I don't know if the animal was bedded right there or if he somehow snuck in without me hearing it. Regardless, I ranged the spot I thought he would walk through. As I ranged it, he stepped into the view through my rangefinder and stopped to tickle his antlers on a small fir tree. 61.7yds. He looked familiar.
I dropped the rangefinder, adjusted my slider, and drew back. At full draw I chuckled inwardly as I realized I hadn't set my feet properly. I didn't want to cut corners and possibly mess up the shot, so I let down my bow, fixed my feet, and went through my shot sequence properly this time. I floated my pin on his chest and executed a crisp release. The familiar pop of a double lung hit was matched with blood coming out of both sides as he turned and ran up the hill out of sight.
A few seconds of running, a cough and the sound of lungs deflating were followed by the crash of a large animal falling down a steep hill. It was silent for a few more seconds, then animals were running everywhere. Some went up the scree slope above the meadow. While others ran through the thick woods. I knew the animal I shot was dead, but I always proceed with caution after a shot. Hearing all of the animals take off put a small amount of doubt in my mind, but I was confident in my shot.
I don't know when it happened, but sometime between shooting my first deer when I was 12 and now, I've gotten over the adrenaline rush. If you'd have seen me shooting this animal, you wouldn't have been able to tell if I was even excited. In the heat of the moment I block out everything and focus entirely on accomplishing the task of killing the animal in front of me. I am definitely excited, but I don't feel any of it. I wouldn't make a good TV hunter.
As the mental video of the shot and post shot events rolled through my mind, I took a knee, exhaled for the first time in a while, and then sat with my back against the large, old spruce tree I spent all day under. Over the next 20 minutes I sat taking it all in and reflecting on my life's events which brought me to this point
As a kid growing up in WI, images of hunting in the mountains only existed in magazines, TV shows, and my dreams. My passion for hunting has burned bright since before my first memories when father took me hunting and fishing. Since then I've walked far more wilderness than I ever dreamt I could, and I've killed animals in places I didn't even know existed. I have been extremely blessed to have experienced as much as I have. Tucked away in this remote drainage, far away from the places that lit my passion, I was living my dream.
After finding my arrow, I texted Dan on my inreach, and took up the bloodtrail. Momentary doubt set in as I didn't find much blood for the first 20 yards. I took it slow to avoid bumping him. I could have mistaken a lung hit for a liver hit, and didn't want to mess it up. 50 yards into the tracking job the figurative faucet turned on and my doubts were gone. Another few paces of easy tracking and there he was.
He rolled about 20 yards down the hill and died less than 50 yards from where I arrowed him. I couldn't have been more happy with him and the experience.
He's the same 6x6 I got on my trail camera in mid August.
And then the work started. This bull was 4 miles away from the truck with a 2k foot climb in between. I packed my first load back to camp that night and slept until 6am before continuing the pack. I did it in 3 loads and it took 15.5 hours to get the last load back to the truck.
I got home at midnight last night and slept like a rock.
The day after I get back from hunting is similar to Christmas for my kids. They're always excited to see what I brought home this time.
I am still in a state of disbelief. I just killed a great bull, my first true OTC elk ever. I packed it out solo, and did it all in one weekend. I've held 5 elk tags since 2014 and I've killed 5 elk in 9 days of hunting. Like I said before, it's been an amazing blessing, and I couldn't be more thankful.
