As the days got shorter and the end of August drew near, my focus shifted to elk hunting. I always spend a lot of time daydreaming and practicing for the hunt and this year was especially bad since last season was a flop. I don't mean the hunt went poorly, it didn't happen at all. Conflicts at work prevented me from getting out and for the first time in many years I wasn't able to go elk hunting. This year was going to be different.
After a long day at work and tying up loose ends, I made the long drive to hunting camp. It was after 2:00 AM when I arrived and I only had a few hours before I had to be up and on the trail for the opening morning. I barely felt like I had fallen asleep when my dad woke me up and said we needed to go. My body begged for more sleep but I was so grateful to be with my lifelong hunting partner. My father and I spent so much time in the outdoors together that we share a unique bond that is priceless. We geared up, rigged my packgoats, and set out for another adventure together.
It was still dark as we eased our way through a herd of cattle and into a familiar basin. There were so many different place would could go, but we both felt good about our current choice. With the sun's first light starting to push away the darkness, we were exhillerated with the beautiful sound of an elk's bugle. On this high pressured public land, every bugle much be carefully analyzed. The last thing we want to do is sneak up on another hunter or lure them to our location. It sounded pretty good but we were still skeptical. Then there was another bugle, from a different location, and then another one. We were pumped. We considered the sound and location of the bugles and determined which one was most likely a real elk and our best possibility.
We carefully picked our way up the mountain, adjusting our path to the terrain and location of the bugling elk. While still enroute to our chosen elk, the goats locked onto something up the hill in a different direction. It sounded like elk crunching through the brush and I caught my dad's attention. We quickly adapted to the new situation and started closing in. Before we could close enough distance, the disappointing sound of fleeing elk rang in our ears. My dad managed to see one of the cows but our calls did nothing to slow their escape. With that possibilty gone, we returned to our pursuit of the vocal bull. We seemed to be slowly closing the gap, but he bugled less and less, until he no longer responded.
Without him talking, we paused to consider what we should do with all the elevation we gain. As we discussed our best options, movement caught my attention much higher on the mountain. Crossing in plain view above the timber, was a group of cows and calves. They maintained a single file line and walked with purpose but didn't seem rushed. As they were passing out of view on our right more elk appeared on the left following the same path. There were more cows and calves and a couple of spike. Then more cows and more bulls. This amazingly continued for several more minutes. I had never seen a herd of elk this large in this area. There were more good branch antlered bulls, rag horns, and spikes sprinkled throughout this long parade. Then the herd beast made his appearance. His body was easily more than fifty percent larger than others we had seen. His antlers were very large but at that distance in the low light, were were unable to really determine how big he was. It was thrilling to see this large exodus, but dissapointing that apparently all the elk in the area were deciding leave. It was also surprising to see that many bulls and cows together with all the bugling we heard. We saw over fifteen bulls and close to sixty cows and calves. With the beast still in plain view, I let out a shrill bugle just to see how how would respond. He tipped his head back and roared back without hesitation. I couldn't help but try him one more time and he responded as he had the first time. Absolutely unbelievable! We watched them until they had moved out of sight and no more came into view. Now what?
We spent the rest of the morning climbing until we reached an excellent convergence of trails and dug in for the long wait. I have never found it to be very productive to blindly plod around during the middle of the day, so we picked a nice, cool place to wait it out.
The spot was comfortable and we hoped an elk wander through on any of the well worn paths. Watching and napping, the hours quickly slipped away, but no elk revealed themselves. This didn't seem very surprising considering we had just watched every elk in the area leave.
It was late afternoon when we decided to make the long decent back to camp and the ridge crossing over to the south slope was surprisingly hot and barren. We followed the ridge down for a while until the north slope opened up enough to make sneaking through a possibility. As we dropped down from ridge a large blue grouse exploded from behind a log and glided up into a tree. Four more took off after him but showed no signs of stopping as they soared off the mountain. I slowly approached the tree, straining to identify the lone grouse. I glassed and glassed until I finally discovered him skillfully crouched in a dense thicket. My dad laughed at me and called me crazy when I pulled a perfectly good arrow tipped with a VPA Small Game Thumper. It was a twenty yard shot but there was no room for error. There was a small opening only two to three inches wide and about the same height. Hitting that spot at home is doable, but as I peered into the tanglee mess of a tree, it seemed more like an impossible shot. I justified that you have to let the arrow go if you ever want the chance to make the impossible shots as I knocked the arrow. I slowly drew until reaching my anchor. I tried to pick a spot on the dark silhouette but was thoroughly distracted by the looming weave of branches and needles. I quickly let down and told my self to relax. I shifted my stance a little to maximize the tiny shot window and drew once again. I relaxed at anchor and let the string slip from my fingers. The arrow miraculously slid through the opening and sent the bird fluttering. I saw my arrow sailing off the side of the mountain toward a distinct snag a couple hundred yards down the hill. The bird never made it to the ground so I wasn't able to secure my prize. After reaching the bottom side of the old knarled tree, we weren't surprised that there was no way for a bird to fall through the tangle messed. The only upside was that I had a pretty good idea of where I could retrieve my arrow. Staight off the mountain we went and I had no idea how glad I would be that I attempted the "Impossible Shot".
Not forgetting we were still elk hunting, I let out some soft cow calls and a little squeal bugle as we gave up elevation. My dad and I spread out as we neared the area that should hold my grouse arrow. All of the sudden, crashing noises and dust billowed up for across the little draw not fifty yards away. We had spooked something from the other little finger and I was sure it was elk. I immediately let out a bugle with a couple cow calls and signaled to my dad who was still on my right, what had just happened to our left. I quickly made my way toward where the animals had fled and froze when I caught a glimpse of familiar tan body and dark legs. Somehow a lone tree's trunk and branches concealed me from the elks view. I could clearly see his dark legs and ranged the distance, thirty five yards. I felt I could close the distance and open up a clear view to his vital while keeping my movements obscurred by the trunk of the lone tree. My signal to my dad caused him to to creep closer also. Then like a flash, the young bull spun and dropped over the ridge out of sight. I scrambled toward the tree and bugled and cow called while moving. Miraculously he appeared again facing uphill to my left on the small finger. This time I was ready and there was nothing to impede my shot. I drew the 65# Centaru Chimera, hit my anchor, and pulled through my shot. It felt perfect until the bull spun toward me to head back down the hill. As he turned, the perfect broadside shot turned into a quartering toward shot and the arrow struck it's quarry. My heart stopped as the Magnus Buzzcut Stinger plunged into the front edge of the bull's shoulder and he whirled out of sight with the arrow still protruding.
My mind raced as I tried to make the anatomical calculations of the hit and whether it was a lethal blow. I felt a wave of relief as I whispered a prayer and found his tracks and also blood. The blood wasn't spraying like I had hoped, but there was definate and quick blood. It was also a bonus that we found the arrow right away with rich arterial blood. The broadhead had snapped off in the elk leaving the threads in the insert. We marked the time at 6:30 PM and would resume the bloodtrailing in one half hour.
Topic: Grouse Arrow and an Elk (Long Story - Derrick Oxnam) (Read 1469 times)
