BuzzH
Well-known member
This years elk hunt has a pretty cool story behind it, one I wont forget anytime soon.
When I first moved to Wyoming 15 years ago it didn't take long to find some good places to hunt elk. I was fortunate to pick a spot that not only held a lot of elk, but also a spot that I would bump into a great bunch of old school elk hunters. Since our first meeting in 2003, we've all become good friends.
In the last few years the spot that we like to hunt has become a tangled jungle of dead aspen and lodgepoles. So, this year I got in touch with George and we decided to make things a bit easier and clear a trail into the area we all like to hunt.
In early August, George and I made the trip and spent 2 days clearing about 1.5 miles of blow down.
With the hot weather this year, elk activity was pretty slow on opening morning. Very little bugling compared to most years and the elk were only coming out to feed the first and last 1/2 hour each day.
I hunted the morning and then met up with George to watch an area that elk typically feed into in the evening. We were BSing as it was only about 5:30 and we didn't expect the elk to show until later. I looked past George down the sage/aspen slope and watched 2 cow elk feed out. I pointed them out and George grabbed up his rifle and turned around to find them. They saw the movement and started to trot side hill, so I told George to get ready and I would stop them with a cow call. I hit the cow call and they stopped. As soon as the first cow stopped, George promptly shot it square in the shoulder with his 30/06.
We walked down the hill and found his elk, I snapped a quick picture and broke the elk down for the pack out. We got the elk quartered and in game bags and started to head back to camp. We still had about 30 minutes of shooting light left, when I heard a bull bugle above us about 500 yards away. I asked George, "should I run up there real quick and see If I can kill that bull?" He said, "Its up to you". I thought about it, then said, "the elk hunting gods have been pretty good to us today, lets leave him for tomorrow".
George and his elk:
The next few days I passed on several elk and spotted some nice 6 points. The trouble I had was picking the right place to be when the elk fed out the 1/2 hour before dark each day.
Yesterday morning was going to be my last hunt for bulls for the year. Jerry, Ron, and I walked together in the dark on the trail George and I had cleared in August. Interestingly enough, Jerry had found an aspen tree his Dad had carved his initials in after he killed a deer there in 1981. Jerry had showed me where the tree was and I thought it would be nice if I took a picture of it for him.
We got to our spot and Jerry went up to his rock pile, Ron went to his spot, and I peeled off to hunt a different area. I soon found 2 good bulls, one 6 point and a decent 5 point along with a herd of cows. The bulls were bugling good, but were quite a ways away and a good 50-60 minute hike away.
With the rain starting and having to pull camp and head back to work, I fought the urge to make a run at them. I then walked to where Ron was sitting and asked if he'd seen any elk. He hadn't, but said he was going to hunt a ridge back to camp and would meet me there once the pounding rain stopped.
So, I picked up the trail and started heading back to camp, thoroughly content with elk season. I was clipping along pretty fast when I got to the area that Jerry's Dad had carved his initials in the tree. I slowed down to look for it and happened to look to my left and saw what I thought was the body of an elk laying there, 25 yards away. I looked through my binoculars and could see the body, rack and one ear behind a couple lodgepoles, his head totally obscured. I looked through my scope and it was all full of water. I wiped the front lense, looked through it, no better. Then I cleared the back lens, we're in business. I thought about shooting off-hand, but noticed I could take a knee and still have a shooting lane.
I lined up the leupold dot, and squeezed the trigger. The bull lurched out of his bed and fell into the root-ball he was bedded behind. I walked up and he was still moving a bit, so put another round behind his shoulder.
A few minutes later it occurred to me that Jerry's Dads tree must be pretty close. I walked 30 feet below my bull, and there was the tree.
Ron and Jerry heard the shots and about the time I had the bull broke down for packing, they arrived along with Geroge and his son Dean. Jerry told me he had passed a nice 6 point earlier in the morning because it was "more elk than he could use". We all took part of the elk and had it back at camp 25 mintues later.
While these guys are not "beast mode" hunters, they are damn fine people, friends, and elk hunters. They've been hunting together, out of the same camp, since 1971. I'm fortunate to know and hunt with them all...and they get it done even though all are north of 73 years old.
My bull:
Another look:
Jerry's Dads tree:
Ron, Jerry, George, and Dean at "Dad's tree":
When I first moved to Wyoming 15 years ago it didn't take long to find some good places to hunt elk. I was fortunate to pick a spot that not only held a lot of elk, but also a spot that I would bump into a great bunch of old school elk hunters. Since our first meeting in 2003, we've all become good friends.
In the last few years the spot that we like to hunt has become a tangled jungle of dead aspen and lodgepoles. So, this year I got in touch with George and we decided to make things a bit easier and clear a trail into the area we all like to hunt.
In early August, George and I made the trip and spent 2 days clearing about 1.5 miles of blow down.
With the hot weather this year, elk activity was pretty slow on opening morning. Very little bugling compared to most years and the elk were only coming out to feed the first and last 1/2 hour each day.
I hunted the morning and then met up with George to watch an area that elk typically feed into in the evening. We were BSing as it was only about 5:30 and we didn't expect the elk to show until later. I looked past George down the sage/aspen slope and watched 2 cow elk feed out. I pointed them out and George grabbed up his rifle and turned around to find them. They saw the movement and started to trot side hill, so I told George to get ready and I would stop them with a cow call. I hit the cow call and they stopped. As soon as the first cow stopped, George promptly shot it square in the shoulder with his 30/06.
We walked down the hill and found his elk, I snapped a quick picture and broke the elk down for the pack out. We got the elk quartered and in game bags and started to head back to camp. We still had about 30 minutes of shooting light left, when I heard a bull bugle above us about 500 yards away. I asked George, "should I run up there real quick and see If I can kill that bull?" He said, "Its up to you". I thought about it, then said, "the elk hunting gods have been pretty good to us today, lets leave him for tomorrow".
George and his elk:
The next few days I passed on several elk and spotted some nice 6 points. The trouble I had was picking the right place to be when the elk fed out the 1/2 hour before dark each day.
Yesterday morning was going to be my last hunt for bulls for the year. Jerry, Ron, and I walked together in the dark on the trail George and I had cleared in August. Interestingly enough, Jerry had found an aspen tree his Dad had carved his initials in after he killed a deer there in 1981. Jerry had showed me where the tree was and I thought it would be nice if I took a picture of it for him.
We got to our spot and Jerry went up to his rock pile, Ron went to his spot, and I peeled off to hunt a different area. I soon found 2 good bulls, one 6 point and a decent 5 point along with a herd of cows. The bulls were bugling good, but were quite a ways away and a good 50-60 minute hike away.
With the rain starting and having to pull camp and head back to work, I fought the urge to make a run at them. I then walked to where Ron was sitting and asked if he'd seen any elk. He hadn't, but said he was going to hunt a ridge back to camp and would meet me there once the pounding rain stopped.
So, I picked up the trail and started heading back to camp, thoroughly content with elk season. I was clipping along pretty fast when I got to the area that Jerry's Dad had carved his initials in the tree. I slowed down to look for it and happened to look to my left and saw what I thought was the body of an elk laying there, 25 yards away. I looked through my binoculars and could see the body, rack and one ear behind a couple lodgepoles, his head totally obscured. I looked through my scope and it was all full of water. I wiped the front lense, looked through it, no better. Then I cleared the back lens, we're in business. I thought about shooting off-hand, but noticed I could take a knee and still have a shooting lane.
I lined up the leupold dot, and squeezed the trigger. The bull lurched out of his bed and fell into the root-ball he was bedded behind. I walked up and he was still moving a bit, so put another round behind his shoulder.
A few minutes later it occurred to me that Jerry's Dads tree must be pretty close. I walked 30 feet below my bull, and there was the tree.
Ron and Jerry heard the shots and about the time I had the bull broke down for packing, they arrived along with Geroge and his son Dean. Jerry told me he had passed a nice 6 point earlier in the morning because it was "more elk than he could use". We all took part of the elk and had it back at camp 25 mintues later.
While these guys are not "beast mode" hunters, they are damn fine people, friends, and elk hunters. They've been hunting together, out of the same camp, since 1971. I'm fortunate to know and hunt with them all...and they get it done even though all are north of 73 years old.
My bull:
Another look:
Jerry's Dads tree:
Ron, Jerry, George, and Dean at "Dad's tree":
