“Don’t know where that critter went,” said Juan in perfect English. “He was standing just to the left of the gray rock with the yellow algae that looks like a circular target.

Obviously, he’s gone. Don’t know if something spooked him when I walked up the hill to come get you, or maybe he just laid down.”

I nodded and sat down where I could cover much of the broken country below me. “Think we’ll wait him out,” I answered. “Especially if he’s as good a buck as you said he was.”

“He’s easily over 24 outside with five long points on each main beam, making him a typical 12 point,” Juan responded. “From the look I got, there’s no doubt he’ll easily go in the 160’s, and I suspect considerably better.  Depends upon how long his main beams are.”

With that Juan sat down beside me, set up his spotting scope and started picking apart all below us, hoping to see an antler tip, or a shadow against a rock.

Overhead soared a Harris hawk. How I wished for at least a few moments I had his vantage point.  “Might as well grab a sandwich from your pack, sit back and enjoy the day. This could take some time,” suggested my guide.

Had the hunt happened years earlier there would have been no way I would have had the patience to wait out a bedded animal. I would have stalked amongst the rocks, jumped rock to rock in hopes of spooking the buck, then shooting him on the run. Thankfully over the years I have learned patience.

The peanut butter/jelly sandwich brought back memories of many other hunts, from the barren mountains of Arctic Alaska to the pampa in the “Argentine”, Austria to Zimbabwe and many areas in between. Amazing some of the things that run through a hunter’s mind when he’s watching and waiting!

I looked down at my Encore pistol then at the Encore rifle I had leaned against the rock I had my back against. Slowly and as quietly as possible I made certain both were loaded.

“We can leave and go see if we can find another buck if you want to,” said Juan, likely knowing the answer before I responded.

I wagged my head in a negative manner, then added, “No way. We’re going to stay right here, at least for a while longer. Maybe he’ll stand up, and maybe he won’t. Did you by the way get a look at him long enough to get an idea of how old he is?”

“Frankly, I concentrated on his antlers…”

Again, I wagged my head in a positive manner, then reached into my day pack and pulled out an apple.

“Do you at least think he’s mature,” I asked, “‘cause you know my feelings about shooting bucks that have not yet reached a mature age.”

Juan simply shrugged. As I took a bite of the apple, I recalled a buck I had rattled up twice in two days on Gary Machen’s ranch in South Texas. I had allowed him to walk away because I thought he was too young, in spite of the fact that he had a monstrous rack that would likely have gross scored very close to 200 Boone & Crockett. My cameraman on that occasion had been Jeff Parker, who was convinced I was completely crazy!

I had guessed the buck to be 4 years of age and my agreement with Machen had been I would only shoot a buck I thought was at least six years of age. That next year I passed up another similar buck – a tall-tined typical 12 point with a couple of kickers. Three years later Gary shot the buck and it grossed 212 as a typical 14 point (7 x 7) with a couple of kickers. Hard decisions are sometimes the best!

I looked again at the rifle leaning against the rock.  My intention was to use the rifle only if I had to take a running shot, otherwise I would use my pistol. In so saying I know there are those who do not believe in taking a running shot, and for them that’s probably the best decision. Me…I’ve been shooting critters for a long time, and if necessary I do not mind taking a shot when a critter is running. I taught myself how to shoot running shots in years past when shooting at pesky jackrabbits (about eight jackrabbits will eat as much as one whitetail) and wild hogs (which we tried to control at every turn). Unfortunately hitting running game these days is nearly a lost skill and art.

My mind drifted once again…this time to northern Alaska. It was the last day of a long hunt, I had taken two extremely good caribou with my .30-06 Encore pistol and now I hunted grizzly with both my pistol and a .375 H&H Mag Encore rifle. Having walked as far as we could and still get back to camp not too late after dark, my guide and I holed up under an overhang to get out of the pouring rain. That’s when I spotted a gorgeous bear walking down to a bottom with a beaver pond. As it did we tried to get as close as possible so I could use the Encore handgun. But I quickly realized we could not get any closer than a bit over 200 yards.

Although I felt comfortable taking a shot at beyond that range with my pistol, I did not feel comfortable taking a shot at a grizzly at that range, particularly since the entire bottom was covered with dense willow thickets. So, I switched to the .375 H&H Mag knowing if I did my part in making a really good shot I could drop the bear essentially in it’s tracks.  From a solid rest I shot, the griz fell off the beaver dam into the water, and died right there.

Snapping me back to the present, Juan tapped my shoulder. “He’s gotten up,” he whispered.

“You look at him through the binos. I’ll get the pistol scope on him.” I said getting ready to make the shot from my BOG Gear shooting sticks. Crosshairs settled on the buck’s shoulder…

“Better look at him through the spotting scope,” I told Juan. “Think he might not be quite as old as I thought…”

Maybe next season?