Home Forums Hunting & Shooting General Big Game Orygun Speed Goats - 2014

Most of the Antelope units in Oregon require the accumulation of 12 to 18 preference points, to guarantee drawing a tag. Gaining but a single point per year, really lengthens the time between hunts. With only 2 antelope preference points, my buddy Greg got lucky and drew a tag from the 25% of tags that are chosen in a random draw (not subject to preference points) ... plus, it was an either-sex Lope tag. He had only hunted antelope twice before and had never hunted this particular unit. I had at least hunted Deer there once before and had scouted it one Summer, so I dusted off my B'wana hat and volunteered to be his guide for the trip. Another friend was going down to the Steens to scout for one of his own upcoming hunts, so he tagged along in his own truck.

Note: People and Place-Names have been changed, to protect the (almost) innocent.

When we finally left the paved road, we were headed South in a three rig caravan (Denali, Tacoma, Tundra) ... on a road that GM should rent out from the State of Oregon, for a suspension (torture) test-track. To say that this area is remote, would be an understatement. Not only was there no cell-phone coverage ... but I'm not sure that even Satellite phones would work down there. Only a few wavering radio station signals outta Boise reached across this barren sage country. With place names on the BLM map, like: ... Ambush pass, Skull Spring, Massacre Point, Wildcat ridge, Deadman's gulch ... what could go wrong ... go-wrong.

After 2 hours of traveling South (covering only 19 miles) ... we headed off on a side road that (supposedly) led out to a place labeled Antelope Flat ... ( I mean, where else would you expect to find Antelope ?), but there was nothing there ... except short(er) sagebrush. The few "main" roads (<-- hate to actually call them that), were either old military wagon roads from the late 1880's .. or rough cat-tracks over previously volcanic country, filled with the sharpest rocks you ever want a set of tires to encounter. Each of our 3 rigs carried an extra 10-ply spare wheel/tire ... cause the nearest Tyre-shop, is a slow-travel 65 miles away.

I was still leading ... when we came to an "option" in the road .... the old (original) trace went 500 yards straight-up a steep nasty (cantaloupe sized) loose rocky face ... the new improved road performed a 1/2 mile out, 1/2 mile back switch-back, to reach the very-same ridge top. Just showing off, I decided to save 1 mile of driving ... pointed her straight up the hill and pushed the afterburner pedal on the 6.0L's AWD.

Note to self: Don't EVER do something stooopid like this ... at the start of a hunt. Besides the distinct chance of a misplaced wheel causing a rollover ... if any one of our rigs had broken down here, it would have put a major crimp in our scout/hunt plans. Knowing that 1 day of pre-season scouting is worth 3 days of hunting ... we had come a little early, to try and locate some Speed-goats in the unit.

We continued to glass-and-drive, looking for anything alive besides Loooong-eared (Boone + Crockett class) Jack-rabbits and Keows ! ... there were lots of Keows. This is true desert country, mostly BLM or State owned lands, with the occasional band of wild horses and real horse-back cowboys, ridin the range. It had been a very poor year for rainfall over there. We needed to find some source of water, that could prove to be an attractant to the Antelope.

Running out of daylight on Thursday, we decided to make a temporary camp, just below a reservoir ... at least the map said it was supposed to be a reservoir. As I heated up the pre-prepared spaghetti in a pan on the Coleman ... Bob walked 1/4 mile up the draw, to peer over the edge of the earthen dam. It was completely dry ... not a drop in it. That was disappointing. B'wana had elected not to bring the HD Wall tent, figuring we would be more mobile and have less to carry along ... so after dinner, we each set up our individual pup tents (with rain flys, just in case).

... Silver Bullet

One Riot .... One Ranger

The following morning (Friday) at daylight (cup-o-joe in hand) we glassed from our hillside camp for the first hour. With the sun behind us and using spotting scopes, we could cover almost 12 square miles of rolling sagebrush terrain. Seeing absolutely nothing, we decided to split up. Greg was to scout further South and East, past a ranch house and I rode shotgun with Bob, interpreting our maps and refereeing the disputes between my Garmin 60CSX GPS (with an Oregon 24K detail map chip) and Bob's dash mounted Nuvi. Over the next 4 hours, between us, we covered (and glassed) almost 200 square miles of sagebrush, draws and hillsides ... and spotted zero Lopes. During our scouting loop, we ran into a local rancher, who offered little optimism on finding Antelope in the ultra-dry conditions they had been experiencing this Summer. This guy was a true cowboy, with a sweat-stained leather hat, custom hat band, long sleeved shirt buttoned to the neck, surrounded by a kerchief and a flat-bed full of salt + mineral blocks. His hands had that knarled-weathered look of man who wrestles steers, barbed-wire and the elements on a daily basis, with never a complaint ... “Looks like she’ s gonna be a dusty-booger today.” He said he'd only seen one Antelope doe and a fawn at the water trough around his ranch house and suggested we head further South in the unit and try to locate H20. This matched the pre-hunt advice provided by (24hr's own) "1minute", which was: ... No water, No Antelope.


Meeting back at camp, it was lunch time and we shared our scouting reports (both Zippo), as we prepared samiches + potato salad. Every time you opened a food tray or one of the coolers ... it was like being asked by the oriental counter person at McDonalds ...

"You want Flies with that ... 'cause we got Flies."

Not sure how any flies actually survived out there, with almost no water and little food ... but the good news was that it was sooooo-dry, there were Zero Mosquitoes.
We agreed it would be best to fold up the tents and plastic table and proceed South.

The road we headed South on, is the units Western boundary and the range fires from the previous month had burned from the West, in most places right up to the road (which the Forest Service used as their main fire-break).

It was getting late in the day, as we drove past a huge 8 acre lake ... that was solidly on private property. Besides a couple dozen cattle drinking at the NE end, there were almost 40 Deer feeding and drinking at the SE end ... including 4 extremely nice, wide and heavy Mulies. The land was posted with the usual ... No Trespassing and No Hunting signs .... along with a too-cute sign reading ... "Don't even Think About It ! "

We continued South, but B'wana was soon faced with the possibility that if we didn't select a camp-site soon, we'd flow out the South end of the unit. Sooo ... and this is why you always select a B'wana with lots of experience. I picked the next BLM road that headed East and took it. We camped on a small spur and within minutes, had re-erected (and staked down) our pup tents and I was once again re-heating a dinner selection. This night, it was pre-cooked Tony Romas Boneless Ribs. Greg was opining how sad it was, that tomorrow was opening day and we hadn't as yet seen a single Antelope. That's when Bob stood up and said: ... "Oh you mean like that small herd, waaaay on the other side of the tents ?"

The sun was about to set, but was still casting long low shafts of golden light Eastward, making the broadside Antelope (even out at 1200 yards), glow like animated Cream-sicles, against the flat dull gray/green of the sagebrush.

Unfortunately, instead of slowly sneaking out a few pairs of binoculars to observe, there was flurry of activity ... as spotting scopes were dug out and attached to tripods. The herd reacted by pausing, then turning around and working their way back toward a side hill, that they had probably come down (before we had spotted them). We glassed, as 8 does and 2 fawns spent 15 minutes ascending the hill.
Their evening attractor had been an 8' diameter 3' tall open metal water tank ... with actual water in it ! <--- We didn't learn this, until the next day. We went to sleep, accompanied by the sounds of far-off coyotes and the cooing of several morning doves who nested around our camp. (continued)

... Silver Bullet

One mans Rust ... is another mans Patina

So, the NEW plan, was that tomorrow, on opening morning, Greg would quietly get up by himself in the dark, eat a simple breakfast, then walk the road bed 1200 yards (by moonlight), out to the end of the point. There, he would set up in a blind about 20 yards up off the flat sagebrush valley floor. The plan worked exactly as laid out and shortly after dawn, he had 2 Does come toward him, closing to a ranged 175 yards. He said he had the rifle on the shooting sticks and the crosshairs on them ... they were both legal, but his heart was set on a Buck. 15 minutes later, the previous nights herd of 10 Antelope (8-does, 2 fawns) followed the same path and again, he held off.

After 2 hours sitting on stand, Greg was up and made a short hunt around the end of the hill, climbed part-way up and glassed some country we couldn't see from camp. He walked back to camp about 10-am, just as Bob left for the Steens unit, to scout for a later archery-deer season.

We spent the next several hours quietly improving our camp site, pouring over maps and reading books, while trying to keep out of the blistering sun ... as the afternoon temperatures climbed toward 96 degrees.

For the evening hunt, I suggested to Greg that he set-up a little higher on the hillside, near a band of rim-rock. If the Speed goats followed their previous pattern, they would file past below him and he could shoot one as they headed downhill toward him. I also told him that if I spotted any Lopes from camp, I would shine a shielded flashlight beam toward him, so he could get on the radio. He headed off to his hideout at 5pm.

Later that evening, I'm sitting in a lawn chair, (invisible) in the shade of my truck, alternately reading a book (Fairly Honest Don's modern guide to Antelope B'wana-ing) ... and glassing the hillside above and West of Greg's position. At 6pm, I spot 7 Antelope, all feeding up high on the skyline. One is clearly a Buck with short but wide heavy horns ... now we're cookin. The Buck remains in the lowest position on the side hill .... as they feed in sight for almost 15 minutes. Then the group slowly wraps up over the top and out of sight. Nooooo ! .... That's not how The Plan was supposed to go ! Go Back and read The-Plan !

I shine my light and try calling Greg on the radio, but no response. At 6:30 pm, several Does re-appeared and they were soon joined by the Buck and 4 other Does. They are feeding and now slowly working their way diagonally down the ridge, East toward Greg ... about 900 yards away from him at this point. They begin to line-out a bit (with the Buck in last place) spread out over 150 yards, 1st to last. It seems clear they are on track to follow the previous nights path. This ambush "plan" may work out after all. My one concern, is that the lead Doe may reach Greg and see/sense him, before he can hammer the trailing Buck.

The lead Doe now encounters a fence-line and searches for the low spot, where she plans to go "under" the bottom strand of barbed wire. If she crosses the fence, I know they will all go down with her and pass in front of Greg, giving him a shot opportunity. The next 2 Does follow her, but the Buck follows the fence line uphill ... and somehow crosses the fence, while I'm distracted glassing over to Greg, to see if he's following all this. The 2 lead Does are now just 300 yards away, uphill from Greg's natural blind in the rim rock.

At around 200 yards out, the Buck moves forward and assumes the number 3 spot in line. It's like he read the script .... Way to go B'wana !

All the Antelope are feeding their way down hill ... not simply walking, single file. Strangely, the Buck is acting as if he's new to these Does and is alternately moving among the leaders, as if performing a little sniff-test on each. Yes, the rut has started.

At 100 yards out ... the lure of water out across the flat is too great and the Buck makes his move to the front of the line ...Yeee-haw !! I couldn't have planned this any better, if I'd made it up ! I'm actually getting a little anxious, watching this all play out ... even though I'm 1,200 yards away.

The Buck closes on Greg's position ... He feeds, takes a dozen steps downhill, then bends to takes another bite ... 75 yards out ... 50 yards ... 25 yards ... Why hasn't Greg shot yet ? ... The Buck is now standing still ... Right Directly-Below Greg, facing away from him ... they can't be more than 20 yards apart. A little voice in me is hoarsely screaming across the void ... Shoot-Him ! ... Shoot-Him !

Silver Bullet

Somebody ... Flash the Bat-Sign !

After a 10 second stare-down pause ... (that took a lifetime to transpire) ... there was an explosion of dirt, on the far side of the Buck ... throwing up a 20 yard wide spray of dust/dirt. It hung like a cloud in the air ...

Over the next 1.2 seconds, the following thoughts raced through my mind.

1) Yes! I knew he could do it !

2) Or as the A-Team's Hannibal used to say: "I love it ... When a Plan Come together."

3) Wow ... after ventilating that Buck, the 180gr Accubond really carried-the-mail out into the sagebrush.

4) I may need to double my B'wana rates .... (what's 2 * zero ? )

5) It's gonna be time to jump in the rig, head on over and "Count Coup" ...
then take some (flash) photos and cape this Buck out by headlamp.

6) Ooops ... Wait a minute... why is the Buck still on his feet .. and running away ?
Ker-Pow ... the sound of the (first) shot echoes toward me ...

7) Nooooooo ! ...

The trailing Does all flush past Greg and start to follow the Buck, as a second cloud of dust appears on the far side of the moving Buck. Then the slightly muted sound of the second shot reaches me ... Still sitting in my lawn chair, I strain through the 10x40 Zeiss classics in the low light, to see if there was a reaction from the Buck to the second shot. Nuttin-honey.

Now all of the Antelope are covering ground at Warp-3 and a small puff of dust rises in the air, again on the far side of the Buck, followed by the even softer sound of Greg's third shot. From my viewpoint, the herd has turned and are now running almost straight away from me, generating their own cloud of dust ... and I can't keep track of the Buck, as the antelope dice left and right for position as they flee.

Finally, the herd coalesces waaay-out on the flats and then (safely) out of range, they stop. They appear to compare notes, then line out and slowly head off at a walk, back around the end of the ridge and disappear from my view. The light is fading as I head out to pick Greg up. I can't believe he's missed and I couldn't positively identify (at 1800 yards), that the Buck was still among the group that walked away. When I reach Greg, I suggest we do a grid search, by flashlight if necessary, of the knee high sagebrush, at 3, 4 and 500 yards out from his hide. Nothing ...

This elevates the question: "How could he have missed" .... right up there with the
best quandaries of modern times, like:
Was Wonder-Woman Gay ? ... and
Will eating Internet-Cookies ... make your Butt look Big ?

Once we've returned to camp ... I get to hear his side of the story ...
Insert Greg's-version ... ( here )

Silver Bullet (continued)

If ya can't run with the Big-Dogs ...
write on the inner-net, that ya can

Yes, his hesitation in shooting was from agonizing over making the "Perfect" shot ...
When a particular encounter in a hunt is not successful, we'd all like to turn that missed opportunity, into a teach-able moment. There were several factors that contributed to this miss ...

1) Setting up too deeply into the rim rock and limiting his field-of-view/field-of-fire, to about 70 degrees ... vs. a more typical 180-220 degree field of view/fire. He couldn't easily see these antelope comming and was surprised when they seemed to materialize at close range.

2) a real bad case of Buck-fever ... (he hasn't dirt-napped many animals to date).

3) but perhaps an even greater contributor ... was some of that training we probably all received from our fathers/mentors at some point: .... "Try not to ruin any meat with your shot" ... or: "Wait for the animal to get broadside and shoot them in the top of heart or through both lungs".

Often, hunters without much experience, wait for (or even expect) that a wild big game animal will at some point, stop, stand completely still (broadside no less) and "pose" to offer you the ideal shot angle and perfect conditions to make/take your story-book shot. Almost as if they expect a red (laser painted) bull's-eye, to materialize over the animals kill zone. Unfortunately, many hunting videos (especially all those Deer videos and TV programs that utilize a timed feeder and a hunter sitting up in an elevated blind) foster the impression that all hunting scenarios will provide the Perfect stationary shot opportunity. (<-- MD .. There's an article in here)

It's definitely a case where "Perfect" ... is/was the enemy of good. It only takes a "Decent" shot (at 18 yards) to put a serious crimp on any Deer, Elk, Lope, Bear or Woof !

This is summed up nicely, in a scene from the movie: "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" ... As the trail-weary Bandito is taking a sudsy (<-- is that even a word ?) bath in a metal tub, a Pistolero bursts in, waving his revolver around ... and starts loudly shouting how he's tracked the dirty-dog for 6 months and now he's going to "Keell-him". The bather has a hidden gun in the tub and quickly pumps 3 rounds into the Pistolero's chest ... then exclaims: (with apologies, for not capturing the full South-o-de-Border accent) ...
"Eff you're gon'a Choot ... Choot ... Don't Talk"

That includes not talking (having an internal conversation) with the Devil/Angel figures, sitting on your shoulders ...

For a Buck Antelope at 18 yards ... standing completely still, facing straight away ... and all that's available is a Texas Heart-shot ....
Boom ! ...
the only question in your mind should be ... "Which skinning knife" ?



Greg had seen my flashlight signal, but couldn't reach me on the radio. Our failure to communicate that night, was My-Bad. Each radio takes a battery pack of 6-AA's and I had checked them months before the hunt. Both packs read over 9 volts at that time. When I read mine later that evening, the pack was down in the low 7's (below the minimum transmit level) and I found that one of the (Kirkland) AA batteries measured Zero volts. I always use Duracell ... but had loaned the radio to someone months earlier and they apparently replaced the batteries, with flaky Costco batteries. (continued)

Silver Bullet

Launching well-aimed handloaded premium "boolits" ...
(into adjacent Zip-codes) ... since 1965

I have an application in with enough points to score, but think I'm going to pull it before the draw. Moisture and pronghorn groceries will be in short supply again this season. I'll probably do some high country deer hunting, but the pronghorn will get a pass.

Thanks for the entertaining read!

Excellent write up and, IME, spot-on assessment.

Thanks for taking us along; you certainly gave it a good go!

x 100!

Sunday am - I awake briefly, as Greg (up at 5am) heats up some water for coffee, on the 2-burner Coleman at the table outside my tent. I return to sleep and wake an hour and a half later, when the rising sun hits my tent walls and the building heat forces me out. Greg has seen nothing so far, yet I am careful to move slowly and not make much noise, as I get my breakfast (coffee and a dessicated Costco croissant) and try to set-up a lawn chair in the shade of the truck.

He's walked back to camp by 10am, so we make an early lunch and decide to drive some of the open roads in the rest of the southern portion of the unit. This gives us a good excuse to get out of the sun and also be in Air-conditioning. Several hours and tens of miles later ... drive-n-glass ... read the maps ... drive-n-glass, check the GPS ... and its eventually back to camp, in 94 degree temps. We park the Denali facing the sun, then raise the rear hatch and sit in the shade it creates. Every attempt at snacking on power bars or cookies, turns into ... "You want Flies with that ?" Did I mention that it was Hot ...?

Around 3pm, a line of thunderheads moves Northeast, along the spine of the nearby Steens mountain range and the valleys start echoing thunder. There was no lightning visible ... just near continuous thunder and a 10-15 degree cooling effect, as the clouds blocked out the direct sun. Any rainfall would have evaporated, before it reached the ground.

At 5-pm, Greg heads out to a new blind site slightly higher on the point, to be set up for any thirsty Lopes that might decide to come down for an evening drink. I again spot from the lawn chair, alternately glassing and reading. At 5:30 nothing, 6-pm nothing ... Due to the cloud cover, it's getting darker faster. 6:30 nothing ... finally at 6:45, I spot one lone antelope heading off the top and aiming at a fast walking pace, down toward Greg. I can't tell if its a Buck or doe ... but he mentioned that he'd shoot a doe, if given the opportunity ... so I assume it's Game-on.

I try to get him on the radio, to let him know somethings coming ... no luck.
(He had accidently hit a button, that shifted his radio to an alternate channel) !

This Speed-Goat has water on its mind and is hot-footing it down the hillside. A Lope on a mission. I decide to pull the spotting scope over and try to determine if it's a Buck, but all that results in is me momentarily losing track of where the Lope has gone. I try to signal Greg via a flashlight signal (not knowing he was un-reachable). The antelope came down within 250 yards of him, then veered over the backside of the ridge and out of his line-o-sight.

The sun has dropped behind a ridge ... there's about 30 minutes of shooting light left ... when I glass out onto the flats ... and spot a small lone Antelope Buck. He is feeding in the low sagebrush , totally unconcerned ... and is 180 degrees out of the path the earlier single antelope had been moving down. I estimate that small buck is about 200 yards from Greg, but on a line that almost "behind" where his attention has been focused. I need to get his attention and get him on the radio ... so I reach in the truck, turning on/off the parking lights several times. How can he not see this ? ? (to be continued)

... Silver Bullet

To Infinity ... and Beyond !

My frustration is building as I wonder what else I can possibly do, to make him either get on the radio ... or to realize that my actions in camp are not in any way "normal" and failing to open a communication channel ... maybe he should think about looking around (like 360 degrees) ? ? ... or even coming back to camp ? I give him 10 more minutes to turn around and whack this overly cooperative Buck, who is still feeding right out in the open.

Then I do the unthinkable and reach in through the window and honk the horn twice. The Buck looks up and in my direction for about 20 seconds ... then goes right back to feeding. My hunter had seen the earlier flashlight signal ... and the parking-light trick and heard the brief horn honks ... but sat in place until it was dark-dark ... before walking back to camp via headlamp. The Buck had vanished, not because he moved off, but because the darkness had enveloped him. Oh the trials and tribulations of being a Speed-Goat B'wana. (to be continued)

... Silver Bullet

"Eff you're gonn'a Choot ... Choot ... Don't Talk ! "

Cool, there is more!

And sometimes they walk right up to you in Oregon.








P

Hey SB we're still waiting for the rest of the story. Paul Harvey never made us wait this long.

Looks like you were lucky enough to draw a grizzly antelope tag.

I agree

I don't get paid as much as Paul Harvey ...
- - -
As Crosby-Stills-Nash might say: ... "It's been long time coming ...."
My attention has been seriously diverted lately, as a 40-year hunting partner entered Hospice care several weeks back and only recently departed .... the Great hunting-grounds ... now has one more honest-man, reader of sign ... (and proud warrior).
So climbing right back on the horse ...
- - - -
Monday am - Greg again rose early and walked out by moonlight, to set-up in position, one last time. Shortly after sunrise, he spotted a pair of does, skirting the end of his ridge, about 450 yards out, but no buck showed. On his return to camp around 10 am, we had breakfast and discussed the "Plan". He was hot, tired, sunburned, dusty, (did I mention it was HOT) ... not feeling well and felt as if he had already missed his best chance (at the late-evening Buck), while electing to pass on 4 separate opportunities, on Does. He chose to close out his hunt in this fire-affected and low water unit ... to head home.

After breakfast, we started breaking camp and Bob happened by, on the return route from his Steens Mountain deer scout. We had unknowingly camped in a spot that was a Native American knapping site ... with shards of obsidian glass and malformed/incomplete discarded arrowheads, lying about on the surface. While this whole region exhibits extensive volcanic activity, it is mostly shield flows, lava tubes, older basalt, or smaller cinder cones. It takes the raw material (silica/magma) to be quickly cooled, to form good obsidian glass. This material was likely carried here (traded), to be worked .. as there were no obsidian exposures observed anywhere nearby. Bob is a bit of a rock-hound, paleontologist in training and history buff. On our previous scouting travels, we had noticed that many of the road cuts near here, were littered with various sized Apache tears.

Once back on paved roads, we headed NW toward Burns, The road wound through miles of burned sage country, where the range fires earlier in the Summer, had scorched the land bare. The only things remaining were scattered short blackened stumps of sage, along with all the unburned trash that had been discarded from years of passing vehicles. Beer cans, bottles, some tires and steel wheel rims ... and waaaay off the road in a few shallow canyons, were the rusting metal shells of old cars and pickups. Who knows if they were remnants of car crashes from the past, or simply vehicles that broke down years ago and were discarded ?

Silver Bullet

(Mild mannered reporter ... for a great metroplitan newspaper ... )

Once in Burns, we planned to gas-up and Greg would head home East on 26, while Bob and I would convoy NE up thru Baker to La Grande. When we hit the Burns gas station some hick had their diesel pick-up with a fancy 3-horse trailer in tow, blocking off access to all the otherwise open gas pumps on the inside. I drove around to the front of the rig but still couldn't reach a pump, so I parked off to the side and waited. That was when I noticed the cute young thing using the long-handled squeegee, to clean "her" trucks windshield.

It was like the scene out of Cool Hand Luke ( ... Lucille !) ... except she was a real Keow-girl ... a silky brunette in a tan Resistol. A tall drink-o-water, who just happened to be wearing her Daisy Dukes ... and a gray stretchy exercise top. Even with the long handle, she had be to up on her toes in those well worn cowboy boots to reach across. Her legs were well toned, tanned and they started down at the ground and went all the way up to Havana. Whew ! Did I mention it was HOT out !
It's OK honey ... I got the time ... don't miss any bugs on that windshield ...
- - -
After we had all gassed up and were about to depart, Greg came over and proudly showed off the new package of Imodium he had just purchased in the stations Quick-mart and commented on how it was going to let him bypass a whole-lotta rest stops on the way home. Apparently he had been afflicted by a really bad case of the runs, for much of the trip ... but failed to mention anything to us and this added to his reluctance to continue the hunt. <--- Rookie mistake ! ... and here I had carried Imodium in my kit bag, the entire time.
- - -
Note: No Antelope were harmed during this hunt ... unless you count the one Buck and the 3 closest does, who likely have serious hearing loss, in their right ears.
- - -
Soooo ... here's the question of the day ... thinking back a few paragraphs ... (no, farther back than that !) ...
Have any of you ever missed out on an otherwise "Gimme" harvest of a big game animal ... whether hunting with rifle or bow ... because you waited and waited for the absolute Perfect-Shot ... versus making a Good-Enough shot ... and the animal walked off into the brush, the herd, or went over the hill, around the ridge ... or turned on the afterburners and hit Mach-3 in .5 seconds ? ?

... Silver Bullet (aka: B'wana )

"Eff you're gon'a Choot ... Choot ... Don't Talk !

Great read! Thanks.