The last morning was clear, calm, and cool. I was on the end of the ridge well before daylight, and as it got light enough to see I eased down to take a look into a bowl that I had seen elk in previously.
Eight elk promptly went trotting across the hillside below me, including one very nice looking bull. They hadn't made a sound to alert me to their presence, and I had probably just blown the best opportunity I would have that morning.
Easing further along the ridge I heard a bugle quite a distance to my right. But what the heck, it's the last day, and I had probably already ruined where I really had hoped to hunt. Off I went.
The brighter the day became, the more the bull seemed to bugle. The only problem was that each lusty screem seemed to be further and further away. I don't care how hard I try, I just can't keep up with an elk on the move, and it soon became apparent that I wasn't going to catch this guy.
A flicker of movement on the hillside above me caught my attention. Elk! A lone cow was feeding, and best of all was pointed in my direction.
The next move was hers, and she graciously fed behind a large pine. That gave me the opportunity to move to a better spot and hunker down behind a bush. I had good cover, yet could still see well to the front and both sides.
The cow continued feeding my way, and as she got nearer stopped feeding entirely and just walked down hill toward me. It was obviously time for her bed, and she moved quickly toward the cover of the timber. This could work!
She took the main trail from left to right in front of me and passed at 10 yards. I drew partially, but the shot wasn't right, and she was quickly through the opening.
On the other side of a tree she turned down hill again. As she entered another shooting lane at fifteen yards I quickly hit anchor and my arrow magically appeared on her side.
She crashed off below me, I gave a quick cow call and she stopped just behind another tree. After a short pause, she stumbled and fell, regained her feet, then stumbled again before going down for good.
I don't care how many times I see it, the power and effectiveness of a well placed broadhead never ceases to amaze me.
I said a prayer of thanks for the last minute success, and headed down the hill.
The Grizzly 190 had done one heck of a job. For whatever reason, it hadn't passed completely through, but instead lodged just under the skin on the far side. This is the shoulder opposite of the one I shot.
Topic: A Different Kind of Elk Hunt (Read 15031 times)
