b&csumday
New member
It has to be known first that none of this would have happened if it weren’t for 2 great buddies of mine who are absolutely incredible in the woods. They spent countless hours, both in and out of the season, in the woods. They cover more ground then I thought humanly possible. They pointed to a spot on the map and said ‘try this area, you should have some fun’. And that’s exactly what I did.
It was Sunday afternoon around 1630 before I had camp set up roughly 2 miles (by way of the crow) from my buddies and another mile and a half to the trailhead. I spent that evening studying the map, glassing the parks and listening for bugles. I was fortunate enough to hear one screaming as dusk set in. Monday morning was spent placing terrain features, checking winds, but more importantly, listening to multiple bulls going crazy. I decided that the next day I would try to move around the ridge where I heard 2 bulls, get the wind in my face and see what happened. I spent that evening listening and glassing that ridge again, hoping nothing would change. As daylight came on Tuesday morning, I was already on the backside of the ridge. I took my time getting around to the point, constantly checking wind. I could hear enticing bugles in the next drainage as I worked closer, but I had my plan. It seemed like a matter of minutes from when I broke the point and started back towards the area I was aiming for until I heard the first bugle out of this guy. I knew he was close, but didn’t know if he had company (cows). I immediately stopped, noted the cross wind between us and waited. I gave a couple soft mews and waited. After what seemed like 15 minutes, a bugle. I wasn’t sure if he was responding to me, or just bugling. I waited a little bit again, mew, meeww. Another bugle. I couldn’t believe it, but he was responding. We went back and forth 3 or 4 sequences like that. He never bugled immediately, but always did eventually. Once, the bugle sounded as though he was further from me. Fearing the worst, I called again. His next bugle sounded like he was standing beside me. Within a minute (I would guess) I could hear limbs snapping and footsteps. Another few seconds, and I caught first glimpse of horns. He had gained elevation on me and was coming down towards me, no idea why, completely up wind. Wind was going high to low. And he was coming in high. Couldn’t believe it. When I finally got a full glimpse of him, he was about 32 yards face on to me. He stopped at 19.5 yds and BUGLED! I watched the drool drip out of his mouth, his breath roll off his tongue, his stomach jiggle as he grunted! I was shaking so bad I knew he was going to bust me. Thank goodness I had set up with trees behind and in front of me. As he stood there (which seemed like an eternity) my heart was pounding through my chest. Things like this just don’t happen to me. Its only on TV, or so I thought. I was sure he was going to turn and run, but he didn’t. He started downhill again, luckily veering off to my left ever so slightly. I got a chance to draw as he went behind a cluster of trees and limbs (no more than 15 yds). By the grace of God, he continued with no hesitation. Once he cleared the trees he was 3 steps from me, couldn’t have been more than 5 yds. Tunnel vision set in, meat pin on his vitals (all pins on his vitals for that matter), and release. I was stunned. Actually, stunned is an understatement. I was a wreck. I dropped to my knees shaking like I never had before. He bounded off, downhill, got to a downed tree about 30 yds out, decided he couldn’t hop it, turned to side-hill directly away and in 2 more bounds was out of sight. It sounded as though someone had rolled a 4 ton boulder down the hill, breaking every limb, small tree and dead fall within reach. Then, silence.
As he turned, I could see my arrow hanging out his far side cage. I was devastated because it seemed WAY to far back for a good shot. I mean I was devastated. Replay after replay in my head steadily worsened as I made up what could have gone wrong. Somehow, I pulled myself together, tried not to panic. Watch said 1030 exactly. I knew I had to give him time. Unable to wait any longer, 1100 rolled around and I HAD to check for blood at least. I made my way to the deadfall where I saw my arrow barely hanging in by the fletching. From there I could see my arrow. Once I got to it, I knew all was better. It was completely covered in beautiful bright red bubbly blood. I peeked over the steep drop off where I had lost sight of him, and there he lay. That’s when I fell apart. If a camera could have captured my emotion, you guys sure would have a good chuckle. He had slammed into a lodge pole, breaking off 2 points… one of which I had to dig out of the tree. It turns out, the arrow deflected off his far side rib and went straight down his body, exiting just behind the last rib. Fortunately, no guts. After a few quick pictures, the work began. I was on my own completely, so I knew the 24-48 hours were going to be miserable. After 2 packs of moleskin, 3 pairs of fresh socks, 2 mountain house meals and 4 cliff bars (oh and maybe 4 gallons of water) the meat was in the freezer Wed. I had to rest and went back in for the skull and gear Thursday, when I was able to meet up with my buddies for the last pack out.
I must say I had luck with the slick trick magnum 100's. I was quite happy with their strength and sharpness. He went down quick.
Looking back on it now, though it was not completely DIY (a lifelong debt will be owed to my buddies for the use of their honey hole), it was as DIY as I could have ever imagined. It was an experience more rewarding than I could have ever dreamed. I am relatively new to elk, and I know he is no monster, but he will be hard for me to beat. Please keep your fingers crossed for the most deserving young men to arrow their bulls next… and best of luck to you all. I look forward to all of your stories…
It was Sunday afternoon around 1630 before I had camp set up roughly 2 miles (by way of the crow) from my buddies and another mile and a half to the trailhead. I spent that evening studying the map, glassing the parks and listening for bugles. I was fortunate enough to hear one screaming as dusk set in. Monday morning was spent placing terrain features, checking winds, but more importantly, listening to multiple bulls going crazy. I decided that the next day I would try to move around the ridge where I heard 2 bulls, get the wind in my face and see what happened. I spent that evening listening and glassing that ridge again, hoping nothing would change. As daylight came on Tuesday morning, I was already on the backside of the ridge. I took my time getting around to the point, constantly checking wind. I could hear enticing bugles in the next drainage as I worked closer, but I had my plan. It seemed like a matter of minutes from when I broke the point and started back towards the area I was aiming for until I heard the first bugle out of this guy. I knew he was close, but didn’t know if he had company (cows). I immediately stopped, noted the cross wind between us and waited. I gave a couple soft mews and waited. After what seemed like 15 minutes, a bugle. I wasn’t sure if he was responding to me, or just bugling. I waited a little bit again, mew, meeww. Another bugle. I couldn’t believe it, but he was responding. We went back and forth 3 or 4 sequences like that. He never bugled immediately, but always did eventually. Once, the bugle sounded as though he was further from me. Fearing the worst, I called again. His next bugle sounded like he was standing beside me. Within a minute (I would guess) I could hear limbs snapping and footsteps. Another few seconds, and I caught first glimpse of horns. He had gained elevation on me and was coming down towards me, no idea why, completely up wind. Wind was going high to low. And he was coming in high. Couldn’t believe it. When I finally got a full glimpse of him, he was about 32 yards face on to me. He stopped at 19.5 yds and BUGLED! I watched the drool drip out of his mouth, his breath roll off his tongue, his stomach jiggle as he grunted! I was shaking so bad I knew he was going to bust me. Thank goodness I had set up with trees behind and in front of me. As he stood there (which seemed like an eternity) my heart was pounding through my chest. Things like this just don’t happen to me. Its only on TV, or so I thought. I was sure he was going to turn and run, but he didn’t. He started downhill again, luckily veering off to my left ever so slightly. I got a chance to draw as he went behind a cluster of trees and limbs (no more than 15 yds). By the grace of God, he continued with no hesitation. Once he cleared the trees he was 3 steps from me, couldn’t have been more than 5 yds. Tunnel vision set in, meat pin on his vitals (all pins on his vitals for that matter), and release. I was stunned. Actually, stunned is an understatement. I was a wreck. I dropped to my knees shaking like I never had before. He bounded off, downhill, got to a downed tree about 30 yds out, decided he couldn’t hop it, turned to side-hill directly away and in 2 more bounds was out of sight. It sounded as though someone had rolled a 4 ton boulder down the hill, breaking every limb, small tree and dead fall within reach. Then, silence.
As he turned, I could see my arrow hanging out his far side cage. I was devastated because it seemed WAY to far back for a good shot. I mean I was devastated. Replay after replay in my head steadily worsened as I made up what could have gone wrong. Somehow, I pulled myself together, tried not to panic. Watch said 1030 exactly. I knew I had to give him time. Unable to wait any longer, 1100 rolled around and I HAD to check for blood at least. I made my way to the deadfall where I saw my arrow barely hanging in by the fletching. From there I could see my arrow. Once I got to it, I knew all was better. It was completely covered in beautiful bright red bubbly blood. I peeked over the steep drop off where I had lost sight of him, and there he lay. That’s when I fell apart. If a camera could have captured my emotion, you guys sure would have a good chuckle. He had slammed into a lodge pole, breaking off 2 points… one of which I had to dig out of the tree. It turns out, the arrow deflected off his far side rib and went straight down his body, exiting just behind the last rib. Fortunately, no guts. After a few quick pictures, the work began. I was on my own completely, so I knew the 24-48 hours were going to be miserable. After 2 packs of moleskin, 3 pairs of fresh socks, 2 mountain house meals and 4 cliff bars (oh and maybe 4 gallons of water) the meat was in the freezer Wed. I had to rest and went back in for the skull and gear Thursday, when I was able to meet up with my buddies for the last pack out.
I must say I had luck with the slick trick magnum 100's. I was quite happy with their strength and sharpness. He went down quick.
Looking back on it now, though it was not completely DIY (a lifelong debt will be owed to my buddies for the use of their honey hole), it was as DIY as I could have ever imagined. It was an experience more rewarding than I could have ever dreamed. I am relatively new to elk, and I know he is no monster, but he will be hard for me to beat. Please keep your fingers crossed for the most deserving young men to arrow their bulls next… and best of luck to you all. I look forward to all of your stories…
