Well, been a long time lurker here…looks like my covers blown though
Anyways I guess its time for an overdue intro and a little story to go with the pic…plus a few more. So here it goes: Hi, my name is chris, and I’m an obsessively addicted hunter and fisher…and a coug. That about covers it right?
As for the bull, yep this is my second year bowhunting (and after two very successful years you couldn’t pay me to go back). This guy makes bull number six, but has been by far the most mentally and emotionally intense elk hunt of my life! Anyways I spent most of the summer scouting the area, finding elk but for the most part they were spread out and pretty inconsistent. As the season got close and I started putting together my hunt plan, I went and checked a cam over a small wallow that had been dead all summer long…as luck would have it, I had four different bulls come in the five days prior, with the beast himself making a very brief appearance.
My other cams showed quite a bit of life as the pre rut had begun, but opening morning brought nothing but frustration. Very swirly winds, super dry conditions, and lock jawed elk holed up in thick brush didn’t make it easy. After getting busted by bulls a couple times and realizing that calling or ground hunting was out of the question for the next few days, I figured my best bet would be to park myself somewhere in the stand and try to wait em’ out.
I opted to throw the stand up over the little wallow in some deep timber. It didn’t have the most activity of my spots, but it had the recent activity and most importantly I had an access route where I could cut in downwind in the morning and make it to the stand without spooking elk…and so the stakeout began.
With the stand up a mile and a half or two miles from my launch point, I was up at 3:30 am and in the woods hiking by 4 to try to make it to the wallow an hour before daylight to avoid spooking any early risers. Sounded easy, but turned out to be some of the trickiest…albeit creepiest hiking I’ve ever done. In the stand by 5, it all started.
What I thought would be the easiest part of the hunt turned out to be the hardest, as the waiting hours and hours on end started getting to me. After 10 or 12 hours with no activity, I figured I’d have to resort to counting trees, talking to squirrels, or brushing up on my blue jay calls to stay awake. The wind chill under my ars and the rising sun kept me going through the morning, but the afternoons were down right brutal. Whenever I began to doubt the plan though, all I had to do was flip through those trail cam pics and see that bruiser in there… and so I sat. One day, two days… still sitting, then FINALLY some activity. Beginning with a few distant branches snapping and slowly working closer, I had a group of six cows feed through the timber just outside the wallow. No bulls though, and just as quickly as they came by they fed past and were gone. On with the day… but hey, now there was hope.
The third day came just as the others, but the lack of sleep was definitely noticeable. Getting quicker in my hike though, I was settled in the stand again around 4:45. This was my favorite time of the morning, and with the moonlight shining down through the timber lighting up sword ferns like lamps, I sat anxious as ever. But just like the last two days, the magic hour faded into morning and with the sun rising higher, my spirits faded again.
Things took a turn around 9 am. I sat pondering my choices, calculating the likelihood of success given other hunting scenarios, and laughing to myself when I realized I’d just hit 30 hours in the treestand. With those hours behind me, I was determined to wait them out though and I figured hey, if I wait here long enough somethings bound to come by right? 30 minutes later, a distant crack rang through my game ear. It caught my attention, but after hearing this 10 or 15 times a day with no result I wasn’t sold….until I heard another…and another.
They were getting closer, in fact, they were coming straight down the hillside right towards me. With an upright position and an elevated heart rate, I began searching through the deep timber hoping to spot the elk. The sounds got louder, and just as I told myself alright I should be able to see him any second…THERE HE WAS. At first just a glimpse of nothing but antler about 100yards out, then, a full view of his head. I instantly closed my eyes and sank back in my seat. That’s when my inner voice spoke up: “That’s him…there he is, that’s the bull of your dreams and he’s coming RIGHT TO YOU!!! Time to pull your *censored* together!”
The next several minutes took forever…and as he got closer, he grew more and more cautions. Stopping, looking, listening, and slowing walking in. Without the slightest hint of my presence, he crept to the edge of the wallow at 30 yards. As he drank, my heart rate reached apocalypse status, and I readied myself for the moment. The whole time he’d come straight in, so while I waited for him to turn broadside all I could do was admire this magnificent animal and try like hell not to count all the points!
Then he made his move, 180 degrees and straight back the way he came. NO! I watched as he slowly walked away…and as I started to lose hope, he took a turn (for his worse). He began feeding through the timber, quartering away at about 50 yards. As he neared an opening, I drew back in anticipation, only for him to stop and make me let down after 30 or 40 seconds of waiting. He finally took a few more steps, and with a quick cow call of from my lips he stopped in a narrow opening, looked around, and began feeding again. Perfect, here’s my chance. Ranged a couple more times at 60.1 yards, then I set the pin in the sweet spot…and after a quick and charged pep talk, I sent that shuttle-T flying.
The shot was a bit to the right (back on his body), and the last frame I remember seeing was the arrow arcing up, and going out of sight as it dropped down…like it went right over him….then he took off like a stampede. That gutwrenching feeling hit me…I missed. I had to have, I didn’t see it drop in, and didn’t hear much for a “whack”. I sat there contemplating hanging myself from the stand for awhile, and after a 30 minute wait I went and looked for the arrow. I dug through the ferns, DUG and DUG…but nothing. I had some hope, but with my head down I waited a bit longer then started following the trail he plowed through the brush.
20, 30, 40 yards through ferns and sorrel…and no blood. Not a speck. His trail met up with a game trail and down I went, beginning what at the time seemed like a search for lost hope and a story of a miss that nobody would believe. A few feet later, I look up only to see a massive antler jutting from the ferns. And as my emotions went from borderline suicidal to kid at Christmas, I cautiously approached in disbelief. There he was!!! Dead as a rock, with an entry hole just behind the rib cage, angling through the liver and into the opposite lung!
He was a mammoth, I could barely move the head on my own…so my first move was to get some help and get this guy outta the woods ASAP. After a few frantic calls, I got ahold of some buddies and after a very long day we had a mountain of meat and the bull of a lifetime back at home.
And now I know….treestands for elk work!