For love of the game…..
Hello all,
The following is the accounts of a man and his dog. Join Gauge the (bow hunting) Gun Dog Sr. and Todd (just a hunter) Thayn as we explore the world through hunter eyes.
This year started in my stomping grounds… South-east Utah…..
This place holds special meaning to me. While I physically might not be in these mountains, my heart always is. See, I was raised by a single father of 3 children. Many a weekend was spent from the time I can remember fishing the streams and elk hunting these woods. While my wonderful father showed them how, these mountains raised me..
And oh what a beautiful sight. This is what she looked like as I rolled into camp after a long night shift.
Arrival Date 8/21/2008
The first day was spent setting up camp. Dad and my loving other mother, Shelly, stopped by bringing dinner for this wore out shift worker. By the time camp was set up and dinner was ate, I had been awake for well over 30 hours. I was in bed by 7:00pm.
1st day of the 2008 hunting season 8/22/2008
Although I was asleep by 7:00 the night before, the excitement of the hunt didn’t allow for a very restful rest. I was wide eyed and bushy tailed by 2:00 am. I spent the next few hours sipping coffee, eating some Dutch oven prepared biscuits and making sure everything was in my pack including enough water for Gauge and I.
The morning hunt was going to take place in a place called “AJ’s water shed.” It’s pretty high elevation wise and pretty rough country. I had scouted some bucks a few weeks previous, and figured this was my best opportunity to get to the location of these bucks.
There is a trail in the upper terrace of these sheds that 19th century gold miners had carved for pack mules and wagons. The trail carves the slide rock and dark timber in the upper reaches of no mans land.
A couple miles into the hike, I’m paused by the unmistakable sound of antlers trying there best to ruin a poor trees day. I gave Mr. Gauge the proper lay down and stay sign language and closed the distance to what seemed like an arms length from the thrashing.
I very quietly circled directly down wind and gave a few cow calls. The thrashing never stopped but through it all, I could hear another elk making its way to the serenade.
Before it was over, 2 raghorns and a mature bull all showed themselves well within my red zone. Fortunately for them, my tag is only good for a spike bull or a cow. Here are some departing shots of the biggest bull. He would probably score in the 315 range.
I maxed the altimeter on my GPS to a shade over 11K this hunt, and was thanking the good Lord above my well worn Danner’s were up to the task of the decent.
I got back to camp around 3:00pm. My restless night coupled with the no rest the 30 hours before and a dash of altitude sickness made a nap sound really good. I fed Gauge, ate a snack, did a few chores to square away camp and took that nap. I didn’t wake up; I didn’t stir until the next morning’s sunlight warmed my face. Best I can figure I slept for 15 hours, but trust me, I needed it.
Gauge rested easy as well and when I went outside to check on him, he was calm as ever.
8/23/2008
I was a little upset at myself for burning precious morning hunting hours with sleep. I decided I was going to head to a fruitful elk area many generations of Thayn’s had gone to fill there hearts with happy, and fill there freezer with elk.
I got to the area and made a few cow calls and was rewarded with a cow chirp back and the laziest bugle I ever heard. I heard the herd long before I ever seen them. The crashing in my direction was evidence enough that my late morning was fixing to get a pretty exciting.
They disappeared in a low gully giving me time to find my way to a little better cover. Gauge was at heal and we eased into the edge of a clear cut quaky patch. Now anybody that has seen a clear cut quaky patch knows they are anything but clear. The new growth saplings come up thick. When I say thick I mean you would be hard pressed to see an elk 10 feet away in them. I just took one step inside this patch and watched the heard come.
Everything was perfect. The wind was directly in my face; the elk were very calm and didn’t seem pressured at all. 4 cows and 3 calves with a stud for a raghorn all eased there way directly at me. When the lead cow was perfect broadside I chirped quietly with a diaphragm and stopped her at no more then 12 yards.
I gave a quick look at Gauge, and he was just watching the elk with a little curiosity.
I started the wonderful task of bringing the Muzzy Phantom tipped Gold Tip to all 70 pounds the Bear Hunter TD was capable of delivering at my 30” draw. Everything was smooth. I stared at that black spot that would deliver a perfect double lunger. I was calm. The elk were still calm. Gauge was calm. Everything was calm until the arrow had been released. Sometime after my fingers let go of the string but before anything on the bow had moved, arrow included, I noticed the limb that was going to ruin this perfect thing. Stupid me. That’s the kind of thing I need to catch before I release.
Anyhow, the arrow hit this sapling limb not a single foot in front of my bow and sent my arrow way wild high and right. Thank goodness for a clean miss.
The elk didn’t run, just eased out of the area. I gave my thanks for the just the opportunity I had to so much as witness another elk in the wild and gave double thanks for the opportunity for a shot.
The rest of the day was spent chasing the wonderful, awesome, beautiful mule deer to no avail.
8/24/2008
This day as well was spent chasing those beautiful bucks to no avail.
8/25/2008
Again, this day was spent chasing those beautiful, but clever in an annoying way, bucks with the same result as yesterday.
8/26/2008
I wish I had more to add, but those stupid deer won’t quit outsmarting me!!!!!!
8/27/2008
All right!!!! I’ve had it!!!! Those beautiful bucks my tooshy!!!!!! How can a poor defenseless animal keep giving me the slip!!!????!!!! I’m so mad at this point I don’t even want to talk about it anymore!!!! It’s a good thing I have to go Pick up my buddy from the airport tomorrow.
8/28/2008
Today, Gauge and I had to pick up my buddy Matt from the airport. Matt is one of the “others” so I won’t get into his hunt at all. Besides that, we pretty much go our separate way during hunting hours and just help pack each others animals out.
I also needed a mental break. Those bucks prove once more what they are good at, and that’s avoiding the business end of my bow. All kidding and joking aside, I love to hunt those smart bucks.
8/29/2008
Gauge and I set off for the same woods we’ve been getting got in. I’ve seen some awesome bucks in here the few days previous and I can’t bring myself to give up on the area.
We go to the area, park the truck, situate and get going once more.
I had to circle to get the wind in my face. It was hot. 85 or so I reckon. We ease in and out of the shadows for a few hours and right at about 12:00 high noon, I catch movement up ahead.
About 100 yards out, I see this deer feeding. I just kneel down and watch as this yearling buck stuffs himself on the healthy grass the good spring rains provided. A half hour or so passes and this buck beds down in the shade of some pines.
I think “What a good opportunity to practice. I sign Gauge to lie down and stay, peel my Danner’s, drop my pack and begin the stalk.
I get in the zone. I close the distance to 30 yards perfect. He still doesn’t know I’m here. I think, “Well, I’m not going to take him, let’s just see how close we can get.”
I shave another 10 yards off. Once again, the only thing I can hear is what I’m focused on. And that’s this buck chewing his cud and my slow but steady breathing. My socked feet feel for the pinecones that will give me away.
An hour goes by from when I first start this stalk and I’m now 12 yards from this bedded yearling buck.
Now, I had no intentions of shooting this deer when I first set out to stalk him. By this time in my hunt, I had passed hunting well over 30 small bucks. I got to this 12 yards, and everything was just so perfect.
The words my father spoke years ago echoed in my head. “Ya’ know, Todd, the size of the rack should be the least important part of a hunt. It’s the hunt it’s self that should determine the trophy size of your quarry. Rack size is the desert of the hunt. Not dinner.”
Don’t think I talked myself into shooting this deer. It was the opposite. This deer, or hunt I should say, talked me into it. I didn’t even have to think twice about it. I can’t explain what I felt, other then I felt this deer was the one.
I whistled softly to stand the deer. As he stood, I came to anchor. It was all right and perfect again. I paid a little closer attention to my shooting lane, and when that green light went off in my head, the arrow went on its way.
I’ve never seen a Mule deer jump string so bad in my life. When he jumped, he jumped toward me turning a perfect broadside shot into a quartering to me shot. However, the arrow disappeared right where I was aiming. I knew I got at least one lung and liver. I’m willing to bet my arrow didn’t lose a single FPS going through this deer.
The deer made a death run and he was out of sight through a meadow about 200 yards away. I was confident and knew I would recover him just from how he was running. The afterburners were on the whole time.
This is my arrow probably 30 yards past where the buck was standing..
Close up inspection of arrow revealed no guts on arrow conferming that the hit was still really good even though he jumped string.
More to come,
Todd
Topic: For Love of the Game 2008... Update.. (Read 15272 times)
