Reader-Submitted Story
Antelope Lessons
by Brian Bildson of Grande Prairie, Alberta
It was a motley crew that had shown up at the cabin in the Cypress Hills. There were four of us, and our mission was to cash in on the antelope tags we had spent years acquiring.
I was the only rookie antelope hunter of the bunch. The other three hunters were made up of Tony “Treats”, Darcy “Deadeye”, and Kelly “The Professor”, who had all hunted antelope together the last time they had drawn speed goat tags.
We weren’t hunting in the Cypress Hills, but accommodations are few and far between in southeast Alberta, so we had a long commute every morning to get into our hunting territory. Speaking of accommodations, our cabin was located in a previous Girl Guide camp and hadn’t seen any upgrades since—spartan is the word that springs to mind. But it had a roof and four bunk beds, so what else did we need?
My hunting partners had connections down in this territory. They had secured exclusive permission for us to hunt on a local rancher’s property, which turned out to be prime antelope country. As a bonus, we had access to another ranch that allowed access if you pre-registered and a couple of Hutterite colonies that permitted hunting. Access is key when hunting antelope, and we had a good start.
We had arrived a couple of days early to scout the terrain, and we hit the trail early the first morning. We hadn’t driven for more than five minutes when a “large” cougar appeared in front of the truck at five yards. I had heard that the Cypress Hills held a good number of cats, and if this specimen’s size was any indication, they were doing well.
As we drove through the dark morning coming down off the high hills onto the flatlands below, I saw what the attraction was for the cougars. I’m sure we passed by 100 deer that morning. Darcy could spot those deer at what seemed like half a kilometre away, living up to his Deadeye moniker.
While driving to our destination, The Professor enlightened me about the inner workings of the antelope’s mind and behaviour. Some of the helpful tips included their behaviour of scooching under the bottom fence wire, never jumping, with the bucks often being the last to crawl under. Another topic of conversation was the antelope’s incredible vision, and their habit of running away at light speed should you blow a stalk.
As daylight broke, we passed the entrance to the one ranch that allowed access upon pre-registration. Multiple campers were already positioned by the entrance, including horse trailers and what seemed like a lot of e-bikes in the back of trucks. We count ourselves lucky to have the exclusive access we did on the other rancher’s property, as there seemed to be a lot of hunting pressure on the other ranch. In fact, the land we would be hunting bordered the other ranch, and The Professor explained that this would be to our benefit, as it should push the antelope our way once hunters started moving around.
After a quick meet-and-greet with our rancher host, Gary, and some tips on antelope movements, we began our scouting. There’s one big difference between this country and my northern Alberta haunts, and that’s visibility. By perching on whatever high point we could find, we could survey a vast amount of country from that one spot. It soon became evident to me that prior experience hunting antelope was highly beneficial. My partners were spotting antelope at distances that I wasn’t even considering looking at.
It didn’t take long for me to get into the swing of things, and as the sun rose, the antelope started popping out on the landscape. Scattered bands were strung out everywhere we looked. This is going to be easy, I thought.
That first day we cruised the ranch roads and marked the locations where we spotted our prey. There was one common denominator—lentil fields. Gary had told us the antelope loved lentils, and he was sure right about that. When my hunting partners were here years back, lentils were not a common crop, so this was a new twist for them as well. But there was no denying that lentils were a huge draw.
We put on a lot of miles during our two days of scouting and felt well prepared for opening day. My hunting partners, either feeling generous or sorry for me, had awarded me the privilege of first shot.
When opening day rolled around, we spotted a herd making its way towards us. I hurried off towards an ambush spot with The Professor in tow.
The herd got within 200 yards and started milling about. The Professor pointed out the best of the lot, and we waited for a clear shot. Now, I’ve got to admit a more experienced antelope hunter may have found the perfect moment to squeeze the trigger, but that wasn’t me. I was concerned about a pass-through shot on these diminutive creatures, as they seemed about the size of a big coyote. The antelope chose for me, as they bolted off at the speed of light.
Meanwhile, Tony and Darcy were off in another field, from where we soon heard a shot. This was shortly followed by a text photo of Darcy posing with an antelope buck. He earned his Deadeye moniker by dropping the buck at over 300 yards. It was a great start to the hunt.
However, that didn’t turn out to be the story for the rest of us. Once the guns started blazing that opening morning, the antelope were on full alert. I’m not sure how many stalks were blown by those eagle-eyed speed goats, but I hiked over 50 kilometres that week in pursuit. Luckily, Tony lived up to his nickname and brought us a cooler full of treats every day at lunch, keeping us fueled.
After a couple of days, we decided to shake things up by hunting the ranch where all the hunting pressure was. By looking at Google Maps, I found a county road that gave us access to a less-hunted section. Then we found an active water hole on the property, bordered by... a field of Lentils! It turned out to be a hotspot.
Both Tony and Kelly harvested their antelope near the waterhole. Luckily, these antelope aren’t that big, as they had to be packed out a fair distance. As our last day of the hunt rolled around, I was the only one without a tag punched. The pressure was on.
We hunted hard that day, and finally, with only 90 minutes of shooting light left, I got my chance. Darcy and I spotted a herd off in the distance that looked stalkable. We put it in high gear and got up on the herd, which was about 250 yards away. I even had a fence post to use as a rest as I took my shot, and missed. Looks like I have blown my last chance.
As we made our way back and drove down the road to say goodbye to our rancher friend, we spotted a herd of antelope. Tony looked at me and said, “Get your butt out of this truck and kill that buck!” I’d taken my hunting boots off, so wearing only socks, I sprinted to the field edge and set up for the shot. As they sped off at 300+ yards, I took my shot and watched the buck go down. There were only 20 minutes of shooting light left, and somehow I had pulled a rabbit out of my hat and got my buck.
As I walked up to my antelope, I thought about the past week. It was like no hunting I had ever experienced before. What looked like expansive open vistas contained hidden folds that held antelope, which you only discovered after they saw you and bolted off. Prairie moose living in coulees that only held scrub trees, a massive mule deer at 40 yards, holed up in a small canyon. And hundreds of antelope scattered across the landscape, sporting binocular vision and the legs of a cheetah.
It’s easy to be happy when everyone in your party tags out. But, honestly, even if the last-minute buck hadn’t shown up, I would have been content. I was hunting with friends, met a great ranching family (thanks again Gary), and explored a part of Alberta I’d never experienced before.
Here’s hoping I live long enough to get drawn again. .
For the previous Reader Story, click here.
