I continued to hunt hard, but had trouble locating elk. I would occasionally stumble across a cow or two, but that was about it. Bugling from bulls was very minimal. Elk sign was very sporadic, and mostly at least a week old. I tried every spot I knew of, and just couldn't seem to find good concentrations of animals.
Before I knew it I was down to just a couple of days left to hunt. Other hunters that I talked to were all reporting the same results - very few elk seen, and little to no bugling from the bulls. It seemed that things were running behind the normal schedule - even the aspen trees had failed to show any of their normal golden hues.
As I headed to a totally different area one afternoon I drove by my old favorite spot. The camps that had been there previously were gone! I don't know if they gave up early due to success or lack of activity, but I had to give it a try.
I wished that I had more time. I did find some elk, and even had some very close encounters. But it came down to the final day all too soon.
The morning of the last day of my season I worked my way through the aspens. The elk were scattered, but they were there. I saw two different 6x6 bulls, but couldn't close the gap on either. A number of encounters with cows and spikes were equally unproductive. As the morning activity eventually wound down it was time to head back to camp.
I sat down against a log to take a short break, and hadn't been there for more than a minute or two when I noticed the body of an elk filtering through the aspens. One more chance!
I eased up in the direction of its travels as far as I dared, and then waited to see what might develop. Standing behing an aspen tree I watched as the fat spike worked closer and closer. After pausing behind a group of trees he continued on directly at me. Now he's getting too close!
At 15 yards he finally turned so that he would pass me broadside, and as he walked behind a small group of aspens I brought up my bow and started putting tension on the string. I was at half draw as his head and then neck emerged into the clear. Two more steps and I would have a perfectly wide open shot.
And then, just before taking those final two steps, with no hesitation what so ever, HE BEDDED DOWN!!
With his head facing directly at me 15 yards away, I was frozen at half draw. I didn't think I could even lower my bow without detection. My knees were shaking, my arms were quivering, and I was afraid he would hear me gasping for breath and hyperventilating. Why did he have to pick that exact spot for his bed??
All I could think of was to see if I could get to full draw and take a step to my right to clear the trees for a shot at his chest. Would he be confused enough to hesitate long enough for me to get a shot?
I'll let you guess the answer to that question...
Topic: New Mexico Here We Come! - (Updated - Story & Pics Pg 5) (Read 1904 times)
