This Weekend while opening the mail, I saw the January/February Edition of the Eastmans Bowhunting Journal. Thumbing through, I came across a familiar face in the members success pictures…Me!
Of course I started getting phone calls and e-mails from all my buddies across the West with obligatory “Hollywood” jokes. I had submitted a story along with a bunch of photos that I haven’t had the opportunity to share with my readers. So I’ll do that here, now.
The Preparation
It was February when I saw that I was unsuccessful in drawing a Wyoming elk permit. I gathered my composure, and called my friend Shane, who lived in Oregon. Shane invited me to join him in Oregon where I could get an over the counter archery license. I was happy that I would have a chance to hunt elk this year.
In July, I received the news I had drawn a Wyoming deer tag. I was worried that the seasons would conflict. After numerous calls to my Wyoming and my Oregon hunting partners, we figured out a schedule that would accommodate both. I would spend 5 days hunting in Wyoming, then drive 12 hours to central Oregon to catch the last 4 days of the Oregon archery elk season. I knew if I was going to hunt for two weeks straight for two of the toughest game animals the West has to offer, I’d better get in shape.
Over the next 12 weeks, I had signed up with a trainer and began a regime of weights and cardio training 5 days a week. I dropped 4% in body fat and lost 25 pounds. I shot my bow every night, and competed in the local 3-D league with my daughters. By the middle of September we had all won our divisions. I also let my moustache and a goatee grow as a reminder to prepare for my upcoming hunts, much to my family’s amusement. My wife asked me when I was going to shave it, I replied, “When I arrow a bull elk”.
This year started a new tradition. I asked my two oldest daughters to draw me a picture of the game I was going to hunt. Both girls produced works of art that I took with me as good luck charms, folded in my shirt pocket. They made me promise that I would shoot a 4 point or better buck, and a branch antlered bull elk, just as they had drawn. Plus the oldest reminded me; I was going to shave off my goatee if I was successful. I assured her I would be good to my word.
Soon I was on the road to Wyoming for my mule deer hunt. While I hunted for 3 days with my bow, I finally got out the rifle and harvested a 5×4 buck on the last day of my hunt. The next morning, I left at daylight headed for Oregon where I had a date with a bull elk.
Elk hunt 2006
As I pulled off of the gravel road onto the narrow two track that led to camp, I rolled down the window and heard what I thought was a distant bugle. “Good Sign” I thought to myself…
We were hunting public land near a large ranch. While my friends were on good terms with the ranch manager, he was unable to give us permission to hunt on the ranch property. We appreciated his candor an assured him that even thou we would be watching for elk traveling to and from the alfalfa, we would respect the boundary.
As I pulled into camp a wall tent lit up greeted me and a couple of hunting partners awaited me with stories of the day. When I had talked to Shane via cell phone earlier in the day, he had cut our conversation short by saying, “We got elk talking below us, gotta go!”
It turns out that they had a herd of roughly 150 elk leave the hayfield and shade up in the junipers below their glassing perch, on the public land. Shane had passed on a raghorn, and Chuck had missed a spike. So the elk were there and it was a good sign. It was hard to sleep that night as we could hear the elk bugle occasionally in the still night air.
The next morning we were back at our lookout before daylight. During the night clouds had rolled in and were threatening rain. The wind was blowing out of the northwest with authority and it was pretty cold for a September day. As the sun rose I could make out the shapes of 20- 30- 50 no…. 100 elk in the hayfield below us, still a good mile away. Through the spotting scopes we could make out a number of bulls as the herd bull surveyed his domain. Seldom would the bulls challenge him, but if one did he would lower his head and all but the most foolhardy upstarts would avert their gaze and tread carefully around the master.
The later in the day it got, the colder and windier it became. The elk bedded in the open hayfield, and we huddled in the rocks as rain began spitting, mixed with sleet. We huddled around a juniper fire, occasionally leaving the warmth to survey the herd below. The weather had the elk bedded down in a tight circle in the alfalfa, and no elk stirred. We watched the herd for the rest of the afternoon with no action. All the elk were “out of bounds” but we were seeing elk and that made out trip back to camp, and a warm meal bearable that night.
Sometime in the evening the clouds cleared and we could hear distant sounds clearly. From the nearby cattle ranch we could hear the bawling of newly weaned calves, occasionally punctuated by an elk bugle.
At daylight we were in the same position as before. But the disposition of the herd was different than when we left them. During the night some bulls from neighboring ranches had come in and we could see that the herd bull had been busy defending his large harem. Shortly after daybreak we could see a small group of vanquished suitors drifting through the junipers. These were bulls that were going elsewhere to look for action. With a quick hyper cow call we got the bulls attention from across the canyon and we bailed off into the lava rock and sage to intercept the bulls.
As we hustled down the hill I quickly pulled out two Montana Decoys I had purchased from Cabelas a few days before. When we were near the bottom of the draw, we set up with me as the shooter, the decoys sixty yards behind me and to the right, and Shane as the caller behind a juniper near the cow decoys. Chuck set up further up the draw in case the elk tried to circle downwind.
I had an arrow nocked as I began ranging the juniper trees around me. 60 yards to the furthest, 20 yards to the closest, and then another at 40 yards between them. I noticed my broadhead quivering like a Richter scale needle during an earthquake. As soon as Shane let out his first hyper lip cow call, my pulse really started pounding. He called for about 2 minutes, and I saw nothing as we sat silent for 5 minutes. I kept checking to my left to see if the bulls had circled us. I peered into the maze of junipers ahead of me, hoping for a glimpse of elk hide. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Shane began calling again.
Ahead of me and to my right, I caught a glimpse of an elk rump moving away and up the canyon. I rose to follow it and Shane waved me down. His stern look and mouthed words said “Stay where you are.” in no uncertain terms. I could see a spike and raghorn had moved into a clearing 300 yards past us and were moving away uninterested in our calls.
Once I had settled back in my ambush spot in front of a juniper, I heard a crack like a 6-inch fencepost makes when you back into it with your truck. I went on alert, adrenaline redlining. Seconds seemed like hours, when finally I could see antler tips through the treetops. Soon I was looking at the head and neck of a branch antlered and fairly heavy bull elk. His body was shielded behind the shoulder by the juniper I had ranged earlier at 60 yards. His gaze seemed to go right through me as I sat in the open. I had resigned myself to the fact that this was the part where he wheeled on his haunches and disappeared, when he dropped his head and began raking the tree. Then his head snapped up and looked behind me. I could see the change in his demeanor as he saw the decoys. He began moving to my right, and as he stepped behind the tree at 40 yards, I drew my bow.
The bull stopped behind the tree, of course. I held the bow at full draw and silently willed Shane to give one call…just one. After what seemed like an eternity a soft mew came from behind me. The bull stepped into the opening intent on the cows he saw and heard. I split the 30 and 40 yard pins on his chest and triggered the shot.
I saw the arrow hit and go fletching deep in the bull. I saw the blood on the white wrap and vanes. I also saw that the arrow was further back that I would have liked it, as the bull lunged and threw dirt and rocks as he scrambled to escape. I immediately began cow calling frantically, and Shane and Chuck followed my lead. It was a few tense minutes as we heard the bulls hoof beats on the rocks slow down. In the distance, through the trees, I could see the tops of his antlers, as he was, What’s that, actually looking back in our direction? Then the antlers began to sway and I watched them topple out of sight. I breathed a sigh of relief, and put my arrow back in my quiver when I heard Chuck’s voice call out “He’s done! I saw it all. That bull was coming back to the decoys!”
When we reached the bull I was stunned at his size. This being my first bull elk ever he looked huge. I quickly surveyed his rack and counted 5 points on one side and a little sixth point on the other. I had eclipsed my goal of arrowing a branch antlered bull. While this bull might not be note worthy to many hunters, he was certainly a trophy by my standards. After we had packed him back to camp I pulled out the drawings my daughters had made for me. I noticed quite a similarity between the elk my daughters drew and the one that now hung on the meat pole. They both would be hung where I could marvel at their beauty and would remind me of loving family and good friends.
Two days later I was pulling into the driveway to the ranch and I could see my daughters running out the front door of the house. The oldest had the beard trimmer in her hand. I was never so glad to shave in my life.
