A Story of September In the Margaret (PICS ADDED!)

[Sliverslinger]

Below is a short story I wrote about this years hunt. Read on if you feel so inclined.       


        September: the month where the cooler nights wrestle relentlessly  with the fleeting heat of summer's days, knowing that victory will be only a matter of time. It is the month that the first brilliant shades of glowing orange and fire yellow begin to infiltrate the leaves of alders, maples, and cottonwoods. The look of the landscape slowly changes day by day and there is almost a tension in the cool, crisp air as birds and critters of all kinds ready themselves for the transition into fall and the inevitable winter to follow.
   September is an incredible time in the hills for more than the sights though as there are haunting sounds floating across the valleys and ridges that are only rarely heard throughout the rest of the year.  September is mating season for elk, a time also known as the rut. It is a season where bulls stretch their vocal chords and bugles crescendo with increasing frequency and intensity. No two sound exactly alike, but once you've heard one, the sound will be seared into your mind forever and you will find yourself straining to listen in case you're fortunate enough to hear another.
   The twilight before dawn of September 6th this year found me and my good friend and hunting partner Chris (Judojudd - his story is also on here) at the top of a massive drainage just a few miles northeast of Mt. St. Helens. Having putting in for many years and finally drawing Margaret bull tags, we were eager to see what adventures the next two and a half weeks held in store. As dawn announced its presence by casting brilliant shades of light on the slopes of Mt. Rainier on the far side of the basin and silhouetting  the Margaret backcountry and St. Helens behind us I stepped slowly to the edge of the enormous basin in anticipation of the moment that officially kicks off the new hunting season. Ahh... September, how I have missed you.
   Bugle tube in hand, I adjusted the reed against my palate and inhaled deeply. Like a shofar horn signaling the start of an ancient holiday, I cut loose with a bugle starting deep in my diaphragm, rising to a ringing high note, and descending  to a low growl before cutting off. Listening to the remnants of the sound bouncing off the hillsides below, I strained to listen that I might not miss even a distant response. Within seconds I was greeted with exactly what I had hoped for immediately down below me, followed by another to the north, and finally a deep scratchy bugle close behind us. September was here, the rut was beginning, and Chris and I both had tags. It was time to get it on.
   The decision regarding which bull to go after was made quickly and easily based on a strong breeze carrying the sound of the bulls bugles directly to our ears. Moving with a purpose, we gathered our bows and gear and moved in the direction of  the bull somewhat behind us. We quickly realized he was in thick jack firs only 40-50 yards uphill of an old grade. One of the biggest goals I had for this season was for Chris to get the opportunity to kill his first elk with a bow and as we approached the area below the bull with the wind clearly in our favor I told Chris he was the shooter and began to set up. I stayed down hill and back from the bull and began with the sexiest, most seductive cow elk sounds I could muster. The bull disclosed his location once again with a few chuckles, the elk equivalent of a cat call whistle and invitation to come on over. I stubbornly refused to acquiesce his request, continuing to invite him to come make my acquaintance as I was clearly a lonely cow and in need of a real man. Back and forth we argued and it became clear that he simply was just not that into me and was unwilling to leave the safety and security of the thickly timbered hillside. I tried bugling at him and got bugles back, he was not budging. Chris and I had spoken about the desire to really increase our aggressiveness this year so I continued to keep him talking as Chris moved in.
   Within 20 minutes, Chris reappeared further up the grade and let me know that he had gotten within 20 yards and that bull was "the dinkiest of all dinks." Though legal, he was not worth an arrow. Still, we had three bulls sounding off within the first minutes and it took only 45 minutes to get within shooting distance of the first bull. Within 15 minutes we were glassing yet another bull on a nearby hillside and putting together a new plan. This was going to be a fun hunt.    
   Later that same afternoon, our level of excitement was through the roof as we had already had opportunities on other bulls, heard multiple bugles, and generally had one of the coolest opening days ever. The decision was made to drive to an old grade that went alongside another secluded basin I had scouted and was sure that elk were holding in. There was an almost palpable electricity in the air as we quietly shut the doors of my trusty Tundra and began to work our way up the grass covered road. After about a half mile we sauntered past the base of a rock cliff and I let out a locator bugle from the edge of the drainage. Hearing no reply despite being sure that any elk in the area would have heard me, I contemplated turning back, but Chris suggested going just a bit further.
   200 yards later I pushed the air over the latex once again sending a resounding bugle throughout the valley. Still no answer, but this time I followed it with a few seductive and slutty cow sounds to see if I could arouse a response. Moments later a bull roared from down below and I knew that he was taking the bait and it was up to me to set the hook. Playing this little scene out I set out to create the scenario of a couple of horny college elk showing interest in the big stud bull in the canyon, before being whisked away by a clearly inferior, probably unemployed bull. As the stud bull in the canyon bellowed up the hill at the dud bull that was the latex in my mouth and chuckled to his potential ladies, I mirrored him and chuckled as if I was trying to call the ladies over my way and I even called him a name or to. If I recall correctly, I called him a yellow bellied pansy and a sissypants - or something like that. This had the desired effect as he screamed his desire to turn me into elk burger if I didn't leave. Coincidently, the feeling was mutual.
   After it was clear that the big bambooza was really worked up, Chris and I decided to charge down the hill and get right in on him. Carefully picking our way down the small cliff, we descended into the thick, dark timber. At last estimate, we guessed the bull to be about 125 yard away and slightly up the canyon from us. Knowing the winded was likely flowing downhill in the bottoms, we circled somewhat to make sure we stayed downwind. After just a minute or two, we paused to re-evaluate our location and how we wanted to set up. However, we never quite got that far as we heard a stick snap directly to the side of us. Looking over, my eyes were quickly met by the sight of a dandy bull at only 40 yards walking straight towards us, and he was walking with a purpose. Apparently, nobody was going to call him a yellow bellied pansy, and definitely not a sissypants.
   Now, in elk hunting having a nice bull walking right at you is generally a very good thing. However, there is a minor issue with this when you are a bowhunter and you are not ready. As the bull closed the gap, Chris and I both simultaneously began trying to surreptitiously get arrows out of our quivers, get them knocked, and on our rests. Then there's that whole issue of getting your release on  a little tiny d-loop, getting the bow drawn, getting anchored, aiming, shooting, minor hunting details like that. This might seem simple enough, but put a fired up, angry bull elk stomping right towards you, add a little adrenaline, and a severe case of the shakes, and all of a sudden you start to feel like a blind woman trying to crochet on a rollercoaster.
   Within seconds the bull was right below us, and despite the adrenaline, the confidence born from thousands upon thousands of practice shots took over. His head passed behind a tree and Chris and I simultaneously drew and anchored standing side by side. The bull swung slightly down from us at 20  yards and when he was perfectly broadside I chirped a cow call to stop him. Everything went into slow motion as he lifted his head and looked right at us. I felt rock steady, but the shot was going to be difficult despite how close it was. The trees and branches were very thick and shooting lanes were sparse. I leaned to the side slightly and found a small window, settling my pins on his vitals ass I waited for Chris to shoot. Over the pounding of my heart in my ears I heard Chris whisper that he didn't have a shot and less than a second later my arrow was on its way towards the bull's vitals.
   The sound that greeted my ears was a deep, resonating mix of thump and ttthhwwaaacck indicative of a solid hit. Without hesitation,  Chris sounded off with a loud and enthusiastic whisper "blood everywhere!" as the bull stumbled, regained his footing and ran down the hill to the side, "Dude, you got him!" We cow called once or twice but within 10 seconds we heard a crash, some rattling, and a death moan. Sucking in deep breaths, two good hunting brothers with manly beards, bows, and camo turned to each other and tried to contain schoolgirl giggles as we excitedly talked about the calling, the approach, the set up and the shot.  Six hours into our hunt and we were pretty sure bull #1 was on the ground.
   Giving the bull an extended period of time to expire was difficult considering what we had heard and after a10-15 minutes we headed down to look for my arrow. While we didn't find it, the scene of the shot and the immediate blood trail confirmed what we had seen and heard. The trail was short, easily observable and ended almost immediately. The bull was down. Because of the heat and insects, we got immediately to work and within three hours all of the meat was cooling in game bags and we were back at the base of the cliffs on the old grade retelling the tale again and again. Sitting there in the cool shade, I caught a crisp breeze on my face and took in the scene. The old monarch's raspy bugle was still ringing in my ears as I strained to catch another one from amidst the alder, fir, and hemlock down in the valley below knowing it would only be a matter of time before that haunting sound pierced the silence.  Ahh... September. How I missed you.

[Lucky1]

 
Good job on the story and the bull. Congrats.

[Annette]

Great story! People in the magazines get paid a bunch for stories only half as good. Thanks for sharing and congrats on a fine hunt!   

[DIYARCHERYJUNKIE]

great write up!  Congrats!   

[boneaddict]

Thank you for sharing that with the forum!   Great stuff.

[Old Man Yager]

Awesome story, you going to post pics to top it off??

[elkoholic1]

Awesome story, you going to post pics to top it off??

 

[SniperDanWA]

Awesome story, you going to post pics to top it off??

 

Well written

[undertoad]

Awesome story, you going to post pics to top it off??

 

Yeah.

[jasnt]

Congrats. Great story!

[blackveltbowhunter]

Great write up! Looks like you guys had an awesome hunt. Congrats on the great bulls! 

[CNELK]

Thank you for the story and congratulations on your successful season!

[elk247]

One of the best elk stories ever told! You guys done good. Great bull, beautiful country and aggressive tactics. Now I have to go look for judoJudds story. Think for sharing and getting me to the point of absolute worthlessness as I await my opening day of elk. Well done Boys! 

[FSTaxidermy]

Great story! congrats 

[Falcon]

Wow

Congrats on a successful hunt in every way.
You have a way with words.
Great write up!

[MLBowhunting]

Awesome bull.   Did you partner get a bull?

[TheHunt]

Thank you for sharing...  Great write up and good bull.

[rsrobins]

Awesome story!! And that's a Great margerat bull!! Congratulations!!

[kevinlisa06]

Congrats!


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[Wanttohuntmore]

Congrats!

[Sliverslinger]

Awesome bull.   Did you partner get a bull?

Yes- He is judojudd and his story is on here titled "My first bull! And oh yeah...the Margaret is unbelievable!"

He got a behemoth for the Margaret - An old bull with almost no teeth that we called in to 5 yards.

[Watimberghost]

What a story, and a great bull

[Optimusprime]

What an awesome story and bull! Great wrote up. I felt as if I was right there watching it go down. Got my adrenaline pumping just thinking about the awesome hunt. Congrats!