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First a HUGE THANK YOU TO BCAT FOR POSTING MY PICTURE FOR ME.This was my second year to draw the Laramie Peak bull permit and I was in contact with some friends that are guides and outfitters all summer trying to find were a good bull mite be lurking in the many timber pockets in the huge area. The real problem is that there is less public land than private, so I needed to find a landowner that I could gain access through also. By September everything was arranged with one of my friends and all I had to do was sit on my thumbs while they filled the people that had booked hunts, which would be done after about 10 days. I finally got the call to be ready to go on a Saturday, the 13 Th day of the season. We met at the local coffee shop and after some bacon and eggs with steaming coffee we headed up the mountain. There would be 3 of us hunting that were all locals, 2 with bull permits and one skin head or cow. The place we were to hunt was only 45 minutes from town and we arrived just as the sun was turning the sky into a pinkish orange morning. We were heading to one of local bull hang outs when a 6x6 came running out of the timber and ran between the 2 trucks we were in. Even as the sun glinted off his wonderful ivory tipped points, it was felt by all that he need at least one more year to be a shooter. My friend, his son and I parked and worked our way around a big basin looking for signs of fresh elk movement while the other group sat and watched to see if we chased anything out the other side. As we worked our way back toward the truck we came across some fresh sine crossing our tracks. All we had to do was go about 300 yards and 4 bull elk blew up and started crashing through the timber below us at about 40 yards. I was unable to get a shot off and so we went back to the truck and worked some other trails looking for sign from that morning, and with nothing of interest we went back to town. I went home and had lunch then found my favorite recliner, for a 2-hour nap. We headed back up the mountain at 3:00 pm to sit and watch some openings in the timber. It was starting to get cold as the sun was setting, with me on one side of the ridge top and my friend and his sin 60 yards way on the other. I was glassing the timber edges when his son came crawling over to me and says, come quick. I worked the long 60 yards and there right below us is my bull feeding along slowly about 100 yards away. I put the cross hairs of my old 300 win mag friend behind the front should and remembered my dads teaching of how to take a breath then let it out and squeeze not jerk the trigger. At the blast of my friend the bull was down and I was done for the year with my best bull. I had hunted less than 6 hours, what a wonderful day of friends, mountains, and a nice elk. olefish