Daxter
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LAST EDITED ON Apr-17-11 AT 05:27PM (MST)[p]All this talk about quality vs. opportunity has made me think quite a bit about what it is in hunting that I really like. A couple weeks ago I got a phone call from Fish and Game asking about my 2010 general season any bull elk hunt in UT. I have bought this over-the-counter tag 5 times or so and have never killed a bull. When the gal calling asked how I ranked my satisfaction for the hunt on a scale of 1-5, 1 being the lowest and 5 being the highest, without hesitation I told her 5. When I blurted it out I guess it even surprised me a little. Not only had I not harvested a bull, I hadn't even seen a live bull during the time I hunted. But, thinking back I was still really happy with the overall experience. I knew what kind of hunt it was going into it, and I really enjoyed being out hunting with my family. It seems like nowadays there is so much focus on the trophy and the kill it is easy to forget about some of the other elements that can make a hunt a success. Sure, I would love to kill a big bull, but I realize that there is so much more to the overall hunting experience than that.
The elk hunt has become something of a family tradition over the last couple years. We have had a few close calls, but neither my Dad nor I have brought home a bull. I know there are elk there, and every year I tell myself that this is going to be the year. This year was no exception.
The day before the opener I loaded up the whole family, including a 3 month old baby, and headed for our camping spot.
My Dad came along as usual, and my brother who is not a hunter took a day off work so he could come along as well. While he chooses not to carry a rifle himself, he likes camping and being out and will eat elk steaks without a second thought. I was glad to have him along.
Opening morning found my Dad, my 7 year old son, my brother, and I heading out.
The others were too tired to start out before sunrise. At first light as my son and I walked up on a little clearing where we wanted to be on opening morning we heard a shot. It wasn't my Dad and brother, and we went to see what was going on. Another guy had beat us by 5 minutes and killed a decent 5 point right where we had planned to hunt. My boy still thought it was fun to see an elk up close and the lucky hunter needed some help. He didn't even have a knife on him and had no idea what he was doing. He hadn't hunted in 10 years and after long drive out to the Uintas from Bountiful had ended up in our meadow by pure coincidence. He also had a 8-10 year old son along with him and I was glad to see a guy taking his kid along. I gutted the elk for him and helped him drag it across a wash to an old logging road nearby.
Opening morning had come and gone without much luck, but the family was having a blast. We ate way too many doughnuts, made a big campfire, and Grandpa did what grandpas do best, spoil thier grandkids.
We were having a great time, and I still had a secret secondary meadow deep in the thick pines that I thought might produce. We hunted the rest of the weekend without any more close calls and the wife and kids had to head home along with my brother.
A couple days later I was sitting with my Dad in my secret meadow late in the evening. I figured we were about done for the day and decided to go one last walk while he watched the clearing. I made a little loop and was almost back to the opening when I heard a single shot.
Right at dusk a young bull had walked out and my Dad had let the lead fly. We found him in the trees about 75 yards from the opening and got to work in the dark.
We cleaned him out and hung up the halves so we could pack him out the next morning. On the way back to camp we stopped on a tall peak and called family and he sent a couple pictures out on his phone. It wasn't a big bull by anyone's standard, but for us it was great.
I kept hunting a couple more days and didn't see a single bull. I still chalk the hunt up as a success, and I can't wait to do it again next year. Even if my Dad hadn't killed anything I am so glad we had an excuse to get together and spend time in the mountains. I have been on more than one hunting trip that wasn't pleasant due to the pressure of expectations to kill a trophy animal. Sometimes a hunt like this one is just what a guy needs to remember what is really important. To end up killing a bull was just icing on the cake, or should I say burger on the grill.
Dax
There is no such thing as a sure thing in trophy mule deer hunting.
The elk hunt has become something of a family tradition over the last couple years. We have had a few close calls, but neither my Dad nor I have brought home a bull. I know there are elk there, and every year I tell myself that this is going to be the year. This year was no exception.
The day before the opener I loaded up the whole family, including a 3 month old baby, and headed for our camping spot.
My Dad came along as usual, and my brother who is not a hunter took a day off work so he could come along as well. While he chooses not to carry a rifle himself, he likes camping and being out and will eat elk steaks without a second thought. I was glad to have him along.
Opening morning found my Dad, my 7 year old son, my brother, and I heading out.
The others were too tired to start out before sunrise. At first light as my son and I walked up on a little clearing where we wanted to be on opening morning we heard a shot. It wasn't my Dad and brother, and we went to see what was going on. Another guy had beat us by 5 minutes and killed a decent 5 point right where we had planned to hunt. My boy still thought it was fun to see an elk up close and the lucky hunter needed some help. He didn't even have a knife on him and had no idea what he was doing. He hadn't hunted in 10 years and after long drive out to the Uintas from Bountiful had ended up in our meadow by pure coincidence. He also had a 8-10 year old son along with him and I was glad to see a guy taking his kid along. I gutted the elk for him and helped him drag it across a wash to an old logging road nearby.
Opening morning had come and gone without much luck, but the family was having a blast. We ate way too many doughnuts, made a big campfire, and Grandpa did what grandpas do best, spoil thier grandkids.
We were having a great time, and I still had a secret secondary meadow deep in the thick pines that I thought might produce. We hunted the rest of the weekend without any more close calls and the wife and kids had to head home along with my brother.
A couple days later I was sitting with my Dad in my secret meadow late in the evening. I figured we were about done for the day and decided to go one last walk while he watched the clearing. I made a little loop and was almost back to the opening when I heard a single shot.
Right at dusk a young bull had walked out and my Dad had let the lead fly. We found him in the trees about 75 yards from the opening and got to work in the dark.
We cleaned him out and hung up the halves so we could pack him out the next morning. On the way back to camp we stopped on a tall peak and called family and he sent a couple pictures out on his phone. It wasn't a big bull by anyone's standard, but for us it was great.
I kept hunting a couple more days and didn't see a single bull. I still chalk the hunt up as a success, and I can't wait to do it again next year. Even if my Dad hadn't killed anything I am so glad we had an excuse to get together and spend time in the mountains. I have been on more than one hunting trip that wasn't pleasant due to the pressure of expectations to kill a trophy animal. Sometimes a hunt like this one is just what a guy needs to remember what is really important. To end up killing a bull was just icing on the cake, or should I say burger on the grill.
Dax
There is no such thing as a sure thing in trophy mule deer hunting.
