Best hunting story, elk.

[Humptulips]

So, we have this in Deer hunting but some of my best stories involve elk. I think some others likely have a few good elk stories to tell too so let's hear them.

This would have been 1987 0r 1988. I had intended to hunt that day in the river bottom below Humptulips but after maybe an hour into it I decided there was someone else ahead of me chasing the herd so pulled out and decided to try a spot on Joe Creek. That is inland from Pacific Beach. I had seen a lot of sign there but frankly the entire area was a brushy nightmare. There was one little patch of timber and that is where I went. I hunted across it until I came to Joe creek. I intended to cross the creek but hit fresh elk tracks going right down the creek. There did not seem like a lot of elk, and it is a tough area to track but the elk stayed in the creek so pretty easy to follow on the gravel bars. that went along fine until they came to a patch of logging maybe 15 years old. They cut up across it feeding, spreading out and it was just about impossible to stay on their tracks, but I went up this low ridge and would see a track occasionally. As I went along the ground got higher and the trees were growing better which meant I couldn't see much and finally I hadn't seen a track for a long time. There was a winter huckleberry bush with a lot of berries, and I was munching on them wondering what to do. It was a jungle to go straight back to the car but if I headed up the ridge there was a road and a long walk around to the car. About this time I heard and elk whistle, not a bugle just the little noises they make to keep track of one another. I thought it had come from the right. I climbed up on a tall stump that had a round chunk balanced on top of it and was looking try to see off to the right. I happened to glance off to the left and about 200 yards away across a swale there was a monster bull standing broadside. Trouble was I could barely see him over the brush and it wasn't getting better any place between us. So, I thought it's either a shot from here or nothing. Offhand standing on a round log balanced on top of a stump and what's worse the only way I could see him through the scope was if I kind of went up on my toes. Needless to say, I missed but when I shot two more big bulls ran out in a little opening below me that I had an actual shooting lane too. I shot the one, a 7x7, one of the bigger bulls I had ever killed but definitely smaller than the first one I saw who was still standing there. I went on down to the one I had killed and was hearing rustling in the brush. After making sure that bull was dead, I looked over towards the first one I had shot at and there were 6 big bulls lined up in a row. I watched them slowly walk up the ridge and out of sight. Later after I had gutted my elk, I followed the same trail on up to a landing and walked around back to my car. On the way I ran into a herd of elk of about 40 in the road, not a bull in the bunch. I went down to the Aloha tavern and called my Dad who had a Landcruiser with a winch and we winched him out of the brush.

[baldopepper]

  nice to see just some fun to read success stories on the forum with no controversy involved.

[redi]

Great story Bruce. Thank you for sharing

[Sliverslinger]

I write a ton of short stories for hunts I’ve been on and have several about elk. I think this one is posted here on the site over a decade ago when I was first starting to write them, but I’ll post it again here:

The story of my bull this year:

 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 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 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 Mt. Adams 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 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 down to business.
 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 quickly, 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 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 lonely 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. Chris and I had spoken about the desire to really increase our aggressiveness 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 well under an hour 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 nerd elk. As the bull bellowed up the hill at the nerd bull and chuckled to his potential ladies, I mirrored him and chuckled as if I was trying to call the ladies over my way and 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. I felt the same way about him and let him know it.
 After it was clear that the big bambooza was good and 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 right walking right towards you, add a little adrenaline, and a severe case of the shakes, and all of a sudden this is akin to 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. Everything went into slow motion as he lifted his head and looked right at us. My plan was to back up Chris and shoot right after he did. 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 as 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!" Within seconds we heard a crash, some rattling, and a death moan. Sucking in deep breaths, two good hunting brothers with manly beards (admittedly Chris' is way better than mine), 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 a little while we headed down to look for my arrow. While we didn't find it at first, 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. Ahh... September. How I missed you.

[Dan-o]

I had a string of years back-to-back where my son was almost regretting becoming my elk hunting partner.

FIRST YEAR:   I dropped my son off at the bottom of a draw and was going to drive back up top and wait for him.   I was literally 2 minutes into my drive back uphill after dropping him off and a herd of elk are crossing the road.   I hopped out, threw on my blaze orange, got my rifle out of the hard case it was in, loaded it, and shot an elk in my sox.    Then I called my son on the radio and ended his 2 minute elk hunt.   

SECOND YEAR:   We were to go elk hunting after work and my son begged out.  He wanted to go hang with friends.   So I said then I wasn't going.   He felt bad about that and said if I got one he'd come help pack it out.     Sure enough, right at dusk I shoot an elk.   I had to drive out a little ways to get cell service.    I got him on the phone.  He arrived at the trailhead about 10PM.     I think we got home about 7AM.   Luckily, he didn't have to start work until 8.    He has made that offer a few times since.

THIRD YEAR:   I had a torn meniscus, and wasn't going to hunt too far off the road.   My meniscus would sometimes hang up and lock my knee up really painfully.    So, of course I shot an elk and while working on it on the ground, my knee locked up.   I literally had to scoot 300-400 yards  on my butt uphill back to the road..... and my son had to get the elk out himself because I was useless with a locked up knee.

FOURTH YEAR:  My son and I both had cow tags.    I also had elbow surgery scheduled for 3 days after our 1-day elk hunt (big bone chip needed to be removed).   I told him we were only shooting 1 cow because I couldn't help much with one arm out of commission.   I was mostly carrying my rifle as back up.   We crest a hill and there is a whole herd of elk 150ish yards away.   My son lays down, tells me which elk he's gonna shoot and proceeds to shoot.    The entire herd runs about 100 yards, unsure of where the shot came from.   My son no longer has a shot, and it looks like he didn't it anything so I flop down and drop a cow.   At my shot, the entire rest of the herd except one bolt out of sight.    That one proceeds to wobble and drop.         We have two big fat juicy cows down, and I tell my son he'd better put his big boy pants on because he's got a long day of elk processing ahead of him.

I'm not sure why he still hunts with me.     

[NOCK NOCK]

Many moons ago....

Was just getting into archery hunting and scouted some small areas for elk.
The best spot was a large canyon with a drivable road near the top on one ridge, with an equal elevation walk in only road on the opposite ridge, As a crow flies, about 1500 yards separating the 2. There is also a drivable road in the canyon bottom.

Glassing from the rig we spot a lone spike on the opposite side about 1/2 way up the canyon, 900yards away. Being new to calling/elk hunting we give it a quick bugle (have zero idea what I said, just bugled lol) to see what it does. The spike instantly heads downhill straight at us.
Well for whatever reason we decide the best move is to drive to the bottom road, then quickly hoof it out the walk in road to get exactly opposite from where we just bugled.

Three of us set up on the road, myself calling, and partners to both sides about 30 yards out. The bull had climbed that canyon and was about 80 yards below where we bugled from. (Crap...should have stayed there) Well I let another crappy bugle out and BOOM, he turns and is basically running downhill thrashing every tree he went by, heading straight back to where he was, and we now were.
A bit of cow calling and a bugle or twelve (lol) later, and I could hear the bull coming straight up at me about 50 yards out but covered in brush.
He was making lots of chirps and small bugles and finally popped out in the open at 30yards, frontal.

I am shooting a Bear whitetail 2 compound (told ya it was many moons ago) with an aluminum arrow longer than a pool cue. 
I draw back and have to hold for what seemed like 15 minutes. The bull stared right at me barking alot but never budged. Just when I was about to no longer be able to hold the draw, my partner did a cow call that made the bull take a couple steps to the left. This presented a perfect opportunity and i let one fly.

I will never forget the slow mo of this next 1 minute of time, the arrow flight as I watched it drop in to an absolute perfect heart shot. The bull turned and launched straight down hill, only made it about 2 bounds and then a quick tumble and all 4 feet were pointing straight toward the sky.......just 4 feet hanging there. The feet wiggled once or twice and then just hung there. 
I was in total disbelief; I had just killed my 1st Elk. 

To this day I have killed 20+ elk, but by far, this is still my favorite.

[jeffro]

I overslept
Arriving at camp around 9
Never leaving the camp site
A spike decided it wanted to fill my freezer

[Rem14]

SORRY JUST SAW IT WAS ELK HUNTS OH WELL. Can this be moved to hunting story in deer forum? Started the hunt from Tacoma area. Got to Ellensburg stopped for fuel alternator bearing gives out taking the belt with it. It was in my motorhome. Unhook my truck I was towing drove to auto parts to get a new alternator and belt. Got to Rye Grass rest stop the belt was slipping. I had some belt dressing in my toolbox figured it would work, which it did for awhile, got as far as Colville and said this is enough. By now it was late auto parts stores are closed so campout in parking lot waiting for store to open in the morning. Finally got the right belt and back on the road to our destination. arrived mid morning. A friend of my Dad  gave us a tour of where I could hunt. My Dad said he was tired so I took him back to the motorhome and because it was getting late decided  to just walk across the road till dark. Twenty minutes later 4x6 whitetail down, not a monster but adds to the adventure. Over 24 hours to get there for a 20 minute hunt. 

[pd]

These are great!

I think Jeffro wins the Brevity Prize.

[Pathfinder101]

Does it have to have a happy ending?  Most of mind don't...

[NOCK NOCK]

Does it have to have a happy ending?  Most of mind don't...

Elk hunts not massages. 

[redi]

Great stories. Like to see some pictures too.

[NOCK NOCK]

Just not from path. 

[String Bender]

In 2016, I was one of the lucky people to draw an archery eastern quality elk tag. I decided I was going to take the entire hunt off of work and hunt my bottom off. On opening day, I'm with my buddy and its hot an haven't heard or seen anything. At around 10am, a bull bugles. We call and he responds back instantly. We work this bull the rest of the day going into some of the biggest thickets I've been in but never laid eyes on him. I could hear him walk and take breaths but never seen him. It was a great day for getting the adrenaline pumping and a great start to the hunt.  The next day we hit the same spot hard and get on the bull first thing in the morning but he clams up and nothing for the rest of the day. That night in camp, my Dad says he is seeing a ton of sign where he is going so we head in there the next day.  We go in before daybreak and the elk are bugling everywhere. Had a lot of close calls and did a lot of calling but once again, it's so thick I don't lay eyes on any of them. The remainder of the hunt is like this, a lot of listening ,following and calling but never laying eyes on them. Fast forward to the second to the last day. I woke up that morning and was thinking that I was probably going to be eating my tag. I was bumming myself out eating my breakfast at 4 am. I did breakfast, got my gear and me and my Dad drove to the parking spot. When I got out to grab my gear, a elk bugled right next to me. I grabbed my bugle and screamed back and he responded with a scream right back. Then another bull bugled to my left and I responded back. That's when all heck broke loose.  Besides myself, there are 3 other bulls and they are absolutely screaming bugles. I am running around trying to get eyes on any of them but they are moving around too much. Finally, two lock horns right next to me and start fighting. I scramble around to their location only to see butts going opposite directions. This all lasts about 45 minutes and now my spirits are lifted and adrenaline is once again pumping. Me and my Dad head into our spot. He stays hi on the mountain while I drop down. I get down pretty far into the thick stuff and cut one of the biggest elk tracks I've ever seen and he's heading towards a spot that I'm familiar with so I turn around and head back uphill to the spot. I slide in there and a bugle busts out right next to me. I bugle and he responds back pretty quick. I look and I can see the tops of his antlers above the brush that was very hi and knew he was a very large bull. I try to rang his horn above the brush about 20 time but the adrenalin was really flowing and couldn't range him. He stuck his nose out and I finally ranged him and prepared for the shot. I was there for what seemed like 10 minutes and he came out in a very small opening and walked through it so fast I couldn't shoot. And boy was he big! I ran around the little finger to my right to try to get a shot, but it was like he jumped into a trap door and disappeared . I was trying to locate him for the next couple of hours to no avail. I walked back up the mountain and met my Dad and told him everything. I ate some food and thought I had just blown my chance at a giant bull .  Well, I'm sitting with my Dad feeling sorry for myself around 2 in the afternoon and a bull bugles just below me and its him. I grab my stuff and run about 300 yards back down the mountain and drop behind a freshly fallen log and let out a bugle. He responds back just below me and I see his antlers sticking out of the pine trees below me. I do a soft call and he starts up at me and to my right. I never looked at his antlers again, only the spot I wanted my arrow to hit. At 45 yards, he stopped and I shot. He went about 50 yards and died. He ended up being a 8x7 bull and meat and bones he weighed 558 lbs. Taxidermist aged him at 9-10 years old. My Dad was 72 at the time and has a lot of elk under his belt. He kept telling me this was the biggest elk he ever laid hands on.                                                               

[baldopepper]

Fun reads. Kind of like a hot stove get together for hunters.