Much to the displeasure of my wife, I often go hunting by myself. Usually because I can’t find anyone to go with me. Truth be told, I really enjoy it more when I can share the experience with someone. A good friend to share the hunt with makes each adventure better. You can laugh together at the misery, encourage each other when the going gets tough, share the load and celebrate together when you’re successful.

I have always been a hunter, but I come from a non-hunting family. Fortunately, at an early age, I met my first and still one of my favorite hunting buddies, Darrel. He guided me to my first elk, showed me how to clean game birds and talked me into wasting my college tuition on an Alakan moose hunt. I don’t think my parents ever really forgave him for that one.

My buddy Doug should offer his services to drought-stricken countries. I can’t remember the last time we hunted together when we didn’t find ourselves huddled under a tree somewhere waiting out a rain or snow storm. He has really helped me improve my fire building skills. Despite his shortcomings, we have had some great times.

I met Doug my first year of college. For reasons I can’t now remember, I was showing somebody some hunting pictures. Doug wandered over to look, and we started to talk. He introduced me to his buddies, Kurt and Eric. We talked about hunting and guns for a while, and then they offered to show me where I could go shooting.

Later that fall, they invited me to go hunting. We have been having hunting misadventures all over the West for the last 30 years.

When my sister brought my now brother-in-law, Gary, to meet the family, he and I hit it off so well that I told her, “I don’t care if you marry him or not, but we are keeping him.”

Gary finally drew his coveted Steens Mountain antelope tag a couple of years ago. He lives a long way away from the unit, but managed to make a couple of trips down to scout it out as best he could.

I happened to mention Gary’s hunt to a friend who said he had a friend that knew the area well. A couple of phone calls later, the friend of a friend volunteered to help out on the hunt.

Opening morning, we met up well before dawn and headed out. We parked the rigs and made a short hike to a vantage point to glass.

As the sun rose we spotted the antelope up and feeding. We waited for them to feed over a small hill and hustled over and peaked off the side just in time to see the antelope feeding up the opposite side of the draw.

Gary quickly got into position and dropped the buck with his first shot. It turned out to be a dandy indeed. After the pictures, the friend of a friend even packed it back to the truck. He refused payment, wished us the best and sent us on our way.

My newest hunting buddy is my son. Even though he is young, we have had some great adventures. A handful of years ago, in the last rays of the setting sun, he shot a four-point buck. In the bottom of a canyon. Four miles from the truck. Before it was done, our hip pockets were draggin’ pretty bad, but that is a shared adventure we will laugh about for the rest of our lives.

I look forward to many more years making memories with the friends I have now, and the ones I have yet to make.