Pronghorn is my favorite animal to hunt, so during pronghorn season, I guide a few hunts. I know that guided hunts and private land hunting aren’t super popular here, which is why it took me over five months to post this story. However, I thought you all might appreciate it! This past year, I had the chance to go on one of my favorite hunts ever with an archery client, and it’s one I’ll never forget.
We were hunting on a ranch in Colorado that was loaded with pronghorn. There was a herd of about 75 spread out across the ranch, grazing on hayfields.
Opening day, we started with a bedded buck about 600 yards away, facing away from us. The rancher had just finished baling hay, so we used the hay bales for cover, moving between crawling and walking from one bale to the next. After a while, we were about 100 yards from the buck, with only open grass between us. There was a line of uncut hay about 12 inches tall separating two hayfields, and the buck was sitting on the other side of it, still unaware of our presence.
My client was comfortable shooting out to 60 yards, so we started crawling. We used the wind rustling the grass as cover to mask the noise of our movement. After crawling about 40 yards at an angle, we were finally within range. The buck remained facing away from us, oblivious to our presence. I looked back at the client, ranged the buck, and told him it was 58 yards. He nodded and started to draw his bow as I turned back to the buck.
Just as I looked back, the buck stood up and stared right at us. I raised my hand in a fist behind me, signaling my client to freeze. The buck bolted as fast as he could. We were both disappointed, but we knew there would still be plenty of opportunities ahead.
After regrouping at the truck and taking a break—since that stalk had taken over three hours—we resumed glassing a different part of the property. We spotted one of our target bucks that we had scouted the day before the opener. He was bedded halfway down a small hill, just in front of some willows, facing away from us. I knew if we could get into the willows, we’d have a good chance of getting close. The hard part was that the willows were in the middle of another hayfield, 300 yards away from any cover.
We decided to take a big loop around the field, using the elevation of the hills to our advantage. We found a small drainage that dropped us about three feet lower, which was perfect. The drainage had a foot of water and was scattered with small willows. We worked our way between willows, water, and open hayfields, trying to use any cover we could find. It felt like walking through a minefield because every time we moved, there was an opening that could expose us. On top of that, the wind kept shifting, so we had to stop and wait for it to settle before continuing. Every once in a while, I would glance at the buck to see if he had moved or showed any signs of stirring, but he remained motionless, like a statue.
Eventually, we made it to the last willow in the drainage. I ranged him and found he was exactly 70 yards away. The back side of the hill he was on had a small bush, about three feet high, that would give us cover and bring us to about 60 yards. The biggest issue was that we would be exposed the entire time, with no other cover in sight. I told my client to take it slow and be ready, as things could get exciting quickly.
We made our way to the bush, moving cautiously. I ranged the buck again—60 yards, right on the dot. He was still facing away, and all we could see were his ears and horns. By this point, it was 2 o’clock, and he hadn’t moved for over two hours. We had no idea whether he would stay still for hours more or stand up at any moment. As I was telling my client this, I saw the buck’s ears perk up. He had heard something. I told my client to be ready to draw and aim for 60 yards.
The buck jumped up, but his back was to us, and all we could see was his white backside. He then turned 270 degrees and stood broadside, staring directly at us. I was expecting to hear the shot, but there was nothing. I turned to my client and saw that he had lowered his bow because he had been thrown off by the buck’s initial movement. I quickly ranged the buck again, and by some miracle, he was still at exactly 60 yards. I told my client, “Still 60, take the shot if you’re comfortable.” We were well-hidden behind the bush, and with the willows as a backdrop, I think the buck was confused, trying to figure us out.
My client redrew his bow and released the arrow. I heard the satisfying thud of the arrow hitting its mark, and the buck took off, running about 50 yards before starting to stagger. We stood still, watching to confirm that he was hit well. I saw blood coming from his chest, and I told my client that the buck would go down soon. Within five minutes, he collapsed and passed.
The whole sequence—from the buck standing up to the shot—felt like an eternity, but it was really only about 5 to 8 seconds.
We got him gutted and loaded up into the truck before heading into town. This was my client’s first archery hunt and his first pronghorn hunt ever, so he was beyond stoked. I absolutely loved every moment of the stalk, especially with pronghorn, given their incredible vision and speed.
Thanks for reading!
We were hunting on a ranch in Colorado that was loaded with pronghorn. There was a herd of about 75 spread out across the ranch, grazing on hayfields.
Opening day, we started with a bedded buck about 600 yards away, facing away from us. The rancher had just finished baling hay, so we used the hay bales for cover, moving between crawling and walking from one bale to the next. After a while, we were about 100 yards from the buck, with only open grass between us. There was a line of uncut hay about 12 inches tall separating two hayfields, and the buck was sitting on the other side of it, still unaware of our presence.
My client was comfortable shooting out to 60 yards, so we started crawling. We used the wind rustling the grass as cover to mask the noise of our movement. After crawling about 40 yards at an angle, we were finally within range. The buck remained facing away from us, oblivious to our presence. I looked back at the client, ranged the buck, and told him it was 58 yards. He nodded and started to draw his bow as I turned back to the buck.
Just as I looked back, the buck stood up and stared right at us. I raised my hand in a fist behind me, signaling my client to freeze. The buck bolted as fast as he could. We were both disappointed, but we knew there would still be plenty of opportunities ahead.
After regrouping at the truck and taking a break—since that stalk had taken over three hours—we resumed glassing a different part of the property. We spotted one of our target bucks that we had scouted the day before the opener. He was bedded halfway down a small hill, just in front of some willows, facing away from us. I knew if we could get into the willows, we’d have a good chance of getting close. The hard part was that the willows were in the middle of another hayfield, 300 yards away from any cover.
We decided to take a big loop around the field, using the elevation of the hills to our advantage. We found a small drainage that dropped us about three feet lower, which was perfect. The drainage had a foot of water and was scattered with small willows. We worked our way between willows, water, and open hayfields, trying to use any cover we could find. It felt like walking through a minefield because every time we moved, there was an opening that could expose us. On top of that, the wind kept shifting, so we had to stop and wait for it to settle before continuing. Every once in a while, I would glance at the buck to see if he had moved or showed any signs of stirring, but he remained motionless, like a statue.
Eventually, we made it to the last willow in the drainage. I ranged him and found he was exactly 70 yards away. The back side of the hill he was on had a small bush, about three feet high, that would give us cover and bring us to about 60 yards. The biggest issue was that we would be exposed the entire time, with no other cover in sight. I told my client to take it slow and be ready, as things could get exciting quickly.
We made our way to the bush, moving cautiously. I ranged the buck again—60 yards, right on the dot. He was still facing away, and all we could see were his ears and horns. By this point, it was 2 o’clock, and he hadn’t moved for over two hours. We had no idea whether he would stay still for hours more or stand up at any moment. As I was telling my client this, I saw the buck’s ears perk up. He had heard something. I told my client to be ready to draw and aim for 60 yards.
The buck jumped up, but his back was to us, and all we could see was his white backside. He then turned 270 degrees and stood broadside, staring directly at us. I was expecting to hear the shot, but there was nothing. I turned to my client and saw that he had lowered his bow because he had been thrown off by the buck’s initial movement. I quickly ranged the buck again, and by some miracle, he was still at exactly 60 yards. I told my client, “Still 60, take the shot if you’re comfortable.” We were well-hidden behind the bush, and with the willows as a backdrop, I think the buck was confused, trying to figure us out.
My client redrew his bow and released the arrow. I heard the satisfying thud of the arrow hitting its mark, and the buck took off, running about 50 yards before starting to stagger. We stood still, watching to confirm that he was hit well. I saw blood coming from his chest, and I told my client that the buck would go down soon. Within five minutes, he collapsed and passed.
The whole sequence—from the buck standing up to the shot—felt like an eternity, but it was really only about 5 to 8 seconds.
We got him gutted and loaded up into the truck before heading into town. This was my client’s first archery hunt and his first pronghorn hunt ever, so he was beyond stoked. I absolutely loved every moment of the stalk, especially with pronghorn, given their incredible vision and speed.
Thanks for reading!
