We need some more bull photos up so I figured why not share my story?
A friend and I had a tag in 17 and found a good spot for bulls on the edge of a wilderness area. We knew we were in for a tough hunt but didn't appreciate it enough until the boots were on the ground and we hiked 25 or so miles through the unseasonably hot October weather. I had just come from a hunt in unit 12 and was expecting it to be roughly as cool but it was much warmer than I planned on and obviously much hotter than our usual cow hunts in December.
The reason we put so many miles in is unfortunate, though, as I wounded an elk on opening morning as we tried to find them while bedded in a canyon. Even worse, I impatiently failed to get him down on a second opportunity after we found him bedded up on the mesa above the canyon. We spent all of the hours in the rest of day, checking every tree under the assumption he was wounded bad and laying up to die. I was devastated and beat down. After 9 years of waiting for a bull tag I blew my chance and left a wounded bull out there. 11 miles of walking turned up nothing and I had bad sleep the whole night.
On day 2 we returned to the area, which was about 2-2.5 miles from camp, and blew a couple of stalks on other bulls before returning to look for the elk or more blood. After another few hours we failed to follow blood and headed back to camp dejected and empty handed. As we were heading out a canyon back to our trailhead I noticed the weirdest thing - bull tracks right on the trail. This was at least a mile from the mesa we hunted, so my mind was blown when I saw the same pattern of a blood drip or two every 10-40'. We followed it until it veered off the trail towards a canyon. I felt optimistic the bull was alive but not optimistic we'd find him. Either way, it was a relief in a way. This guy was alive and still mobile but our time was up for day 2.
The next day we glassed for bulls but had blown them out of our hunting area during our search and the 2nd day's failed stalks. The winds had also shifted and precluded any good tactics in that area. So my friend gave up his hunt for the day, effectively, and joined me in looking up that canyon where we last saw the trail. After 30 mins or so we found it again, with footprints and blood every so often, and spent the next 3-4 hours slowly working the canyon as it rose up to a ridge. During that time we turned up a bed with no blood but quickly found fresh blood above it. It was clear we had pushed the bull and so we went on high alert and eventually worked our way up to the ridge line. When I crested it, I spotted the bull and said a prayer of thanks to God as I knew I'd have a good chance to finish him off if I could keep him in sight while he bedded.
He did just that and my hunting partner stayed up high to make sure he could keep an eye on him. This time I was patient and waited. And waited. He eventually stood up and took a broadside double lung shot without flinching (my partner confirmed a solid hit) before starting to walk away. After a quick reload (for a muzzleloader) I shot him one last time and we got to work butchering and called in a few buddies willing to hike a mile or more in to carryout loads.
I cannot say enough how tough this bull, this hunt, and my partners were. It's eye-opening and a rewarding way to wrap up an almost decade-long goal of wanting to hunt bulls in NM. I also can not give enough thanks for the opportunity to track the bull down and recover him. It's still barely sinking in how fortunate I am.
A friend and I had a tag in 17 and found a good spot for bulls on the edge of a wilderness area. We knew we were in for a tough hunt but didn't appreciate it enough until the boots were on the ground and we hiked 25 or so miles through the unseasonably hot October weather. I had just come from a hunt in unit 12 and was expecting it to be roughly as cool but it was much warmer than I planned on and obviously much hotter than our usual cow hunts in December.
The reason we put so many miles in is unfortunate, though, as I wounded an elk on opening morning as we tried to find them while bedded in a canyon. Even worse, I impatiently failed to get him down on a second opportunity after we found him bedded up on the mesa above the canyon. We spent all of the hours in the rest of day, checking every tree under the assumption he was wounded bad and laying up to die. I was devastated and beat down. After 9 years of waiting for a bull tag I blew my chance and left a wounded bull out there. 11 miles of walking turned up nothing and I had bad sleep the whole night.
On day 2 we returned to the area, which was about 2-2.5 miles from camp, and blew a couple of stalks on other bulls before returning to look for the elk or more blood. After another few hours we failed to follow blood and headed back to camp dejected and empty handed. As we were heading out a canyon back to our trailhead I noticed the weirdest thing - bull tracks right on the trail. This was at least a mile from the mesa we hunted, so my mind was blown when I saw the same pattern of a blood drip or two every 10-40'. We followed it until it veered off the trail towards a canyon. I felt optimistic the bull was alive but not optimistic we'd find him. Either way, it was a relief in a way. This guy was alive and still mobile but our time was up for day 2.
The next day we glassed for bulls but had blown them out of our hunting area during our search and the 2nd day's failed stalks. The winds had also shifted and precluded any good tactics in that area. So my friend gave up his hunt for the day, effectively, and joined me in looking up that canyon where we last saw the trail. After 30 mins or so we found it again, with footprints and blood every so often, and spent the next 3-4 hours slowly working the canyon as it rose up to a ridge. During that time we turned up a bed with no blood but quickly found fresh blood above it. It was clear we had pushed the bull and so we went on high alert and eventually worked our way up to the ridge line. When I crested it, I spotted the bull and said a prayer of thanks to God as I knew I'd have a good chance to finish him off if I could keep him in sight while he bedded.
He did just that and my hunting partner stayed up high to make sure he could keep an eye on him. This time I was patient and waited. And waited. He eventually stood up and took a broadside double lung shot without flinching (my partner confirmed a solid hit) before starting to walk away. After a quick reload (for a muzzleloader) I shot him one last time and we got to work butchering and called in a few buddies willing to hike a mile or more in to carryout loads.
I cannot say enough how tough this bull, this hunt, and my partners were. It's eye-opening and a rewarding way to wrap up an almost decade-long goal of wanting to hunt bulls in NM. I also can not give enough thanks for the opportunity to track the bull down and recover him. It's still barely sinking in how fortunate I am.
