Here is the story:
I completely lost count of the number of days I went elk hunting. I was basically walking around the mountains with a gun in my hand. Most of my last days of hunting before this, I hadn't even seen an elk. The morning of this hunt, I started hiking about 3:00 AM. I arrived at the place I wanted to glass at about 7:30, about half an hour later than I wanted. I glassed for about 30 minutes until I saw a couple of large tan things with horns on them. What the hell are those!! I hadn't seen an elk in so long, I forgot what they look like. I took off over to a ridge across from them where I had a good clear 300 yard shot. The bigger bull was feeding on a steep grassy hillside. I nailed him in the shoulder and he went cartwheeling down the hill about a hundred yards or so. When I went over to look at him, I gave him a gentle tug, and he went cartwheeling down about another 100 yards. I was sure he was going to bust his horns off. I got the first load out to a closer trail head at about 6:30 where some gerbil rammer picked me up to take me back to the other trail head. The next day that same guy helped me pack the rest of that thing out. Having to listen to all of his freakish sex fetish stories while packing my elk was painfully disturbing.
Weak-end-whorior, WOW... That place looks like I've been there before in my Lifetime.... MAybe in some Past scouting trip or something. Are you sure it's in Montana ?!?! Looks more like a place in.. Ohhh.... MAybe .... Vegas .. If ya know what I mean
Kudos on the Fine Bull... Looks like a good narrow 330 bull if I ever saw one