Leupold BX-4 Rangefinding Binoculars

Make Bison Hunting Great Again

And now the work starts, congrats! Glad you got a packer lined out. Just about had your own personal Buffalo Jump!

Looked down into there from the top of Sego back in 2006 on a mule deer hunt, big country.
 
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With a packer confirmed, we set out to get the bull cooled off as fast as we can. I opt to gut him, now that we have a pretty optimal body position, to get the innards cooling faster. This takes far longer than it should, but with as big as his grassbag is, it was like pulling a square bale of hay out of a 4 foot slit.

With the guts out, we each skin up to the hump on his back and start working on getting the quarters off, which is all of a two man gig. I'm kicking myself for not having the 20 game bags in my pack. We lay the quarters out on the dry sandstone, and get to work on the ribs, flank, neck, backstraps, and eventually, tenderloins.

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As evening sets in, we have one side completely cleaned of meat. It takes a lot of sweat, grunting, and rope work to get him turned over back uphill, as we don't exactly have a lot of room to go further down. We take a few water breaks, filtering and drinking the ice cold creek water below. I am out of snacks, and we debate staying the night at the kill site with our puffys, knowing it will be an uncomfortable night, but not unbearable with a fire. But we need the game bags for the mules, and it only makes sense to finish the bull as best we can tonight and then head to the truck, and on to camp for a few hours of sleep, grab the game bags, and come back in to finish boning the quarters out and skinning out the skull.

By 7:30, the bull is reduced to a spine and a ribcage. During the cleaning, I recover two of the five bullets, the other 3 were pass throughs. An autopsy shows 4 entrance and exit holes in each lung, and a hole clean through the heart.

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With the meat off the main carcass and cooling, we leave our knives where they lay, top off our waters, and start the 7.5 mile hike to the truck.
 
Coby is coming to get the meat, but will be coming in from the south trail, as it is a much shorter drive with his trailer. I don't blame him, but hope that I can convince my dad to take my truck the several hours around to meet him the next day. It's a conversation to be had at camp, not via inReach, as my hands are too tired to type.

Exhausted, we splash across the beaver dams, but talk excitedly about the hunt, recounting the day from sunrise to well past sunset. When we reach the end of the canyon where we start uphill, we take one final break, and then put our heads down, figuring we'll be to the truck in an hour. With a few minutes to spare, we arrive at the truck, and head to camp, pulling in around midnight.

My dad has a fire going, and we show him some photos and videos, knowing how badly he wanted to be there if we got a bison. He's very excited for me, and more than willing to drive my truck around, even though he'd love to head to the kill site in the morning with us. I wish he could have been there when the bull was shot, but he understands that we had to take the opportunity as we found them.

A quick meal and sleep, and I'm up- with daylight savings, I have several alarms set, but the glow on the horizon says I've got the right time. I walk to my buddy Jackson's tent- he had arrived the day before and had hung with my dad while we chased the bison- I ask if he wants to go cut up some meat, and he responds "yep!" immediately. Isaac, Jackson and I take off in Isaac's truck, parking in the same spot at the day prior. We've now done the "hill" twice, so we have much less issue heading down, and make good time. We've gone, light- no layers, no gun, no optics. Just snacks, water filter, and game bags.

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We get to the kill site around 9:30, have a quick snack, and then get to work- We bag the meat that's already off the bone and I apply labels to the game bags. We shuttle them down to the shade along the creek, where they will stay plenty cool, as they had nearly frozen the night before. I skin the skull while Isaac and Jackson hang the quarters and bone them out.

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Coby shows up at 11:45 as we wrap up the last of the cutting. What a good sight to see! He mentions he hadn't expected to hear from us this early in the hunt, but ensured he was there for me when I needed him, even taking the day off from a sheep hunt to come pack. He was a real class act and made the entire experience very easy and enjoyable. He even about convinced me to cash my Utah deer points in- but not quite. Coby comments that the hunting this year has been bit tougher, and notes that he didn't pass any bison on his 12 mile ride in. I'm not sure where the main herd has gone from yesterday, as we also don't see any bison on our way in, or later, out.

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Coby and I use a rudimentary scale to ensure his mules are loaded equally on both sides- Lonestar the mule takes the heavy lifting assignment- Whole hide on one side, head plus meat on the other.

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We watch as the mules ride out of sight, and I inReach my dad that he should plan for them to be to the truck around 4-4:30.

Back down the canyon we head.

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We reach the truck and head to our 10 mile knoll camp for one last stop. With the fastest camp breakdown in history, I've got a big plate of Mexican food on my mind, and Fruita, Colorado is calling!

My Dad meets us there, having stopped to pick up dry ice for the meat. We all share a few stories and more photos, and fill up on a celebratory meal.

I had picked up four 1923 Buffalo Nickels at a "Fleazaar" while visiting my folks in Wisconsin over the summer, and I feel this is as good of time as ever to give each guy their little piece to throw on the dresser to remember the buffalo hunt until I can get them all a share of the meat.

With dinner complete, we say our thanks and goodbye to Jackson as he continues south, and we head north, finishing the drive to Montana the following day after supporting several Wyoming small businesses, from tanneries, to taxidermists, to a butcher shop.

I've pulled his two incisors to have him aged for my own curiosity.

A cursory tape puts him at 116" gross, 115" net. Whether he books or not, this hunt has truly been "one for the books".

With two nights of buffalo meals under my belt, filets the first night, and ribs tonight, I can say the trophy is the memory, the experience, the meals, the animal, and the friendship.

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What a great story and a tremendous bull. I can’t imagine getting a bison in any neater looking country. Congrats!
 

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