RockyDog
Member
It’s early archery season 2009 and after many miles of hiking I arrive at my secret little opening at first light. Almost immediately I hear one bugle on a ridge above me. However, I cant see any elk and after about 20 minutes of listening for more bugles, nothing. I give a couple hesitant cow calls. My call triggers a storm of bugling on the mountain ridge about a half mile away. I slowly walk that way, stopping occasionally to set up and watch for a bull coming in. Most of the time several bulls are bugling over the top of each other all at once. During the pauses I set up and wait for a bull approaching, nothing. After the pause I give one or two cow calls, they all start singing again. When i get closer I can tell, by sound, that 3 bulls are about 200-300 yards away in the timber, none of them appear to be coming in but they do at least appear to be staying in the same location. One bull was on the ridge and bulls were off either side of the ridge. I continue to hear at least 2 bulls bugling in the distance.
The bull that growled and chuckled the most was also on the downwind side, so I decide to circle downwind and try for him. I walk very slowly through the thick spruce and fir, occasionally using my binocs to scan ahead. I spot very nice antlers rubbing a tree 150 yards ahead. The bull is thrashing a 6” diameter fir and sticking his nose in for big whiffs of his scent on the rub. I set up and give a couple cow calls. He immediately screams back at me a few times, but goes back to thrashing the tree. The wind is right, so I pick a line that will keep his head behind trees and slowly creep to what i hope is shooting range. At that point i step sideways and to my surprise I have a 5 foot wide shooting lane that showed me the middle third of his body 40 yards away. I never have this luck during a stalk, the wind always changes but not this time! Plenty of time for calm shot my arrow disappears into his vital area. He turns downhill about 60 or 70 yards before lying down with his head still up.
I sit and watch for several minutes, a pine martin walks within 6 feet of me and scurries away. What a strange thing. Since the bull was never really spooked and appears hit hard I decide to slowly creep towards him and try to get in another shot. That will turn out not to be a wise decision looking back. When I get within about 30 yards he jumps up on wobbly legs and runs, I am scared he will make an adrenaline run down into a timber jungle so I quickly draw and shoot an arrow that hits his rear stomach/flank area. Luckily he goes only another 50 yards and is down for good. I sit quietly and look at the bull. At time like this I never feel like whooping and hollering. All I can think about is the bulls amazing will to live and how great it is to hunt him in wild, rugged country. After a few self-timed photos its time to get to work. This entire time there has been a bull with cows above me about 200 yards bugling his head off. He continues to bugle off and on during the next 2 hours while I skin and bone the bull. The bugling stops at noon, I work on alone removing each muscle and arranging it to cool under cover. A bull walks by bugling every minute or so, I cant see him in the timber but he is not far away at all. He heads into the north facing timber. I estimate I heard over 200-300 elk bugles that morning and not one other hunter. Probably my best day of bowhunting ever. Packing the meat out several miles is hard work, some of it is on my back but many miles are on my horses and mule. The hunt, the kill, the packout are all experiences I will never forget. These were days when I definitely felt fully alive.
The bull that growled and chuckled the most was also on the downwind side, so I decide to circle downwind and try for him. I walk very slowly through the thick spruce and fir, occasionally using my binocs to scan ahead. I spot very nice antlers rubbing a tree 150 yards ahead. The bull is thrashing a 6” diameter fir and sticking his nose in for big whiffs of his scent on the rub. I set up and give a couple cow calls. He immediately screams back at me a few times, but goes back to thrashing the tree. The wind is right, so I pick a line that will keep his head behind trees and slowly creep to what i hope is shooting range. At that point i step sideways and to my surprise I have a 5 foot wide shooting lane that showed me the middle third of his body 40 yards away. I never have this luck during a stalk, the wind always changes but not this time! Plenty of time for calm shot my arrow disappears into his vital area. He turns downhill about 60 or 70 yards before lying down with his head still up.
I sit and watch for several minutes, a pine martin walks within 6 feet of me and scurries away. What a strange thing. Since the bull was never really spooked and appears hit hard I decide to slowly creep towards him and try to get in another shot. That will turn out not to be a wise decision looking back. When I get within about 30 yards he jumps up on wobbly legs and runs, I am scared he will make an adrenaline run down into a timber jungle so I quickly draw and shoot an arrow that hits his rear stomach/flank area. Luckily he goes only another 50 yards and is down for good. I sit quietly and look at the bull. At time like this I never feel like whooping and hollering. All I can think about is the bulls amazing will to live and how great it is to hunt him in wild, rugged country. After a few self-timed photos its time to get to work. This entire time there has been a bull with cows above me about 200 yards bugling his head off. He continues to bugle off and on during the next 2 hours while I skin and bone the bull. The bugling stops at noon, I work on alone removing each muscle and arranging it to cool under cover. A bull walks by bugling every minute or so, I cant see him in the timber but he is not far away at all. He heads into the north facing timber. I estimate I heard over 200-300 elk bugles that morning and not one other hunter. Probably my best day of bowhunting ever. Packing the meat out several miles is hard work, some of it is on my back but many miles are on my horses and mule. The hunt, the kill, the packout are all experiences I will never forget. These were days when I definitely felt fully alive.
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