My 2013 archery season started earlier than ever this year when I headed to south central Colorado on August 30th for my first elk hunt. Two of my best friends volunteered their services and we set out on a short hunt for the first five days of the season. A quick scouting trip was made in early August and we received some tips from a few local friends, but for the most part we were going in complete virgins. No elk were harmed or hardly even put in harm's way that week, but I'm not sure we could have had a better hunt. Of course a kill would have been miraculously special. However, in the 5 days on the mountain we had some very exciting moments. Everything from a 20 yard bear encounter, to some great action in a wild thunderstorm, and eventually a very close call with a bull we were on for 3 days, accumulated to make one hell of an inaugural elk hunt for three rookie flatlanders. I'll be back as soon as life permits...



   Fast forward three weeks to September 20th and I found myself rolling west again, for what I've stated on the blog before as my favorite weekend of the entire year, Kansas antelope season. This year was extremely special as my uncle Keith accepted my invitation to join me. Keith is the very reason I am a bowhunter and has allowed me some opportunities not many kids get growing up as aspiring hunters. For that I am incredibly grateful and I hoped this hunt was somewhat of a repayment, however small it might be compared to what I owe.




   We met the evening before opening day to do a quick scouting session and set up a ground blind. The plan was for Keith to sit water for the good part of three days while I employed my usual attack, whatever in the heck seems like it will work at any given time! For those who aren't aware, Kansas pronghorn are few and far between. Thus success rates are quite low. Couple that with increased hunting pressure and unusually heavy rains in August/September for parts of western Kansas, it didn't take long to figure out that water probably wasn't our best bet.

   I spent much of the first day and a half dogging a big buck I'd been after for three consecutive seasons now. This year it was apparent "Spyro", as we came to call him due to a broken horn that healed and regrew in a spiral pointing straight up, had passed his prime and had little interest in the ongoing rut or any other antelope whatsoever. I would split time when Spyro wasn't hanging in an ideal location with a couple other nearby groups that had mature herd bucks and sizable harems of does.

   On day one a three hour stalk ended with a long miss after the Heads Up buck pulled one of them to 60 yards as he tried to keep track of his 18 ladies. Day two began with a very close call and another swing and miss at Spyro after he bedded in a yucca filled piece of pasture in his small home area. Quite disappointed, just as I was the year prior after chasing Spyro for a day and a half only to watch him chase a doe onto a neighboring property and be held there by other hunters, I headed to a spot I'd had good luck getting close to a herd that routinely lived near some standing corn. Once again this same group would spend most of their days on the north side of a strip of corn normally sheltering them from a stiff south breeze and passersby on the nearby county road. This setup actually allowed me to take a buck in 2012 after I had missed the same buck using the same tactic the year prior. Hoping that it would work as in years past I headed down the edge and quickly made it to 85 yards on the closest does. I figured it was only a matter of time before the buck circled his harem and allowed for a shot. After a couple hours, rising temperatures, and a stiffening wind began to dry me out the group had moved a little farther from the edge and appeared to be bedding up for the afternoon siesta. I decided to retreat to grab some lunch and wait for them to get back on their feet. As I began my move out of the chest high corn I took a couple looks back towards the herd just to make sure I wasn't being picked off. Between two of my checks the buck had apparently decided I was a young buck and closed the distance between the herd and myself in a matter of seconds. I fumbled around to nock an arrow as he had closed to under 30 yards, but had to watch him spin, collect his does, and move off a half mile or so just as quickly as he'd charged. The does were never alerted to my presence though and it was obvious this buck was a prime candidate for a decoy.

   I returned to my uncle's blind to find him ready for something a little more action packed. We took a tour of the surrounding area and made it back to our primary location after a few hours. Just as I had expected the does from the same group I was on earlier had moseyed back towards the corn in the midst of a hot windy September afternoon. The buck was standing guard nearby. In no time the two of us were within 200 yards of the group and my uncle was hanging the Heads Up out of the edge of the corn. Some of the herd picked up the intruder after a couple minutes and the buck was soon to spot us as well. He went into a stiff legged walk with his head held high and hair standing straight. Instantly he broke into a dead sprint and in no time stood broadside at 60 yards. I had come to full draw as he hit top speed and settled my pin on him while he decided whether to continue his charge or replay his escape from a few hours earlier. As he was deciding on the safe choice I let my arrow fly. In the stiff south Kansas breeze it caught the buck solid, and allowed for closing arrow in the corn a short while after his final charge.


    Calling this hunt special would be an understatement. It will be one of those few moments in life I can replay in my mind as clearly as it happened for years and years to come. Having my uncle running the decoy and seeing the enjoyment he expressed only adds to that memory. I know it may seem like it gets overplayed, but taking a kid hunting may be the greatest gift a hunter could ever give. It has been for me.












Kaleb