2025 – A Season of Distractions
When we were getting ready for the 2025 season, I was very excited. After a long summer of too much politics/policy/DC travel, I wanted to get to the business of ignoring business. That excited feeling seems like twenty years ago.
For those who adhere to TLDR, the summary is this – I never fired a shot on camera this season. Lots of younger animals, some shots presented that experience told me to pass, and more than our share of unusual events and incessant distractions.
For those who will read, I’ll give a bit of a summary. All started well with an early archery mule deer hunt. Cool place I’d hunted back in the 1980’s and one of the few places that seems to be mostly untouched by the landscape changes I’ve seen elsewhere in the west. I got the morning stalks and Jace got the afternoon stalks; his stalks outnumbered mine 5-0.
Things got interrupted in early September when an archery elk hunt was delayed for a Congressional hearing that I was told, “You have to be there.” Ok, I got ready, cleared the calendar, told Marcus to go hunt elsewhere, only be told two days before that I wasn’t needed, and a different witness would be taking my place. Fine by me, I had an elk tag to take care of.
Marcus and I finally got on that elk hunt. On day four I hit a great bull. Thought we was dead on his feet with a quartering 30 yard shot that seemed to be a perfect hit. After following blood until dark and leaving the trail, three additional days of Marcus and I split up and gridding the place confirmed something went wrong.
An early high country deer hunt was cut short to spend another weekend searching for that bull. Found someone else’s bull, but no mine. I shot a large 6x6. This was a 6x4. I shoot FMJs and a fixed blade. This was a different arrow brand with a mechanical.
Cut that week short to get back to Montana to be a panelist as County Commissioners and some State Legislators convened on topics of concern. My presentation was on Conservation Easements, how they worked, when they don’t work well, and debunking the myths. Suffice to say, it was not a homefield audience, equally polite as they were opposed to CEs based on a lot of bad information. It was probably one of the more effective places to make my case. Given the follow up in-person meetings with attendees I left there feeling I was worth the two-day disruption in the middle of the elk rut. I guess we will see if any progress was made when the MT Legislature reconvenes in January 2027.
When I got home from that presentation, I learned that Marcus’s brother had broken his leg on the mountain goat hunt we were filming. He got out, thanks to serious grit and pride. Over eight miles out with a MacGyver’d splint and trekking poles. Two days later he had surgery and now carries some fresh orthopedic hardware in his leg.
From there it was to the Yukon for a mountain caribou migration hunt. Warm temps don’t provide much migration; in this case, none at all. Knowing that might happen the outfitter handed me a grizzly bear tag on my way out the door, warning me that there might be a shortage of caribou. One good bull was found in 12 days. Bruce made the long steep hike to tag him. I spent my days glassing in between periods of fog and clouds, shooting ptarmigan, and trying to get close to a grizzly that was a big and fat as Jabba the Hutt. A long drive home with only some ptarmigan and spruce grouse taken. Oh well, my unsustainable mountain caribou luck was bound to dry up someday.
Then it was back to look for that archery bull during rifle season. Four days of more scouring, gridding, and glassing. With Marcus’s three days, and my nine days, of gridding a total of 70+ miles were covered. The bull was never found, dead or alive. Finally, I had to return home. While down for those four days, the bulls must have known I was still 100% confident I was looking for a dead bull. I saw a LOT (40+) of very nice bulls in those four days. Close inspection of each of them showed they were not the bull I hit. Maybe he’s still alive and moved off. Or maybe he made it to private and the birds and bears devoured him there. Or maybe another hunter shot him. Whatever the result, it still haunts me. The shot seemed perfect, but it obviously wasn’t. No arrow ever found. Once he left his bed of the night I hit him, no more blood was ever found. Might be some great archery gear for sale, cheap if I can’t reconcile why it is that the only two bulls I’ve ever lost have been in my 30 years of archery hunting and why I’ve never lost a bull in rifle season. Both of my lost archery bulls were very easy shots with no excuses.
From there I helped Ted Roosevelt tag a bull in Montana on the opener. Four days with Ted is worth a lot of stories, history, and perspective from someone who has been there and done it. I think I was more excited than he was when that bull hit the ground.
More calls, meetings, and politicking kept me from getting out for a Montana elk hunt. Hope was that I could get three or four days in during the middle of the week. Nope, too many distractions that seemed more important than an over-the-counter elk tag. With Montana's long seasons I still had days to get out for elk.
(Oops, to many characters. Will split into two posts)
When we were getting ready for the 2025 season, I was very excited. After a long summer of too much politics/policy/DC travel, I wanted to get to the business of ignoring business. That excited feeling seems like twenty years ago.
For those who adhere to TLDR, the summary is this – I never fired a shot on camera this season. Lots of younger animals, some shots presented that experience told me to pass, and more than our share of unusual events and incessant distractions.
For those who will read, I’ll give a bit of a summary. All started well with an early archery mule deer hunt. Cool place I’d hunted back in the 1980’s and one of the few places that seems to be mostly untouched by the landscape changes I’ve seen elsewhere in the west. I got the morning stalks and Jace got the afternoon stalks; his stalks outnumbered mine 5-0.
Things got interrupted in early September when an archery elk hunt was delayed for a Congressional hearing that I was told, “You have to be there.” Ok, I got ready, cleared the calendar, told Marcus to go hunt elsewhere, only be told two days before that I wasn’t needed, and a different witness would be taking my place. Fine by me, I had an elk tag to take care of.
Marcus and I finally got on that elk hunt. On day four I hit a great bull. Thought we was dead on his feet with a quartering 30 yard shot that seemed to be a perfect hit. After following blood until dark and leaving the trail, three additional days of Marcus and I split up and gridding the place confirmed something went wrong.
An early high country deer hunt was cut short to spend another weekend searching for that bull. Found someone else’s bull, but no mine. I shot a large 6x6. This was a 6x4. I shoot FMJs and a fixed blade. This was a different arrow brand with a mechanical.
Cut that week short to get back to Montana to be a panelist as County Commissioners and some State Legislators convened on topics of concern. My presentation was on Conservation Easements, how they worked, when they don’t work well, and debunking the myths. Suffice to say, it was not a homefield audience, equally polite as they were opposed to CEs based on a lot of bad information. It was probably one of the more effective places to make my case. Given the follow up in-person meetings with attendees I left there feeling I was worth the two-day disruption in the middle of the elk rut. I guess we will see if any progress was made when the MT Legislature reconvenes in January 2027.
When I got home from that presentation, I learned that Marcus’s brother had broken his leg on the mountain goat hunt we were filming. He got out, thanks to serious grit and pride. Over eight miles out with a MacGyver’d splint and trekking poles. Two days later he had surgery and now carries some fresh orthopedic hardware in his leg.
From there it was to the Yukon for a mountain caribou migration hunt. Warm temps don’t provide much migration; in this case, none at all. Knowing that might happen the outfitter handed me a grizzly bear tag on my way out the door, warning me that there might be a shortage of caribou. One good bull was found in 12 days. Bruce made the long steep hike to tag him. I spent my days glassing in between periods of fog and clouds, shooting ptarmigan, and trying to get close to a grizzly that was a big and fat as Jabba the Hutt. A long drive home with only some ptarmigan and spruce grouse taken. Oh well, my unsustainable mountain caribou luck was bound to dry up someday.
Then it was back to look for that archery bull during rifle season. Four days of more scouring, gridding, and glassing. With Marcus’s three days, and my nine days, of gridding a total of 70+ miles were covered. The bull was never found, dead or alive. Finally, I had to return home. While down for those four days, the bulls must have known I was still 100% confident I was looking for a dead bull. I saw a LOT (40+) of very nice bulls in those four days. Close inspection of each of them showed they were not the bull I hit. Maybe he’s still alive and moved off. Or maybe he made it to private and the birds and bears devoured him there. Or maybe another hunter shot him. Whatever the result, it still haunts me. The shot seemed perfect, but it obviously wasn’t. No arrow ever found. Once he left his bed of the night I hit him, no more blood was ever found. Might be some great archery gear for sale, cheap if I can’t reconcile why it is that the only two bulls I’ve ever lost have been in my 30 years of archery hunting and why I’ve never lost a bull in rifle season. Both of my lost archery bulls were very easy shots with no excuses.
From there I helped Ted Roosevelt tag a bull in Montana on the opener. Four days with Ted is worth a lot of stories, history, and perspective from someone who has been there and done it. I think I was more excited than he was when that bull hit the ground.
More calls, meetings, and politicking kept me from getting out for a Montana elk hunt. Hope was that I could get three or four days in during the middle of the week. Nope, too many distractions that seemed more important than an over-the-counter elk tag. With Montana's long seasons I still had days to get out for elk.
(Oops, to many characters. Will split into two posts)
