Last Day. We decided to head back up to the parks where we'd consistently found bulls the prior few days, and give it one more shot. By now both of us had our mountain legs and lungs working and we got up there a little earlier. The only problem was that we didn't hear a single bugle. After waiting a few minutes we made the decision to press on up to the top. But before we made it accross the lower meadow, Randy says "let's just check the big park before we head up". So we angle back through the lower park and quietly go through the aspen island to check it out. Almost immediately we spot a single, silent bull in the park about 300 yards distant, slowly feeding.
We sneak about 100 yards closer inside the tree line, moving whenever he puts his head down. I make it to a small pine tree (just to the left of the last photo above.) Randy gets pinned down in the open as the bull picks up his head. He freezes and waits until the feeds again and slides in behind me.
Sometimes you need luck for it to come together and I definitiely fall into this category. Magically, the bull continues to feed toward us and with a wide open park to choose from, he comes right to us. We suspect that he was interested in the movement he might have picked up as Randy crossed the open area.
He walks into the small open cove of park land you see in the last picture above from right to left. I stand as still as possible with my bow perpendicular to the ground and hiding my face, pressure on the string.
He walks past the pine tree, and stops 15 yards away and looks directly at us for several LONG seconds. We had a good wind coming downhill and it was still early and for some reason he didn't bust us. As he turned away giving me his broadside, I drew and watched as an orange lazer darted from my fingers and buried into his heart.