Day 7. Back to "No Name Mountain" again. I'm starting at around 6000 feet and finding elk 5 miles later at around 7500 feet. I decide to go up one spine to the south of where I was yesterday. This way I can hunt a big bowl-like drainage to the south or the more ravine like drainage to the north where I'm pretty sure the elk from yesterday ended up. Onward and upward I go until I hear that first bugle about a quarter mile ahead. I close the distance a couple hundred yards then stop. Drink, eat, get out the binos, put the diaphram in my mouth, put my new Brothers of the Bow hat on. Cool hat. I can't shoot a bow with a hat with a brim, but this one has a wire in the brim so a guy can push it up for string clearance at full draw.
I'm on an aspen covered bench, the mountain gets a lot steeper just ahead, and thats where he is, he bugles again about 200 yards away and I'm ready to put the move on him. I cow call to him and immediately I hear him coming, rolling rocks, popping branches. But he doesn't come in,he's just walking around, breaking branches, but vocally silent. Then he chuckles a bit, still up on the steep hillside but heading south into the bowl. I don't know what's making the racket down my way, so I leave it and head south, trying to catch up with this bull. The trees open up and he chuckles again straight up from me still about 200 yards away. The sun is starting to warm up and I know the thermals will begin to rise. I want to get ahead of him and on his level so I get on a trail that looks like it will take me on a collision course with him. As I'm hurrying down the trail I approach a small knob and I think to myself, "That looks like it could be a wallow on the other side of this hill". At that a calf squirts up out of this hole about 60 yards ahead followed by a cow and a bull bugles out of sight, right in front of me! I kneel down, one bush in front of me and out he comes following the cow, a beauty of a 6by with white tipped antlers. I cow call to him hoping he'll come back for this stray cow, but he won't budge, looking and looking, but he ain't coming. This goes on for about 5 minutes when all of a sudden there's a cow walking off the hillside where the original bull was, walking down to the other elk at the wallow. I shift a little bit so I can get a shot at the bull I know is following her. Only he didn't get the memo.
Those elk finally filter into the the timber on the other side of the wallow. I gotta move, my scent is going to be blowwing up that slope soon,and I'm sure there's a good ambush spot somewhere over there. I cross the wallow and it looks like there might be more wallows up the drainage, so I quickly move up there to see what it looks like. Nope. The original one is the best. I turn around and head down to get into the spot I had picked when first going through, and there's a cow coming out, followed by a calf and another cow. Dang! I hope he's not right behind them cause they're too far for a shot. These elk follow the first bunch into the timber and I quickly get set up on the wallow. 10 minutes later here comes another cow and calf off the hillside. He's gotta be behind this one. Again, we're on different scripts.
I hang there for an hour or so, nothing. So, I climb up to where I heard him last and decide he must have gone north, into the steep sided drainage. I make my way over to the spine/ridge that seperates the two drainages and start climbing. 15 minutes later a bull bugles down and across from me in the steep sided ravine. I stop right on the trail, sit down and throw a bugle of my own back at him. He ignores me. But I'm happy to sit in the shade for a bit, catch my breath, gaze in wide wonder at the world around me and listen. Well, my hearing ain't so great, cause the next thing I know there's a ruckus going on 20 yards up the trail and I turn just in time to see an elk bustin away down into the ravine. You gotta be kiddin me...
So, it's onward and upward once again for this weary flatlander. I'm tiring quickly now, stopping more than moving, at least it looks like it's going to level out just ahead. I top out on the rise, it must be around 8000 feet, I've climbed about 2000 feet this morning, and take another break, catch my breath.
There's a nice little flat pocket of timber ahead, so I walk over, get just inside the trees and bugle. Nothing. Except a limb popping straight ahead. I move towards the sound, silent on the dusty trail, and there they are, two spikes and a small branch antlered bull. Feeding like they were starved, totally unaware of my presence. I nock an arrow an walked slowly right at 'em. When I got to my confident range I stopped.I knew then that this was going to be the bull that would wear my tag. First one of the spikes walked through the chosen opening, followed by the branch antlered. I started my draw as he went behind some trees, anchored as he came out, released when he opened up.
I hit him almost where I was looking, initially I thought it was low, penetration didn't look great. He took about 5 quick steps and stopped behind some trees. I could his head and neck, and through the binos I could see the pudddle of blood under him. After a minute he took another 5 steps and stopped, "Go down, go down, go down, please go down", nope. I watched as he walked off again,the arrow looked tight on the elbow and blood was pouring out like water out of a spigot turned on low. Out of sight he went.
I backed out, got on the other side of the ridge so he couldn't hear me and texted the kid. Yeah, all this and I'm still in cell phone range. Jim called me when he stopped for lunch and we went over the details. He would try to get us a horse. He had a plane to catch in the morning.
An hour later I was on the bloodtrail. When I got to the place where he first stopped, I pulled out the camera to take a pic, and an elk jumped up directly below me and went crashing down the hill. You gotta be kiddin me. This was supposed to be easy, he was supposed to be laying dead just out of sight, not running on adreneline into the bowels of this steep ravine. "Hold it, keep your cool, maybe it wasn't him".
I continued on the bloodtrail and it wasn't him. Although he was going deeper. I was moving slowly and silently, glassing ahead every couple steps. There was definitely lung blood in the first couple puddles, but now it was getting sparse. And the birds, the freaking birds were eating the blood on the trail. About 150 yards into it, I spotted him, down, but not out. Ears flicking at the flies.
This is were the story gets a little sad, or depressing, or, I don't know the correct word, but, things just weren't right. I was the one that was resposible for putting this poor beast in agony and it was up to me to make it as right as I could. I could have just let him die, but... Anyhow, I shed my pack and bugle and put a stalk on him. He was facing directly away, with his legs under him, laying more on his left side, swinging his head around to his right side. So, I had to approach his almost covered left side. At 30 yards I could have taken a shot. But I thought I could do better. I got down to 10 yards. One little spot to hit behind the last rib, drew back and sunk it to the fletching. Whew, it was over.
Topic: Got some WY blood on my "Brothers of the Bow" hat. Fall of 2012 update, (Read 1836 times)
