In 2023, after several years of trying, I was drawn, along with a close friend and my brother, for Antelope tags in south-eastern Montana. The previous winter had been hard on the ungulate populations of the west, and this was my first attempt at pursuing speed goats with only handguns. These factors, combined with the vast rolling territory antelope thrive in made for a challenge.
We had never hunted the area we targeted and arrived on the tract of BLM land after a dozen hours of driving with a few hours of sunlight left. The bright warm early fall afternoon provided excellent glassing, but we quickly realized the area we had chosen would be unlikely to yield much as you could basically see all the huntable ground from one road bisecting the parcel. We glassed until the crimson sunset faded over the hills only spotting a couple doe’s even on the private lands adjacent to the area. That night we planned to move camp and head an hour north.
We arrived at our new area just before light and quickly set camp near a two track in the center of a large flat with a long ridgeline about 1.5 miles away which formed a half circle to our west, north, and east. The forecast called for a short period of rain and wind not long after sunrise, but we headed out on foot just as a couple drops started to fall from an imposing cloud bank coming from the west. Not more than a quarter mile from Camp the drops intensified into a down pour and turned to daggers as gale force winds blew across the plains. We admitted defeat and beat a quick line back to camp just in time to see theguy lines of our tent beginning to pull from the ground. We quickly re-anchored our shelter and took cover to ride out what looked like a quick storm. After a couple hours the wind subsided, and the front moved off as we headed back for the ridge we were shooting for earlier.
We crested the tall ridge south of Camp and the view gave way to a large expanse of open grasslands perfect for lope. We spread out and scoured the countryside with our optics to no avail. We spent the rest of the day hiking and glassing the ridgeline with out spotting an animal. As the rolling country was bathed in the soft fading light of sunset, we made our way back to camp under a stunning display of color stretching for miles on the horizon.
We needed to get on some animals, so we decided over night to put some miles on the truck the next day and check the numerous small pockets of public land that dot this area. We headed out at first light glassing every inch of public land we could see. We ran across several small groups on private lands directly adjacent to public, but nothing provided us a legal opportunity to pursue. As we crested a small rise through the middle of BLM land, a small herd of animals crossed the gravel road about a half mile in front of us and as we came to a stop, the bino’s proved that there was at least one shooter in the band. We pulled over checked the maps confirming we were on public ground for a couple miles in each direction as the group moved over a small rise to the east.
My friend grabbed his rifle while I uncased my Remington XP-100 chambered in 7mm-08 before we made a hasty approach to the crest of the rise about 300 yards away. We belly crawled to the top of the rise and my friend quickly acquired his target only 75 yards or so through the grass. A single round from his .270 Winchester filled his tag. I was slight behind him and at the shot, crawled forward and established a good firing position with my bipod deployed and small field bag under the grip of my XP. The startled animals ran about 150 yards before turning for a look back from the mid-slope of the adjacent hill. I scanned them quickly but only found one other small buck in the herdand opted not to take the shot. We quartered the downed animal for a short pack out back to the truck.
The following day we decided to burn boot leather again hoping that one of the large groups on the private ground from the previous day had moved to an accessible area. We parked the truck off an access road and moved off toward an area we had seen animals the day prior as the sun began turning the worldgray. The area was rolling and full of areas to hide our quarry,keeping things interesting as we moved. We spotted a group of 8 from a long way off and began angling toward them, working the terrain to keep out of sight. We worked to and through the area we had seen them without crossing paths. We found a high look out several miles from the truck from which to rest our feet and eat lunch while continuing to search for our quarry.
After about a half hour, we spotted our intended targets. About 2 miles back they way we had just come! Well, at least they’re back toward the truck, we jested as we shouldered our packs and headed out noting a landmark to navigate toward. Keeping the wind in our favor, we worked to get in shooting range. We circled up a draw behind their last known position and I loaded my 7-08 for the final stalk. When I crested the ridge, the group had moved several hundred yards up to an adjacent flat, too far for a shot. We backed off and repositioned before spreading out along the edges of the flat then moved in slowly to get a shot,straining and searching but only finding droppings and tracks. It appeared they had given us the slip, though we weren’t sure how. We searched high and low before admitting defeat and heading to Camp for the night.
The next three days were much of the same with no good shotsand few animals presenting themselves and we decided again to move our Camp to and area we had hunted in years past after spotting a larger herd way off from a small two track running through the area.
We began moving on the large herd at sun rise keep their location in sight as we slowly hunted through the vast rolling terrain. In the late morning, we spotted a side by side about two miles behind us from the way we had come cruising the two track which meandered through the large parcel. Hours passed before on a grassy flat about 300 yads out, the herd appeared. We dropped our packs and fanned out for a low quick stalk. Thegrass was tall in this area and scattered with cactus and sagemaking use of my XP difficult. I spotted a shooter and got low pressing hard through the scrub as cactus thorns punctured my legs. My brother was to my left but couldn’t pick out a shooter form his vantage point. A nice buck crossed into an opening 175 yards in front of me and just on the edge of a draw. I settled for the shot, safety off, breath, press, VRROOOOM! Up out of the draw came the side by side we’d seen earlier straight through the middle of the herd, chasing them off. We watched in disbelief as the UTV chased them for about a half mile before the passengers dismounted and readied for a shot which never happened before eventually droving straight back by us without a word.
After much use of four-letter adjectives, we headed for the truck and called the local conservation officer to report what had happened though in the end nothing came of the report. Exhausted from a long week covering many miles a day anddejected from the unfortunate ending we headed east for home. This is the first and only time I’ve ever experienced something like this in my lifetime of hunting big game, but I will not let it sully me to absolute joy that it brings me to hunt big game on the vast public lands of the great plains. As a hunter, I take the good times with the bad, the climbs with the descents, and abundance with scarcity. All of which feeds memories with friends, family and of course firearms that I will cherish long after I’m unable to shoulder a pack and weather the travails of life in the outdoors.