David Johnson - Alaskan Costal Range Hunt

 Alaskan Costal Range

Alaskan Black BearYakutat Alaska, is a small fishing village located on beautiful Monti Bay, the only sheltered deep water port in the Gulf of Alaska. It can be found near the southern most point where Alaska meets the Pacific Ocean. Although Yakutat's mainstay is fishing, both commercial and sport, the area has much more to offer the visitor than just world class Steelhead, Salmon & Halibut fishing. Costal bears in this part of the world are legendary.

The Trip ---
May 2005, the flight from Chicago to Seattle was uneventful. Arriving, early evening from the east provided a dramatic aerial view of the cities signature space needle and the downtown area. The weather was unusually clear and warm for this time of year. After landing, my bags arrived as expected but my firearms were retained for the second leg of the trip which would leave early the next day. My hotel was located conveniently only a short walk from the terminal. The room was nice but its use was brief. Up early the next morning and off to catch the hop-scotching flights up the coast to my final destination. As the plane traveled further north the scenery become more and more spectacular. High pinnacles of snow capped mountains to the east and endless boarder islands below, nothing but Pacific Ocean to the West. Yakutat airport came into view as a rare flat patch of land along an otherwise vertical landscape. Upon exiting the plane, I was surprised to feel the warmth more typical to San Diego than Alaska. The mix of people on the flight was also unusual to this lower 48 flyer. Hunters, Inuit families, traveling business people and more all arriving in a place that only 100 years ago could only have been accessed by ship.

The terminal was small yet simply functional. A glass case held a small-for-species full body mount of the rare Glacier Bear. A genetic abnormality of the black bear species makes these rare bears fur appear nearly blue in color. Some run a patchy blond and blue. Truly a unique and rare trophy if taken or even seen. After the usual unloading delays, my gear arrives always bringing a sense of relief. Stepping out of the terminal, I meet Mark our outfitter, the two bear guides (Sam and Clint), and Kevin the other hunter in camp. After introductions and discussion about the unusually warm weather we loaded our gear into a well warn and rusted pickup. Stopping at a simple one room storefront for any last minute items we next made our way through town and down to the docks.

Arriving at the fishing port of Yakatut, we loaded our gear into a single 18 foot vee hull skiff. Cans of gas, food, gear, rifles and 4 people brought the water line much closer to the side rail than what I’m certain the manufacturer had intended. With a full load, blue sky and little to no wind, we made our way along the coast towards a small cove just off Knight Island.We arrive at camp, pulled up our waders and stepped into the crystal water to bring the boat close enough to off load our supplies. The tents made of plywood, two by fours and canvas, were simple yet functional. The tents were placed between a towering tree line that extended a mile or so up the mountain and a flat of grass that extended to the rock and shoreline of the cove.

The Hunt ---
The first three days of the hunt were thankfully routine, as we acclimated to the environment. Up early, take the boat to a boarder island, point our spotting at the coastal flats, hills and mountain tops. Spotting brown bears with cubs, moose, deer and other animals a long range on mountain sides helped keep us aware that we were apt to see anything at any time and possibly anywhere.

The 3rd day of the hunt, started out just as before. Around 10am from our boarder island watch point, Sam spotted a bear that had just emerged from the bushy mountain side of the mainland onto its rocky shore just 150 yards across from a small island. The 4 of us rushed to the boat and with all haste and made way towards a small island from which to attempt a shot. As we approached, we kept the small island between us and the bear to mask our approach. It was decided that we would take up a position on the island and attempt a shot over the water. Just as we piled out of the boat and took up position, a local fishing boat surprised both us and the bear. One look over his shoulder and the bear decided that the safety of the thick cover was his next destination. I had only a few seconds to take the shot as the bear now turned and began to angle up towards the brush.

Flashing back a few days ago, my guide Sam reminded me that these Bears are ferocious and if wounded, they are extremely dangerous. Therefore, he recommended I make a good shot and for insurance he would take the second shot and anchor the bear in place. Of course I agreed.

As the bear began to turn up hill, I focused 100% of my attention on placement and put the shot squarely on target. The bear rolled over and stopped itself from ending up in the cold pacific water. Just then Sam’s rifle erupted and I could see an explosion of rock about a foot behind the bear. The bear’s reaction was instantaneous as he now headed directly uphill and into the thickest of cover. Looking over at Sam, he stared back at me and said in his most concerned voice, how comfortable were you with your shot? After a moment to formulate a response I said, a lot more comfortable than I was with your %@#$* shot!. A sheepish grin came over Sam, he responded, I guess I still get a little nervous bear hunting. In utter disbelief we both looked back at the spot where they bear had entered the costal brush and knew what was ahead for us.

Climbing into our small boat we made our way to the spot where we last saw the bear. Climbing out of that boat knowing that a 7ft 500 pound not-so-happy-to-be-shot black bear could be only feet away from introducing itself in a very personal way is a feeling I won’t soon forget. Checking the rocks for a blood trail was our first task. To our astonishment nothing was found, not a drop. This is where the hunter starts to really second guess himself. Did I miss? I couldn’t have, he wouldn’t have rolled like that for fun. We decided the only way to find out was to enter the tangled brush and go find that bear. So after a few prayers, in we go. Sam to the right and me to the left. Within moments I heard Sam cry out, Yahoo dead bear. Was I ever relieved, following Sam’s voice I came upon the welcome sight of Sam standing over a shinny jet black trophy bear. And what a beauty he was.

A well placed quartering away shot is one of the most devastating hits in my view on most game animals due to the bullet traversing the internals and contacting many different organs at once. The bear rolled on impact and sprinted for cover but managed only 20 yards at best. The shot measured about 150 yards in a 5 mph cross wind. Not a difficult shot from a bench, but in waders, balancing on loose rocks the size of cinder blocks including the stress of time and the need to make the first one count, my year long Sunday morning range sessions really paid dividends that day. The bear measured 7 foot square and by accounts of the guides would have weighed nearly 500 pounds by fall, but was a lean 350 pounds this early in spring.
The balance of the trip was clearly less exciting but was a welcome respite from the hunt. Now is when the hunter can relax and enjoy the memories and write in his journal. Another successful adventure comes to a close.

The Equipment --------
Rifle… Remington 700 Stainless Synthetic in 338 Win Mag.
Ammo... 225 Grian Barnes Triple Shock hand loads, zeroed to 150 yards.
Scope… Burris Black Diamond in 4-16 power, Leupold quick release rings and bases
Pistol… S&W Model 500 with 350 Grain Sierra hollow points

What worked and what didn’t

1. Gortex rainwear is not something I would recommend for Alaska. You will get wet and cold. Gortex is not water Proof. So leave your Gortex behind and pack only 100% waterproof rain wear.
2. Filtered bottle for drinking water worked. All water we used was taken from a trusted stream running down the hillside. A 2 micron filter bottle provided nice assurance that this water didn’t transfer anything that would cause illness.
3. Ankle fit hip waders that you’re comfortable walking in are key. There is no beach, just loose rock shores. Some can be rather treacherous to walk on. So bring a well fitting set of waders. You’ll spend nearly 100% of your hunting time in them.
4. Waterproof gun boot is extremely preferred. These ocean coastal hunts are really HARD on gun metal. Rust is not a possibility but a certainty if you don’t pay constant attention to your firearms. While traveling by boat, these water proof boots really help keep you gun and scope protected.
5. Good optics are critical in this type of hunt. Due to the amount of time and distances over which you will be glassing, high magnification and bright clear optics could mean the difference.
6. Be very familiar and well practiced with your rifle. The time you may get to make THE shot may me as little as 5 seconds.
7. Know where to hit the target and make it count. Wounding a black bear and having to follow him up in thick costal cover is not something you want to do unless your insurance is fully paid. Focus on making the first one count. A follow up on a fast moving bear into thick cover is a hail mary at best.

David Johnson - Queen Charlotte Islands B.C.

King Salmon of the Kano Inlet

The ship, MV Salmon Seeker can be simply described as an ocean going fishing hotel with all the amenities anchored in the Kano Inlet which lies on the remote west coast of the Queen Charlotte Islands. The Queen Charlotte Islands lie just south of Alaska and are in the path of millions of migrating salmon as they thunder down the British Columbia coast. The Kano inlet provides a sheltered bay to anchor the 180 ton vessel with close access to the fishing grounds. The area is so remote that the only other boats you’ll see on these waters are other MV Salmon Seeker guests. This adventure begins each August with a flight to Vancouver BC and a stop over meeting with the fine people at Absolute Software. Early the following morning the group assembles for breakfast and the opportunity to renew old friendships.

After breakfast and short bus ride to the south terminal, we board a regional commercial airliner for a remote landing strip named “Sand Spit”. This is an appropriate name since the plane must land, turn around and backtrack to the terminal. Down the steps and onto a few older commandeered school busses. These busses take us down the coast to a pier where two 16 person sea planes sit quietly moored. Down the plank and into the thin metal tubes attached to wings and floats called sea otters. A flood of engine power and soon we are skimming over waves and climbing over the mountains that make up most of the Charlottes.

Trees from shore line to mountain top makes up most of the Charlotte islands. It’s hard to understand how anything can survive here. But, the amount of wildlife is huge. Bears, Deer, Eagles, small game and fish.. tons of fish. Most importantly this is the flight path of the powerful Tyee, or 30 lb. plus King Salmon.

As we bank and begin our approach, we can now see the Seeker. It looks like a post card ship sitting alone in the vastness of the islands hill tops. Landing on water is a very different experience for those of us who are commercial commuters. Splash down brings a quiet sigh of relief from those uninitiated.

Floating up to the dock that surrounds the Seeker results in a flurry of activity by all hands on board. Tie downs in place, doors opened, gear flowing from the planes rear cargo hold, clients who have completed their stay waiting patiently for their return flight to civilization and more. Exiting the plane you’re assigned cabins, mustang suites (rain gear) and boots with instructions to attend orientation within the hour.

Each day starts with an early rise and breakfast for those compelled to eat before heading into open ocean. Me, I’m good with bagel and water. Two customers to a boat plus an experienced guide makes the team complete. Off we go at first light, plowing through the clear dark green water that reflects the deep hard rock bottom and tree encrusted hill sides. After a half hour or so we make it to the mouth of the inlet and out into the open ocean. At this point you can begin to assess the weather and conditions. Even though the caption has reported the expected conditions in the early morning briefing, you really “don’t know until you get there”. These 20 foot or shorter three man boats are reasonably capable in most conditions, but when the weather gets going they will head for the safety and protection of the inlet. Eight to ten foot seas are about the most anyone is willing to handle. Especially for the normal 6am to 4pm daily run. Lunch is served from a plastic lunch pail including cold soda and chips.

Fishing like hunting is very unpredictable. One day you see nothing the next day there’s more than one person can handle. Morning is used to find Kings than are passing through. Mixtures of salmon are common. King down deep, Coho near the top and the odd pink now and again. Once salmon fishing cools down, most switch over to Halibut down deep. This is where it gets interesting. You never know what your going to hook into. The seas hear hold any number of species. Even the odd whale, dolphin, salmon shark, Cod, snapper and more.

Hooking into the TYEE. The first time you set the hook on a Tyee you begin to understand the power of this fish. In its fully grown form, freshwater born, salt water matured and freshwater spawned these fish can grow to over 60 pounds. This size is rare but do exist. The target size to qualify as a Tyee is 30 pounds or larger. Sporting tackle is a stiff rod with an Islander single action reel. In simple terms it’s a long rod with a super duty fly reel. A bunch of 30 pound test, down riggers and fresh cut bait and your ready to go trolling. After hookup, a firm hook set is required to ensure deep penetration and freedom from the downrigger clip. One other detail that makes this a sporting activity, all salmon hooks must have their barbs pinched closed. A little slack and out comes mister hook. And to make this really fun, these fish must know we’re using a single action reels because when they decide that swimming away from the boat is more work that swimming to the boat, you can’t seem to reel fast enough to take up the line slack. With all the muscles in your arms aflame from the slashing runs and tremendous pull of the fight, the fish finally makes it’s appearance boat-side. This is when the action really heats up. Either he comes quietly to the net, or he realizes what’s going on and off he goes again stripping line like you just hooked to an Indy race car. Now that he’s taken out just as much line as when you started, its time to bring him home again. Sometimes you get him in, sometimes you don’t. That’s king salmon fishing.

The first time you get a 28 pound King boat side and your guild takes the gaff and pops the hook loose and looks at you and says, “we’ll let this little one go and keep our tag for a bigger one”, you know your ready for an adventure of a life time.

David Johnson - Wyoming 2004 Buffalo Hunt

Buffalo hunting is one of those North American events that’s so steeped in tradition that the mere fact that you’re doing it gets peoples attention.

There were times when the buffalo were so numerous that the Indians likened them to blades of grass on the prairie. Today, they are widely distributed, from protected federal lands to ranches that raise them as livestock. The truly wild buffalo on private ranches are free ranging but are contained within the ranches perimeters.

The buffalo pictured here is a 2400 pound plus adult bull in the 12 year old range.

The Hunt.
Finding the IPY ranch in Wyoming was the first challenge my neighbor and friend Kurt Roemer and I faced. The actual entrance to the ranch is located within the Devils Towner National Monument state park. We drove by the park entrance a few times, before finally calling George White who manages the property and admitting to our inability to find the place. We’re we surprised when he drove OUT of the parks entrance to guide us back to the bunkhouse.

Once inside the high fence that protects the park from the “all too free range” animals on this well managed ranch, we started seeing game immediately. Buffalo, mule deer, elk, white tail and more. I remember seeing the smile on Kurt’s face as we drove down the dirt trail towards the camp. It reminded me of the look on young child’s face as they enter their first amusement park. I must admit to having the same look on my face.

After the introductions and personal tour of the sleeping and eating quarters, George explained the safety rules and hunting process we were to follow in the coming days. Unpacking the truck and setting up our gear while we waited for our guides to arrive made best use of the next few hours.

The combination of anticipation and an unfamiliar bed always makes the night before a hunt challenging when it comes to restful slumber. Only with buffalo hunting, there is no real advantage to getting up early before sun up and getting in a stand. Buffalo are where ever buffalo want be. You go find them, as opposed to waiting for them to come to you.

Ready to head out, after sighting in our rifles (around 9am), the guides split up Curt and I. George took me in his truck to go find the herd, while Kurt left for parts unknown. After some cross country driving we stopped on a remote hill top to search the skyline for the little black dots that would point us to buffalo. Somehow, George spotted 4 bulls near the top of a remote hillside. It took me a few minutes to see what he was seeing. Even far away those dot’s seemed big. Returning to the truck, George contacted the others using the ranches well designed radio communications system. The plan was to have Kurt and the other guide approach the herd from the lower road while George and I slowly approached up the back hill side towards the 4 sentinel bulls. The buffalo were on us from the start. They didn’t seem too worried until we broke cover and stood looking at them from about 75 yards from the hill top. What I couldn’t see was the 50 or so buffalo over the top facing Kurt. Once our bulls got wind of what was going on the entire herd thundered down the hill towards Kurt and his guild. Standing near the baby blue reconditioned Ford Bronco with rifle raised, Kurt watched as the herd approached then turned to his right as the leader saw the truck and sensed the danger. From the hill top I was able to see and hear Kurt’s shot as one of the larger bulls passed by him. A second shot brought the big bull down for good.

George and I returned back down hill to the truck. At this point the buffalo we’re very aware of what we were up to. Hunting them now will be a totally different game. As the herd moved through the countryside, they used every trick that generations of pursuit from predators has taught them. Cows would place themselves between the bulls and the hunter, effectively shielding them. Bulls would use terrain and thick timber to say out of sight. It became a cat and mouse hunt. We would hustle to get in front of them and they would change direction or stop to see which way we would go then back track to loose us. Finally the herd was force down a single file draw that allowed me to get into position on the uphill side. As they came down one by one, I was able to select from the herd that one single bull that would become my trophy. Finally George agreed, “that’s the one”. Bringing the 1977 Winchester model 70 to the shoulder, I had complete confidence in the 400 grain Woodleigh bullet and load I had spent several months developing for just this event. Waiting for a quartering away shot on this regal bull, the savage recoil resulted in a massive impact that downed the bull quickly and humanly. Within two highly charged hours the buffalo hunt was over. Now, the real work of field dressing these two monsters begins. In the old days the Indian women and children had the task of processing these animals into all of the bi-products they generate. Today, the hunter and guides have this added responsibility. I have scheduled another buffalo hunt for Nov. of 2006. I can only hope to have as great an experience as this has been. Anyone who tells you a buffalo hunt isn’t exciting hasn’t hunted them in free range fashion. Do it, if you can. You won’t regret it.

David Johnson Texas Whitetail Hunt 2005

Texas Whitetail Deer hunting..

I know, I know, everyone tells me deer hunting is deer hunting. Yes, you probably have whitetail deer in your yard, eating your bushes and flowers. So why you ask, should I invest travel dollars and pay outlandish non resident license and tag fees when you can hit one with a rock from your kitchen window? Well, I’ll try to explain!

I my opinion, Texas style deer hunting is something every hunter should at least experience. For me, I find it both relaxing and enjoyable. Yes, international hunting is exciting and physically challenging but the social side of hunting is what makes for long memories and solid friendships.

I have had the pleasure of hunting with the Logan family the past few years. They live just outside of Austin Texas. They are smart, hard working and really nice people. Life long deer hunters and farmers, these two brothers really know how to manage deer.

For me, high fence hunting has always had the stigma of pen raised deer shot while tethered to a stick. This isn’t so in South West Texas. High fence is used to keep the high investment of ones heard on ones own property. On the Logan ranch, which is 3000 acres plus, you’re hard pressed to see the same deer twice in a 3 day hunt. And boy do they have deer. The investment in land leases, equipment, feeders, corn and more drives the prices down here. When you tell people that a 10 point buck can bring a $10,000 trophy fee, most will just stare back with mouth hanging open. But down here, that’s the going rate considering how small the percentage is of mature 10 points. To be fare, that's about how much it costs to produce one.

Midwest deer hunting though strong has remained largely a cottage industry. Composed mostly of localized family groups, hunters often band together to hunt private land or team up to share adjoining public land. Deer are largely free range and traverse many owners properties between feeding and bedding. Some even traverse roads and commercial properties within their range.

Texas deer hunting is much more highly developed. Parcels measured in thousands of acres as opposed to hundreds, are high fenced, stocked with new genetics at times, culled, predator controlled and environmentally managed to produce the best racks possible. It is not uncommon for a parcel to contain three to five hundred deer and more. Since their range is limited by high fences, water, food/forage and bedding areas must be maintained to ensure a healthy breeding population.

The photo attached is a typical 8 point management deer. Its not an old deer but it’s old enough to ensure that it won’t ever product the 10 point rack and the mass the management team is looking for. Therefore, smaller 9 points and below are shot out of the breeding population to expand the more preferred 10 point genetics.

Here’s a pretty typical morning texas hunt profile.
Get up a few hours before day light. ATV within a half mile or so of your stand. Walk a trail in “near total darkness” supported only by star light. If needed use a low power colored beam flashlight to prevent a close encounter with the many species of cactus. Arrive at your elevated box blind and climb up 8-10 feet or so with your rifle and gear open the door and move into position without making any noise. Then, sit in total darkness and shiver from the early morning chill until daylight. As the sun begins to break the horizon you’ll be anxious for a number of reasons. First, you can’t wait for the sun to heat your blind and warm you up, second if your feeder hasn’t gone off, it will any time now. Third, you’re probably starting to see deer moving about along with any number of other animals. Deer, coyotes, armadillos, skunk, bobcats, feral hogs, turkeys and more. By now your blind window is open, rifle is loaded, empty chamber safety on and binoculars scanning for even the slightest of movement. The deer may be watching the bind to see if you are in there or not. Keep your movements to a minimum. One unnecessary thump or flash of gun metal out the blind window and you’ll have an empty feeder. Oddly enough once the first group of deer starting grazing around the feeder, the stragglers that show up are much less likely to even pay any attention to the blind. You will have much more freedom of movement. It must be the security of other deer that allows them to lower their guard a bit. Once your shooter arrives. Wait for it be heads down feeding, preferably facing away from you before you send your rifle out the window in its direction. Settle in now and get comfortable. No need to rush the shot. Load the chamber, scope back on target, safety off, now squeeze and boom. You may be surprised to see that not all the deer take off right away. Some may even stay until you exit your blind.

The pictured deer was actually taken mid morning. The prior evening hunt was a bust since all we saw were either does or exceptional deer. But how exciting it is to be in a stand and put your crosshairs on a 180 class 10 point trophy deer and watch him close up. There is no question who’s in charge around the feeder. Smaller younger bucks keep their distance, the does hang around unconcerned, and the management deer are always alert to see if the 10 point has tired of their presence and its time to move on.

Kirby and I were in the box blind when the feeders went off. It was a two sided box blind (gun ports on opposite sides) to allow a hunter to monitor two different feeders at the same time. Once the buck stepped into the far rear of the clearing heading for the feeder, Kirby we certain that this was the buck to cull from the group. The rifle was a Thomson Center Encore in 30/06 loaded with Sierra 150 grain hand loads, topped by a Bushnell 3x9 firefly. This is more than enough gun for even the largest whitetail.

Our first task was to ensure we could see this deer’s rack from both sides and ensure we knew exactly what we were looking at. Once the good to go was ordered, making the one shot harvest commenced. The deer kicked at impact and took off into the thick stuff. After a bit of searching the deer wasn’t 30 yards from the point of impact. Kirby reinforced the rule of “go where the deer was, pick up the blood trail and follow it to the deer’. Trust me, this is how it should always be done. Thanks Kirby..

South America 2003

 World Record White Fallow Deer and Red Stag in Argentina

While Shopping for my next worldly adventure, (booked in summer of 2003), Cy from Cabelas Outdoor Adventures, pointed me to a family owned and run hunting ranch near Santa Rosa Argentina. Primarily attracting Red Stag hunters from the US and Canada, this huge ranch also has a number of exotic species from across the globe. Stag are a near cousin to the North American Elk.


Except for the red color, distinctive roar and top crowning of their antler configuration they are European elk. Argentina is not the home of the world largest (New Zealand is) but they do product the next largest stag on the plant. As for seasonal timing, remember the southern hemisphere is directly opposite in seasons to the northern. Therefore, summertime in the US is wintertime in the South America.

You may be asking, why then is there a photo of a White Fallow Deer in this blog? Good question. Let’s start with the trip and I’ll get to that soon enough. The commute from hell started back in Chicago where I caught a flight to Miami where most airlines pool passengers who then catch an over night (14 hour) flight to Buenos Aires. This capital city is as modern as any in the US. But as you venture not too far away into the countryside, you become quickly aware of the vastness of the Argentine rural La Pampa region. My next hop was a local commuter flight from Buenos Aires to Santa Rosa in central Argentina (a flight I still have the ticket for), except the agent coolly told me at the counter that they had decided not to fly today. What a wake up call. I am certainly not in Kansas anymore toto! My only alternative was to take a seat on a rented bus. The kind that shuttles people from the terminal to their rental car. OK get this, after 20 hours of travel we are now going to spend another 11 hours in a bus. What else could I do, so off I go. After 31 hours, in the same clothes and ready to sleep standing up I arrive 1am local time. The only saving grace is that staff had waited up for me and greeted me with a long stem glass of Champaign and a smile. What a classy way of saying welcome. These people are the world’s greatest hosts.

With the first morning set aside for the hunters to get acquainted and sight in their rifles, after a few shots this unlikely crew representing the US, Canada and Germany seemed anxious to get started. Thankfully, a fellow American was kind enough to come bang on my door as I slept hard trying to shake off the cloud that came with yesterdays commute. In the dark of my arrival the night before, my room was a 8x10 set of walls, two cots, a ceiling fan, window (minus the screen) bathed in the glow of a 40 watt lamp. There were more bugs in my room that outside when I first engaged the light. I was so tired I just moved as many away from my cot as possible and turned in for the night. Sometime around 2am a wasp must have gotten confused and flew into my room and collided with the wall next to my cot. Upon colliding with the wall, it fell on the cot behind me just in time for me to roll over and get an unanticipated wake up call in the back. It must have been as surprised as I was. My boot left it temporarily affixed to the wall where I found it when the lights came on. It stayed there throughout my visit as a message to all the other insects who would attempt a similar mistake. I did take notice of a strange set of wires that seemed to appear out of the wall near the window. More on that later.

It was a non typical winter morning as I hustled to get dressed as the other hunters were already done with breakfast and were gathered around measuring each other up as they sighted in their rifles. As I made it out the door of my bug hut, I noted that the temperature must be well into the 90’s. I was sure glad I brought some of my hot weather clothing from my Africa hunt. They had recommended I bring long johns and gloves in the paperwork. Who were they trying to kid. This was as steamy hot as any late July day in Chicago. Very non typical, is what I was told as I flopped down in the prone position, extended the legs on my Harris bi-pod attached to my Marlin MR-7 in 30-06. Three shots later, I was done. Zero confirmed, I was ready for anything.

The guides were a real mixed bag of people. Not like the 20 something’s that I was used to in rugged terrain hunts in the US and Canada. These were men from what looked like all walks of life. Young, middle aged and older guys with the look of years of experience. My guide was a late 20’s gent with no understanding of English what-so-ever. We made the best of smiles and hand gestures through out the days ahead. We both seem to speak the language of hunting. Its funny looking back, the language issue didn’t have much impact at all. We were driven out to a likely starting spot in a well worn ranch pickup. Its age would have drawn interest if driven down the street in a US city. Here it was just so much transportation. As the dust cloud from our ride faded out of sight, it was time for us to begin our search for the one stag that would be my trophy.

La Pampa Argentina is much like the open spaces of west Texas. Rolling hills and miles of scrub. Fields of star thistle were always a reminder to pay attention to where you’re walking. These star shaped flowers on top of a long stalk are like needles that easily pass through light cotton field pants, jeans or other unshielded clothing. I came to the conclusion that there wasn’t much in this region that didn’t protect itself with barbs or stingers. Walking, spotting and resting made up most of the 10 hour days. Evening came after a long day in the heat. Many stag were spotted; few were of trophy quality the first few days. Finally, after several days and in fading light, a dominant herd bull with a half dozen cows jumped a field fence just ahead of us. These stag have no issues navigating across vast tracks of land. Between his roar and the heavy well developed head gear, I gave a signal to my guide that this was the one. He gave me the universal thumbs up and into shooting mode I went. Resting the rifle on a fence post, the stag never even knew we were there. One shot at 150 yards dropped this great monarch right where he stood. The cows moved off quickly away from the shot. Most likely joining up with another bull within a few days. With 4 of us participating, we loaded the bull into the back of the truck. Off to the skinning shed he goes.

The next day, three of us hunters were taken to a remote boat launch and took a ride to a private island which was the home of a wealthy couple. Their home was exceptional including staff and a built in pool. The main room was huge with a large stone fireplace and a table that easily sat a dozen people comfortably. A short stalk and quick shot brought down a nice Black Buck Antelope. Raised on this island and originally imported from India, these black, tan and white fleet footed fawn size antelope are highly prized for their meat and trophy quality. Upon our return to the hunting camp, I was free for the next few days since I filled all of my tags.
With time on my hands, I decided to try and talk the hunting manager into selling me an additional tag to help fill the rest of my time. He recommended fallow deer since they had not been hunted much and the population in the area was good. We started out the next day on a long ride to a secluded area that held these shy animals. On a high overlook we were able to scan a large portion of the countryside including a stadium sized field of belt high grass. In that grass were two sets of fallow deer antlers. One, significantly larger than the other. My guild became noticeably excited and motioned at the field. Following the road, we drove for about a mile or so to put us down wind of the field. We exited the truck and started overland towards the deer. I knew exactly what we were up to. Nearing the clearing the guide bumped a tree and flushed several birds from its branches. This was just the break I was looking for since the deer were still bedded in the grass. Both stood and looked in our direction. It was obvious what needed to happen next. Before the guide could say anything, I had already knelt and put the cross hairs on the larger of the two deer’s shoulder. At 100 yards this was over before it started. Upon reaching the downed deer. The guide really become excited and started reporting our position back to base camp. An hour later, a truck arrived with two men. Both set to work measuring and taking photos. This deer was to be the largest White Fallow to be harvested in South America in the past 14 years. As they say in hunting, its better to be lucky than good.