My brother Matt, our brother in law Matt, and our friend Kyle packed into the same country we have hunted the past two years the day before opening day. The past two years have been filled with awesome encounters and blown opportunities. This year was filled with 80 degree heat, mosquitoes, flies (by the millions), and other hunters in places we thought no one else was dumb enough to go. No elk were in any of the places we have found elk in the past couple years. No fresh sign, no bugles. We did jump a handful of mid day elk while trying to move through the timber quietly doing "cold call sequences" every couple hundred yards. Turns out that "moving quietly" is impossible with 4 people. I hate cold calling and hope to never commit 4 days to it again. We put up camp on our back every morning and just kept moving throughout the week. On Wednesday morning I fell trying to climb out of a creek and slammed my bow into the rocks. I checked it and thought it was good but the next time I drew it the lower limb blew up. So, all in all, the hunt was going very well. We paid an outfitter to move our truck to a different trail head so that every step we took was slightly closer to our truck instead of further away. Anyways, about 15 miles from put in point and 10 from take out on Wednesday night, my brother and I had split up from BIL Matt and Friend Kyle and we finally got on a bugling bull. We aren't sure what happened but before we knew it that bull had shut up and another bull had come in close behind us and bugled. That bull was a person named Marshall. Super nice guy but I hated him for being where we were. The next morning we split up in groups of 2 again. My brother and I glassed some elk about a mile away across a meadow and quickly made our way over there. The travel choices were in the timber through deadfall or in the meadow through swamp. We went with deadfall and it took us a good while. When we finally made it near where we thought they had gone to bed my brother went up into the timber and I stayed in the meadow and started cow calling a rustling around making elk noises. About 10 minutes in a bull bugled from behind us. I couldn't communicate with my brother at this point so I just kept calling. He stayed put as well hoping that there was elk in the timber we expected them to be in. Another 10 minutes went by and all the sudden I heard foot fall charging in from behind. Next thing I knew I had a 6x5 standing broadside 20 yards away from me in the wide open and I had no bow as it's previously been smashed on rocks. My brother was able to sneak up a little closer and take a far shot at the bull but it sailed over it's back. I consoled him and we regathered ourselves. It was so cool.
Matt said he wanted me to use his bow and be the shooter on the next encounter. I reluctantly but excitedly agreed. I've shot his bow a lot and always said it's my dream bow. 60# Bob Lee Ultimate. I flung about 15 arrows into a pile of dirt from 20-30 yards and I was dotting them up pretty good and felt confident. Soon after we heard another bull and hustled up the canyon to set up on it. Matt called it into about 35 yards but the shot would of had to be rushed so I drew and let down and then it got our wind and walked off. I don't know if it was a good bull but also anybody in our crew would shoot a calf if it presented a shot. Matt was up next, and we got on a bedded bull bugling but the thermals switched on us and it shut up. We waited out the middle of the day as nothing else was talking and we wanted to leave the rest of the canyon virgin for the evening. We did a little cold calling and working back down canyon but as soon as the sun went behind the west side of the canyon and the thermals started coming down we started moving. Shortly there after we were on a bull and Matt was up. We got up real close through the miserable deadfall and I tried to work a "slow play" sequence but when I got around to finally challenging the bull he backed off and shut up. We learned our lesson there as most of the bulls we had seen had no cows at all and were not interested in anything other than rounding up some cows it seemed. I was up next and we could hear a bugle in the distance. He would occasionally respond to our cow calls but the one time we did a locator he responded immediately so we ended up with a good idea of where he was. We made our way up and over towards the bugle. I knew there was a bowl with a meadow in it that direction but had no idea we were near it. We heard him bugle one more time and it sounded close. Matt dropped back and I moved forward with the wind in my face. I got set up and next thing I knew I could see into the previously mentioned bowl and there was the bull right there 120 yards away! Matt started cow calling and all the bull did was look up one time and stay put. Then a few minutes later he started raking on the little bushes around him. He was slightly quartered away and the wind was in my face so I decided to push up towards him. I made it about halfway to him and was at the edge of the timber line. I waited for a minute but he just kept raking so I decided to jump up another 10 yards to the next bush in the open about 50 yards from the bull. When I got there I kinda lost sight of him but I eventually saw some limbs move so I knew he was still there. All the while my brother was still cow calling and breaking limbs about 75-100 yards below me. I finally caught glimpse of the bull again and this time he was slowly heading down hill towards me in the direction of my brother's cow calls. At 30 yards he went behind a tree and I drew my brother's bow. He made it out the other side of the tree and was quartered too hard towards me so I just held my draw. Then he used his 6th sense and spooked back the way he came and back around the tree but he stopped at about 27 yards slightly quartered towards me and I drew again and let it fly. It hit him dead center in the middle of his body and angled towards the back ham. He stopped at 60 yards and I knocked another and let it fly as he started moving again and missed in front of him. He ran into the timber and I heard some serious crashing and what I thought was a gurgle. But my mind wouldn't believe what I had heard. I cow called back to my brother who had no idea what was going on so that he would come up to me. Then I collapsed on the ground and started balling harder than I've balled in years. Matt hustled up and asked if I was hurt, then if I had missed, then I told him I gut shot a bull. The tears came from a place of so much respect for an animal and hard work in pursuing it that I couldn't handle the thought of a slow death and a possibly unrecovered animal. I ran through the story with Matt and he assured me that if anyone in the world would find the bull, it was us. He also kept saying "so you heard it crash and a gurgle but you don't think it's dead?" I refused to believe it was dead there until my hands were on it. He asked me how big of a bull it was and I confirmed that I literally had no idea. We trailed a decent blood trail to the timber line that night then setup camp. We prayed a lot that night for a lot of different things. That the bull was dead where I heard it and it wasn't suffering. That we would find it in the morning and the meat would still be fine. And, most importantly, that even if we didn't, even if we looked for the next two days and didn't find it, that we would still praise God for for his sovereignty over all things and be confident in his Word that says all things work together for our good and His Glory. A restless night later and we were up at the crack back on the blood. We found it about 20 minutes later exactly where I had heard it crash maybe 175 yards from where I shot it. I hit it where I said, but I must have got the femoral on the back hip. Praise God, more. Turned out to be a pretty good 6x6. Matt and I took care of taking the bull apart and then BIL Matt and Friend Kyle showed up and helped us pack it out. Turns out they had been in elk the whole day before as well. It was 10 miles to the truck. I reckon I had a 130 pound pack. Glad I trained as the last mile I could do no more than put one foot directly in front of the other. God gave us overcast skies, rain, and a cool day for the first time the whole trip so my meat was able to stay cold the whole day. Then a rainbow and sun when we hit the truck. Man was it fun. A brother willing to let me use his bow and friends willing to help packout the first bull we have ever taken on OTC Colorado lands. What a blessing.
Topic: Colorado OTC elk (Read 2363 times)
