Finally, the stars alligned and we were able to get off on a bison hunt with 86er/Joe at his place near Hondo, Texas. My grandson, Troupe went along to shoot on of the many types of rams on the ranch. We arrived at 7 PM Thursday night, unloaded our gear and then walked around checking out the game and trying to decide on an animal for Troupe. We determined that it would be one of the several black Hawaiian rams on the place. Since the temperature was topping 100 degrees every day, we decided to hunt the bison early Friday morning so it could be shot, skinned, quartered and put into the cooler as soon as possible to avoid spoiling the meat and then go after the ram.
Friday morning we were up at 5:15 for coffee and were out just after dawn scanning the fields for one of the bison. At the North end of a half mile long field, there were several of the larger animals, including longhorns, a water buffalo, watusi cattle, and a mature female bison with decent horns. The challenge was to separate the bison from the others without stampeding them all back into 1000 acres of heavy brush where they could be difficult to locate. Fortunately, some of the smaller game began to drift toward the water hole at the far south end of the field and the bison slowly followed, separating itself from the ornery water buffalo which had been attacking stock trailers and such of late. As Joe with his 450 NE double rifle, myself, and Jimmy the camera man, slowly walked toward the south at an angle to bring us closer to the bison, Joe hatched a plan to get us within shooting range for my iron sighted rifle.
When the bison dropped down into the water hole depression to get water, we quickmarched up to the north rim of the depression. Just then, the bison walked up the far side, turned broadside and stopped about 50 yards away, paying no attention to us. It was time to shoot and while raising the rifle, my mind was reviewing the proper sight picture for the hot 450 grain FMJ Kodiak bullets loaded to 2150 fps by Grizzly Cartridge Company. You see these were the DG loads Joe had used in Africa and I had not shot but a few of them a year ago. But it is my rifle, so surely I could hit such a big target with ease. Aiming for the lung area, the first shot drew dust on the side of the bison and it contionued to ignore us. The second shot must have been too high, as there was no dust and the bison ignored us. Shot number three drew dust up on the back (later we learded that it hit just under the spine) and the bison finally turned its head to look at us.
It is common knowledge among bison hunters that after a lung shot, they will often show no reaction and just go on feeding until they fall over and die. I asked Joe if we should just wait for it to fall over or what? He said no, just keep shooting until it drops. The bison must have understand Joe because it began to walk around to our side of the depression. Since we did not know it's intentions (fight or flight), I aimed for the ribs and hit it again. The bison chose flight and began to run north. No more Mr. Nice Guy, I went for a shoulder shot to break it down and when the bullet hit with a loud THWACK, the running bison collapsed. Joe and I were delighted with the shot and glad not to have to follow a wounded bison in the brush and Jummy was elated to have captured the action on video. After a couple of pictures with the trophy I(Troupe joined me for those) Richard lifted the beast up with a tractor front end loader and took it to the cleaning station at the lodge where Jimmy and his dad Terry Frye gutted, skinned, and quartered the bison and hung the quarters in the 40 degree walk in cooler befgore 10:00 am.
I scrambled 18 eggs, mixed in two pounds of spicy breakfast sausage from Troupe's blonde pig and we all ate breakfast and rested for a while.
At noon, Joe came in and said "Troupe, get your rifle and let's go shoot a ram". In no time, there were six folks in a pickup headed for the brush to locate one of the rams. We were in luck and Joe soon spotted two rams bedded down under mesquite trees near the dirt track. He backed up the truck, put Terry to to stand in the trail for the rams to watch, and then quietly drove down wind of the rams. We quietly disembarked and trailed out through the mesquit upwing toward the bedded rams. Joe led, followed by Troupe with his 7mm-08, Jimmy with his camera, two lodge guests that had never hunted, and finally yours truly. After a few twists, turns, and stops to test the wind with dust, Joe stopped all but Troupe and they sneaked forward to take a shot. Troupe's first offhand rifle shot at game struck the ram near the back of its ribs and though mortally wounded it made its way off into the brush. Joe and Jimmy studied the tracks and before long Jimmy found blood and was off trailing the wounded ram for 100 yards or so whre he did see it. What a bonus to have a tracker as camera man! Joe instructed Troupe just where to shoot through the thick brush to disable the ram and Troupe made the shot, anchoring the ram so that he could approach it for the Coup de Gras.
Again a quick photo session and back to the cleaning station to get the animal taken care of before the hair slips and the cape is ruined.
Intrepid white hunter completes posing ram for pictures:
Happy hunter and proud granddad (CRS) with nice BIG sheep.
Terry owns Buck and Duck Taxidermy in Rye, Colorado and he took both heads back with him for mounting.
Mucho meat soon to come from Po Boy's Outback Wild Game Processing where we took the bison.
Good news is the there were no bruises, cuts, sore muscles or any other evidence of heavy recoil damage to my shoulder or arm. No doubt in my mind but that those 1886 rifles were meant to hunting rifles and not bench rest target rifles. I prefer to shoot them while standing on my hind legs. 