I drew a Toutle archery bull tag this year after accumulating about 7 points or so, the first special permit I've been fortunate enough to draw. Given the extremely dry summer we had this year, I spent my scouting time on State land figuring there was no way Weyerhauser would be open. I picked a camping spot high on a large timber bowl with no open roads and no clearcuts for miles. My Dad came to help and my buddy Kevin came to call for a day.
We started dropping into the bowl on an old skid road as soon as it was light enough to see. At the end of a finger ridge Kevin threw out a locator bugle, and deep from the bottom came a response. Game on! We dropped toward the creek to cut the distance and bugled again and the bull answered. At the bottom we cow called and the bull bugled and chuckled, he was close but across the creek. We glassed carefully and after seeing no elk decided we needed to get across the open grassy bottom and up under the bull in the timber. Once on the other side I moved about 75 yards into the timber while my Dad and Kevin stayed lower by the creek. Kevin started cow calling and two bulls within 100 yards of me bugled. I could see some cows with one of them, but didn't see the bull. The other was a satelite and he couldn't resist the cow calling. He came running in and stopped to bugle 30 yards to the South of me, broadside, upwind, and looking to scoop up one of the herd bull's cows. I didn't even hesitate, it was automatic. The bull bolted at the shot and ran straight toward my Dad and looped around me in a large semi-circle. I saw and heard brush popping about 40 yards North of me. I heard a few hoarse gurgly huffs and then it was quiet. I took off my pack, nocked another arrow, and waited. 3 or 4 minutes later a gust of wind blew right from me toward the place I'd last heard the bull and an elk bolted crashing off into the timber. We regrouped where the bull had run in front of my Dad and found the tracks and some blood. Given that I'd heard an elk bolt after winding me and thought it could have been as far back as the liver we backed out and waited about 2 hours.
When we started on the blood trail, it was fairly tough. Kevin found the front foot or so of my arrow about 10 yards into the trail and it had good bright blood on it. About 20 yards later we found the nock end, also soaked in good blood. I was searching for blood on the brush and looking ahead for tracks when I saw him right there 10 feet in front of me. I have killed cows, but this was my first bull, and it was opening morning. What a relief. He had died right where I'd heard the crash and huffing last breaths about 40 yards North of me. I hadn't hit too far back, it was a double lunger and he had expired within seconds of the shot. I think the elk that winded me and bolted must have been the other bull or one of his cows sneaking around to get downwind.
We took some pictures and then got to work. The pack out was short, only 0.4 miles to camp by GPS, but 600 plus feet of elevation gain and took a little over an hour to climb back. Two trips each and we had the meat and head safely back in camp.
I was expecting the hunting pressure to be terrible on the State land, but boy was I wrong. I only saw 4 other camps and didn't even hear a single hunter blowing a bugle.
It was a great trip. My Dad is a rifle hunter and got to see and hear bulls up close like he never sees later in the fall.
