opener. Not only were there no easy ways to get to any of these fast range creatures....but they were showing themselves like a display case saying "aha, look at me, betcha can't catch me"! And low and behold the biggest Mule Deer I have ever seen was standing there looking at me during one of Paul's tutorials of low land drainage watches. Just as he was telling me what to look for in the drainages we would pass, there was one with antlers that reach up to the sky like dark daggers and branched out like the oak. Dark and gray he was. My mouth fell open as I said "I would shoot him". Paul just glanced at me. "You gotta have the right deer in the right place at the right time." Then the monster was gone as quick as that. That was my mantra. Right deer, right place, right time. It reminded me of my nursing days and the 5 rights of patients. This was the 3 rights of the hunt. Of course I could change it to 5. Right license, right tag, right deer, right place, right timing.
No deer noted by Chris upon picking him up after the sun went down. He gave the impression the numbers were few and small.
So, we headed back to camp for a night of eating and dining with the rest of the team hunters and their guides. As soon as we pulled into camp, lights were on in the meat hanger. Med were standing with stories to tell of their afternoon achievements while other were gaping over the trophy meats and antlers obtained.
Dinner was served each night at nine and the first nine was no exception. We gathered like one big family who hadn't seen each other in a few years. I adore family style cooking. It reminds me of lunches at Susie's kitchen in my Georgia home town. There was roast, potatoes, veggies, salad, bread, and desert.....more than I normally ate but I ate it.
After a few polite exchanges, some meet and greet, some stories of how close they shot, how many shots they took and what was next for them tomorrow, Chris and I made our way back to our private oasis. Our first bottle of wine opened and tasted, we then headed off to the loft to force sleep. Since this was our second time in camp, we knew breakfast would be early and Paul would be ready to head out early to get us into stands before the slightest crack of daylight.
Day 2:
Beep! Chris's watch illuminates and sings it alert to let us know it is time to rise and shine a new game day. The actual first morning was exciting. Both of us felt like this was going to be a great trip. Teeth brushed, faces washed, we walked to the camp house kitchen for our eggs, bacon, and toast. Of course only one of us really eats breakfast and even though I proudly carried my protein drink in, I could turn away from the awesome smell of home cooking. Yes, I sipped on that green thick protein shake like a real exercise, organic fitness nut should but believe me.....I was not giving up the breakfast prepared to keep most hunters going. I knew I needed it.
Post breakfast, Chris showered to remove all traces of himself. We bought the soap that was advertising to eliminate human odor. I had done so the night before. What harm if I didn't use my girly soap. And of course I was falling into the "huntress" mode as I should. Little did I realize that maybe those creatures of the range who were known to be grass eaters might recognize eggs and bacon on me.
For the next few mornings, the ritual would be the same. Breakfast, Stands, Spot and Stalk or Blinds, and then Stands again followed up by Dinner. Somewhere in between we would snack on sandwiches made from the previous night's dinner. All good, but the whole day was filled and sleep afterwards didn't take long.
Paul put Chris in a what they called a sure shot stand this time. It was suppose to deliver good results and the guides had seen big white tails coming close previously. My nerves heightened as I realized I would be sitting in a stand by myself. With very little experience in a tree stand and certainly not shooting from one, it was one of those moments you either "do it" or go home. The safety vest didn't comfort me too much. I had watched the video of how to use it and put it on several times at home but until you actually put it on and climb into a tree stand, there is a certain amount of girly OMGs going through my head. Plus, this was all done early before sunrise, in the dark, by myself. Just to complete the whole huntress persona, I tried to move methodically without a trace of nervousness. I didn't want to let the rest of my fellow "women wearing diamonds carrying arms" down.
I made so much noise. I am sure I did. All I saw was little girly deer who never got close. My strategy to be a quiet, calm, stealthy huntress didn't quite pan out. Sadly, Chris's experience didn't pan out either. The formally great possibilities from his stand turned into a morning of quiet relaxations and mental awareness. We were away from work and other life stressors. Just feeling the cool fall mornings seemed enough for this first morning. Even so, the guide was shocked that we didn't see much and the only reason they could think that hindered the movement of deer was that big fat glowing moon that filling out to it's full expanse. The animal kingdom had lots of light to decide when they would eat and when they could move.
Okay, enough! Time to hunt. Time to outwit the animal kingdom. Right? Yeah, right.....
Noon, we both got put into ground level blinds, separately of course, close to small water holes to see if the antelope would get thirsty. It was still one of those warmer days that would be left that week. End of week expectations were cooler days and rain.
So there I sat. With high hopes, I tried earnestly to sit quietly while I texted my mother in law and kids. Even though I had no cell phone coverage or data availability in camp, I noticed I could text. So while I waited for the little antelope to get their thirst on, I sent ma and the kids messages of "hi", "we are having a great time", and "pray for us to get our animals early". Playing Solitaire and Sudoku also help keep the boredom down. I discovered if I just sat there, sleepiness would ensue and nothing would come into sight. This isn't something that is taught in hunter courses or handed down by wise hunters. It was just something I discovered. After an hour of games, all of sudden I glanced to my right and saw two antelope slowly making their way across the field. They never came close. My initial thought was cool but then I realized that I may never get a shot if that is as close as they come. My best shot at this point would be a 20 to 40 yard shot, but not anything past that. Those two were at 70 yards and nothing closer.
Then after another hour passed, it happened. A small antlered pronghorn came in on my right side. I watched as he moved in and contemplated my shot. Even though, he was way smaller than I had seen in magazines and in the fields the last time we were here, I said to myself that I would take the shot if he gave it to me. How could I not. I needed to not be greedy. As I slipped into a knee position and ranged him I decided to just look to my left to make sure I didn't miss anything there. If there was an antelope on my left and it saw me moving, it might spook the one I was aiming for. I slightly turned my head to the left and quickly glanced over. There standing 20 yards was a bigger antelope. There was no evidence that he knew I was there. My heart pounded.
Slowly I turned and it was not a slow quiet turn. My knees cracked. I bumped the mental part of the chair. All I could be thankful for was the windmill that was creaking. By now, the trophy was quartering away slightly. On one knee, I ranged again. At 21 yards, facing away with a slight quartering, I pulled back my Martin and aimed at his left shoulder. The pink Victory arrow flew. The antelope jumped high and took off but I knew I hit him. This being my first hit, I first thought I hit too far back. My shot was right but to see it actually hit made me cringe that I may have gut shot him. I forgot at that moment that the gut shot angle traveled to his left lung. It had to happen. It happened all so fast. The animal raced off around the little waterhole as the other animal on my right met up with him and they both went over a knoll. That was the path I memorized. At that point, I just bent over shaking taking deep breaths. I did it. I did it.
All the things Chris has been telling me about what to do post shot came flooding back to me. Okay, don't just jump up and go after him. I had watched his path as he raced away, so that was the best I could do. At this moment I realized Paul had not said when to call him if I got an animal down. So I called and left a message. He didn't answer his phone and I was glad because I was so excited and my adrenaline was pumping that I would have probably cried but given time for his voice mail to come gave me a moment to collect myself.
After about 15 minutes, I slowly climbed out of the blind. Traced my steps to where I know I shot my pronghorn and found my arrow broken into within 10 to 20 yards away. Bloody and signs of gut all over both pieces. I cringed. I placed rock piles for each spot in case the guide would ask. After another 10 minutes, I decided it was time to look over the knoll. Slowly, and quietly I made my way over. There he was lying still only 70 yards from the blind over the knoll. He didn't move as I made my way closer.
I took a few pictures but they were no way as cool as the one the guide took later. Being the good hunter, I tagged my animal, took down the blind and waited for the guide.
Chris was as fortunate but he thrilled to the trophy on the front of the guide's suburban. My story ensued as we took it back to camp. For a short moment, I was the queen.
More to come.....
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