HSi-ESi
Well-known member
Me too. Great story so far - and we're only a couple days in.
2014 New Mexico Elk Hunt
- Thread starter NoWiser
- Start date
Mica Man
Well-known member
How much longer till September? Loving it so far!
Day 3 started well before sunrise like the previous 2. The weather, again, was clear and cool, with the big dipper looking as though it would scoop off the top of the mountain.
Dad decided to sit in the blind again, for a third morning, while I decided to head up close to the mountain to dog some bulls. It was a slow morning with very little bugling going on. I gave chase to a couple of herds but just couldn't get on the same ridge as any of them. It seemed that every time I would guess which one a herd was going to use to get up the mountain, they'd pick the one I was just on. It was frustrating and physically exhausting running back and forth. By the time the sun rose above the horizon I already had several miles under my boots. Dad had nothing come even close to the blind. It seemed as though they were slowly moving south, and lessening in numbers each day. When the last elk finally made it to the mountain we met back and the truck and headed to camp for a quick bite to eat. As long as we were there, I used a satellite phone that my cousin rented to call my fiancé and get the latest weather forecast. It was Saturday and we hadn't had any contact with the outside world for a week now. She checked it out and it sounded like the weather was going to cool off by about 10 degrees with a chance of rain on Sunday afternoon. With this information, we ditched our rain gear and packed super light. We'd be traversing the north and east side of the mountain today and it was going to be a heck of a hike. We had my cousin, again, shuttle us up to the north side of the mountain with the atv, where he wished us luck and left to do some scouting.
In short order we heard a bugle ring out and gave chase. But, the wind was sketchy and the bull vanished. The mountain became silent. We continued our hike for about 1/2 hour. I let out a locator bugle and got an immediate response from the ridge across from us. We quickly made a plan and took off after him. When we got to the bottom of the draw I let out a soft cow call and he responded immediately with a bugle. Now we had his position pinpointed and could get close! As quickly and quietly as we could, we closed in to within what we thought to be about 100 yards of the bull. I sent my dad up as the shooter and I fell back as the caller. The plan was to get him to bugle using a cow call, at which point I'd cut him off with a bugle. If he followed the script we'd laid out, he would get up, run at me, and meet his fate as he passed by Dad.
As soon as Dad was ready I let out a couple of social cow calls........nothing. I let out a couple of lost cow calls.....nothing. The bull was gone. I have no idea what happened. I know he didn't wind us, though he could have probably heard us crunching through the pine needles. The confusing part is that we never heard him leave, he just seemed to disappear. Tired and a bit frustrated we sat down to grab a quick snack and study the maps. We had a very long hike ahead of us!
So it went, we circled the east side of the mountain. Uphill, downhill, sidehill, we got a chance to experience it all. It seemed to go on forever. The elk were nowhere to be found. Not a bugle, not a chuckle, not a mew. Nothing. We walked, and walked, and walked. And, then it started raining. Hard. We had more than a few miles to go back to camp and no rain gear at all. There was nothing we could do but keep moving, as we slowly became drenched. It was the worst hike I've ever done in my life, with the rain pouring out of the sky, the grass soaking wet, and the trees dripping. Finally, after hours, we were close to camp. Dad veered off to go sit on a tank and I trudged my way down to a muddy road that took me to camp, where my cousin was nice and warm and dry, tucked into his sleeping bag in the fishhouse. Everything I was wearing could have been wrung out like a wash rag, including my socks and boots. Wet feet = trouble and I had worn off the skin on my right heel. It wasn't good. But, there was an hour of light left so I ditched all of my wet clothes and dressed solely in my rain gear. We headed out to where the elk had been crossing the road and I set up to intercept them. But, we didn't hear so much as a bugle or see so much as an elk. I was relieved when shooting light was over and I knew I could go back to a warm supper and a dry sleeping bag. The day was a bust, but still better than any day at work. I took an extra heavy dose of advil and was soon overcome by sleep.
With the wet weather on Day 3 I didn't take many pictures, so here are a few randoms.
The road in front of camp looking north
The road in front of camp looking south
A bull keeping watch over his cows. It's the same 7X7 that I tried to sneak up on during Day 2.
Dad decided to sit in the blind again, for a third morning, while I decided to head up close to the mountain to dog some bulls. It was a slow morning with very little bugling going on. I gave chase to a couple of herds but just couldn't get on the same ridge as any of them. It seemed that every time I would guess which one a herd was going to use to get up the mountain, they'd pick the one I was just on. It was frustrating and physically exhausting running back and forth. By the time the sun rose above the horizon I already had several miles under my boots. Dad had nothing come even close to the blind. It seemed as though they were slowly moving south, and lessening in numbers each day. When the last elk finally made it to the mountain we met back and the truck and headed to camp for a quick bite to eat. As long as we were there, I used a satellite phone that my cousin rented to call my fiancé and get the latest weather forecast. It was Saturday and we hadn't had any contact with the outside world for a week now. She checked it out and it sounded like the weather was going to cool off by about 10 degrees with a chance of rain on Sunday afternoon. With this information, we ditched our rain gear and packed super light. We'd be traversing the north and east side of the mountain today and it was going to be a heck of a hike. We had my cousin, again, shuttle us up to the north side of the mountain with the atv, where he wished us luck and left to do some scouting.
In short order we heard a bugle ring out and gave chase. But, the wind was sketchy and the bull vanished. The mountain became silent. We continued our hike for about 1/2 hour. I let out a locator bugle and got an immediate response from the ridge across from us. We quickly made a plan and took off after him. When we got to the bottom of the draw I let out a soft cow call and he responded immediately with a bugle. Now we had his position pinpointed and could get close! As quickly and quietly as we could, we closed in to within what we thought to be about 100 yards of the bull. I sent my dad up as the shooter and I fell back as the caller. The plan was to get him to bugle using a cow call, at which point I'd cut him off with a bugle. If he followed the script we'd laid out, he would get up, run at me, and meet his fate as he passed by Dad.
As soon as Dad was ready I let out a couple of social cow calls........nothing. I let out a couple of lost cow calls.....nothing. The bull was gone. I have no idea what happened. I know he didn't wind us, though he could have probably heard us crunching through the pine needles. The confusing part is that we never heard him leave, he just seemed to disappear. Tired and a bit frustrated we sat down to grab a quick snack and study the maps. We had a very long hike ahead of us!
So it went, we circled the east side of the mountain. Uphill, downhill, sidehill, we got a chance to experience it all. It seemed to go on forever. The elk were nowhere to be found. Not a bugle, not a chuckle, not a mew. Nothing. We walked, and walked, and walked. And, then it started raining. Hard. We had more than a few miles to go back to camp and no rain gear at all. There was nothing we could do but keep moving, as we slowly became drenched. It was the worst hike I've ever done in my life, with the rain pouring out of the sky, the grass soaking wet, and the trees dripping. Finally, after hours, we were close to camp. Dad veered off to go sit on a tank and I trudged my way down to a muddy road that took me to camp, where my cousin was nice and warm and dry, tucked into his sleeping bag in the fishhouse. Everything I was wearing could have been wrung out like a wash rag, including my socks and boots. Wet feet = trouble and I had worn off the skin on my right heel. It wasn't good. But, there was an hour of light left so I ditched all of my wet clothes and dressed solely in my rain gear. We headed out to where the elk had been crossing the road and I set up to intercept them. But, we didn't hear so much as a bugle or see so much as an elk. I was relieved when shooting light was over and I knew I could go back to a warm supper and a dry sleeping bag. The day was a bust, but still better than any day at work. I took an extra heavy dose of advil and was soon overcome by sleep.
With the wet weather on Day 3 I didn't take many pictures, so here are a few randoms.
The road in front of camp looking north
The road in front of camp looking south
A bull keeping watch over his cows. It's the same 7X7 that I tried to sneak up on during Day 2.
We turned the fishhouse heater on overnight, cracked the windows, and ran a fan to try to get our clothes to dry off. It did help, no doubt, but everything was still very wet when the alarm jarred us out of our sleep. Crawling out of bed was not easy, but necessary if we wanted to kill an elk. So, with much stretching and groaning, we applied duct tape and moleskin to our sore feet, threw our soggy clothes on, and struck off to our usual morning spot.
Dad was done hunting out of our blind. The elk seemed to be crossing farther south, and that's where he would be. The road crossed a canyon and it was a natural funnel for the elk. My cousin and I had seen them cross there in the evenings and told him to set up there in the morning. We dropped him off at that spot well before daylight. I then hiked up to the base of the mountain once again, determined to cut one of these bulls off and kill it. My cousin climbed up to a good glassing point on a hill to try to get a read on exactly what these elk were doing.
Random elk picture
I was in position while it was still very dark and heard a bugle ring out north of me. I didn't waste any time cutting the distance and before long I was 100 yards away from him, waiting for shooting light. I stuck with him and when I could finally see my pin, started to close in. When I was at about 70 or 80 yards I could hear him start to destroy a juniper tree. It was perfect. The light was low, thermals were blowing down, and the bull was preoccupied with the tree. I quickly navigated the rocky ground until I was about 40 yards away, but a shrub obscured my view. I couldn't quite see him but it wouldn't be long. As I made it to the offending shrub I felt the deadly cold fingers of a breeze on the back of my neck. I couldn't have been more horrified if it was a zombie from The Walking Dead. About 2 seconds later the bull was hightailing it out of there. To say I was frustrated would be an understatement. The wind should not have been swirling like that before sunrise!! But, there was nothing I could do except find another bull.
Some bugles rang out to the south, so that's the way I headed. I got to a point where I could glass and noticed a speck in the distance. Through the binoculars I could tell it was a bull, and he was going to cross right where my dad would be sitting!! This was going to be perfect, I'd have a great view of him shooting this bull from 3/4 mile away! As the bull descended the hill towards him I started to get nervous, thinking about all of the things that could go wrong at this point. But, the bull kept his course and neither he nor any of his cows seemed the slightest bit alarmed. I was pumped! As the bull got down to the intersection of the canyon and road, I waited for him to jump up and take off running, and for his cows to scatter. Surprisingly they all walked single file down and across the road, and out of sight. I couldn't figure out what happened. Maybe he already had an arrow in an elk by that point?
Another random elk picture
I didn't have long to think, though, as a nasty sounding bugle was heading my way. I did my best to sprint down and then up 3 draws to get in front of the elk. I wanted to see exactly who was making these noises because he sounded like he meant business. I crested the last ridge, out of breath, just in time to see that I was one ridge short. An absolute MONSTER bull was pushing his cows 80 yards away, on a finger ridge that led up the mountain. All I could do was stand there, watch, and drool. There was not enough cover to even think about getting up on this herd. The good news is that they were heading up the same draw where I almost got a shot at the raking 7X7 on day two. I knew that elk were bedding here and that it is where he'd spend the day with his cows. I hiked over to where the herd had walked, found their trail, and marked a good spot. I'd be there tomorrow morning to greet them with a shiny new Slick Trick.
Typical Pinon Juniper Country where I chased elk in the mornings
At that I hiked down the mountain to meet Dad and get his story for the morning. Hopefully he had good news!
When I arrived he told the story. He had decided to sit 150 yards farther north where he found a trail coming down the hill. Nothing came by him and when he saw the 5X5 he tried to quick switch spots and get closer, but ended up spooking the herd. Dang! As we were discussing we looked up and saw 4 ears poke over the hilltop. Both of us hit the deck and they disappeared. He ran up to where the bull crossed and got in front of a bush. I dove behind a culvert, and just in time. 4 cows came walking down the hill. We hoped they'd have a bull with, but it was not to be. They walked down and passed within 6 feet of Dad!! Still not even 1/2 through our hunt, he had no interest in shooting one. I watched them pass him before panicking and bolting up towards the mountain. I was sure they got his scent but, when I stood up, I saw another bowhunter walking down the middle of the road, trying to "stalk" them. How he planned on pulling that off is beyond me as there was no way he was getting within 150 yards of these elk like that.
After the morning hunt we went back to camp to eat and dry out our soaked clothes. We discussed our plan for the day and decided to get dropped off on the other side of the mountain again, and work our way around the west and south sides, as we did 2 days earlier when get got in on all of the action. The sun was out and we spent about 2 hours at camp, which was by far the most time we took during our entire hunt. Getting into wet clothes, and especially boots, was not going to do anyone any good.
Drying clothes
Finally, with our gear dry, my cousin buzzed us up to the mountain, and we started our hunt. But, unlike the previous trip through this country, the elk were completely silent. We worked our way through many of the same draws and it was like they up and vanished. But, I knew they were there. I had seen them head up the mountain in the morning. Finally, after a few miles, I looked ahead and could see a bull rubbing a tree about 70 yards up. I sent Dad ahead a bit and grabbed a shed antler that I found, and began rubbing my own tree, to try to draw him past. I had been talking to a hunting guide near us and he said his #1 elk call is a shed antler. Since cow calls and bugles hadn't been working, I decided to try the same. The result was the same, though. The bull too off an circled down the mountain and out of our lives. We were now near the draw where I knew many of the big bulls bedded, though, so we were ready to make a play on them. We made it to the top of the draw, only to watch in disgust as the wind started to go nuts on us. In a 10 minute period it would blow in every possible direction. There was no way we were going into that area with unpredictable winds, so we sat down and waited to see if they'd settle down. But, they were stubborn and continued to swirl. Sunset was on the way and we knew, with it, would bring consistent downhill thermals. So, we worked our way down a parallel draw to where the elk were and waited.
Checking the wind
After about an hour the temps began to cool and the air started rushing down the mountain. We hiked over to where we needed to be and waited for the elk to come and play. As daylight turned in to night, the elk remained silent and we hiked back to the truck by the light of our headlamps without so much as an encounter.
I was excited for the next morning's hunt. I'd be waiting for the big elk in the perfect ambush position. Our luck had to change......
Dad was done hunting out of our blind. The elk seemed to be crossing farther south, and that's where he would be. The road crossed a canyon and it was a natural funnel for the elk. My cousin and I had seen them cross there in the evenings and told him to set up there in the morning. We dropped him off at that spot well before daylight. I then hiked up to the base of the mountain once again, determined to cut one of these bulls off and kill it. My cousin climbed up to a good glassing point on a hill to try to get a read on exactly what these elk were doing.
Random elk picture
I was in position while it was still very dark and heard a bugle ring out north of me. I didn't waste any time cutting the distance and before long I was 100 yards away from him, waiting for shooting light. I stuck with him and when I could finally see my pin, started to close in. When I was at about 70 or 80 yards I could hear him start to destroy a juniper tree. It was perfect. The light was low, thermals were blowing down, and the bull was preoccupied with the tree. I quickly navigated the rocky ground until I was about 40 yards away, but a shrub obscured my view. I couldn't quite see him but it wouldn't be long. As I made it to the offending shrub I felt the deadly cold fingers of a breeze on the back of my neck. I couldn't have been more horrified if it was a zombie from The Walking Dead. About 2 seconds later the bull was hightailing it out of there. To say I was frustrated would be an understatement. The wind should not have been swirling like that before sunrise!! But, there was nothing I could do except find another bull.
Some bugles rang out to the south, so that's the way I headed. I got to a point where I could glass and noticed a speck in the distance. Through the binoculars I could tell it was a bull, and he was going to cross right where my dad would be sitting!! This was going to be perfect, I'd have a great view of him shooting this bull from 3/4 mile away! As the bull descended the hill towards him I started to get nervous, thinking about all of the things that could go wrong at this point. But, the bull kept his course and neither he nor any of his cows seemed the slightest bit alarmed. I was pumped! As the bull got down to the intersection of the canyon and road, I waited for him to jump up and take off running, and for his cows to scatter. Surprisingly they all walked single file down and across the road, and out of sight. I couldn't figure out what happened. Maybe he already had an arrow in an elk by that point?
Another random elk picture
I didn't have long to think, though, as a nasty sounding bugle was heading my way. I did my best to sprint down and then up 3 draws to get in front of the elk. I wanted to see exactly who was making these noises because he sounded like he meant business. I crested the last ridge, out of breath, just in time to see that I was one ridge short. An absolute MONSTER bull was pushing his cows 80 yards away, on a finger ridge that led up the mountain. All I could do was stand there, watch, and drool. There was not enough cover to even think about getting up on this herd. The good news is that they were heading up the same draw where I almost got a shot at the raking 7X7 on day two. I knew that elk were bedding here and that it is where he'd spend the day with his cows. I hiked over to where the herd had walked, found their trail, and marked a good spot. I'd be there tomorrow morning to greet them with a shiny new Slick Trick.
Typical Pinon Juniper Country where I chased elk in the mornings
At that I hiked down the mountain to meet Dad and get his story for the morning. Hopefully he had good news!
When I arrived he told the story. He had decided to sit 150 yards farther north where he found a trail coming down the hill. Nothing came by him and when he saw the 5X5 he tried to quick switch spots and get closer, but ended up spooking the herd. Dang! As we were discussing we looked up and saw 4 ears poke over the hilltop. Both of us hit the deck and they disappeared. He ran up to where the bull crossed and got in front of a bush. I dove behind a culvert, and just in time. 4 cows came walking down the hill. We hoped they'd have a bull with, but it was not to be. They walked down and passed within 6 feet of Dad!! Still not even 1/2 through our hunt, he had no interest in shooting one. I watched them pass him before panicking and bolting up towards the mountain. I was sure they got his scent but, when I stood up, I saw another bowhunter walking down the middle of the road, trying to "stalk" them. How he planned on pulling that off is beyond me as there was no way he was getting within 150 yards of these elk like that.
After the morning hunt we went back to camp to eat and dry out our soaked clothes. We discussed our plan for the day and decided to get dropped off on the other side of the mountain again, and work our way around the west and south sides, as we did 2 days earlier when get got in on all of the action. The sun was out and we spent about 2 hours at camp, which was by far the most time we took during our entire hunt. Getting into wet clothes, and especially boots, was not going to do anyone any good.
Drying clothes
Finally, with our gear dry, my cousin buzzed us up to the mountain, and we started our hunt. But, unlike the previous trip through this country, the elk were completely silent. We worked our way through many of the same draws and it was like they up and vanished. But, I knew they were there. I had seen them head up the mountain in the morning. Finally, after a few miles, I looked ahead and could see a bull rubbing a tree about 70 yards up. I sent Dad ahead a bit and grabbed a shed antler that I found, and began rubbing my own tree, to try to draw him past. I had been talking to a hunting guide near us and he said his #1 elk call is a shed antler. Since cow calls and bugles hadn't been working, I decided to try the same. The result was the same, though. The bull too off an circled down the mountain and out of our lives. We were now near the draw where I knew many of the big bulls bedded, though, so we were ready to make a play on them. We made it to the top of the draw, only to watch in disgust as the wind started to go nuts on us. In a 10 minute period it would blow in every possible direction. There was no way we were going into that area with unpredictable winds, so we sat down and waited to see if they'd settle down. But, they were stubborn and continued to swirl. Sunset was on the way and we knew, with it, would bring consistent downhill thermals. So, we worked our way down a parallel draw to where the elk were and waited.
Checking the wind
After about an hour the temps began to cool and the air started rushing down the mountain. We hiked over to where we needed to be and waited for the elk to come and play. As daylight turned in to night, the elk remained silent and we hiked back to the truck by the light of our headlamps without so much as an encounter.
I was excited for the next morning's hunt. I'd be waiting for the big elk in the perfect ambush position. Our luck had to change......
Day 5
As usual we woke up well before dawn and made our way to our morning area. I had a plan in place for the morning and I was anxious to see how it would play out. It require about a 1 1/4 mile hike and about 600 feet of elevation gain to get where I needed to be in the dark. It was just enough to warm me up for the day.
My plan was to sit about 15 yards down from the top of the ridge that the monster bull took to get up the mountain the previous day. I tucked myself back into some oak brush and knelt down on my little inflatable cushion. This thing is the cat's pajamas! I used it almost every day. It inflated with 2 breaths and kept my knees or butt comfy and warm.
Now the waiting game began. I could hear bulls bugling to the north of me but I wasn't going to chase them. I wanted this particular bull and I'd been defeated too many times trying to guess what ridge an elk was going up and running to cut them off. I was going to stay put and, if the big bull didn't use the ridge, there was a good chance another would. Finally, after about 1 1/2 hours I could hear a very familiar bugle. It was the big one and he was heading in my direction! I knocked an arrow, made sure there would be no brush in the way, and tried my best to keep calm. With each bugle he was getting closer. Soon I could hear his cows nonstop jabbering back and forth. It made me smile, glad to be on a guy's trip like this. Something was wrong, though. The elk were on the next ridge north! I turned around and could already see the cows angling down, headed into the bottom of the draw behind me. By now the thermals had started to go up. This was a good thing as I had no choice but to head down at them. I got a glimpse of the bull, glunking like crazy, as I made my first move to a juniper, on my way to cut them off. I bounced between trees and bushes like a pinball, making my way to the bottom, ranging as I went. It was all going as planned as I closed the distance to under 60 yards. The elk were making so much noise that they took no notice of my footsteps. I had the tree picked out that I needed to get to....and then I heard a bark. And another bark. And then the thunderous sounds of hoofprints as the entire herd stampeded up the mountain. Completely caught off guard and confused, the first thing I did was pull out my windchecker. Sure as heck, the thermals were rising at the top of the draw, but when I got 2/3 of the way down, the cool air was still rushing towards the bottom of the mountain. I'd been winded yet again!
I slogged my way back up to the top of the ridge to gather my thoughts and equipment. 5 or 6 bulls were going insane on the mountain above me, but it was a horrible time of day to chase them. I just knew I'd end up getting betrayed by those nasty thermals again. I had time to sit down and make a plan, as I'd told the other two that I wasn't coming back today. I'd spend it on the mountain and either walk back to camp, or hitch a ride with someone.
Pulling out a map I found a nice saddle above where the majority of the elk were bedding. It was near where I'd seen the bull raking the previous day. I decided to make my way up to it, find an elk trail, and plop myself down for awhile. It was a perfect place to catch an elk moving midday across the mountain. I started climbing and an hour later found myself there. I just didn't like the way it looked. There were no good elk trails or tracks, not much for rubs, and all I saw for wildlife was a bunch of snakes. I decided to move down towards the elk to try to find another trail. I very slowly started inching my way down the mountain until I found an area that offered a good view. I sat down, ate lunch, and took a quick snooze. When the elk started their afternoon party of bugling, I'd be there to surprise them.
About 3:00 in the afternoon the bugling picked up. I stretched out and got ready. It was hotter than heck and I was sweating just sitting there. I stood up and continued my journey down the mountain, and into the bulls.
Suddenly a scream rang out from directly across the canyon. I didn't even need binoculars, I looked up and saw a giant. He was standing in an opening, looking over the valley like he owned the place, and I believe he did. He was a massive 6 point with incredibly light colored antlers and mass that made him look like 1/2 moose. I'd seen a lot of bulls up until this point, and this guy was just plain big. But, given where he was located, I had no chance to make a play on him. I shook my head in disbelief and continued.
About 300 yards down a bugle rang out across the valley. I contemplated ignoring it because I really didn't want to drop down and climb that far, but I couldn't. I had to try. So, I dove in headfirst and 1/2 hour later I was on top, where the bugle had come from. Another soon rang out from 100 yards away, so I grabbed my bugle and screamed back at them. Immediately he replied, along with another bull up the mountain. So, I bugled back. This went on for 4 or 5 times and they were getting fed up with me but showed no interest in getting closer. I liked my odds when a bull was raking a tree so I decided to see if I could get them to do it. There was a dead tree next to me so I broke off a branch and started beating on the tree, busting limbs, and stomping the ground. The elk farther uphill (left) of me completely sent silent, presumably heading back up the mountain. But, the elk in front of my did just as I wanted and I could hear him beating the crap out of his own tree. It was now or never so I sprinted towards him as fast as I could. About 1/2 way to him I stopped, knocked an arrow, and quick ranged him. He was 75 yards away and oblivious to my existence, intent on making sure that pine tree didn't have a scrap of bark left on it. It was looking good!
I ranged a tree and knew that if I got up to it, I'd have a great chance at pulling off a shot. I took off for it and after about 8 steps something caught my eye that stopped me dead in my tracks. The king of the mountain giant was standing, 24 yards away, broadside. His head turned, staring straight at me. It lasted about 3 seconds and he took off, straight up the mountain, stopping breifly about 80 yards away, to further torment me. He took off again, with the tree raking bull close behind him, knowing something was not right.
I wanted to puke. I just stood there in disbelief, visions of that bull burned into my head. I sat down on a log and thought about this thing called elk hunting, and why anyone would want to put themselves through this kind of torture. If that bull had even made a peep to alert me of his presence, I'd have been able to creep around a tree and got a perfect shot at him. Had he not been there at all, I truly believe I'd have had a great shot at the tree raking bull, who was no slouch himself. The frustration was at an all-time high, but I was making memories for sure!
I decided to side-hill across the mountain towards camp. I saw a few cows and calves, and one raghorn 5 point on my way back, but nothing close. The bugling died down as the sun set. I hiked a draw back towards camp and stumbled across my cousin, who was bear hunting. He had seen this nice bear a bit earlier, but couldn't get a shot off before he was busted.
I did notice something peculiar on the hike back. The thermals stayed very steady going up right until, and past dark. The air was warm, and I couldn't figure out exactly what that meant.
When I reached camp my dad was also disappointed. He had seen a monster bull that morning. With no time to range it he guessed 40 yards and let an arrow fly, only to see it sail safely underneath the bull. Confused, he ranged a rock when the bull left and the actual distance was 57 yards. Like I said, these animals are BIG, and it's incredibly deceiving trying to guess the range of them.
After our standard Mountain House meal, it was off to bed. 5 days of our 8 day season and come and gone, and still no elk on the ground.
As usual we woke up well before dawn and made our way to our morning area. I had a plan in place for the morning and I was anxious to see how it would play out. It require about a 1 1/4 mile hike and about 600 feet of elevation gain to get where I needed to be in the dark. It was just enough to warm me up for the day.
My plan was to sit about 15 yards down from the top of the ridge that the monster bull took to get up the mountain the previous day. I tucked myself back into some oak brush and knelt down on my little inflatable cushion. This thing is the cat's pajamas! I used it almost every day. It inflated with 2 breaths and kept my knees or butt comfy and warm.
Now the waiting game began. I could hear bulls bugling to the north of me but I wasn't going to chase them. I wanted this particular bull and I'd been defeated too many times trying to guess what ridge an elk was going up and running to cut them off. I was going to stay put and, if the big bull didn't use the ridge, there was a good chance another would. Finally, after about 1 1/2 hours I could hear a very familiar bugle. It was the big one and he was heading in my direction! I knocked an arrow, made sure there would be no brush in the way, and tried my best to keep calm. With each bugle he was getting closer. Soon I could hear his cows nonstop jabbering back and forth. It made me smile, glad to be on a guy's trip like this. Something was wrong, though. The elk were on the next ridge north! I turned around and could already see the cows angling down, headed into the bottom of the draw behind me. By now the thermals had started to go up. This was a good thing as I had no choice but to head down at them. I got a glimpse of the bull, glunking like crazy, as I made my first move to a juniper, on my way to cut them off. I bounced between trees and bushes like a pinball, making my way to the bottom, ranging as I went. It was all going as planned as I closed the distance to under 60 yards. The elk were making so much noise that they took no notice of my footsteps. I had the tree picked out that I needed to get to....and then I heard a bark. And another bark. And then the thunderous sounds of hoofprints as the entire herd stampeded up the mountain. Completely caught off guard and confused, the first thing I did was pull out my windchecker. Sure as heck, the thermals were rising at the top of the draw, but when I got 2/3 of the way down, the cool air was still rushing towards the bottom of the mountain. I'd been winded yet again!
I slogged my way back up to the top of the ridge to gather my thoughts and equipment. 5 or 6 bulls were going insane on the mountain above me, but it was a horrible time of day to chase them. I just knew I'd end up getting betrayed by those nasty thermals again. I had time to sit down and make a plan, as I'd told the other two that I wasn't coming back today. I'd spend it on the mountain and either walk back to camp, or hitch a ride with someone.
Pulling out a map I found a nice saddle above where the majority of the elk were bedding. It was near where I'd seen the bull raking the previous day. I decided to make my way up to it, find an elk trail, and plop myself down for awhile. It was a perfect place to catch an elk moving midday across the mountain. I started climbing and an hour later found myself there. I just didn't like the way it looked. There were no good elk trails or tracks, not much for rubs, and all I saw for wildlife was a bunch of snakes. I decided to move down towards the elk to try to find another trail. I very slowly started inching my way down the mountain until I found an area that offered a good view. I sat down, ate lunch, and took a quick snooze. When the elk started their afternoon party of bugling, I'd be there to surprise them.
About 3:00 in the afternoon the bugling picked up. I stretched out and got ready. It was hotter than heck and I was sweating just sitting there. I stood up and continued my journey down the mountain, and into the bulls.
Suddenly a scream rang out from directly across the canyon. I didn't even need binoculars, I looked up and saw a giant. He was standing in an opening, looking over the valley like he owned the place, and I believe he did. He was a massive 6 point with incredibly light colored antlers and mass that made him look like 1/2 moose. I'd seen a lot of bulls up until this point, and this guy was just plain big. But, given where he was located, I had no chance to make a play on him. I shook my head in disbelief and continued.
About 300 yards down a bugle rang out across the valley. I contemplated ignoring it because I really didn't want to drop down and climb that far, but I couldn't. I had to try. So, I dove in headfirst and 1/2 hour later I was on top, where the bugle had come from. Another soon rang out from 100 yards away, so I grabbed my bugle and screamed back at them. Immediately he replied, along with another bull up the mountain. So, I bugled back. This went on for 4 or 5 times and they were getting fed up with me but showed no interest in getting closer. I liked my odds when a bull was raking a tree so I decided to see if I could get them to do it. There was a dead tree next to me so I broke off a branch and started beating on the tree, busting limbs, and stomping the ground. The elk farther uphill (left) of me completely sent silent, presumably heading back up the mountain. But, the elk in front of my did just as I wanted and I could hear him beating the crap out of his own tree. It was now or never so I sprinted towards him as fast as I could. About 1/2 way to him I stopped, knocked an arrow, and quick ranged him. He was 75 yards away and oblivious to my existence, intent on making sure that pine tree didn't have a scrap of bark left on it. It was looking good!
I ranged a tree and knew that if I got up to it, I'd have a great chance at pulling off a shot. I took off for it and after about 8 steps something caught my eye that stopped me dead in my tracks. The king of the mountain giant was standing, 24 yards away, broadside. His head turned, staring straight at me. It lasted about 3 seconds and he took off, straight up the mountain, stopping breifly about 80 yards away, to further torment me. He took off again, with the tree raking bull close behind him, knowing something was not right.
I wanted to puke. I just stood there in disbelief, visions of that bull burned into my head. I sat down on a log and thought about this thing called elk hunting, and why anyone would want to put themselves through this kind of torture. If that bull had even made a peep to alert me of his presence, I'd have been able to creep around a tree and got a perfect shot at him. Had he not been there at all, I truly believe I'd have had a great shot at the tree raking bull, who was no slouch himself. The frustration was at an all-time high, but I was making memories for sure!
I decided to side-hill across the mountain towards camp. I saw a few cows and calves, and one raghorn 5 point on my way back, but nothing close. The bugling died down as the sun set. I hiked a draw back towards camp and stumbled across my cousin, who was bear hunting. He had seen this nice bear a bit earlier, but couldn't get a shot off before he was busted.
I did notice something peculiar on the hike back. The thermals stayed very steady going up right until, and past dark. The air was warm, and I couldn't figure out exactly what that meant.
When I reached camp my dad was also disappointed. He had seen a monster bull that morning. With no time to range it he guessed 40 yards and let an arrow fly, only to see it sail safely underneath the bull. Confused, he ranged a rock when the bull left and the actual distance was 57 yards. Like I said, these animals are BIG, and it's incredibly deceiving trying to guess the range of them.
After our standard Mountain House meal, it was off to bed. 5 days of our 8 day season and come and gone, and still no elk on the ground.
Day 6
The alarm, as it always does, interrupted our slumber much too early. But, the beeping noise was accompanied by another noise, which was even less welcome. It was the sound of rain hitting to roof of the fishhouse. I remembered the uphill thermals the night before and knew a weather system had moved in. How long it would stay, was the question. Our boots had finally dried off and we were not looking forward to getting them wet again. But, we didn't drive 29 hours to sit in a fishhouse so we threw on our rain gear, and headed out once again. We didn't have any days to waste!
My plan was the same as the previous day. Get up to the ridge and hope the elk crossed by me. I'd spend the day on the mountain and find my way back at dark. Dad would sit in his morning spot and decide what to do from there.
As it got light I expected the usual activity but the bulls were silent. I might have heard 3 bugles all morning. I had planned on pulling out all the stops and chasing straight after them as they got to their bedding area but that's hard to do when they aren't making any noise. After a few hours of waiting and getting soaked, I decided to try to find somewhere dry to wait out the rain. Most storms down there only last a couple hours and then they are over. I couldn't find a decent tree to hide under so I made my own shelter out of a piece of Tyvek that I always carry with me as an emergency shelter, or as a clean place to place meat as I'm quartering an animal. I draped the tyvek over some low branches, threw my pack down as a pillow, inflated my trusty seat, and hid from the rain. It worked great, though the raindrops on the Tyvek was incredibly loud, reminding me of the snare drums in our middle school band.
From down the mountain came a cow call. I grabbed my bow and crawled out of my shelter, and hid behind a juniper, ready for whatever came my way. As it turns out, what was coming my way was my dad. I cow called back to get his attention. After chatting a bit about our plans, he continued on and I crawled back under the tyvek. But, by now it was apparent that the rain had no intentions of letting up. If I wanted to hunt I was just going to have to deal with being wet. There was no getting around it. So, I gathered my stuff and angled my way up the mountain to where I had gotten so close to the big bull the day before. I let out a locator bugle when I got there with no response at all. I continued my way angling up the mountain, trying to get to the backside of the ridge that seemed to hold all of the elk. I hadn't been there yet but it looked good on the map. It didn't take long and I found myself there, and a bull was bugling, too! With the rain pounding down, noise wasn't an issue. I got in close to the bull and tried cow calling him the rest of the way. He responded by heading in the opposite direction. I followed, doing my best to entice him, but to no avail. Finally I let out a bugle in frustration, hoping maybe that would work. But, no luck. It shut him up for good.
Looking around it was like elk central up here. Every suitable pine tree was rubbed clean of bark. The ground was covered with elk sign. I even stumbled across a few sheds. I like what I was seeing through the pouring rain.
I worked my way up and over a small rise and caught a flash of tan on the opposite side of the draw. Straining through water covered lenses on the binoculars I could make out that it was a cow. She got up and fed to my right. It was a pretty open area but given the advantage of silence, I decided to make my way towards her. I crept down the valley and soon saw more elk. About 30 cows and a very nice bull. I had a few good trees in front of my, so I continued my descent towards them. When I reached my last tree I ranged them. 79 yards. I decided to try to cow call to the bull and entice him to bugle, at which point I'd cut him off. I let out 2 or 3 social cow calls, not wanting to do anything too drastic. Immediately, the cows jumped to their feet and headed out. They did not want any of it! My last chance was to bugle and make the bull think another was coming in to steal his cows. I screamed my best bugle but it only hastened their retreat up the mountain. Soaked, frustrated, and confused I hiked to a good vantage point where I could see the basin and listen for bugles. Dusk was approaching and it's here that I'd spend the last of the daylight. I sat on a log and didn't hear so much as a peep from the elk for the rest of the evening. I passed the time by watching the rain drops fall off of the bill of my hat. As shooting light came to a close the steady rain turned into a steady downpour. I had 2 miles to get back to camp and decided to hike out while there was still some light. The entire mountainside had become a river with water running down it. I crossed my fingers, hoping tomorrow would be better....
Filler picture of an outfitter watering his horses at the tank behind our camp.
The alarm, as it always does, interrupted our slumber much too early. But, the beeping noise was accompanied by another noise, which was even less welcome. It was the sound of rain hitting to roof of the fishhouse. I remembered the uphill thermals the night before and knew a weather system had moved in. How long it would stay, was the question. Our boots had finally dried off and we were not looking forward to getting them wet again. But, we didn't drive 29 hours to sit in a fishhouse so we threw on our rain gear, and headed out once again. We didn't have any days to waste!
My plan was the same as the previous day. Get up to the ridge and hope the elk crossed by me. I'd spend the day on the mountain and find my way back at dark. Dad would sit in his morning spot and decide what to do from there.
As it got light I expected the usual activity but the bulls were silent. I might have heard 3 bugles all morning. I had planned on pulling out all the stops and chasing straight after them as they got to their bedding area but that's hard to do when they aren't making any noise. After a few hours of waiting and getting soaked, I decided to try to find somewhere dry to wait out the rain. Most storms down there only last a couple hours and then they are over. I couldn't find a decent tree to hide under so I made my own shelter out of a piece of Tyvek that I always carry with me as an emergency shelter, or as a clean place to place meat as I'm quartering an animal. I draped the tyvek over some low branches, threw my pack down as a pillow, inflated my trusty seat, and hid from the rain. It worked great, though the raindrops on the Tyvek was incredibly loud, reminding me of the snare drums in our middle school band.
From down the mountain came a cow call. I grabbed my bow and crawled out of my shelter, and hid behind a juniper, ready for whatever came my way. As it turns out, what was coming my way was my dad. I cow called back to get his attention. After chatting a bit about our plans, he continued on and I crawled back under the tyvek. But, by now it was apparent that the rain had no intentions of letting up. If I wanted to hunt I was just going to have to deal with being wet. There was no getting around it. So, I gathered my stuff and angled my way up the mountain to where I had gotten so close to the big bull the day before. I let out a locator bugle when I got there with no response at all. I continued my way angling up the mountain, trying to get to the backside of the ridge that seemed to hold all of the elk. I hadn't been there yet but it looked good on the map. It didn't take long and I found myself there, and a bull was bugling, too! With the rain pounding down, noise wasn't an issue. I got in close to the bull and tried cow calling him the rest of the way. He responded by heading in the opposite direction. I followed, doing my best to entice him, but to no avail. Finally I let out a bugle in frustration, hoping maybe that would work. But, no luck. It shut him up for good.
Looking around it was like elk central up here. Every suitable pine tree was rubbed clean of bark. The ground was covered with elk sign. I even stumbled across a few sheds. I like what I was seeing through the pouring rain.
I worked my way up and over a small rise and caught a flash of tan on the opposite side of the draw. Straining through water covered lenses on the binoculars I could make out that it was a cow. She got up and fed to my right. It was a pretty open area but given the advantage of silence, I decided to make my way towards her. I crept down the valley and soon saw more elk. About 30 cows and a very nice bull. I had a few good trees in front of my, so I continued my descent towards them. When I reached my last tree I ranged them. 79 yards. I decided to try to cow call to the bull and entice him to bugle, at which point I'd cut him off. I let out 2 or 3 social cow calls, not wanting to do anything too drastic. Immediately, the cows jumped to their feet and headed out. They did not want any of it! My last chance was to bugle and make the bull think another was coming in to steal his cows. I screamed my best bugle but it only hastened their retreat up the mountain. Soaked, frustrated, and confused I hiked to a good vantage point where I could see the basin and listen for bugles. Dusk was approaching and it's here that I'd spend the last of the daylight. I sat on a log and didn't hear so much as a peep from the elk for the rest of the evening. I passed the time by watching the rain drops fall off of the bill of my hat. As shooting light came to a close the steady rain turned into a steady downpour. I had 2 miles to get back to camp and decided to hike out while there was still some light. The entire mountainside had become a river with water running down it. I crossed my fingers, hoping tomorrow would be better....
Filler picture of an outfitter watering his horses at the tank behind our camp.
havgunwilltravel
Active member
You have given this hunt everything, i really like the adventure, effort and planning you guys have put in and no matter the end result it has read as a great time with great company.
Positive attitudes go a long way and you guys never seem to let the chip get you down.
Positive attitudes go a long way and you guys never seem to let the chip get you down.
BTROCKS
Member
- Joined
- Jun 29, 2011
- Messages
- 42
This is awesome!
Nameless Range
Well-known member
This is really good. Heck of an effort so far.
Day 7
The rain came and went all night long while we slept. It was during one of the breaks when the alarm started beeping. Our clothes were still about as wet as they could be but we pulled them on anyways as we got ready. My plan for the day was to head straight up the mountain from camp and get to the area where I was the previous evening. It seemed as good of a place to start as any. As I started the climb the rain started again, and ended about the time I got to my destination.
With no real plans I decided to sit and wait for a bugle to chase. I hiked up to where a couple of draws came together, figuring it would be a good place for an elk to cross. I found a good log and sat down, my wet clothes clinging to my skin. It was already shooting light, the hike taking much longer than I anticipated. While sitting there I made a decision. We had 2 days left to hunt, no tags filled, and we really wanted elk in our freezers for the winter. If I got a shot at a cow or a spike from this point forward, I would gladly take it.
10 minutes later, as if in cue, a group of 6 cows came down the mountain in front of me. The path they were taking would only put them about 70 yards from me but I had a feeling they'd turn and angle up the hill, right in my direction. So, I quickly ran up about 15 yards to get to the side of a bush that would offer cover for me as I drew the bow. Just as planned, they hit the bottom of the draw, turned right, and came right for me. It was happening quick and I came to full draw when they were about 50 yards away. They didn't have a clue I was there. Within a matter of seconds they were coming into view, well within my effective range. They kept walking towards me and soon I'd have a very close, broadside shot at the lead cow. But, it's never quite that easy. She suddenly froze, knowing something wasn't quite right. I was still at full draw and had a decision to make. The elk was at 14 yards, quartering towards me. Maybe straight on a few more degrees than a 45 degree angle. At this range I can put arrows into the size of a quarter every shot. I know it's disputed but I had done a lot of research before the hunt and had studied many diagrams. Some of the most successful elk hunters take many elk with a quartering-to shot and have great results. I was confident I could put the arrow where it needed to be, so I steadied my pin, and released...
The sound was like the arrow hit a block wall, and it cartwheeled over the cow, landing on an elk 15' behind her. The herd took off down the hill, thundering away. I was completely confused and immediately assumed my arrow had hit a branch and deflected over her back. I watched the herd for close to 5 minutes in my binoculars as they headed north and none of the cows looked the slightest bit injured. I decided to go down and find my arrow to figure out what had happened. Being it all happened so close, it didn't take long to find it. To my surprise, the broadhead was missing and there was an elk hair on the shaft along with a barely discernible bit of blood. I felt sick as it was then that I realized I had hit the cow, but did so right in the shoulder. I compared the arrow to the rest in my quiver and it did not break. The insert pulled out. I had gotten about 1" of penetration at the most. Though I knew the cow was not hurt badly and would survive just fine I was pissed at myself for the decision that I made. I was sure that I could make the shot, and I had been wrong. It drove home an important lesson that I had already known - that once you release that arrow, there is no taking it back. You have to live with the consequences of your decision.
To be safe I followed the tracks of the elk to where I had last seen them almost 1/2 mile away. As I had predicted, there wasn't so much of a speck of blood on the ground. The cow would be ok and I'm sure the broadhead did not stay in her but I'm sure it hurt like heck, and I felt bad for it. I went back to my log to sit for awhile longer, and watched a bachelor herd of some nice mule deer bucks walk by.
Had I thought there was any chance the shot on the cow was fatal, my hunt would have been done then and there, and I'd have spent the rest of the trip looking for her. I knew that wasn't the case and still had two days left, so I decided to make my way up the mountain, kicking myself the entire way. When I got to the top the sun poked through the clouds so I stopped to make myself an early lunch. I had brought my favorite meal of the trip with. A packet of tuna with mayo and mustard, wrapped in a tortilla. With my socks and boots laying in the sun to dry I enjoyed a snickers for desert and washed it down with a few gulps from my water bladder. I was hoping the reappearance of the sun would mean we'd seen the last of the rain for the trip. I made up my mind to keep a positive attitude as I laced my boots back up, and continued up the ridge.
Within about 200 yards I stopped to glass an opposing hillside and saw the telltale light tan patch of hair from a bull. I carefully scanned the surrounding hillside and it looked like he was alone. He was a funky 4X6 with large antlers that we had not seen before. Getting to him would require a steep descent, another climb, and another steep descent, which would put me in a position to sidehill my way towards him, at the same level as him. I dropped down to chase him and 45 minutes later found myself getting close. I just had a short climb to get to his level and the stalk would be on. But, I saw him get up and start to half heartedly rub a tree. He moseyed on down the mountain at which point I noticed he did have cows. About 5 or 6 of them. Possibly the same herd as I had seen in the morning. I crept as close as I could possibly get but knew it would take some sweet talk to get him to close the last bit of distance. I let out a few soft cow calls to get his attention. And, as if they'd read the script written for the hunt, the cows immediately headed the other direction. I ran up on the herd and bugled right at them, trying to turn the bull. He was neither intimidated nor mad. He just lazily followed the cows as they left. For 3/4 of a mile I chased this herd, bugling at them whenever I got close. He never ran away and never got mad, just continued his course. Finally I had to give up the chase when they headed into pinion juniper country and I lost track of them. I found a spot in the sun, took off my boots to dry some more, and updated the journal of the trip. I checked my GPS and realized I was a long, long way away from camp. It would take nearly the rest of the day to hunt my way back. With less than 1.5 days to hunt, the thought of tag soup was creeping into the back of my mind.
I grabbed my pack and headed back towards the top of the mountain. By this time in the hunt I was feeling absolutely great. My legs were stronger than ever, I had my wind, and the climb, which I'd have dreaded the first day, was a joy! As I neared the top my mind was wandering and I was staring at a far off ridge when two cows ran right in front of me, about 30 yards away. I quick drew my bow, hoping for another, but they were alone. I dropped down over the top of the ridge to keep track of where they were going when I heard a distant, barely discernible bugle. Then another. It was crunch time so I headed straight for them, running when I could, but mostly walking as the ground was strewn with lava rock from the size of a baseball on up. It seemed as if I was dropping elevation forever before I started getting close. The landscape changed from a high, open burn area to a meadow with huge ponderosas growing throughout. I continued the chase down and soon found myself in pinion juniper country. I was getting close by now. Real close. The familiar stench of elk burned my nostrils.
Before I even knew what was happening, I found myself in the midst of a herd of elk gone mad. The cows and calves were going insane darting here and there and making a racket, the deafening sound of bugles surrounded me. I ranged two cows at 60 yards. Too far, so I quickly ran towards them. They spooked but it didn't matter. Suddenly the familiar groan of the giant bodied bull we'd watched scouting rang out, right in front of me. Of all of the elk, this was one I had wanted the most throughout the hunt. I could see him 60 yards in front of me, walking away. I ran right at him, the wind safely in my face. Without warning he turned right at me and let out his telltale bugle, his eyes rolled back and slobber dripping from his mouth. And then, he ran right at me...
I dropped to my knees and found a shooting lane through the junipers as he got closer. He turned left to briefly beat up a juniper. I ranged him at 41 yards and came to full draw. I needed him to take 3 steps to the right and he'd be mine. Just as I finished that thought, he turned to the right and took two steps. I had a perfectly clear shot except for a finger sized branch going horizontally across his chest. I needed him to take that third step!! But, he stopped. More than anything I wanted to release that arrow and chances are it would have cleared the branch, but I told myself "Jim, you've messed up the last two shots you've taken. Don't be an idiot. Wait until he takes the step." A minute passed and the bull hadn't moved. I felt the breeze on the back of my neck and knew it was over. Within seconds he tensed up, turned, and trotted 10 yards downhill. I let down my draw and was just getting ready to give chase when I heard something. Another monster bull came absolutely flying from my right full speed at the retreating bull. My bull barely had time to turn his head and absorb the impact. It sounded like two cars collided. The second bull was intent on killing the first. This was no spar, this was a knock down, drag out, kill the opponent fight. Grass was flung 10 feet in the air, rocks were flying, branches were snapping. I saw my opportunity and ran as fast as I could, right at the two. I came around the last juniper tree and ranged the fighting bulls at 35 yards. With an arrow already knocked I clipped my release on and started to draw. And, at that moment, one of the bulls (I don't even know which one at that point) dodged the antlers of the other a last time and hightailed it to the east. I wasn't even 1/2 drawn and the winner turned to stare at me for a split second. I had no choice but to try to finish drawing but he knew something bad was about to happen, and took off to the west. The mountain went silent. It felt like I was in a dream and I'd just woken up. I've never, in my life, experienced anything like it and there is just no way to put what happened into words.
I was shaken up, bad, from what I had just witnessed. I couldn't believe what had happened and I couldn't believe I hadn't gotten a shot off. One more step by the old groaner and I'd have had a shot. Two more seconds before the fight ended and I'd have gotten a shot.
My wobbly legs carried me down the mountain where I tried to get in on a couple of cows, but the swirling winds made it impossible. I needed to sit down and collect myself a bit, so I found a pine tree and was so distracted that I almost sat on this.
The rain came and went all night long while we slept. It was during one of the breaks when the alarm started beeping. Our clothes were still about as wet as they could be but we pulled them on anyways as we got ready. My plan for the day was to head straight up the mountain from camp and get to the area where I was the previous evening. It seemed as good of a place to start as any. As I started the climb the rain started again, and ended about the time I got to my destination.
With no real plans I decided to sit and wait for a bugle to chase. I hiked up to where a couple of draws came together, figuring it would be a good place for an elk to cross. I found a good log and sat down, my wet clothes clinging to my skin. It was already shooting light, the hike taking much longer than I anticipated. While sitting there I made a decision. We had 2 days left to hunt, no tags filled, and we really wanted elk in our freezers for the winter. If I got a shot at a cow or a spike from this point forward, I would gladly take it.
10 minutes later, as if in cue, a group of 6 cows came down the mountain in front of me. The path they were taking would only put them about 70 yards from me but I had a feeling they'd turn and angle up the hill, right in my direction. So, I quickly ran up about 15 yards to get to the side of a bush that would offer cover for me as I drew the bow. Just as planned, they hit the bottom of the draw, turned right, and came right for me. It was happening quick and I came to full draw when they were about 50 yards away. They didn't have a clue I was there. Within a matter of seconds they were coming into view, well within my effective range. They kept walking towards me and soon I'd have a very close, broadside shot at the lead cow. But, it's never quite that easy. She suddenly froze, knowing something wasn't quite right. I was still at full draw and had a decision to make. The elk was at 14 yards, quartering towards me. Maybe straight on a few more degrees than a 45 degree angle. At this range I can put arrows into the size of a quarter every shot. I know it's disputed but I had done a lot of research before the hunt and had studied many diagrams. Some of the most successful elk hunters take many elk with a quartering-to shot and have great results. I was confident I could put the arrow where it needed to be, so I steadied my pin, and released...
The sound was like the arrow hit a block wall, and it cartwheeled over the cow, landing on an elk 15' behind her. The herd took off down the hill, thundering away. I was completely confused and immediately assumed my arrow had hit a branch and deflected over her back. I watched the herd for close to 5 minutes in my binoculars as they headed north and none of the cows looked the slightest bit injured. I decided to go down and find my arrow to figure out what had happened. Being it all happened so close, it didn't take long to find it. To my surprise, the broadhead was missing and there was an elk hair on the shaft along with a barely discernible bit of blood. I felt sick as it was then that I realized I had hit the cow, but did so right in the shoulder. I compared the arrow to the rest in my quiver and it did not break. The insert pulled out. I had gotten about 1" of penetration at the most. Though I knew the cow was not hurt badly and would survive just fine I was pissed at myself for the decision that I made. I was sure that I could make the shot, and I had been wrong. It drove home an important lesson that I had already known - that once you release that arrow, there is no taking it back. You have to live with the consequences of your decision.
To be safe I followed the tracks of the elk to where I had last seen them almost 1/2 mile away. As I had predicted, there wasn't so much of a speck of blood on the ground. The cow would be ok and I'm sure the broadhead did not stay in her but I'm sure it hurt like heck, and I felt bad for it. I went back to my log to sit for awhile longer, and watched a bachelor herd of some nice mule deer bucks walk by.
Had I thought there was any chance the shot on the cow was fatal, my hunt would have been done then and there, and I'd have spent the rest of the trip looking for her. I knew that wasn't the case and still had two days left, so I decided to make my way up the mountain, kicking myself the entire way. When I got to the top the sun poked through the clouds so I stopped to make myself an early lunch. I had brought my favorite meal of the trip with. A packet of tuna with mayo and mustard, wrapped in a tortilla. With my socks and boots laying in the sun to dry I enjoyed a snickers for desert and washed it down with a few gulps from my water bladder. I was hoping the reappearance of the sun would mean we'd seen the last of the rain for the trip. I made up my mind to keep a positive attitude as I laced my boots back up, and continued up the ridge.
Within about 200 yards I stopped to glass an opposing hillside and saw the telltale light tan patch of hair from a bull. I carefully scanned the surrounding hillside and it looked like he was alone. He was a funky 4X6 with large antlers that we had not seen before. Getting to him would require a steep descent, another climb, and another steep descent, which would put me in a position to sidehill my way towards him, at the same level as him. I dropped down to chase him and 45 minutes later found myself getting close. I just had a short climb to get to his level and the stalk would be on. But, I saw him get up and start to half heartedly rub a tree. He moseyed on down the mountain at which point I noticed he did have cows. About 5 or 6 of them. Possibly the same herd as I had seen in the morning. I crept as close as I could possibly get but knew it would take some sweet talk to get him to close the last bit of distance. I let out a few soft cow calls to get his attention. And, as if they'd read the script written for the hunt, the cows immediately headed the other direction. I ran up on the herd and bugled right at them, trying to turn the bull. He was neither intimidated nor mad. He just lazily followed the cows as they left. For 3/4 of a mile I chased this herd, bugling at them whenever I got close. He never ran away and never got mad, just continued his course. Finally I had to give up the chase when they headed into pinion juniper country and I lost track of them. I found a spot in the sun, took off my boots to dry some more, and updated the journal of the trip. I checked my GPS and realized I was a long, long way away from camp. It would take nearly the rest of the day to hunt my way back. With less than 1.5 days to hunt, the thought of tag soup was creeping into the back of my mind.
I grabbed my pack and headed back towards the top of the mountain. By this time in the hunt I was feeling absolutely great. My legs were stronger than ever, I had my wind, and the climb, which I'd have dreaded the first day, was a joy! As I neared the top my mind was wandering and I was staring at a far off ridge when two cows ran right in front of me, about 30 yards away. I quick drew my bow, hoping for another, but they were alone. I dropped down over the top of the ridge to keep track of where they were going when I heard a distant, barely discernible bugle. Then another. It was crunch time so I headed straight for them, running when I could, but mostly walking as the ground was strewn with lava rock from the size of a baseball on up. It seemed as if I was dropping elevation forever before I started getting close. The landscape changed from a high, open burn area to a meadow with huge ponderosas growing throughout. I continued the chase down and soon found myself in pinion juniper country. I was getting close by now. Real close. The familiar stench of elk burned my nostrils.
Before I even knew what was happening, I found myself in the midst of a herd of elk gone mad. The cows and calves were going insane darting here and there and making a racket, the deafening sound of bugles surrounded me. I ranged two cows at 60 yards. Too far, so I quickly ran towards them. They spooked but it didn't matter. Suddenly the familiar groan of the giant bodied bull we'd watched scouting rang out, right in front of me. Of all of the elk, this was one I had wanted the most throughout the hunt. I could see him 60 yards in front of me, walking away. I ran right at him, the wind safely in my face. Without warning he turned right at me and let out his telltale bugle, his eyes rolled back and slobber dripping from his mouth. And then, he ran right at me...
I dropped to my knees and found a shooting lane through the junipers as he got closer. He turned left to briefly beat up a juniper. I ranged him at 41 yards and came to full draw. I needed him to take 3 steps to the right and he'd be mine. Just as I finished that thought, he turned to the right and took two steps. I had a perfectly clear shot except for a finger sized branch going horizontally across his chest. I needed him to take that third step!! But, he stopped. More than anything I wanted to release that arrow and chances are it would have cleared the branch, but I told myself "Jim, you've messed up the last two shots you've taken. Don't be an idiot. Wait until he takes the step." A minute passed and the bull hadn't moved. I felt the breeze on the back of my neck and knew it was over. Within seconds he tensed up, turned, and trotted 10 yards downhill. I let down my draw and was just getting ready to give chase when I heard something. Another monster bull came absolutely flying from my right full speed at the retreating bull. My bull barely had time to turn his head and absorb the impact. It sounded like two cars collided. The second bull was intent on killing the first. This was no spar, this was a knock down, drag out, kill the opponent fight. Grass was flung 10 feet in the air, rocks were flying, branches were snapping. I saw my opportunity and ran as fast as I could, right at the two. I came around the last juniper tree and ranged the fighting bulls at 35 yards. With an arrow already knocked I clipped my release on and started to draw. And, at that moment, one of the bulls (I don't even know which one at that point) dodged the antlers of the other a last time and hightailed it to the east. I wasn't even 1/2 drawn and the winner turned to stare at me for a split second. I had no choice but to try to finish drawing but he knew something bad was about to happen, and took off to the west. The mountain went silent. It felt like I was in a dream and I'd just woken up. I've never, in my life, experienced anything like it and there is just no way to put what happened into words.
I was shaken up, bad, from what I had just witnessed. I couldn't believe what had happened and I couldn't believe I hadn't gotten a shot off. One more step by the old groaner and I'd have had a shot. Two more seconds before the fight ended and I'd have gotten a shot.
My wobbly legs carried me down the mountain where I tried to get in on a couple of cows, but the swirling winds made it impossible. I needed to sit down and collect myself a bit, so I found a pine tree and was so distracted that I almost sat on this.
After 5 or 6 minutes to rest I got up again and tried to make something happen but, as mentioned, the mountain was perfectly quiet. I stumbled upon this
It was the first wallow I'd seen on the entire trip. It had been used within the last few hours and the smell was overwhelming. I marked it on my GPS and continued down the mountain, hoping for another elk encounter. Not another elk was seen, and the rain started up again, and hard. I made my way back to the fishhouse by way of headlamp, anxious to hear if Dad had made anything happen. Unfortunately he had not, though he had played cat and mouse with a 5X5 for much of the afternoon, never getting within 50 yards.
I laid down for the night, knowing that nightmares of the evenings events would come back to haunt me in my sleep. We had one day to get it done. It was the bottom of the 9th, bases loaded, with two outs. The pressure was on.
It was the first wallow I'd seen on the entire trip. It had been used within the last few hours and the smell was overwhelming. I marked it on my GPS and continued down the mountain, hoping for another elk encounter. Not another elk was seen, and the rain started up again, and hard. I made my way back to the fishhouse by way of headlamp, anxious to hear if Dad had made anything happen. Unfortunately he had not, though he had played cat and mouse with a 5X5 for much of the afternoon, never getting within 50 yards.
I laid down for the night, knowing that nightmares of the evenings events would come back to haunt me in my sleep. We had one day to get it done. It was the bottom of the 9th, bases loaded, with two outs. The pressure was on.
Day 8
It was the last day of our season and we'd yet to put an elk in the freezer. The weather was still wet and we really didn't have a good plan for what to do.
I made the bold, and perhaps foolish idea to go to the wallow that I'd found and spend the day there. With the rain overnight it would still be plenty sloppy to attract a bull. Elk were in the area. And, if one did decide to come in, I'd be in position to have an easy shot at a relaxed bull. I hated to put all of my eggs into this one basket but I truly felt it would give me my best shot at a last minute bull. When I left, my dad and cousin did not have a plan for exactly what they would do. We wished each other luck, and I was off heading up the mountain in the dark, the soaked grass cool against my legs. I only had 3/4 of a mile to go, so I'd be there in plenty of time before shooting light.
As I neared the wallow I could hear the herd from the previous night about 1/4 mile to the east. I forgot the wallow for the time being and went after them. But, as was so often the case, they were more interested in getting up the mountain than playing with me. Try as I might, I just could not catch up to them. I finally gave up the chase and headed to the wallow. If they bedded close, there was a good chance would come check it out during the course of the day. I arrived and built myself a small blind underneath a juniper tree 25 yards west of the wallow. I inflated my little seat, and waited. And waited. And waited. Before I knew it I looked at my GPS and it was 4:30. I hadn't seen or heard an elk all day. Panic set in. I should have heard the herd by now if they were coming down this way. I hastily threw on my pack and ran up the mountain, desperate to find an elk, any elk, to chase. I had found throughout the trip that the best way to elicit a response from the bulls was to do a light chuckle, so as I made my way up I threw out a few of them. It was soon answered by a cow call. Then another. I quietly made my way towards the noise when some movement caught my eye. It was my dad and cousin. The cow called again and I answered with my loudest, meanest sounding bugle. I laughed at their expression and stepped out to greet them.
They had experienced an awesome day of elk hunting! Putting on an incredible number of miles they had encountered numerous bulls and had gotten very close to pulling off a shot at a couple. At least one was foiled by a last minute swirl of wind. But, close doesn't put elk burgers in the freezer and they didn't have anything on the ground. Having covered much of the area we were hunting they had come to end the day where I was hunting, after I'd told them about the action I had the previous evening. But, I hadn't heard a bugle yet and it wasn't looking good. The three of us decided to end the hunt together. Way on the other side of the mountain was a draw they had not hunted, so we decided to hightail it over there and try to arrive before shooting hours ended. I had fresh legs and it felt good to hike, but the two of them were already hurting a bit, especially my dad, whose feet had been soaked for 3 straight days now, to the point he was pouring water out of his boots in the evening. Nevertheless, it was our last chance and we made very good time.
As we arrived we kicked out two cows about 100 yards ahead of us. The light was fading quickly and we started to hear a few faint bugles. With the wind and the time we had left we knew chasing them wasn't an option. We decided our only chance was to spread out and wait, and hope to intercept something.
As I stood there, reflecting on the trip, a bugle rang out to my north. Then another. It was heading right towards Dad. About every minute or two he would sound off. I was crossing my fingers that we'd pull off a last minute elk and, from the sound of it, it wasn't out of the question. I heard one last bugle from the bull sounding like it must have been almost on top of them, and then he went silent.
I waited in my spot until I could see the headlamps of the other two bouncing towards me. Shooting light had long since been gone and I walked up, waiting to hear the good news. Unfortunately, the encounter had ended like so many. The bull was headed right for them and they were ready for it, with my cousin there to call out ranges and my dad with the arrow knocked. As the bull closed the distance to under 100 yards one last minute uphill thermal gave them away and the bull vanished.
The sun had set on our New Mexico elk hunt.
We hiked back to camp in the dark. It had been an incredible hunt. No doubt the taste of tag soup was bitter, but, we were still all smiles. We'd got the chance to spend 14 days in an area many elk hunters only dream of hunting. We'd seen more big bulls than we probably will in the rest of our lives. Not to mention, in 8 days of actual hunting, I'd only seen two other hunters, over a mile away. How can a guy be disappointed with an experience like that? Though we didn't come home with a giant set of antlers or coolers of elk meat we came back with memories and stories that are even sweeter. It truly was the hunt of a lifetime that was made even better by sharing it with my dad and cousin.
The three of us will be back next year. The odds say it probably won't be New Mexico, but we'll be chasing elk somewhere. Stay tuned for the story....
It was the last day of our season and we'd yet to put an elk in the freezer. The weather was still wet and we really didn't have a good plan for what to do.
I made the bold, and perhaps foolish idea to go to the wallow that I'd found and spend the day there. With the rain overnight it would still be plenty sloppy to attract a bull. Elk were in the area. And, if one did decide to come in, I'd be in position to have an easy shot at a relaxed bull. I hated to put all of my eggs into this one basket but I truly felt it would give me my best shot at a last minute bull. When I left, my dad and cousin did not have a plan for exactly what they would do. We wished each other luck, and I was off heading up the mountain in the dark, the soaked grass cool against my legs. I only had 3/4 of a mile to go, so I'd be there in plenty of time before shooting light.
As I neared the wallow I could hear the herd from the previous night about 1/4 mile to the east. I forgot the wallow for the time being and went after them. But, as was so often the case, they were more interested in getting up the mountain than playing with me. Try as I might, I just could not catch up to them. I finally gave up the chase and headed to the wallow. If they bedded close, there was a good chance would come check it out during the course of the day. I arrived and built myself a small blind underneath a juniper tree 25 yards west of the wallow. I inflated my little seat, and waited. And waited. And waited. Before I knew it I looked at my GPS and it was 4:30. I hadn't seen or heard an elk all day. Panic set in. I should have heard the herd by now if they were coming down this way. I hastily threw on my pack and ran up the mountain, desperate to find an elk, any elk, to chase. I had found throughout the trip that the best way to elicit a response from the bulls was to do a light chuckle, so as I made my way up I threw out a few of them. It was soon answered by a cow call. Then another. I quietly made my way towards the noise when some movement caught my eye. It was my dad and cousin. The cow called again and I answered with my loudest, meanest sounding bugle. I laughed at their expression and stepped out to greet them.
They had experienced an awesome day of elk hunting! Putting on an incredible number of miles they had encountered numerous bulls and had gotten very close to pulling off a shot at a couple. At least one was foiled by a last minute swirl of wind. But, close doesn't put elk burgers in the freezer and they didn't have anything on the ground. Having covered much of the area we were hunting they had come to end the day where I was hunting, after I'd told them about the action I had the previous evening. But, I hadn't heard a bugle yet and it wasn't looking good. The three of us decided to end the hunt together. Way on the other side of the mountain was a draw they had not hunted, so we decided to hightail it over there and try to arrive before shooting hours ended. I had fresh legs and it felt good to hike, but the two of them were already hurting a bit, especially my dad, whose feet had been soaked for 3 straight days now, to the point he was pouring water out of his boots in the evening. Nevertheless, it was our last chance and we made very good time.
As we arrived we kicked out two cows about 100 yards ahead of us. The light was fading quickly and we started to hear a few faint bugles. With the wind and the time we had left we knew chasing them wasn't an option. We decided our only chance was to spread out and wait, and hope to intercept something.
As I stood there, reflecting on the trip, a bugle rang out to my north. Then another. It was heading right towards Dad. About every minute or two he would sound off. I was crossing my fingers that we'd pull off a last minute elk and, from the sound of it, it wasn't out of the question. I heard one last bugle from the bull sounding like it must have been almost on top of them, and then he went silent.
I waited in my spot until I could see the headlamps of the other two bouncing towards me. Shooting light had long since been gone and I walked up, waiting to hear the good news. Unfortunately, the encounter had ended like so many. The bull was headed right for them and they were ready for it, with my cousin there to call out ranges and my dad with the arrow knocked. As the bull closed the distance to under 100 yards one last minute uphill thermal gave them away and the bull vanished.
The sun had set on our New Mexico elk hunt.
We hiked back to camp in the dark. It had been an incredible hunt. No doubt the taste of tag soup was bitter, but, we were still all smiles. We'd got the chance to spend 14 days in an area many elk hunters only dream of hunting. We'd seen more big bulls than we probably will in the rest of our lives. Not to mention, in 8 days of actual hunting, I'd only seen two other hunters, over a mile away. How can a guy be disappointed with an experience like that? Though we didn't come home with a giant set of antlers or coolers of elk meat we came back with memories and stories that are even sweeter. It truly was the hunt of a lifetime that was made even better by sharing it with my dad and cousin.
The three of us will be back next year. The odds say it probably won't be New Mexico, but we'll be chasing elk somewhere. Stay tuned for the story....
idahofishnhunt
Well-known member
Great story and pics, thanks for sharing all that...can't wait to hear about the next one! Good luck with draws this year!
flyfishmadison
Active member
Wow, what a great recap of the hunt. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time.
nmelktrout
New member
Successful hunt with family. There's nothing better in my book. I love chasing Gila bulls and reading about. Thanks for sharing.
-Cody
-Cody
Hatchie Dawg
Well-known member
Damn good effort
