So.. I have this buddy who has missed more really big bulls in the last five years than most guys will ever see in a lifetime of hunting. He's thinking he is cursed ... that was until earlier this week.
Anyhow, here is the result of a deadly combination of persistence, wanting to hunt the ugliest places on earth in November, a pair of lucky underwear, and a girlfriend that insisted that his efforts would soon result in an elk so giant that it would be known by many as the MIKE ELK.
This bull was taken under seriously challenging hunting conditions... a light snow year, bulls hiding at higher elevations than normal, while protected by the noisy, crusted snow. We started on foot at around 3AM looking for elk tracks in what we thought would be a nice snowy day. At daylight, the nice snow turned into freezing rain. We covered numerous drainages, with no sign of elk until late in the afternoon when we spotted tracks in the distance. We stopped for a while to make a game plan and build a fire to dry off. We decided to circle downwind of the tracks and find where they headed, and possibly wait for the elk to return into this opening to feed at dark. Hours later, when we reached the ridgetop, we found the the tracks led higher up the mountain. Being that we had the wind in our favor (and we are two impatient SOBs) we decided to follow them into the timber. While breaking into a small clearing, I noticed Mike (ahead of me) looking through his rifle scope. I knew something was up. We both agreed that in a place like this, an elk would have to be seriously huge to even consider shooting one. I heard him shoot and the sound of a solid hit. He quickly shot several more times, each followed up with a solid thud. I walked up behind him as he was reloading and asked, "Is it a big one?" He said, "Yeah, he's huge, 350+." I could see the elk's body through the trees, but not its antlers. The bull walked into the tress and crumpled. We were shocked when we walked up on this guy, probably one of the very largest bulls ever taken from this part of Montana.
It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Well, that's only sorta true.
That was 4PM, we made it out to the truck at around 2:30AM with the first load. Four days later, all the meat was out of the hills. I do know one thing.. Carrying big loads of elk out of hell is a whole lot more enjoyable when you killed it yourself.
The Weekend Warrior really earned this one!
CONGRATS MAN!!
<FONT COLOR="#800080" SIZE="1">[ 11-30-2002 23:32: Message edited by: Greenhorn ]</font>
Anyhow, here is the result of a deadly combination of persistence, wanting to hunt the ugliest places on earth in November, a pair of lucky underwear, and a girlfriend that insisted that his efforts would soon result in an elk so giant that it would be known by many as the MIKE ELK.
This bull was taken under seriously challenging hunting conditions... a light snow year, bulls hiding at higher elevations than normal, while protected by the noisy, crusted snow. We started on foot at around 3AM looking for elk tracks in what we thought would be a nice snowy day. At daylight, the nice snow turned into freezing rain. We covered numerous drainages, with no sign of elk until late in the afternoon when we spotted tracks in the distance. We stopped for a while to make a game plan and build a fire to dry off. We decided to circle downwind of the tracks and find where they headed, and possibly wait for the elk to return into this opening to feed at dark. Hours later, when we reached the ridgetop, we found the the tracks led higher up the mountain. Being that we had the wind in our favor (and we are two impatient SOBs) we decided to follow them into the timber. While breaking into a small clearing, I noticed Mike (ahead of me) looking through his rifle scope. I knew something was up. We both agreed that in a place like this, an elk would have to be seriously huge to even consider shooting one. I heard him shoot and the sound of a solid hit. He quickly shot several more times, each followed up with a solid thud. I walked up behind him as he was reloading and asked, "Is it a big one?" He said, "Yeah, he's huge, 350+." I could see the elk's body through the trees, but not its antlers. The bull walked into the tress and crumpled. We were shocked when we walked up on this guy, probably one of the very largest bulls ever taken from this part of Montana.
It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Well, that's only sorta true.
That was 4PM, we made it out to the truck at around 2:30AM with the first load. Four days later, all the meat was out of the hills. I do know one thing.. Carrying big loads of elk out of hell is a whole lot more enjoyable when you killed it yourself.
The Weekend Warrior really earned this one!
CONGRATS MAN!!
<FONT COLOR="#800080" SIZE="1">[ 11-30-2002 23:32: Message edited by: Greenhorn ]</font>
