Wyoming Winds Pronghorn

Wyoming Winds

&PRONGHORN

BY JASON SHIPMAN

When it comes to hunting out West, the pronghorn antelope is highly underrated. American pronghorn, or Antilocapra americana, are not really antelope at all, but instead the only living members of the family Antilocapridae. Pronghorn are endemic to North America, ranging across the western half of the United States. Plains, valleys, and rugged badlands are home to the fastest land mammal in North America. They rely on keen eyesight, followed by a fleet-footed, swift departure and can reach speeds upwards of 55 mph. A combination of adept senses and challenging terrain makes the pronghorn a uniquely attractive game animal.

Hunting pronghorn is a unique experience all its own. Unlike most big game hunting where you hunt solo, pronghorn hunting can be enjoyed with friends in a small group. Having more eyes in your hunting group is advantageous with long days in the field spent constantly moving and glassing. The key to a successful pronghorn hunt is covering as much ground as possible. Finding them is one thing, but judging pronghorn may be the most difficult part of hunting them. Studying them through quality glass and having a few opinions helps.

In terms of big game hunting, pronghorn seasons are generally early when compared to other game and often take place in August, September, and October. Weather during this time of the year is often hot and conditions are usually dry. Wind, dust, and long hours of glassing are sure to leave you blurry eyed at the end of the day. It’s the excitement of locating and studying groups of pronghorn that keeps you going.

Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and Wyoming produce exceptional quality animals each year. Throughout the years, I have hunted several of these Western states in pursuit of elk, mule deer, and pronghorn. I enjoy hunting pronghorn when the opportunity presents itself and have been fortunate enough to take some really nice trophies.

Last year I returned to Wyoming with a group of friends in search of big pronghorns and we had a blast. We hunted in late August, just as the TTHA Hunters Extravaganzas wrapped up. Arriving in Wyoming, conditions were normal for the time of the year—windy, hot, dry, and dusty. The anticipation of the hunt had excitement running high as we quickly unloaded our gear in preparation for the afternoon outing. From past experience, we knew our chances of taking a legitimate trophy would be good if we put in the work and hunted hard.

The author found the big-pronged buck on the middle of the floor of the giant valley. But there was virtually no way to get to him.

The first afternoon out, we didn’t have much time. And quite honestly, we weren’t expecting much. We had several days to hunt, and I don’t think anyone was really in a hurry to shoot.

We started out in some rolling sagebrush hills and found a vantage point from which to look down into a huge valley. A large group of pronghorn stood on the valley floor. We looked them over through the glass and studied a few of the averagesized bucks.

Nothing in the valley held my interest, so I turned and began glassing the rolling hills behind us and found a buck. He stood several hundred yards out, but seemed curious and walked in our direction. He had great prongs projecting outwards, and I could tell right away he was a good one.

“What about this one?” I asked as I diverted the group’s attention. After some discussion, one of the guys decided to try for him, but ended up missing him. A little dejected, but still very optimistic, we ran out of daylight and headed back to camp.

T

he next day we tried some new areas known to hold good groups of pronghorn. Our efforts were rewarded, and a

couple of the guys filled their tags. On the third day I was up to shoot, and we decided to go back to the area where we had seen the big-pronged buck on the first evening. As we neared the location, one of my buddies said, “If you don’t want to shoot him, I’m going to.” I replied, “If we see him, you can shoot him if you like, but I’m not gonna pass him!” We laughed, carrying on as usual, while we continued to glass.

We found the big-pronged buck on the middle of the floor of the giant valley where we had previously stopped to look. The odds were definitely in his favor because there was virtually no way to get to him. Patience ran thin within the group as I elected to watch the buck move about, hoping he would make a mistake. Eventually he moved up the valley to a narrow spot, before making his way up the side about halfway and bedding down. He had given me the opportunity I had been waiting for and we began a stalk.

We closed the distance as much as possible, within about 500 yards. We were out of cover, and about as close as we were going to get. I readied for the shot, getting into a prone position on the ground. The wind ripped through the valley as the buck stood up to stretch. I had him dialed in and squeezed the trigger, but likely due to wind drift, I missed. I chambered another round and missed again. There’s simply no end to the wind in Wyoming. Not sure exactly what was happening, the big buck moved farther up the side we were on and topped out over the ridge above us.

We quickly maneuvered to flank him, and as we crested the ridge we looked down into a big bowl. There was nothing to be seen up close, but my attention was quickly drawn to movement on the far edge of the bowl. The distance was long, but there was no wind down in the bowl. I quickly got in position for a shot and found the buck in my scope. Through the scope, I got a glimpse of a big prong. “I’m not sure it’s him,” said one of the guys. It was too late for second guessing. The pronghorn had slowed to a trot as he came to a fence and turned to parallel it. The bullet was on its way, and he went down instantly.

Our hunting group erupted in whoops, shouts, and high fives. We made our way over to him and he just kept getting bigger as we got closer. There was no mistaking it was the one we were after. “It’s him!” One of the guys shouted. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance,” I jokingly exclaimed as we walked up to him. He was a real trophy, and just like that, I had another pronghorn well over 80. He had it all with good length, great mass, and outstanding prongs. The celebration was on as the photo session began.

We spent the rest of the day, and trip for that matter, repeating the process until everyone tagged out. It was a great hunt amongst friends and a trip that won’t soon be forgotten. The trophies taken were memorable but perhaps overshadowed by the experiences and camaraderie shared in the field. I’m sure we’ll be heading west again in search of trophy pronghorn and to relive the experience to its fullest.

The author’s pronghorn had it all with good length, great mass, and outstanding prongs.