We crawled to the top of the knoll in front of us. Behind some rocks and sage, Max got into position for a shot. This is the closest we’ve been to pronghorn in 4 full days of hunting. After what seemed like an eternity, the Buck finally turned, slightly quartering to us. I asked Max, “Can you put it on his shoulder?”

After 4 years of applying for points, a group of us cashed in and drew buck tags for a unit that looked pretty promising. So we set out for Wyoming. It’s about a 24-hour drive from Western New York. That kind of drive can take a lot out of you physically and mentally. Not to mention the toll on your wallet due to gas prices in 2022. It didn’t matter to us because we had been looking forward to this hunt for so long.

Our week-long hunt was approaching an end. A few of us had been successful in the valley we were hunting. A handful of other hunters were successful as well. It seemed like we were running out of bucks to hunt in this area. Not for lack of trying by any means. I wanted to change our luck. I wanted a change of scenery.

Max and I were sitting in a decent spot on Wednesday morning. We had 2 days left. We were pretty optimistic for this particular spot considering we had seen some pronghorn crossing the ravine near where we were set to ambush them. A few hours had passed with only a small buck spotted about a mile away. I had been thinking about checking out another area and I thought since we had today and tomorrow to hunt, now was the time to do it. I called my father-in-law, Dan, who was hunting with my brother-in-law, Eric. I told him, “Max and I are thinking about driving to check out another spot. You interested?”

His response was, “Sounds like a great idea.”

Four of us met at camp, refilled on some water and snacks, then loaded up and headed toward a Walk-In area I spotted on OnX that was worth checking out.

We arrived at the parking lot to see a gate and signs letting us know we were in the right place.

At first glance, this place did not seem like a great spot for pronghorn. From the truck, I could see that we would drop down into a dry canyon with a steep wall on the opposite side. The canyon was narrow and as dry as the rest of any other part of the unit we’d seen.

Now I was thinking to myself, “Great, I dragged these guys out here to go for a walk only to see nothing.”

We left the truck, and entered the area through the gate, making sure it was closed behind us. It wasn’t long before I saw a 4-wheeler coming toward us on the 2-track. I remember thinking. “This is a motorless area. This person shouldn’t be on a 4-wheeler.” Turns out it was the rancher.

This rancher was out checking her sheep when she stopped to introduce herself to us. She was shocked to hear we drove out from New York and she was sorry to inform us of the lack of game out there. “I haven’t seen anything out there.”

I thought to myself, “Great. I was right. I dragged these guys out here and there’s nothing. What a waste of time.”

Then she asked, “Well, what are you guys hunting?” There was a mule deer season that coincided with the pronghorn season in this unit.

We replied, “Pronghorn.”

Her somber mood changed and she told us, “Oh, yeah there’s tons of pronghorn out there.”

Looking over her shoulder she pointed in a general direction telling us there was a good-sized herd out there.

This obviously got our attention and made me pretty eager to try and find some of the animals she was referring to. It was also nice knowing that we seemed to be the only hunters out there considering it would be challenging to get to this area without going through the same gate we had just passed.

We hiked along a dry creekbed for about an hour until we could hop over a small saddle entering a new canyon revealing sagebrush on both sides with a small patch of trees toward the head of the canyon. I stopped at what I thought might be a decent spot to glass from and asked Dan, “What do you think? Glass from here?” To which he replied, “No way. There’s no shade. Let’s climb to those trees and get out of the sun.”

As we were climbing to the top where the trees were set I paused and said to Dan while looking around, “I don’t know much about pronghorn but I look at that side over there with how steep it is and I can’t imagine them liking it up there.” Dan just shrugged it off and we kept hiking. The landscape did not seem like that which I have seen in countless hunting videos with hunters pursuing pronghorn. Maybe pronghorn don’t mind climbing hills.

I was constantly scanning. Looking for anything that stood out. Anything that looked out of the ordinary. Something white in this sea of tan and olive green, a horizontal shape. I was looking up at the spot I just talked to Dan about and I saw something white. I was in no rush to pull out my binos but figured it was worth a closer look. Looking through my binos revealed a baker’s dozen of pronghorn.

The other three stopped when I said, “Pronghorn.”

I told the guys where they were. Pointing into the base of our canyon I said, “Let’s get down there.”

Once down in the canyon and out of sight we came up with a plan. I checked OnX on my phone to get an idea of where they were. Looking at the topography of the map as well as the landscape in front of me I was able to choose a route for us to close in on this group.

The stalk was what you dream of in a western hunt. Once at the bottom of the canyon, we were totally out of sight with a clear path to a good knoll to view them from.

We had made our way to the base of a slight rise which I thought would offer a good shooting position, so I climbed up to take a closer look. Unfortunately, I misjudged the distance and was bummed to read over 600 yards on my range finder. That was too far for us. We would need to get closer. Lucky for us the creek bed below still offered a perfect path out of site for us to use to close the distance.

I checked my map again and saw there was another knoll that looked closer to the animals. We remained out of sight the entire way. I was so jacked at this point thinking our odds were really good that we would find ourselves in a good position to shoot from. I was hoping there would be multiple bucks in the group and more than one of us would get a chance to notch a tag.

We remained out of sight moving along the creekbed. The wind wasn’t blowing much but it was blowing in my face. Arriving at the new spot where I wanted to shoot from I felt a sense of relief and excitement. I knew we would be pretty close. I climbed to the top with just my binos and range finder while everyone else stayed hidden. No sense in sending more than one person up. I was eager to get to a spot where I could see the pronghorn again. The route we took gave us great concealment but that also meant we couldn’t see the animals at all while were closing the distance. When I got to the top I could see them very clearly with my naked eye. I knew we had to be within 200 yards. Perfect.

Glassing through the binos I got to see my clearest picture of the situation yet. I counted 13 pronghorn and 1 nice buck. I climbed down to tell the guys.

I said to them, “Good news. They’re 186 yards away and there’s a buck, but it looks like only 1. Who’s gonna shoot him?”

Dan looked at me then to Max then pointed to each of us one at a time essentially saying, “It’s between you two.”

Max and I looked at each other. I figured I was already having a fantastic time having snuck up on this group in what, so far, has been the perfect stalk. It was an easy decision. I looked at my best friend and asked, “You want to shoot him?”

Max, looking slightly shocked, didn’t reply right away. So I sarcastically added, “Unless you really want me to shoot him.”

He then replied, “No. I’ll shoot him.”

To which I responded, “Well, let’s get up there.”

I quickly went over the plan with the guys. Max and I would sneak up to the top. We would plan for Max to shoot from the same spot I glassed the group of pronghorn. That spot offered great cover as well as a nice rock outcropping for a solid shooting rest. I would bring my rifle to back up Max’s shot or in case another buck miraculously turned up. Dan and Eric were planning on sneaking around the side remaining out of sight until Max fired a shot.

Max and I made our way to our shooting position. He had his rifle and pack for a rest and I was carrying my rifle, binos, and rangefinder. We crept toward the top avoiding the dry sagebrush trying to be as quiet as possible. As we neared the top we dropped to our hands and knees and began to crawl inching closer to our spot, keeping one eye on the top and another on the ground to avoid placing a hand on a cactus.

We got ourselves up there. Max was laying prone over a small group of rocks and I was positioned behind a sagebrush bush. He chambered a round. He was solid behind the gun. We could both make out the buck in the group.

At first, there wasn’t a clean shot. The buck was too close to some does in the group. We were going to have to wait. We’ve waited 4 days, what were another few minutes?

As the spotter, I felt it was also my role to not only help observe but to also keep Max calm and talk him through this. He’s still a relatively new hunter having only pulled the trigger on 1 whitetail prior to this hunt. I tried to stay calm myself. One way of doing so was talking to Max, assuring he was solid, that he had a round chambered, and that he could see the buck.

Minutes felt like hours but the group finally began to separate. The buck, however, was still offering us no shot, but things were starting to move in our favor. We just needed the buck to leave one doe alone. The two separated and the buck was starting to follow the doe. I was nervous that they might take off. We probably could have waited for that perfect broadside shot, but the position the buck was in still offered a solid target to make an ethical, clean shot. After what seemed like an eternity, the Buck finally turned, slightly quartering to us. I remember thinking that a broadside shot is ideal, but that I would be comfortable taking this shot. I asked Max, “Can you put it on his shoulder?”

My question was answered with the report of his rifle. As soon as I had finished asking, Max pressed the trigger sending the bullet down range connecting with the buck with a rewarding whump. I was watching through my binos and saw the impact. The buck reared slightly bringing his front legs off the ground. His front right leg was motionless, however. I knew immediately that Max had connected on his shoulder. At the angle the buck was presenting, I knew this shot would be devastating.

I dropped my binos and grabbed my rifle hoping that a buck we never saw would somehow show itself. My initial spotting was accurate. There was no other buck in that group. Just the one and he had just fallen.

After the excitement of the shot and the buck going down was over Max and I embraced in one of those bro hugs slapping each other on the back a couple of times. We had worked so hard, covered so many miles, and failed to get close to multiple groups, until today.

Dan and Eric joined us at the top, each of them congratulating Max. I couldn’t wait to go get our hands on this buck. We grabbed our packs and gear and headed over.

I made sure to stay behind Max as we approached his Buck. I wanted this to be his moment. We had all worked to get here but this belonged to him. He would be the first to put his hands on the animal and get to experience that. We all were undoubtedly enjoying this moment though.

My dad would say something like, “You couldn’t have beat the smile off Max’s face with a stick.” And he would be right. I’m sure I was smiling ear to ear as well seeing my best friend kill his first pronghorn and get to experience all the aspects of western hunting that I love. Not just the stalk and shot, but breaking the animal down and packing the meat.

The four of us made quick work of breaking the buck down. I laid out a small tarp to set the meat on while Max grabbed his knife and a pair of latex gloves so he could get to work. All of us helped break the buck down. Some of it can be a little overwhelming or difficult I wasn’t afraid to get in there and help remove a rear leg or two.

We put the meat into game bags separating quarters, backstraps, tenderloins, and some neck meat. Max and I split the meat between the two of us with Max toting a little extra weight carrying the head in his pack. Eric carried Max’s gear so he would have more room in his pack for meat. We set off back for the truck, each a little heavier than when we had left the trailhead.

That night back at camp the whole crew gathered around a 2 burner stove. My dad served up some small pieces of Max’s buck to us, “caveman style” as he likes to call it. We ate fresh pronghorn, sipped beers, laughed at jokes, and relived Max’s hunt.