In 2000, I had connected with two Bowsiters from Michigan who I agreed to help learn to hunt elk. They had arrived three days earlier, I believe, and had hunted a couple places I had sent them. They hadn't seen an elk or heard a bugle. I arrived the night before and on Sept 13th, we parked my 4Runner at the end of road and started hiking up a steep hill. It was actually a spot I had never hunted but that I had found on Terraserver that I thought it would be good. My plan was to show them some country to hunt and give them some basic strategy on how to hunt it so I could go hunt my regular honey holes that I had no intention of showing them. :)
Complicating matters was the fact that I helped a friend move a large cabinet a week earlier and, as we were carrying it by the countertop, the silicon holding it on broke loose and the cabinet landed square in on my big toe. I could barely walk, and the steep hill was killing me.
About 1/2 way up, right at first light, I told them to go on ahead of me to the top to glass and listen for bugles and I'll be up in a few. Just a couple minutes later, a bull bugled from the private land we didn't have access to. I called back at him and it was on. In nothing flat, the bull covered about 1/3 of a mile and ran right between my two guests who were about 50 yards apart. It happened so quickly and the cover was so thick that I don't think either of them even knocked an arrow let alone thought about drawing. The bull split them and circled down right on top of me.
When the 6 X 6 popped out 10 yards in front of me, I was at full draw but I had made a classic mistake I have made more times than I care to count, let alone admit. I was on a knee instead of standing up and the brush right in front of him covered his vitals so the only thing I could see was his head and horns. From that perspective he looked HUGE! I tried to stand but of course he didn't like that and wheeled to leave.
I hammered him with my Carlton and he started circling to get down wind of me but stopped behind a large cedar 16 yards below me. Once again, I am at full draw but with no place to slip an arrow. We stood in this standoff for what seemed like an eternity but was probably 30 seconds to a minute at the most. Finally, he barked at me and I thought the game was over. In desperation I barked back as loud as I could. He took two steps forward and I found a hole in the cedar, saw brown and decided it was the top of his shoulder. Instinct kicked in an my arrow was gone without me making a conscious decision to shoot.
He exploded down the hill and I tried to watch his path and listened to the sounds of rocks clattering as he bolted away. It was so thick that I could only see him for a couple seconds and only had the slightest idea where he went. I immediately feared he would jump the private fence and really complicate things.
I marked the spot from where I shot, went up to where the other two were at and told them what had happened. I knew I had hit him but wasn't sure where so I wanted to give him plenty of time. There was another bull bugling so I went with them to the top of the ridge (funny I couldn't feel my toe hurting anymore) and tried to call in another. After about 30 minutes, I sent them on to keep hunting and told them to come back when they were done for the morning and hopefully they could help me pack mine out.
When I got back to where the bull was when I shot, I found nothing. No blood and very little sign. The ground was dry and rocky so tracks were non-existent. My heart began to sink. I was kicking myself for my mistake of being on a knee. My thoughts raced: "If I had been standing up, I would have had a 10 yard, slightly uphill head on shot which would have been much better than the shot I took, just like the one I had made last year." If I had taken that shot, the bull would have not been able to make it to the private fence. I "knew" that was where he was headed so I frantically walked the fence-line looking for blood, hair or any sign that an elk had jumped it recently. I found nothing and my heart was sinking fast.
I circled back to where the bull was standing when I shot, took some deep breaths, slowed myself way down and started looking at the scene more closely. I got down on my knees where he stood and looked in the direction I saw him go. After a minute or two, I saw a rock turned over about 5 yards away. I moved to that rock and did the same thing only to find another turned rock about 10 yards further. At that rock, I stood and looked until I saw a broken twig a little further. I kept this slow and methodical search up for 150 yards and I honestly didn't know if I was tracking like a well seasoned indian hunter or if my mind was playing with me and calling things signs that were really just part of the natural terrain.
Finally, after 150 yards and at a time I was really doubting what I was seeing, I found the back 13" of my arrow and I saw the most beautiful sight. Bright red blood. At first it was just a few drops but then it quickly turned into a blood trail anyone could follow and 100 yards later (and 250 yards closer to my truck than where I shot him) I found my bull piled up in way that made it clear he died mid-stride on full tilt death run. My shot entered high but the hill was steep enough that it was actually a perfect shot. However, as I almost always do, I hit his opposite shoulder which prevented a pass through so the only hole was high on his left shoulder which required his entire chest to fill with blood before it started spilling out on the ground.
I let out a victory yell that the guys heard from the top of the ridge. I couldn't believe it had happened so quickly and that I had found him. The two guys from Michigan came down and just shook their heads. They had hunted hard for three days and seen nothing and I was there for 15 minutes and killed a 310 bull. We cut him up, packed him downhill to my truck and I took him to a friend who had a meat and taxidermy shop in town.
The guys from Michigan thought I was an elk whisperer at that point and quite honestly, I kind of thought that about myself as well.
However, the next three days humbled me as I took them to spot after spot, even some of my very best spots to which I swore I'd never take anyone, only to come up empty. We heard a few bugles and one of them almost got a shot off while sitting on a water hole where I had sent him, but no more elk. Complicating things even more, when I called home, my wife told me my grandfather had passed away in Albuquerque. So I hunted one more day and then had to leave them on their own to finish out the season. They went back to Michigan no longer believing I was an elk whisperer but I think they still had a great time.
Even in really good units, elk hunting is usually multiple days of frustration and a few minutes of "Wow, isn't this easy." When things fall together, when you are in the right place at the right time, making the right sounds and having the right wind, or as in the case of my 2000 bull, having a bull so hot he travels too fast to catch the wind, hunting elk is incredibly easy. However, for all those "rights" to line up at the same time, it usually takes a lot of work and often what seems like a lot of "wasted days."
Man I can't wait for my first day next Thursday. I don't even really care whether it is a "wasted day" or "right day." I will be in the woods with my 14 year old son, (who wasn't even alive the last time I was there) with a tag in my pack, my bow in my hand and my calls in my mouth. Can it get any better than that? Only if before he leaves to go back to school on Monday, my son also thinks I'm an elk whisperer.
Good luck on your hunt. Stay away from things that smash toes..... =D
Enjoy your time with your son and hunt.
Good luck, Robb
ElkNut1
I'm sure he would have been thrilled to hear about your hunt.
G
My first shot at 35 yards with barely enough light to see the 2" square of black duct tape, center punched it. A beautiful sight to see a green lit nock on black at the same time of the morning as my last hunt in this unit ended.
Hopefully it will be just as successful but not as quick this time. He will likely need to be a 350 for me to launch an arrow Thursday morning. Of course its amazing how many 310 bulls look like 350 at first light on your first morning or last light on your last evening and most points in between. :)
One last day in the office. Good thing I don't have a lot I have to get done.
Anyway, I'll take my boy to school for a half day, come home and hope the rain is done here but start loading the truck regardless. Then at 12:15 I'm picking him up and heading west.
Can't believe the 16 year wait is over. While I'm ready for the hunt, there is a part of me that is sad that it is here because I know it will be over in a blink of an eye regardless of if I hunt the whole 10 days or if another family emergency cuts my hunt short. I know that long before I'm ready to leave my old stomping grounds it will be time to come home.
However, you can't waste the good of the moment because of dreading the pain of the end. So I'm going to enjoy it to the full and thank the Father above for the opportunity no matter what happens over the next 10 days.
Good luck to anyone else who is heading out. They should be screaming their heads off for the next three weeks or so.
Shoot a bigger one this time :o)