NM elk episode for RMEF

Big Fin

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Just off the plane from NM, filming an archery elk hunt in western NM that will be a Team Elk episode. Tired, dirty, and de-junking to go do the same here in MT on Thursday (if weather allows) or Friday.

Don't have time to write up too much. Was a tougher hunt than I expected, but one of the most fun hunts you can have - spot and stalk elk in grassland environments. Same unit where I arrowed the bull at two yards a few years back. As with that hunt, we got the tag via a unit-wide landowner voucher that allows us to hunt these same public lands.

In the entire five days, we probably averaged seeing five bulls per day, but most were from afar as we hunted a grassland area that you saw in Season Three of On Your Own Adventures. Only heard one bugle in five days of hunting, even with seeing all those bulls. I have no idea why they were so silent. Many other hunters we talked to experienced the same and had theories for the quietness, but I am not sure I subscribe to any theories I heard.

Lost three evening hunts due to huge lightning storms. But the storms we dealt with, as bad as they were, could not be anything like what happened earlier last week, as evidenced by the many roads washed out and rig stuck in the muck. I refuse to hunt in lightning like that, especially when we are on this big mesas, with no cover and lightning cracking all around. Not much one can do about that.

Our one day of scouting produced only one bull. He was a very cool, but younger 5X5. Very long tines, long whale tales, and only 5 on each side. Mass was nothing spectacular and body size was average, making me think he was probably not a real old bull. Having always wanted a big 5X5, I set my sights on getting a chance on him.

I blew a stalk the first morning that was a slam dunk for what you hope for on that hunt. A 5X6 had disappeared in a small canyon. I know the lay of that canyon, so I circled around to try get a look at where he might be bedded. It was about 9am, just when the thermals convert from the heavy down slope airflow to the warming sun reversing the flow to more uphill.

I found him, in short order. He was bedded all by himself, exactly what you hope for, in a batch of low brush in the shade of some rocks. I was way excited for the hunt to start out this good.

I told Brad to get over to my position with the camera. He did so. Either my noise or the scent was carried down into the canyon by some lingering downhill thermals that I did not detect. The bull titled his nose in the air, started testing the wind, then stood and look right up the hill at me. Busted. He moved off in a trot, taking with him the best chance I would have in the first three days of the hunt.

As I stood there for the next ten minutes testing the air, half the time it was going downhill and the other half, coming uphill. If I had been more patient and waited another hour, the thermals would have been steady uphill on that bright day. Stupid me. I know better than that, but excitement got the best of me and I screwed it up.

That evening, just before dark, the 5X5 from the scouting day stood up out of a bed about a mile an a half across the canyon. No time to go after him or the nice 6X6 who was running with him that night, but it sure had me excited for the next morning.

A trailer that got abandoned about three miles short of our camp. Some guys we met pulled out three other rigs the day after we drove in. And this was not nearly as bad as some of the other places we tried to go. Result was a lot of hunters packed into the few areas that were accessible. I took this pic on the way in. The trailer was still there when we left late yesterday.
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Some cool habitat work being done by the agencies. In this case, a trick tank water collection system that allows elk to live in this area year-round and keep them off the private lands to the north.
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When washed out roads put most the hunters in the same area, one can usually rely on these type of travel restrictions to allow for less competition. Most days were ten mile days up and down these canyons. You don't encounter too many other hunters out in those spots.
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The best "elk sign" I know of.
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One of the evenings when the thunderstorms decided to stay north of us, allowing us to hunt until filming light was gone.
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Day Two was very uneventful. I could not relocate the big 5X5 in the morning. Very disappointing, as I was sure he would stay in the basin just below us. Finally, around 10 am, I located him and the 6X^ about two miles north, grazing on some private, where they bedded for the day. Damn the luck.

I glassed a lot of elk to the south, where the pine and PJ forests meet in the mountains. Also glassed a lot of elk to the west, but a deep canyon with a quarter to half mile of private ownership put them off limits, unless one was willing to hike three miles south to the head of the canyon, then a mile sidehill march to the west across the mountain, then three miles back north. I am stupid, but not so stupid as to possibly shoot a bull in the heat of a NM September hunt that requires a 15 miles round trip, up and down canyons.

I was now kicking myself for messing up the perfect set up on Day One. It was looking like I might not get another chance. We hunted hard until about 4:30 PM, when the thunder and lightning pushed us off the mesa and back toward camp. We got to camp in time to find shelter from about an hour downpour that made the already wet conditions much wetter.

I told Brad that on Day Three, we would leave the grasslands and hike through the PJs and up to the Ponderosas. It would be a haul, so we took only essential gear. Right at first light, we saw two raghorns and a really good 6X6 walking the scattered PJ on a ridge about a mile across and uphill from us. Where the cows were, I have no idea. The 6X6 seemed way too big to be a bachelor at this time of year.

We headed across the canyon to get to the same ridge they were on, then traversed up the slope to where they had disappeared. The thermals were coming down hill at this early hour, making our approach about as good as it could be.

We got to a rise and we set up to listen and glass an opening below where three canyons came together and formed a big open bottom about 200 yards across. A big spring was built there. Looked good, except for the lack of elk. Two ridges to the west, the sun lit up a raghorn and a spike. No cows or bigger bulls with them.

We watched another bull slightly higher up a ridge, and east of us, feeding in an open area. He was probably 1,000 yards off. As he fed, I heard some bugles nearby. I looked to see two hunters on the opening, hiding behind the one big tree, trying to call him in. It was kind of fun to watch. They would call like crazy and he would not flinch. Finally, they tried to spot and stalk him. The bull looked up when they were about 100 yards away, snuck downhill into the timber and left without these guys seeing where he went. He had circled around to the west and crossed above us, putting him in an area I had planned to check out.

Finally, the two raghorns came out of the canyon bottom and we watched them walk up the other side. I cow called and they stopped for about a second, before heading further west. Where was the other bull that had led them up the hill this morning? Not sure, as we never did find him or hear him.

We continued hiking these ridges and canyons most of the morning, finally setting up downwind of a small saddle that was littered with elk tracks as herds crossed from one drainage to the next. We sat until about 3pm, at which time I decided to break the silence of the day, calling and moving, calling and moving, thinking that at least one of these raghorns would come him, or at least respond. Nope.

Then I made the big mistake of the day. I told Brad we could take a short cut. Yeah, it was a short cut if you could fly. For those of us traveling on foot, it was deep canyon after deep canyon. We got the truck well after dark, having put on over ten of the toughest miles I will trek this season. Looking at the elevation tracker on my GPS, it was obvious why my feet and legs were tired.

Sorry Brad.

I was too tired to even eat that night. Drank some more fluids and hit the sack, completely baffled as to what would be the plan for Day Four. Still not bugling. When I have hunted here in the past, the night time bugling can make it hard to sleep. Not this year, and as tired as I was, not even an earthquake would wake me.
 
Awesome, I am definitely ready for another episode. Thanks for sharing Randy and good luck to you for the rest of you season.
 
The morning came too early. While eating my sixth PBJ Cinnamon Raisin bagel of the trip, I told Brad we would head to the grasslands we hunted in Days One and Two. I was hoping the big 5X5 would have moved in there.

Just as it was getting light enough to see, we were in the perfect perch that allowed us to glass in all directions. As in Day Two, elk showed up across the canyon of private land, on top of the mesa to our west. A few elk were still mingling on the private to our north. About the time I decided it would be another slow and quiet day, a couple cow elk grazed our of a canyon where I blew the stalk on Day One. Finally, a chance to play some more, if they had a bull with them.

I will interrupt this tale to interject the details of a hunt we had on this same mesa in Season Three, when I took my 17 year-old nephew on a youth hunt here. He had a 35 yard broad side shot at a one-beamed bull, but elected to pass, telling me, "I figured he would be a much finer trophy next year when his other antler was still intact."

Sounded good to me. That was a little over a mile up the hill from where these cows were feeding. Five minutes later a good bull emerged just behind the cows. I pulled out the spotter. A one-beamed bull. Dang, there sure are a lot of broken beamed bulls in this area.

Just like the bull Cody passed, this bull busted off right at the skull. Not a remnant of a beam was left on his driver's side. I told Brad it would be cool to shoot a one-beamed bull after Cody had passed one three years prior.

We watched the elk disappear for about twenty minutes. Then they fed back up out of the canyon. By 10am they had decided it was time to take a nap. Amazingly, they bedded in three small PJs that were on the east side of the same ridge where I arrowed a bull resting beneath some shaded rocks a few years ago. They were maybe 400 yards from the skeleton of that bull.

This time I told Brad we would wait for steady winds. In the interim, we would make the 2.5 mile loop needed to stay behind the ridges and out of there sight. Once we got to their ridge, we would gauge the wind and work our way to them. I had made note of a burned old snag just to the south of them as my marker of where to pop up across the ridge.

Just before noon, we were NW of their location and a stout SE wind was right in our face. Too good to be true, but I would take it. We crossed over the allotment fence that told me I was now within 200 yards of their location. I took my bow from the sling and nocked and arrow. I told Brad of the plan and we proceeded forward.

Here is a video screen shot pic of the bull Cody passed here three years ago. The same exact antler shape, only with longer tines this year. The same side is missing. And now that I zoom the footage of Cody's bull I can see that the bull does not have any antler protruding from the pedicle on the driver's side. He is not a busted beam bull, rather a one of a kind uni"elk"corn.
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Once we got near the ridge crest, I glassed until I could see the burnt limbs of the tree serving as my marker. I pointed to Brad and gave him the universal finger to the lips sign that quiet is paramount. He nodded and gave me the symbol that all was ready and rolling with the camera.

I got to the crest and ranged the burnt tree at 100 yards. Man, it is amazing how distance can make terrain look a lot flatter than it really is. I was convinced that the elk were bedded about 20 yards below the crest, but given where the tree was, they had to be closer to 100 yards from the crest.

I continued forward, slowly and quietly as I could. I continued to check the wind and it held steady from the SE. Our approach from the WNW was going to be perfect if this continued.

I got withing 75 yards of the burnt tree and could see the three small PJs to the north of that tree where the elk were last seen bedded. That was due east of me. I could not see anything, but given how tall the grass was, things could be hidden.

I looked to Brad and waived him to follow as close as possible. As close as this would be, we needed to look like one object from their angle.

At 60 yards, I glassed for about five minutes, sure I could now at least see antlers. Or, would see them if the elk were still bedded. But, I could not. Crap, don't tell me they got up and moved off while we were out of sight and circling down wind of them. Off all the bad luck.

I eased forward a few more yards. On this side of the middle PJ, the PJ that was bent over and almost dead, an antler raised up out of the grass. I froze. Yes!

I turned to Brad and pointed. He could not see it from there. I moved us forward. 55 yards was the range to the half-dead PJ. Brad raised slightly from his crouch and could then see the antler. He got a huge smile and gave me the thumbs up.

The next twenty minutes took forever, but when you have a bull with five cows bedded that close, you really have no choice. You go as slow as you think you need to. You take a step, then glass all around, knowing sooner or later, one of those cows will see you.

I moved us forward, one slow step at a time. Now, I could see the ears and the entire antler of the bull. The grass was blowing between me and him, so I doubt he could see much. He laid his head down, as if he was tired and needed a nap. My chance to move.

As quiet as my clumsy feet can sneak, we were getting closer. The bull lifted his head. A pair of ears from a cow appeared just to his right and downhill a couple yards from his position. They were on full alert. I ranged the tree - 44 yards. If he stands broadside, I will drill him.

Suddenly, up the canyon about a mile to our east comes the sound of a helicopter, moving fast and in our direction. I am relieved the elk had not seen or heard me, rather were reacting to the noise of the chopper. The chopper crossed the mesa and continued south, and with its disappearance, so disappeared the tense body language of the elk. Whew.

It took forever for me to feel comfortable that I could take a few more steps. Eventually, the bull went back to bobbing his head up and down, then shaking away the pesky bugs that found refuge in the same shade he desired. The next range was 36 yards. Dead bull, dead bull. Pick a spot, pick a spot.

As I moved forward a few more steps, I can see the ears of two elk under the PJ to his right and one cow under the PJ to his left. I can see the bulls back, his eyes, and most of his vitals. One small bush obscures parts of his body, but if not for network restrictions of shooting bedded animals, I am pretty sure an arrow would be launched from this newly ranged distance of 30 yards.

How this bull does not see me is amazing. All I can figure is the wind blowing the grass right near his face is distorting his vision.

I look back to Brad. He is warning me of the cows to our left and right. I nod to let him know they are there.

I have taken two steps and whisper in my mic that at the next chance of cloud cover or wind gust, I am going to stand upright and get fully prepared to shoot. I no more than say that and the sound of rotors is coming back our direction. All elk are looking to the SE, wondering what the hell that noise is. My perfect chance.

I stand upright, tightening my grip on my release, rehearsing my mental mechanics. The grip feels perfect on the riser. I am ready. Please, stand up, please.

The chopper leaves, retreating back over the route which he took on his way in. The bull seems more relaxed. I am ready.

The cow to our left, the one most visible to me, and me most visible to her, takes her eyes from the SE and sees something big and menacing standing probably 25 yards away. I see her get up and whirl.

I start my draw, knowing the bull and remaining cows are going to soon follow suit. Once the cow just below him stands, he does just as I expect.

He rises, perfectly broadside. I am almost to full draw as I see the ears of the cow directly behind him. I causes me a second of hesitation, not wanting to shoot with another elk right behind his chest.

In the second I hesitate, he turns to look at me, giving me a hard "quartering to" shot. He is not sure what is going on. I have the 30 yard pin right on the point of his right front shoulder. My finger is on the release. Can I drive this arrow through that mass of bones, especially the big shoulder blade, and still get lethal penetration to the vitals?

I don't have long to ponder the issue, as within about two more seconds he starts to follow the other cows that have risen and decided to follow the first cow. I don't shoot. I have a diaphragm call in my mouth, but this long excited stalk has my mouth too dry to make it work. I try to whistle. I try to grunt. No avail. He trots down a couple hundred yards and joins the cows, looking back that the ridge, trying to sort out what the hell that thing was that got so close to them.

They disappear into a canyon to our east, and with them, goes the best chance I could have asked for. I probably should have shot. I know at 28 yards, the arrow is most likely going where I want it. But, I have never taken that shot on any animal and I did not have complete confidence it would be a lethal shot. I made a conscious decision to wait and hope he would turn back broadside and slowly exit. It didn't happen that way.

I was frustrated, excited, mad, happy, and doubtful, all at the same time. The exact reason why elk hunting is so fun and why spot and stalk elk hunting with a bow is even more fun.
 
I am falling asleep as I am typing, so I am going to finish the rest of the story in the morning. My tag is still in my pocket, so no need for anyone to stay awake in hopes that I pulled a rabbit out of the hat in the last day and a half, but sure had fun and had one more chance at ol' one-beam.

A few more pics of some amazing country.

The view from our favorite glassing knob. A good hike from the gate to get there, but sure worth it (unless you are running back to the truck to hide from a big NM thunderstorm, at which time you wish you had glassed from the trailhead).
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The view from camp as we got ready to pack it up and head for home.
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A new equipment test. Frozen milk jugs were loaded in these new Engel coolers. Six days later, the ice was still mostly intact. Very impressive. A few other equipment items tested that I will write about tomorrow.
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Sounds like an epic adventure that will no doubt make a great episode. I would have taken that shot but it says a lot about your character and values that you passed.
 
I would have passed on that shot too, but most archers probably wouldn't - which doesn't necessarily make it an unethical shot. I'm sure Brad's camera POV and yours were different, which probably only serves to compound the second guessing. After wounding and losing the first animal I ever released an arrow at last September - a bull that gets bigger by the day, mind you ;) - I felt as low as I've ever felt on a hunt. Rivaled only by the exhilaration I felt when I tagged my first bull.

You've killed a lot of bulls, Fin, but you're in a stratosphere much different from most. You want to tag out, you prepare to tag out, you work hard to tag out and you (and the cameras) demand exacting standards before you give yourself the opportunity to tag out. Best of all, you're not ashamed to tell the great story of NOT tagging out and the rewards within the hunt. This is the height of the grip n grin era. Pop open a cold one and get ready to close the door behind you again in 2 days. You lucky son of a gun, you're gonna be hunting elk again!
 
I would have passed on that shot too, but most archers probably wouldn't - which doesn't necessarily make it an unethical shot. I'm sure Brad's camera POV and yours were different, which probably only serves to compound the second guessing.

You've killed a lot of bulls, Fin, but you're in a stratosphere much different from most. You want to tag out, you prepare to tag out, you work hard to tag out and you (and the cameras) demand exacting standards before you give yourself the opportunity to tag out. Best of all, you're not ashamed to tell the great story of NOT tagging out and the rewards within the hunt. This is the height of the grip n grin era. Pop open a cold one and get ready to close the door behind you again in 2 days. You lucky son of a gun, you're gonna be hunting elk again!

I second this statement by DDD and commend you on your great hunting ethics Randy!
 
Hi Randy i was just going to ask how was the New mex elk hunt? I am glad you had a good time. the trailer you passed sure looks like it might be there for a while. I can wait to see it played out on tv next year. Thanks agian for keeping us posted on your hunts. It is fun to hear about them.
 
Wow. Great story. You made the right call. I took a similar shot on a deer years ago, and watched him run off with my arrow sticking out of his shoulder blade. Not a happy day.
 
Great story! Anyone who has ever wounded an animal with a bow understands and appreciates your self control. Thanks for sharing.
 
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