2021 kamikazee elk
- Thread starter TRS_Montana
- Start date
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
With camp set up, I grabbed my supper and headed over to my glassing tit to watch the evening's activities.
Not a spectacular amount of activity. I saw a few bulls on private far enough away to not be that interesting. Then, right at dusk, I see 8 elk feed out in a drainage about 1.75 miles away. At least one is a bull, but too far to judge quality. Just enough info to get the voices in my head arguing over what to do in the morning.
On the one hand, there is a herd of 100+ elk less than a mile away. In that herd is the biggest bull I've ever seen in a semihuntable area.
On the other hand, those elk are in plain sight and likely being watched by other folks. They are also on private...but soooo close.
Finally, I make up my mind. With bright flashes of thick, mahogany beams with bright, ivory tips in the back of my mind, I decide that even a closer look at that huge bull on private is worth a morning. So, with that as my plan, I drift to sleep.
I woke up at 5:30. Plenty of time to hike about a mile and up the backside of that ridge. The wind is whipping pretty good. Gusts near 20 mph. Feels like 80 mph. Fortunately, right in my face as I walk the vast, treeless expanse that separates me from the ridge.
As I near the hill that I marked the elk on, I start to climb. As I look up, as if in an act of celestial encouragement, I see Orion with his bow pointed in the direction I anticipate the elk to be.
Not a spectacular amount of activity. I saw a few bulls on private far enough away to not be that interesting. Then, right at dusk, I see 8 elk feed out in a drainage about 1.75 miles away. At least one is a bull, but too far to judge quality. Just enough info to get the voices in my head arguing over what to do in the morning.
On the one hand, there is a herd of 100+ elk less than a mile away. In that herd is the biggest bull I've ever seen in a semihuntable area.
On the other hand, those elk are in plain sight and likely being watched by other folks. They are also on private...but soooo close.
Finally, I make up my mind. With bright flashes of thick, mahogany beams with bright, ivory tips in the back of my mind, I decide that even a closer look at that huge bull on private is worth a morning. So, with that as my plan, I drift to sleep.
I woke up at 5:30. Plenty of time to hike about a mile and up the backside of that ridge. The wind is whipping pretty good. Gusts near 20 mph. Feels like 80 mph. Fortunately, right in my face as I walk the vast, treeless expanse that separates me from the ridge.
As I near the hill that I marked the elk on, I start to climb. As I look up, as if in an act of celestial encouragement, I see Orion with his bow pointed in the direction I anticipate the elk to be.
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
With a nod from The Hunter, himself, I continue to the top of the ridge. Still about 25 mins to shooting light.
I sit and wait as the minutes tick away.
With about 10 minutes to shooting light, I make my way over to the near edge of The Knob (yes...THE Knob). I peek over the edge of the ridge and see an elk. On. PUBLIC. WHAT?! These freakin things jumped the fence. I pull up and decide to sit next to the knob until shooting light, then work my way down the front side of the hill. As I am scooting over to The Knob, I catch movement. The elk that I had seen walked up to the saddle I'm in and is fixing to cross the ridge. The only problem is that he is 10 steps from me. I hold still. This guy (a small 4x4 with an antler literally dangling down on the side of his face) walks up and realizes I'm not a rock and bolts. Luckily, he runs along the ridge and not back down, so I don't think he spooked any of the other elk.
As shooting light comes and goes, I slowly start working over the ridge. Nothing. I see no elk. Seriously? Was that thing by himself!? There's no way. I spend some time mulling about in this saddle wondering what to do. It's about 7:45am at this point and I decide to start walking further down the ridge to see what else is out. As I am working down a finger ridge on the front side of the hill, I look over and there is the herd. And there is the bull! Holy lord. Still on public. I just couldn't see them from the top because of how steep it is.
I charge back up the hill and get back to The Knob. Now....let me pause. What I SHOULD have done was taken the actions of the elk I saw earlier as an indication of what the herd might do. What I DID...was assume that the elk were going to move back to the private. So...I decided to go on the OTHER side of The Knob and wait for the elk to come up. As I'm sitting there waiting for the elk to cross the last finger ridge between us, I hear 3 shots. On the backside of the hill. Where I walked up. Where I can't see.
I can't help myself. I run down the front of the hill to see if, by some stroke of luck, those were different elk than the ones I was waiting on. The hills are empty. There is one bull that is RIPPING across the landscape about 400 yards below me. Not the big one. There are no other elk. I wait around for about 10 mins and sulk.
I decide to head over to where I heard those shots, I walk up and see a couple guys. The same guys I walked in with. He says "Did you get one". I can't even acknowledge that he spoke. "Did you shoot the herd bull!?" I ask. "Nope, but we got two." These guys were nice, so I was actually a little bummed when I learned they didn't shoot the herd bull. I am a bit confused, though, because this guy said he was holding out for a big one. Anyway, I ask them what happened......Enter: The Knob.
As it turns out....when I went around to the other side of the knob, the ENTIRE herd got nervous from the swarm of folks that ascended the hill (that I didn't see). There were 6 guys encircling this herd. Instead of heading to private (like I anticipated)....they crossed JUST on the other side of The Knob. I was less than 100 yards, but could have just as well been back in my tent. Three bulls and a cow peeled off in a sacrificial act of imperial preservation to offer themselves while the Emperor runs the rest of the herd into the dark crags that separate fantasy from reality. I never see this bull again. All I can do is tip my hat to the Emperor and his faithful minions.
Back to the other guys. They shot two satellites. These are the two...satellites. Both bulls are 300ish inch six points. (Sorry for the blood in the first pic. He was shooting a .338 Lapua!)
For context, the Emperor made these bulls look small. Like, not even worth thinking about.
I'll dream about that bull for years, as all elk hunters do. He will slowly transition from an experience, to a memory, to a myth, to a metaphor. Though none of you have seen him, all elk hunters know him...and though I wanted to tag him, I smile as I realize the metaphorical Emperor is eternal.
Ok. Enough about him.
I sit and wait as the minutes tick away.
With about 10 minutes to shooting light, I make my way over to the near edge of The Knob (yes...THE Knob). I peek over the edge of the ridge and see an elk. On. PUBLIC. WHAT?! These freakin things jumped the fence. I pull up and decide to sit next to the knob until shooting light, then work my way down the front side of the hill. As I am scooting over to The Knob, I catch movement. The elk that I had seen walked up to the saddle I'm in and is fixing to cross the ridge. The only problem is that he is 10 steps from me. I hold still. This guy (a small 4x4 with an antler literally dangling down on the side of his face) walks up and realizes I'm not a rock and bolts. Luckily, he runs along the ridge and not back down, so I don't think he spooked any of the other elk.
As shooting light comes and goes, I slowly start working over the ridge. Nothing. I see no elk. Seriously? Was that thing by himself!? There's no way. I spend some time mulling about in this saddle wondering what to do. It's about 7:45am at this point and I decide to start walking further down the ridge to see what else is out. As I am working down a finger ridge on the front side of the hill, I look over and there is the herd. And there is the bull! Holy lord. Still on public. I just couldn't see them from the top because of how steep it is.
I charge back up the hill and get back to The Knob. Now....let me pause. What I SHOULD have done was taken the actions of the elk I saw earlier as an indication of what the herd might do. What I DID...was assume that the elk were going to move back to the private. So...I decided to go on the OTHER side of The Knob and wait for the elk to come up. As I'm sitting there waiting for the elk to cross the last finger ridge between us, I hear 3 shots. On the backside of the hill. Where I walked up. Where I can't see.
I can't help myself. I run down the front of the hill to see if, by some stroke of luck, those were different elk than the ones I was waiting on. The hills are empty. There is one bull that is RIPPING across the landscape about 400 yards below me. Not the big one. There are no other elk. I wait around for about 10 mins and sulk.
I decide to head over to where I heard those shots, I walk up and see a couple guys. The same guys I walked in with. He says "Did you get one". I can't even acknowledge that he spoke. "Did you shoot the herd bull!?" I ask. "Nope, but we got two." These guys were nice, so I was actually a little bummed when I learned they didn't shoot the herd bull. I am a bit confused, though, because this guy said he was holding out for a big one. Anyway, I ask them what happened......Enter: The Knob.
As it turns out....when I went around to the other side of the knob, the ENTIRE herd got nervous from the swarm of folks that ascended the hill (that I didn't see). There were 6 guys encircling this herd. Instead of heading to private (like I anticipated)....they crossed JUST on the other side of The Knob. I was less than 100 yards, but could have just as well been back in my tent. Three bulls and a cow peeled off in a sacrificial act of imperial preservation to offer themselves while the Emperor runs the rest of the herd into the dark crags that separate fantasy from reality. I never see this bull again. All I can do is tip my hat to the Emperor and his faithful minions.
Back to the other guys. They shot two satellites. These are the two...satellites. Both bulls are 300ish inch six points. (Sorry for the blood in the first pic. He was shooting a .338 Lapua!)
For context, the Emperor made these bulls look small. Like, not even worth thinking about.
I'll dream about that bull for years, as all elk hunters do. He will slowly transition from an experience, to a memory, to a myth, to a metaphor. Though none of you have seen him, all elk hunters know him...and though I wanted to tag him, I smile as I realize the metaphorical Emperor is eternal.
Ok. Enough about him.
Last edited:
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
It's about 10:00am and I decide to head over to the drainage that I saw the other elk in the previous evening. On my way, I see herds of frantic elk and herds of frantic hunters. I'm 8-10 miles in all day and cannot believe the pressure. People just walking out of the hills from all directions. It wouldn't be crazy in an over-the-counter unit less than 1 mile from the road...but that's not where I am. I decide I'll walk all the way to the boundary and sit for the rest of the day.
Well...when I was preparing for this hunt, the forecast had temps in the 40s. That's what I prepared for. It ended up being in the 20s with winds 20+ mph. I was so cold I couldn't sit for longer than 15 mins without getting up again to move around. I had only seen one guy go into the timber that I thought the elk would be in and come out of in the evening, so I decided to stay out of the trees and wait for the evening movement. To keep warm, I basically just walked in a 3/4-mile circle all day.
Finally, 3:00pm came and the wind died down a bit. I post up on the side of the hill overlooking the spot I expect to see elk. I can't feel my feet. It strikes me that I still have my game bags in my pack, so out they come and I perform a less-than-traditional mummification of myself.
Well...when I was preparing for this hunt, the forecast had temps in the 40s. That's what I prepared for. It ended up being in the 20s with winds 20+ mph. I was so cold I couldn't sit for longer than 15 mins without getting up again to move around. I had only seen one guy go into the timber that I thought the elk would be in and come out of in the evening, so I decided to stay out of the trees and wait for the evening movement. To keep warm, I basically just walked in a 3/4-mile circle all day.
Finally, 3:00pm came and the wind died down a bit. I post up on the side of the hill overlooking the spot I expect to see elk. I can't feel my feet. It strikes me that I still have my game bags in my pack, so out they come and I perform a less-than-traditional mummification of myself.
LuckyTom
Active member
This is excellent.
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
Alright...this can work. I sit here, as still as I can be, for the next 3 hours. No elk. This is the only action I had all evening.
It was fun to watch him, but not much more than a distraction. I eventually can't take it anymore and call it quits about 5 mins before legal shooting light ends.
On the way back to camp...I think of all the conversations I have had with folks about this unit. Many have told me that opening weekend is worth hunting, but can be a zoo. I've also been told that the chaos that ensues on opening weekend will likely push most elk out until we get some weather later in the year.
The weight of these thoughts combined with the fact that I have only my supper left for food convinces me that I should probably pack it up in the morning and head back to town to watch the weather forecasts for a couple weeks.
I get back to camp, eat, and tuck in for the night.
It was fun to watch him, but not much more than a distraction. I eventually can't take it anymore and call it quits about 5 mins before legal shooting light ends.
On the way back to camp...I think of all the conversations I have had with folks about this unit. Many have told me that opening weekend is worth hunting, but can be a zoo. I've also been told that the chaos that ensues on opening weekend will likely push most elk out until we get some weather later in the year.
The weight of these thoughts combined with the fact that I have only my supper left for food convinces me that I should probably pack it up in the morning and head back to town to watch the weather forecasts for a couple weeks.
I get back to camp, eat, and tuck in for the night.
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
I wake up before the alarm goes off in the morning. The wind has died down to nearly nothing. I decide that I'll pack a few things at camp and go watch the sunrise from my glassing tit while I enjoy my coffee. Then I'll return to pack up camp and head out.
Here's the view out of my tent as I'm making coffee.
I get over to my hill at about 6:40 and just wallow in the calmness of predawn. With 3 young kids at home, this is a sensation that is almost entirely foreign to me at this point in my life.
I'm about halfway through my cup when a shrill whistle breaks the morning silence. I snap my head in the direction of the sound. After about 10 mins...again. A bugle.
Here's the view out of my tent as I'm making coffee.
I get over to my hill at about 6:40 and just wallow in the calmness of predawn. With 3 young kids at home, this is a sensation that is almost entirely foreign to me at this point in my life.
I'm about halfway through my cup when a shrill whistle breaks the morning silence. I snap my head in the direction of the sound. After about 10 mins...again. A bugle.
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
There is nothing that paints the picture more clearly than the fables of sirens luring sailors to their death.
I have no food left. I'm 8+ miles in. I have about a half liter of water (though I can get more nearby). I'm cold.
The bugles are coming from the area I sat the night before. About 1.75 miles away.
I am certain that what I'm hearing is not an elk, rather a mythical manifestation of my doom.
And like the sailor to the siren...I have no choice.
I have no food left. I'm 8+ miles in. I have about a half liter of water (though I can get more nearby). I'm cold.
The bugles are coming from the area I sat the night before. About 1.75 miles away.
I am certain that what I'm hearing is not an elk, rather a mythical manifestation of my doom.
And like the sailor to the siren...I have no choice.
Last edited:
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
It's 6:45am. Shooting light is at 7:26. I have 41 minutes.
When I get off the hill, I can't hear anything. The breeze picked up a bit, and I have a mostly flat traverse to the elk. On my approach to the elk, there are two small drainage features that extend out of the foothills. I am travelling perpendicularly to these drainage features, planning to walk up furthest one until I get to the timber. I expect the elk to be on the edge of the timber. I forget that this is not an over-the-counter unit.
I get through the first drainage and ascend onto the flat space that separates the two. I'm close enough that I start to hear the bugles again. One bull sounds off from the drainage I expect them to be in. Then another, then another. There were 3-4 different bulls bugling. In the fading moonlight, I can see just well enough to pick out a bull feeding in the open flats on the other side of the second drainage. He seems to be entirely content and utterly unaware of my presence. He is about 700 yards away.
I descend into the second drainage, sticking to my original plan. I can still see the bull, but his head is down and he doesn't appear to be concerned in anyway of any impending danger. I walk steadily up the drainage, watching the bull the entire way.
I close the distance to about 500 yards.
I'm hoping to get a better look at him, as I still haven't been able to see how big he is because of the low light. There is a little cluster of willows up ahead about another 200 yards. My plan is to use that to block his view as I approach.
As sunlight unveils the landscape, I decide this is probably not a bull I'm going to pull the trigger on. As I'm trying to figure out how to get a look at the other bulls without spooking this one, a pale, yellow ghost silhouettes behind the willows in front of me.
Another bull slowly walks up the other side of the drainage and bugles. This bull looks a little bigger.
When I get off the hill, I can't hear anything. The breeze picked up a bit, and I have a mostly flat traverse to the elk. On my approach to the elk, there are two small drainage features that extend out of the foothills. I am travelling perpendicularly to these drainage features, planning to walk up furthest one until I get to the timber. I expect the elk to be on the edge of the timber. I forget that this is not an over-the-counter unit.
I get through the first drainage and ascend onto the flat space that separates the two. I'm close enough that I start to hear the bugles again. One bull sounds off from the drainage I expect them to be in. Then another, then another. There were 3-4 different bulls bugling. In the fading moonlight, I can see just well enough to pick out a bull feeding in the open flats on the other side of the second drainage. He seems to be entirely content and utterly unaware of my presence. He is about 700 yards away.
I descend into the second drainage, sticking to my original plan. I can still see the bull, but his head is down and he doesn't appear to be concerned in anyway of any impending danger. I walk steadily up the drainage, watching the bull the entire way.
I close the distance to about 500 yards.
I'm hoping to get a better look at him, as I still haven't been able to see how big he is because of the low light. There is a little cluster of willows up ahead about another 200 yards. My plan is to use that to block his view as I approach.
As sunlight unveils the landscape, I decide this is probably not a bull I'm going to pull the trigger on. As I'm trying to figure out how to get a look at the other bulls without spooking this one, a pale, yellow ghost silhouettes behind the willows in front of me.
Another bull slowly walks up the other side of the drainage and bugles. This bull looks a little bigger.
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
My goals for this hunt were to:
A. Kill an elk on a backpack trip,
B. Kill a mature elk, and
C. Kill my best bull to date.
When I saw this bull walk out of the willows, my predisposition was that I would be going home with only my camp on my back.
Then...the bull walked my way. I watched this bull for 2 or 3 minutes. He ate. He bugled. He barely took in his surroundings because I imagine he knew them like I know my living room.
I continued to watch this bull through my scope. The crosshairs resting lazily on his front shoulder.
I start thinking about my goals for this hunt.
A. Kill an elk on a backpack trip. Check.
B. Kill a mature elk. Check.
C. Kill my best bull to date............Check.
The longer I thought about my goals....the more the crosshairs tightened up on his chest. The passing of time between the moment that you decide to pull the trigger and the gun going off seems analogous to the numerical distance between 0 and 1. On the outset, there is nothing between them. In reality...it's infinite.
The pressure on the trigger increased and broke the plane. I heard a smack. The bull turned and ran. I fired again and heard another solid thump. The bull stopped, and in a moment of connection that we all will understand one time at the end of our journey, he stared in resignation in the direction of the shots. I fired again and his journey ended.
A. Kill an elk on a backpack trip,
B. Kill a mature elk, and
C. Kill my best bull to date.
When I saw this bull walk out of the willows, my predisposition was that I would be going home with only my camp on my back.
Then...the bull walked my way. I watched this bull for 2 or 3 minutes. He ate. He bugled. He barely took in his surroundings because I imagine he knew them like I know my living room.
I continued to watch this bull through my scope. The crosshairs resting lazily on his front shoulder.
I start thinking about my goals for this hunt.
A. Kill an elk on a backpack trip. Check.
B. Kill a mature elk. Check.
C. Kill my best bull to date............Check.
The longer I thought about my goals....the more the crosshairs tightened up on his chest. The passing of time between the moment that you decide to pull the trigger and the gun going off seems analogous to the numerical distance between 0 and 1. On the outset, there is nothing between them. In reality...it's infinite.
The pressure on the trigger increased and broke the plane. I heard a smack. The bull turned and ran. I fired again and heard another solid thump. The bull stopped, and in a moment of connection that we all will understand one time at the end of our journey, he stared in resignation in the direction of the shots. I fired again and his journey ended.
Last edited:
TRS_Montana
Well-known member
Have to get the boys ready for hockey practice. Will finish up later tonight or tomorrow morning.
Incredible story telling. I'm sure @Ben Lamb will award you appropriately upon completion of your short story.
rtraverdavis
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2016
- Messages
- 4,351
Damn fine storytelling so far. Ready for finale.
Southern Elk
Well-known member
Are we sure the isn’t @Nameless Range logged in as someone else. Very well written for this bunch of rubes, myself included.
Hem
Well-known member
Good story=good wine.
Not that I know anything about good wine.
Well...I know swag, the rest blends as consumable.
SilverDollars
Active member
Howdy. Well, I can tell when my chain is being yanked on, and I feel a tug!
