It had been a slow Saturday (this last weekend), and come noon, I was just milling around on a ridge. I hear a few cow calls coming out of a bugle tube about 100yds above me. Not a terribly popular spot, but we usually see a few other hunters in there every fall. This guy had just shown up, and surely had no idea I was just below him in the timber. I sat there for a minute, thinking on what to do. Certainly wasn't going to call, enough of that going on now. Thought about just slinking off, letting him do his thing.
Then, of course, crash crash crash! Here come two raghorns running right at me up the mountain! Their pace and direction were lining up for a definite opportunity, so I quickly nocked an arrow and started ranging trees. I was literally starting to pull my bow, and crash crash again, a third raghorn ran RIGHT to me. He pulls up at five yards on the other side of some thin junipers, slightly quartered to me. Swung the bow, shot him.
I have never shot an elk or deer this close before - my entire peep was on his vitals, and I knew I drilled him. He ran about twenty yards, then just walked away (too thick for another shot). Commence the relief/excitement/text my hunting partner who was further down the mountain. Time goes by, I find my arrow. Complete pass through, and lots of blood at the spot where I shot him. I pick up the blood trail, and it is excellent lung blood for about 100yds, then dried up. As I waited for my buddy, I looked and looked for blood, unsuccessfully. I never really started freaking out, because by the shot and the previous blood trail, I knew he was dead, but I was starting to worry about a long and arduous search.
I start to head in the direction I knew my buddy was coming from. I hear him whistle and cow call, and I respond.
Then a third, unknown voice: 'hey I found your bull' (!)
Now I am truly relieved! This hunter takes us up the mountain another hundred yards, and there is my bull, dead. Not only was there no more blood trail, but he also wandered into a thick patch to die. It would have been seriously hard to find him. This hunter, the SAME GUY who called the bull right into my lap, had caught sight of my bull walking though the timber. Naturally, he got excited, nocked an arrow, and started to put a stalk on...then WATCHED THE BULL DIE! Crazy! Poor fella! That's when he heard us whistling and cow calling to each other below him. I hope the hunting gods bring sweet hunting karma upon this fella who not only got me the kill, but also saved us from who knows how much nervous searching! I offered him a front quarter for his assists, and we had a good laugh, but he took off to keep hunting. Public land adventures!
Then, of course, crash crash crash! Here come two raghorns running right at me up the mountain! Their pace and direction were lining up for a definite opportunity, so I quickly nocked an arrow and started ranging trees. I was literally starting to pull my bow, and crash crash again, a third raghorn ran RIGHT to me. He pulls up at five yards on the other side of some thin junipers, slightly quartered to me. Swung the bow, shot him.
I have never shot an elk or deer this close before - my entire peep was on his vitals, and I knew I drilled him. He ran about twenty yards, then just walked away (too thick for another shot). Commence the relief/excitement/text my hunting partner who was further down the mountain. Time goes by, I find my arrow. Complete pass through, and lots of blood at the spot where I shot him. I pick up the blood trail, and it is excellent lung blood for about 100yds, then dried up. As I waited for my buddy, I looked and looked for blood, unsuccessfully. I never really started freaking out, because by the shot and the previous blood trail, I knew he was dead, but I was starting to worry about a long and arduous search.
I start to head in the direction I knew my buddy was coming from. I hear him whistle and cow call, and I respond.
Then a third, unknown voice: 'hey I found your bull' (!)
Now I am truly relieved! This hunter takes us up the mountain another hundred yards, and there is my bull, dead. Not only was there no more blood trail, but he also wandered into a thick patch to die. It would have been seriously hard to find him. This hunter, the SAME GUY who called the bull right into my lap, had caught sight of my bull walking though the timber. Naturally, he got excited, nocked an arrow, and started to put a stalk on...then WATCHED THE BULL DIE! Crazy! Poor fella! That's when he heard us whistling and cow calling to each other below him. I hope the hunting gods bring sweet hunting karma upon this fella who not only got me the kill, but also saved us from who knows how much nervous searching! I offered him a front quarter for his assists, and we had a good laugh, but he took off to keep hunting. Public land adventures!
