One down and one to go.

After getting Dad's buck we headed 15-20 miles away to where we had seen a dandy buck and not-too-bad satellite buck the day before. We putzing down a prairie trail in the area the herd had been the day before, I see a lone buck.
MyGoatDriveby.jpg

Though he looked pretty darn good, I knew he was broken on the left side and didn't feel he was the HOLY CRAP wall hanger I was looking for given it had been 9 years since I last drew an antelope tag. I watched him for 10+ minutes, took pictures through the spotting scope and with my camera, and asked Dad what he thought. As expected, he just smiled and said, "It's your tag but its definitely bigger than the one I shot." I was torn but finally said that if you shoot the little one, you'll never get a big one and drove on to see if we could locate the big guy. We finally found him but he was well into an area that we could not hunt so we turned around and headed back the way we came. We get back to the area and the buck above was still there. I kept driving until we were out of sight from the buck and told Dad I was going to see how close I could get to him and then see what happened. Long story short (I know, not really), after a bit of sneaking and crawling I find myself 154 yards away, sitting down, with the rifle firmly resting on the bipod. To be honest, I was hoping to scare him away but given I got that close and he was standing broadside it was just more than my trigger finger could take.