Judging the quality of a buck antelope can be difficult, especially at long ranges. Look for heavy bases, wide prongs, long horns and deep hooks.

The buck we chased all morning was standing right there, just 200 yards off the gravel road. It was an apparition, I joked, a ghost that was sent to haunt Dean Capuano for the rest of his hunting career. How could this antelope simply reappear two, maybe three miles from where we last saw it less than an hour ago? And why was it just standing there, looking at us as if we were driving through a national park?

I was sitting in the back seat of a battle-weary Suburban, wedged between the door and a toppling heap of backpacks, jackets and camera gear. A pair of binoculars lay across my lap. Capuano was lamenting the lost opportunity at the antelope with the unusual wide, forward-sweeping horns. He spent nearly four hours in pursuit of this very animal, only to come up empty on three frustrating stalks.

When we first spotted the buck feeding in a wide-open bowl early that morning, Steve Jones, our guide, questioned our ability to get close enough for a shot. Knee-high grass blanketed the southern New Mexico prairie, but there were no folds or cuts in the ground for a possible stalk. Capuano was mesmerized by the long horns and forward hooks, rare traits that would make a fine trophy, so he tried to hug the open ground. The buck, however, knew the game and trotted over a distant hill long before Capuano got within shooting range. We followed in the truck and then on foot twice more, only to watch the pronghorn casually walk out of sight each time.

There were other antelope--lots of them actually--and Capuano reluctantly agreed to give up on this one and find another. Besides, time was running out, and this buck seemed unapproachable. We were in the waning hours of the second and final day of our hunt in a sprawling unit managed exclusively for muzzleloader hunts. If Capuano didn't tag a buck soon, he would go home empty-handed.

It was strange, we agreed, that an animal that could walk in any direction on this wide-open landscape would end up on the same path as us, offering Capuano one last-ditch chance. There he was, just standing there.

"Get your gun ready," whispered Jones. As he eased up on the gas pedal, the buck started walking away, as if he knew exactly who we were and what our game was. Once again, the buck slipped over a gentle rise and out of sight. Capuano and I ducked into a crouch and trotted after the buck in one final attempt to put him on the ground. When we raised our heads over the rise, we spied the unmistakable forward tips and immediately ducked.

"How far?" whispered Capuano. I eased up, brought a rangefinder to my eye, clicked the button and whispered, "Two-oh-five."

Two days before, Capuano and I, along with a group of other hunters in Jones' camp, spent the afternoon thumping steel silhouettes out to 200 yards with our Knight Long-Range Hunter muzzleloaders. We were shooting four-inch groups at that range, leaving us little excuse for a miss at any goat within 200 yards.

A good rest is vital for long shots. As with any firearm, don't take the shot unless you have a solid hold and know your own, as well as your gun's, abilities.