S
springbear
Guest
Just got back in from an Elk Hunt. These are Over the counter tags, up here in "wolf central".
Day One:
We worked in on a herd before daylight that had a bugeling bull in it. My friend was the shooter that morning. I could see the herd bull coming out, but this guy walked out at 100 yards and my buddy said he would do just fine. He made a good shot with his 270 and the bull went 40-50 yards stopped and got another round in the shoulder that put him down. Then we had to pack meat.... a long ways.
Day Two:
I am tired and sore from packing out the bull the day before. My little brother wakes me up and says get out of bed you sissy, I will take it easy on you today.... We get a mile or so in, and split up with him going up the creek and me easing out the old road because it is wet and I have blisters on my feet now. There I am enjoying the sunrise on a ridge top with a view and finishing up my breakfast burritto; a single shot rings out... I knew I was going to be tired tonight before my radio cracked "bull down brother"..
More meat to pack...
Day Three:
I am very sore now, my feet are bleeding through my socks in a couple of spots. My back is killing me from packing out two bulls in two days. Wondering if we have any luck left over, we are 50% now on nice bulls, which is not too shabby. The bulls are quite now, and stirred up. Should be heading for the dark holes and thick timber and leaving the cows behind... Its going to be hard, or real lucky to get one now. That's what I say over one too many whiskey and waters with my brother.. He says, he is sure he will be sleeping in the next morning and he is pretty sure I will not kill one if I do; pours another whiskey and starts telling his story again, his arms casting a shadow from the fire on the wall tent as he shows what he saw when his bull was coming through the brush...
My plan is to get way up high, way before light; hope one will squeal, move in and kill him at daylight.
I am hour before daylight several miles in, had a tense disscussion/negoitation with a good sized bear on the way up the mountain that held me up for a bit, but I am in position. I don't feel like any breakfast this morning...
I hear a bull squeal, but can not put a location on it. I am leaned up against a nice fir tree and comfortable, but still sweaty, it is hard to stay awake. There is another sueal, this time I put him at under a half mile and two small drainages away. I try not to get cockey about it, but I know the lay of the land, and I know I have a good chance at this bull. I smile in the darkness and take off. The sky is getting gray now, daylight is more and more apparent every second, I am racing across the slopes with one drainage to go. I am breathing hard now, but the ridge line is in sight, gotta slow down and catch my breath, the shot might be long. I clear the ridge line and there are elk less than 100 yards away, I am not detected. No bull in sight. Where are you! My cross hairs drift from elk to elk to elk.... All cows and calves. He bugles, oh you sneaky thing, 200 yards down the slope away from the cows in the tree and brush line. I see the end game clear now; I will not get a shot, he is on the move and will be in the thick stuff in a matter of seconds. If he goes over the ridge right there, I may have a 200 yard shot, but only if he goes right there. I have to make a move now! I know the cows will see me, but if it works he will be dead before ever noticeing that they are spooked... He is headed up the far ridge now. I jump up and dash down my ridge, watching him and the opening, it is getting bigger with every jump that I take. There it is, that fallen tree will work for a rest. Every thing is slowing down. He is facing straight away, my 300 ultra mag is enough gun for the shot, but I think better of it. I cow call at him hard, he bugles but does not turn, does not stop. Two more steps and he is gone. I call again, much more winey and long. Weld my cheek to the stock, flick the saftey, steady my breath and take a pound out of the trigger. The cross hairs are just blipping with my heartbeat.
He stops, bugeling turns broadside. I hear the cows now clamering out of the draw to my left. I see through the scope that he notices them as well and begins to cut his bugle short. Guess I missjudged that by a bit; lucky. I take out the last pound of trigger, along with both of his lungs and the top of his heart.
Day One:
We worked in on a herd before daylight that had a bugeling bull in it. My friend was the shooter that morning. I could see the herd bull coming out, but this guy walked out at 100 yards and my buddy said he would do just fine. He made a good shot with his 270 and the bull went 40-50 yards stopped and got another round in the shoulder that put him down. Then we had to pack meat.... a long ways.
Day Two:
I am tired and sore from packing out the bull the day before. My little brother wakes me up and says get out of bed you sissy, I will take it easy on you today.... We get a mile or so in, and split up with him going up the creek and me easing out the old road because it is wet and I have blisters on my feet now. There I am enjoying the sunrise on a ridge top with a view and finishing up my breakfast burritto; a single shot rings out... I knew I was going to be tired tonight before my radio cracked "bull down brother"..
More meat to pack...
Day Three:
I am very sore now, my feet are bleeding through my socks in a couple of spots. My back is killing me from packing out two bulls in two days. Wondering if we have any luck left over, we are 50% now on nice bulls, which is not too shabby. The bulls are quite now, and stirred up. Should be heading for the dark holes and thick timber and leaving the cows behind... Its going to be hard, or real lucky to get one now. That's what I say over one too many whiskey and waters with my brother.. He says, he is sure he will be sleeping in the next morning and he is pretty sure I will not kill one if I do; pours another whiskey and starts telling his story again, his arms casting a shadow from the fire on the wall tent as he shows what he saw when his bull was coming through the brush...
My plan is to get way up high, way before light; hope one will squeal, move in and kill him at daylight.
I am hour before daylight several miles in, had a tense disscussion/negoitation with a good sized bear on the way up the mountain that held me up for a bit, but I am in position. I don't feel like any breakfast this morning...
I hear a bull squeal, but can not put a location on it. I am leaned up against a nice fir tree and comfortable, but still sweaty, it is hard to stay awake. There is another sueal, this time I put him at under a half mile and two small drainages away. I try not to get cockey about it, but I know the lay of the land, and I know I have a good chance at this bull. I smile in the darkness and take off. The sky is getting gray now, daylight is more and more apparent every second, I am racing across the slopes with one drainage to go. I am breathing hard now, but the ridge line is in sight, gotta slow down and catch my breath, the shot might be long. I clear the ridge line and there are elk less than 100 yards away, I am not detected. No bull in sight. Where are you! My cross hairs drift from elk to elk to elk.... All cows and calves. He bugles, oh you sneaky thing, 200 yards down the slope away from the cows in the tree and brush line. I see the end game clear now; I will not get a shot, he is on the move and will be in the thick stuff in a matter of seconds. If he goes over the ridge right there, I may have a 200 yard shot, but only if he goes right there. I have to make a move now! I know the cows will see me, but if it works he will be dead before ever noticeing that they are spooked... He is headed up the far ridge now. I jump up and dash down my ridge, watching him and the opening, it is getting bigger with every jump that I take. There it is, that fallen tree will work for a rest. Every thing is slowing down. He is facing straight away, my 300 ultra mag is enough gun for the shot, but I think better of it. I cow call at him hard, he bugles but does not turn, does not stop. Two more steps and he is gone. I call again, much more winey and long. Weld my cheek to the stock, flick the saftey, steady my breath and take a pound out of the trigger. The cross hairs are just blipping with my heartbeat.
He stops, bugeling turns broadside. I hear the cows now clamering out of the draw to my left. I see through the scope that he notices them as well and begins to cut his bugle short. Guess I missjudged that by a bit; lucky. I take out the last pound of trigger, along with both of his lungs and the top of his heart.
