For love of the game 2009... Utah, Here we came.. (Pg. 6)

[Gatekeeper]

Going to the High Country

Tuesday 8/25/09, a new day had arrived but it still felt like night. 04:30 and my camp mates were beginning to stir about. “Uuuug…” I think to myself “move” I command of my muscles. Z-i-p, z-i-p, z-i-p, I emerge from my nylon den. The morning is cool but not uncomfortable. As it has been all week, the temperature was in the mid to high 40’s or low 50’s during the night. The onyx sky was free of clouds and the constellations that suspended overhead twinkled with gem like brilliance as we converged on the glowing cook tent. New day greetings were made and hunting strategies were being hashed out as we prepared and consumed our morning nourishment.

On this day I again would be hunting with Chris. Chris is an athletic 33 year old with the endurance that would make a billy goat cry uncle. So keeping up with him can, at times, test my salt! Our goal was to hunt the high country’s north facing slopes and go into the places where most people would look at and say “lets not and say we did.” Today would be a day of testing my endurance and a day to go light.

We seal ourselves in the big Ford and let her carry us down the mountain through the oak brush flats and listen to her growl as she hauls us back up the mountain until we come to the end of the road. 30 minutes later we were about 2.5 or 3 miles north of camp at the lower edge of the high country and the sun was beginning to peek over the eastern horizon. With cow calls in hand and mouth we began our crafty ascent up the mountain into the dark timber.

 

Clinging to the shadows we both cow called as we climbed, at one point I stopped to break sticks and aggressively worked a spruce tree over with a dried log, trying to simulate the sounds of a bull sparing with a tree, but there was no response from our quarry.

Within the first half hour movement was detected. “Coyote” Chris says in an aggressive whisper as he points to the meadow’s edge that lies 25 yards up the mountain. Without words, we both spit from one another and melt into the dark spruce surroundings. Mouse squeaks are made and the coyote briefly appears at the edge of the forest and then disappears to the south never to be seen by us again. After a few more squeaks, to assure ourselves that the dog had left the area, we remerge from the shadows and once again begin ascending and cow calling our way up the mountain.

Skirting the meadows and staying in the shadows as we moved, we once again found ourselves setting up for a coyote ambush on a dog that was howling nearby. Quickly we broke off from that setup and agreed that we would rather elk hunt than coyote hunt. Within and hour or so of starting our hunt we came to a grand sight. A slip rock field with a fabulous view that seem to extend forever… Sometimes you have to take a few moments to stop and say WOW. This was one of those moments.

 

 

 

 


That’s Probably Not a Picture we want to Post on Trad Gang

Continuing west, up, up, up we went. Cow calling occasionally but never getting any return calls. Hmmm…I felt as if we were hunting blind. No rubs, beds, scat or sign of elk anywhere.

Wandering the mountain side we eventually stumbled onto elk sign. Not an enormous amount of it and very little fresh scat but still, elk sign the same. The sign we found was a well worn trail through the forest that stayed in the heart of the dark timber as it snaked its way along the north face of the mountain to a shelf at the edge of tree line. Cow calling and moving slowly with the wind in our favor, we eventually made contact! Holy Crap! No warning no return calls just a sudden eruption of pounding hooves from a single elk that had been laying down about 30 yards ahead of us. We stood slack jawed in disbelief as we listened to the elk bulldoze its way through the forest’s southern slope. Suddenly we found ourselves scrabbling to get into our positions, Chris took point and I dropped back down the mountain 50 yards behind him and laid behind a fallen log and began to call! I cow called for a while doing a mix of lost cow / lost calf calls and estrus cow calls and eventually mixing in the sound of a bull sparing with a tree, but still not response. After a few minutes of calling, we broke from the setup and investigated the shelf from where the elk had sprung to life and found all kinds of fresh sign. Numerous beds, fresh pee and warm scat along with a few rubs littered the shelf. No doubt we found our quarry but we were missing a major piece of the puzzle needed to get close to these beasts and for the life of us we couldn’t nail that one thing down.

Thrilled to have at least a semi close encounter we pushed upward and emerged from the dark timber onto a small slope at tree line. It was here where we stopped for a snack and posed for a few pictures to use in the days when we are to old to make a trip like this and find ourselves longing for a high country adventure. Maybe the photos will help sooth the pain of no longer being able to climb through the dark timber to the high country to see its expansive views.

 

 

 

[Gatekeeper]

 

 

And of course the picture Chris was hoping I wouldn’t post. Ha ha ha…he should know better.

 

[Gatekeeper]

Thunder, Lighting and Elk with Bionic Vision

After reclining at 11200’ and going over the TOPO map to figure out our next move, Chris and I shoulder our packs and slipped back into the dense spruce forest to began our descend to the northeast along a steep north facing ridge. By that time the thermals were rising so again, the wind was in our favor.

For our plunge down the mountain, Chris and I split up. We decided on a 30 yard space of separation between us and we would stay in contact with each other by occasionally using our cow calls as a locator mark. This worked pretty good. After getting a reading from my compass, I pointed myself in the right direction and started the descent. When possible, my most desired footing was the thick sponge like spruce needle forest floor but often times those areas weren’t available. Without the well worn path of the elk trail I found myself making an incredible amount of noise as I moved. Pine cones cracked, stick snapping and died fallen tree trunks popped when I crossed over them. I was alerting every creature in the forest of my presents. I stopped to listen for Chris and scan the surrounding area but I couldn’t see or hear him. “Wow he is a lot stealthier then me” I think to myself. After a few minutes of stalking we cow call to each other and meet back up. It turns out that he couldn’t hear me either. Really…all the noise I was making and he didn’t hear me…that’s interesting. That made me wonder if the elk from earlier that morning heard us or did we scare the carp out of him by suddenly appearing.

Thirty of forty minutes later we stop at an opening in the trees along the north edge of the ridge. This was another one of those spots where we needed to stop and take pity on the people that never venture out to do this kind of stuff.

Here we are doing a little posing.

 


 


 


The aroma of the spruce needles was thick and invigorating to inhale, I love the smell of the mountains! As we set gazing out into distant valley, we heard a loud crack of thunder. Gazing to the east we could see a storm brewing and with it, it brought lighting. Being at an elevation of around 10K, lighting was not a good thing to have around. We descended the steep north face to get ourselves off the ridge and waited at the lower elevation to see if the storm was going to pass over us. Once we were confident the storm would not pass over us we climbed our way back to the top of the ridge and made our way over the mountain to open country on the southeast side.

On the high mountain meadow we again had a spectacular view of the surrounding country and the storm passing over the distant desert flat lands.


 


 


Eventually the rain did make its way over to us and remember when I said I was going to go light? Well guess who didn’t bring a rain jacket. Luckily I brought a 6’ x 8’ light weight tarp and was able to stay dry under it. Here we are before the rain.

 


 

We eventually did see elk on this day’s hunting trip. After we got back to the truck and cruised down the mountain a short distance, we got out and Chris saw three cows in an open meadow approximately a half mile away. Let me repeat that. These elk were a half mile away! As we stood within the Aspen tree line, discussing how to get up to them undetected, I relayed to Chris (as I watch the elk through my binoculars) that they were looking at us. Less than a minute later the trio turned and pranced into the forest never to be seen again. No way did they get our wind and for them to see us at that distances seems impossible to me. There was an eagle flying about treetop high over them when they lit out but the fact that they looked in our direction and then took off seemed amazing to me! Anyway, to say we were both a little dumbfounded is an understatement.

That evening, we gave the oak brush flats one more chance with about the same results as the prior morning. Crazy wind currents, lots of does and fawns but no bucks, but we were still having a great time!

[just_a_hunter]

Tom, EXELLENT write up, man.... Great read!

I just got back in from the morning hunt.

The elk are turning on pretty good. I have had a few close encounters.

The bears are killing me... I hit one with a rock this morning so it would quit following me. He was just a little guy, barely bigger then Gauge, and his curiosity left him with a very sore shoulder.... That makes six visually seen so far this year.....

Of course now that deer season is over, they are really coming out of the wood work. I was 20 yards from a great 3x3 this morning... Pictures to follow.

I'm headed to town. One more day to hunt.

Thanks again, and Tom, WOW man......

Todd

[Gatekeeper]

Thanks Todd!

Glad to hear from you brother. That bear was only lonely. He needed a friend.    

[Gatekeeper]

Hunting the Wallow

Counting this day, there were three days left to get the job done and hunting the wallow was in order. 07:30, I was setup in the ground blind and ready for action. There I sat until 11:30 on my foam pad scanning the westerly slope looking for movement but saw none. The one thing I didn’t take in account for this particular setup was the sun. I was baking and there was no way to get out of the sun and stay in the blind. The longer I set the more I would fidget so a move was in order. To the south was a stand of large spruce trees with low hanging branches that offered shade and a natural blind. To the trees I headed.

The wind current in front of and under the spruce looked good so I cleared out a spot and sat that spot until 2:30 without seeing any action. I did hear something blow at one point but no visual was made. So the wallow turned out to be a bust. Too bad... I was pumped up about that spot.


 
Sitting the wallow


 
The pretty little wallow pond

For the evening hunt, I hunted south of camp in a large aspen grove that eventually turned to oak brush. There was talk of a couple of buck running through the area

 
The Aspen Grove

I still hunted this area and saw a lot of deer inhabiting the grove but no bucks.

That night, Wednesday, was Todd’s last day in camp and Ryan’s first evening in camp. Saying goodbye to Todd was unpleasant but we were all glad of the time we did get to spend with him. Oh yeah, he filled his buck tag that morning! In the oak brush no less! Congratulations again buddy.

Here is our parting photo. It’s not very good. Hopefully Ryan has a better picture that he can share.

 
L - R: Todd, (Gage), Ryan in the back, Tracy, Ben, Tom and Chris

 
First fire without Todd

[Kingwouldbe]

       

Vary nice guys I truly enjoyed you taking us along.

[Benny Nganabbarru]

Beautiful and majestic country and wildlife!

[steadman]

I arrived at camp with only a half hour of daylight left. Everyone was out chasing a critter or two, except Todd, who was trying to take camp down. After quick introductions, I jumped in to get his camp down, as to enjoy his company, and give me a chance to talk to this wonderful guy.

As the light was turning to dark, guys started filtering into camp. Stories were relayed, and I was able to finally meet fellow tradgangers, who before had only been words and picture on a computer screen. I was also finally able to meet Tracy(KS Trapper). Tracy and I have been texting, making phone calls, and pm's for the last year or so. To finally meet him was a great honor.
 


After intro's and a group picture. We decided for stratagey in the morning. Tracy, Ben, and i were going to head up to a small lake. Then head throught the timber, and drop back down to camp.
We immidietly hit fresh sign, wallows and rubs running up a small valley.

 
 Tracy and I cow called as Ben took point. After ten minutes or so it was obvious there was nothing responding the the fake elk herd.
We moved along a terrace, and everywhere we looked there was sign. Some fresh, some old. I just knew we were going to hear some elk any minute. The amount of rubs, was incredible.
I took a few photos throughout the morning, but when I got home, they were either too blury, or hadn't even shown up. Dang it!

[steadman]

We continued working our way dow the valley towards camp. We would stop, cow call, and listen for elk. Nothing. On one particular set up, we were at the edge of a small meadow. At the sound of the first lonely cow call, pounding hooves were heard running towarsd us. I quickly nocked an arrow in anticipation of the elk that were surely answering. As my heart rate increased, I looked to see a muley doe bearing down on Tracy. At least something was answering the calls. I have seen this a few times as does think that the whine of the elk call sounds like a distressed fawn. We watched the doe circle, and "pogo" around for a while till she made her way out of range. Ben kept asking why i would stay 10 yards behind him and Tracy. I told him it was so I could hear any elk. Truth is, well, read earlier post about Ben   :eek:    :D    

[steadman]

We made our way to the bottom of the valley, crossing through a bear's bedroom. The story of Ben and Todd echoed through my mind as we stepped over pile after pile of bear scat. At least I was hunting with Ben, who seemed to be the bear magnet.At the bottom of the valley was a creek. We ran onto a beautiful waterfall. We headed back to camp to relay stories of past hunts and dreams of future hunts.

 

 

[steadman]

That night, Tracy and I decided to sit the wallows we saw earlier that morning. We split up and sat different wallows. The only thing I saw was this guy.
 

Let em tell you when a porcupine comes throught he brush at 20 yards, and all you see is the tipps of the quills, and hear their claws against the trees, well "porcupine" is not the first thing that comes to mind. After getting the heart rate down a notch, I sat the rest of the evening reflecting on new found freinds, and life in general. Right at dark, a few cow chirps were heard down the canyon. I returned the calls, but the elk had moved off to parts unknown. Tracy a nd I headed back down the mountain in the jeep, and ran into a little bear on the road. The liitle guy darted off before we could get pics.

[K.S.TRAPPER]

Ryan, The pleasure was all mine bud. It was about time that we got to meet  :D  and I'm looking forward to more trips in the future.

Well, Charlie sould have his truck by now we met up with his family this morning at Cabela's and handed over the keys thus ending are quest.Hang in there Charlie and keep getting better and better were praying for ya bud.

Tom your doing a great job, Sorry I haven't been chiming in but it's been a super busy week. Great picks by the way and keep them coming looking forward to the rest of the story.    

I'm glad to see you jumping in here Ryan, I know you have some picks to share. That doe was cool she was on us quick, Wish I could have got my camera out soon enough to take her pick she looked a little suprised to see me  :D  

Tracy

[Charlie Lamb]

Hey guys, this is a great read. Almost as good as being there. Next year!!

I've been under the weather for the last week, but the prognosis is very positive. Some of you may know I had to beg off of this hunt. Much to my chagrine.
However, I had surgery this past Monday morning. to remove a cyst on my spine that was causing near crippling pain at the end.

It now looks like I should be in the deer woods by mid October.

Tracy I owe you and Kevin Symes a special word of thanks for helping me get my truck back from Wyoming.

My buddy Vance and Todd had a hand in it as well.  I don't know for sure who else was involved but thanks to all.

Now keep this going, I'm likin it way too much.
         :D

[Gatekeeper]

A view from the flats

Driving on a Thread

04:30 and I am awakened by movement within the camp from a light that is sporadically zipping around…Chris is heading out. That boy is determined to get an elk if it means he has to jump on a bulls back whittle its antlers down to a spike and ride it till it has a heart attack. He was sick about missing the mule deer that materialized under his stand a few nights back and was trying desperately to make up for it.

An hour later the rest of camp starts to stir. In the kitchen tent my camp mates ask me where I was planning to hunt? “Hmmm I’m not sure, up north I think.” Is what I tell them because to be honest I wasn’t sure myself. An hour later I was the last one in camp. Studying the map I decided to take the same road that Chris and I had taken two days ago but follow a branch road that would take me further north. Forty minutes later I find myself on the branch road and heading (for me) into uncharted territory. Rattle, rattle, rattle goes the passenger door as the truck rolls over the washboard sections of the road. I was looking for the same kind of terrain that Chris and I sought out the other morning, high country and dark timber that most people wouldn’t bother trying to go into. Up and up I went around every bend I craned my neck looking for the perfect spot and then I came to a spot in the road that made me grip the truck seat and I wasn’t using my hands. Wide eyed and white knuckled I set at the end of what seemed like a stretch of mountain road that got longer the more I looked at it. “S—*---*--*!” I said out load. (I should have taken a picture of this part of the road but that was the last thing on my mind.) Looking through the sun reflected, dust laden, bug scarred windshield I told myself “your not the first one to do this you jackass…so go!” Easing on the throttle I got the big beast rolling. To my right was a sheer drop straight down and to my left was a wall! Here’s the best part…this damn road was one and a half cars wide! “What the hell am I going to do if I meet a vehicle coming the other way?” I say as I find myself talking out loud. “I’m the poor sap on the outside part of the road!” “Don’t these S.O.B.’s believe in guardrails?” I continue to babble as a way to easy my stress. I couldn’t get to the end of that stretch of road fast enough! “Ahhhhh…” I gasped breathing a sigh of relief as I finally passed by the narrow thread of road. “Man I hope that’s the last of that crap!” I mumble as I free myself from the seat.

Another mile or so and BINGO! Elk! Two bulls bail down the steep mountainside into the abyss of the canyon below and a few hundred feet later a coyote makes its appearance as a flash going across the road and up the mountain. I was unable to make out the size of the elk, but I could tell instantly that they were not spikes. “Well” I think to myself “those were pretty good omens.” With that I pulled off the road at the next available turnout.

[Gatekeeper]

The Intruder

I backed the truck into a small nook at a sharp turn in the road, get out, shoulder my pack and confirm my position in the wilderness with the images on the map. Above me and to my south was what I was looking for, steep dark spruce forest. As I stood at the truck I realized that I had broken one of the cardinal laws of traveling in the outdoors, nobody knows of my location, but with the truck on the side of the road in plain sight they would have a reasonable starting point to look for my carcass.

Still-hunting was the tactic that I used for the day’s hunt, going slow and staying vigilant to my surroundings. I also decided to go silent. No cow or calf calls, just quietly slipping through the timber. I have a theory, I’m not sure that it holds water but its what I figure may be going on. Utah, apparently manages its wild-lands for trophy black bears and issues very few tags to be drawn yearly. According to Todd, Les (Todd’s dad) and Ryan there is a huge population of black bears in Utah and my theory is the black bears are preying on the elk calves. This in turn has caused the elk cows and calves to become silent, vocally, in their daily activities. So that is why I had planned to go silent because random cow /calf calls would be abnormal for the area.

Quietly I climb the steep dark mountain. Very little sunlight penetrates to the mountain floor in this area so underbrush does not grow on the slope. It is cool and the feather tied to my bow shows the wind in my favor. To my right is a slip rock chute to my left and above me grows dark timber. Soon I encounter a game trail with elk scat on it. “Now we’re cooking with gas!” I think to myself. Using all my senses I dissect my surrounding of everything but elk or elk sign. Then suddenly to my east a commotion of pounding hooves erupts as two deer hastily exit their shadowy surroundings. As they sprint through the forest, I can see from my bleacher like position, the reason for their frenzied flee. A few yards behind them a determined coyote’s form blazes through a stream of sunlight that has manage to pierce through the spruce canopy. Seconds later the forest is once again calm and I return to my slow ascent.

With the slip rock field 15 yards to my right I steadily climbed the mountain and eventually came to a fallen tree that lay waist high over the trail. The tree showed signs that hooves had chipped away at the top of the trunks gray surface revealing the yellow hue of the spruce wood that had been newly exposed to the environment that had grayed the rest of the trunk. Undoubtedly elk have made these scares, I reason to myself. After surveying the area and determining that crossing the log was the best route to take and remain stealthy, I carefully eased myself over the dried trunk, which occasionally popped as I stressed it with my weight. Once over I stopped to again check my surrounding. Leaning against the trunk and glassing the hillside, I caught movement! SHAZAM! Thirty yards ahead of me (south) I caught the movement from the rack of a 5 x 5 who’s nose end was pointed in my direction and to his left towers another set of 4 x 4 antlers. Two bulls on a shelf 30’ above me in the dappled sunlight lying like sentinels overlooking their mountain. It was 8:30 and the wind was in my favor. Suddenly the ivory tines of the 5 x 5 quickly turn right then left and in a single fluid motion he and his companion heft their huge tan bodies up and vanished behind a cloud of spruce nettle dust that danced in the rays of sunlight streaming into their beds. I listened as the two bulls plowed their way through the mountains brittle vegetation in their flight for safety. Discussed with myself for blowing this opportunity I could do nothing more then analyze the situation to determine what went wrong. Before advancing I glassed the hillside once more straining my eyes for sign of other elk in the area. Doubtful I knew but better safe than sorry.

Standing at the fallen tree I confirmed that the wind was indeed blowing in my favor. I could see the 5 x 5’s ear when he lay in his bed so it stands to reason that his eyes were far enough above the lip of the shelf to see me. The popping noise of me crossing the dried trunk undoubtedly would have drawn unwanted attention in my direction. I also think that the slip rock chute that lay behind me may have been a big enough void in the trees to create an eddy current in the wind, pulling my scent into the bull’s beds. Probably not by accident that they setup their beds in that spot huh?

Since no other animals were seen on or around the shelf, I climbed to the plateau to prowl around the bull’s statuary. Ha ha ha…the view from their beds was second to none. My prior approach was good. There were enough trees in the direction of my route that my advances were moderately masked. However, once I crossed the fallen tree I was visually exposed to them from their bed and the wind on that shelf was a little sporadic. Fifteen yards away from the bed and to the beds southwest, the wind was once again in my face. Amazing!

The bed smelled like a barnyard. Fresh scat and spots of pee could be seen. Also encircling the earthen shelf were scores of rubbed trees some fresh some old. Signs that this spot had been used for generations. It was 09:00 and I wasn’t willing to give up on the spot so I elected to tuck myself back into a dark region behind the bed to see if other bulls might stroll up to the shelf. After an hour I called it and continued my trek up the mountain. The advancement up the mountain reveled to me that there was only one feasible way for the elk to get onto that shelf and it required them to come up the mountain from the north. If a hunter could get to the shelf early before the elk it could be a good ambush site.

The southward climb up the mountain turned out to be steep and then very steep and then you’re an idiot for putting yourself in this situation “steep”…but I made it. The view from the top was another one of those “this was worth it” kind of views.

At the top I snapped a few pictures.

 
 
View to the south


 
View to the north


 


 
My best Charlie Lamb Pose    

[Gatekeeper]

Blood is Drawn

The highest point on the climb put me at 11300’. At that height I was at tree line in a meadow with a peak to the southwest and slip rock fields to the east and south. The views were fantastic, the temperature was cool and the sky was blue with a few scattered clouds. To my northeast was a gradual slope that would take me to another north facing slope. Between my position and to the north slope was a swath of trees that bridged the two areas. I would use that bridge to help conceal my movement. With the change of the warming thermals, I again had the wind in my face as I descended.

Once again I encountered another well used game trail that had a clearly churned spruce nettle base and the trail had elk scat frequently scattered along it. Tracing the gradual contours of the land the trail was an easy walk. At 2:00 o’clock I stood near the lowest and narrowest point within the swath of trees. This area necked down to about 500’ wide. To the south was an ascending slip rock field and to the north descending was another slip rock field. As I had been doing from the start of the hunt, I was still-hunting and moving slowly and warily. As I stood scanning my surroundings silently approaching to my east northeast, hidden from my view at the time, was another predator. At approximately 10 or 12 yards from behind a spruce tree appeared the head of a coyote. In seconds our eyes locked on each other. With the north wind blowing over his back, he had yet to identify my form as prey or adversary.

With a single movement of my left hand I free the bottom of the #1 arrow from the rubber grip of the Selway quiver and slid the black, razor sharp, three blade Woodsman head from the quiver’s foam retainer. During this action the coyote turned, unalarmed, and began to move to the southeast with the intent of positioning himself down wind of me. As he momentarily went out of sight behind the spruce tree’s trunk, I moved the arrow to the right side of the 56” Centaur longbow and nocked the arrow onto the string. As the dog trotted to the southeast he began to close the distance between us to 7 yards, I in turn used the time to raise the bow and began to track the K9’s movement. With every step that he made I felt myself apply a little more tension to the string of the 55 pound bow. The only thing that separated the two of us was a line of low growing scrub-brush that stretched 15’ to the southeast of the spruce tree.

My confidence was high I knew I could make this shot. As the coyote continued his inquisitive forward advances, the world around me ceased to exist to my senses. My entire focus was narrowed down to a spot behind the coyotes shoulder. From that point on hours of practicing and honing my shooting skills had taken over. Without being conscious of my actions I found that I was at full draw and my gloved hand at the corner of my mouth. From behind the brush appeared the coyote’s head, neck, shoulder and with the forward swing of his right front leg I relaxed my string hand as I continued to swing the bow with his forward motion. To be honest, I don’t remember hearing the bows thump and I didn’t hear the arrow make contact with the coyote, but the coyote’s reaction told the tale.

At the time of the shot all of my senses except my sight seem to have switched off. Tracking of the arrow was easy and the motion of the coyote and its reaction are crystal clear in my head as I sit typing this. As his leg swung forward I released the string sending 31.5” Carbon Express 250, 650 grain, white crested and fletched arrow spiraling towards the coyotes vitals. With the release of the sting the coyote’s head snapped in my direction and with the hit of the arrow he folded in half. The yelp from the coyote's mouth brought the rest of my senses back to life. With an aggressive growl and violent spin the coyote was making a full stretched-out body run to the southeast. After the spin and the initial dash I lost track of him and could only track him with my ears as he raised a ruckus sprinting over the forest floor.

The point of impact showed some blood but not a lot. Three feet from the shot location stood the front half of the broken arrow with the broadhead buried in the ground.

 
The arrow as it was found

The blood trail was sparse and doubt of a good shot entered my mind and tried to hijack the adrenalin rush that had consumed my body. Slowly and methodically I traced the course of the fleeing dog marking last blood and searching for the next. A fleck on a bush, a smear on a log, evidence of a glancing blow to the side of a tree shows the path. The glancing blow to the tree brought confidence back to my spirit. These creatures are too agile to be banging into things as they run. He was hit hard and loss of blood pressure was causing these mistakes in his flight. At the location of the tree marked with blood and hair I found yet another 3” section of arrow and as I stood by the tree I let my eyes scan the grounds in front of me and lying 10 yards ahead was the trophy that I have tried to get for the past two years. A mere 50 yards southeast of the point of impact was the reddish brown coated Utah coyote.

Kneeling beside him I touched his coat for the first time. It was semi coarse but felt good to touch. I give thanks for his life and silently rejoice in the pride of matching wits with a fellow predator. After using some small spruce branches to clean his exterior, I position the two of us for a single picture at the edge of the slip rock field with a mountain and spruce trees as our backdrop.

 

The haul out was interesting. A half mile northeast lay the road and my objective was to get us both there without me being covered in blood. Carry a 35+- pound coyote with two holes in his ribcage a half mile without getting blooding was going to be a challenge. So I devised a plan. With the coyote lashed to a 2” diameter 8’ long spruce pole, I drug the pole, when it was possible, keeping the coyote from touching the ground and carried him like a suitcase when the terrain was too rough for a drag. All in all, it worked and I got the coyote to the truck with no unplanned marring of his coat.

In camp congratulation were given to me by my camp mates and I proudly told the story of my first predator kill. Thanks to Tracy and his skinning talents we were able to get a full body casement skinned hide.

Thanks Tracy for your help!

[Benny Nganabbarru]

[Guru]

Congrats Tom...awesome thread fellas!!

[just_a_hunter]

Exellent job, Tom! A well deserved and hard earned trophy for sure..

Well the general season elk hunt is over. No blood trails with happy endings to report. I think there is a lot of truth to Tom's bear theory. The bears are more then ever that I can remember and the elk are acting way wierd this year.. Oh well, that's why they call it hunting. I keep saying this but I should draw that any bull tag anytime. I'll post a few more pictures here soon.

Todd