With 16 Oregon points, I finally drew my antelope tag. I selected the Warner unit because of it's close proximity to Lakeview, where a friend has lived for more than 30 years. Permission was granted to hunt some private land in the unit, so I had high hopes.
My trouble started even before I left Renton, when I decided to take my friend's advice to use his 1990 4x4 pickup once I got there. It was a "peach" according to my friend, "completely rebuilt from soup to nuts". I admit I was lured by the 30+ mpg my work Transit Connect would get me on the 500 mile journey compared to 15 out of my F150. I remember pulling out of the driveway thinking I would regret the decision, but off I went.
I arrived in Lakeview on Monday afternoon, and planned a day of scouting on Tuesday, the day before the opener. We drove the area Tuesday and found countless groups of antelope, all containing a buck or two. One group we found numbered 20, and had 5 shooter bucks in it (My idea of a shooter was something in the 13-14" class). Since we decided to take the Transit to scout in, we stayed on the blacktop and smooth gravel roads. We finished our scouting day by driving from Plush north to the Burns highway, which is the road that separates Warner and Juniper units. It's about 30 miles of smooth gravel road, and we didn't see as much as a tweety bird, which I found odd.
Opening morning came, and off we went at 4:30 am in the crusty pickup. We arrived at the local gas station, and that is when the trouble started. A local prowler in the neighborhood prompted my friend to install locking gas caps on all his vehicles, and the key was no where to be found. He couldn't remember where he put it. After a brief discussion on WHY in the *&%$ it wasn't on the key ring with the truck keys, back to the house we went to get the 2wd Transit. Day one was fairly uneventful, except that we were limited to the blacktop and smoother gravel roads. We saw lots of antelope, and I even put the stalk on one group, but we left for town late morning to figure out the "key" issue and get the pickup so we could go offroad. I found the key (exactly where he said is wasn't), and after a $75.00 fill-up, we were off again to the hunting grounds. We got about half way out to the area when the transmission exploded. We had forward gears, but no low or reverse. Back to town we hobbled, transferred into the Transit again, and made it to the grounds about 4pm. Chased a few more herds around, saw just about all of the 66 other tag holders in a 10 mile stretch (I guess they too had experienced the north end "wasteland" earlier in the day), so we headed back home at dark.
Day two started with high hopes, as a loaner 4x4 was secured for the day. High hopes quickly faded when it was realized the loaner pickup had a bad alternator. We drove back to town at 4:45 am in total darkness, and barely made it because of the electric fuel pump. We coasted back into the driveway (barely) and once again transferred the stuff into the Transit. Off we went, why I don't know, as there was no way I was taking it off the gravel roads. But off we went. Found some more antelope, saw a few shooters, but had no way to really put a stalk on them. Disgusted and ready to just forget the whole thing, we decided WTH, let's take the northern road out to the highway again, at least we wouldn't see any other hunters (we didn't). Back to town we went with the intention of getting the loaner rig fixed in time for the evening hunt. It was ready to go by noon, and off we went again. What would it be this time? 4 flat tires all at once? Blown engine? Another $75.00 fill-up and off we went.
The antelope gods must have felt sorry for me, as things seemed to be looking up. As we entered the area where things flatten out, I spotted a nice buck with 7 does about 50 yards off the highway. I checked my GPS and confirmed that they were in fact on BLM land. A nice grove of junipers would provide me concealment to close the distance on them, so I hopped out. I didn't take my shooting sticks or my backpack, which I would later regret.
I closed the distance, keeping trees between the herd and myself, until I got within 300 yards of them. They knew something was up, but weren't totally spooked. Over the course of the next hour we played peek-a-boo as I low crawled my way into what I hoped would be a good shooting position. They ran off 5 different times, each time nearly prompting me to give up and return to the truck, but I was there, so I stayed with it. When they moved, I moved. When they ran, I ran. When they stopped, I stopped, and so it went. I was able to crawl to the extreme edge of cover, not knowing if they were there or if they had decided to leave the county. I was surprised when I saw the 7 does at about 300 yards heading right for me. I cussed myself for not having my sticks, but quickly made myself a rest with rocks and my binos. I was in the prone position, and laid there for an hour while the herd slowly made their way towards me. It was clear to me that the buck didn't want to join the does, as he lagged at least 50 yards behind them the whole time. He had one thing on his mind though, and I guess it overpowered his instinct. The does were at 50 yards now, and the buck was clearly within shooting range, but he was head on to me. I wanted a broadside shot, so I waited. A rig went down the highway about 300 yards behind me, and the sound of it caused the buck to stop and square up to the road. This gave me the broadside shot I was waiting for, and I anchored him with one shot. I was thankful!
I quickly tagged him and did my best to gut him, but as I mentioned my pack was in the pickup with all my knives and sharpening stones. I had my trusty buck folder on my belt, as it had been on every hunt over the past 30 years, but I hadn't sharpened it since my last hunt and it was almost as dull as a table knife. I was able to get the guts out, and I dragged the buck to the shade of the tree where I shot him. It was 80+ degrees out now, and I had one goal in mind: to get the hide off and get the meat cooled down asap. There's nothing worse than antelope that hasn't been cared for properly, so I beelined for the pickup and my pack, which contained everything I would need. My buddy (74 years old) found a suitable parking area about half a mile down the road and made it out to where I was just as I finished skinning the hind quarters of the buck. We quartered and bagged the buck up, and carried it out in one trip. I was able to get both hind quarters into the backpack, my buddy carried both front shoulders and the head, and I carried the last bag containing the ribs and backstraps. We made it back to the pickup in about 30 minutes. It was my final Oregon antelope hunt, and I savored the moment.
