After being laid up with an injured left shoulder, elbow and neck from a horse wreck last year and missing nearly the entire season I was really looking forward to this fall. Fast forward to late August this year, I'm being real careful with bow season only a week away then another mishap in a stock trailer resulting in two more broken ribs and I was one sick and aggravated bowhunter. I couldn't pull my bow and knew there was no way of running up mountains, hanging stands or hauling a critter out of the brush. I was resigned to a few weeks of watching the season slide slowly by again till my good friend Tom told me he had a spot for me with a stand already hanging if I could get into it. It didn't take much time to decide I'd rather be watching from a tree stand than sitting at home so I took him up on it.
Opening morning found me seeing numerous deer traveling from a night in the alfalfa fields to their bedding areas. I wasn't ready to shoot a buck unless he was a thumper and all the does seemed to have little spotted fawns in tow so I just enjoyed the show and let 15 deer pass unharmed. By 8:30 am it was warming up and I hadn't seen anything for a while figuring it was about over for the morning. Then I hear something right behind my tree and out steps a big old doe with a yearling behind her. Perfect if I could get my bow back. She cooperated beautifully by stepping right under me and sniffing my pull rope. I picked out a hair in the center of her back just behind her shoulder blades, leaned over drew back about half draw and let go. The old girl went down like a sack of potatoes directly under the stand. Another arrow behind the shoulder and it was over in seconds. The Arrow Dynamics shaft with 285 grains of razor sharp Grizzly up front had penetrated the spine and went to the breast bone, not bad for half draw... It wasn't long before Tom came by on his way out, together we field dressed the doe and he drug her a quarter mile to the truck for me. I was a happy camper!
A few days later Duane, another good friend called telling me he had a been watching a group of elk and had them patterned pretty well. He thought we could maybe get something killed without having to kill ourselves in the mountains. Sounded like another no-brainer to me.
I had been working on pulling my bow even trying a little 40#er but I couldn't tell much difference in the “hurt” of the 40 over my 60# Whip. I can tell you it's easier shooting with broken ribs than a messed up shoulder. After a while I figured I had one or two shots in me at full draw if I had a good dose of Tylenol before heading out. The deep breathing was definitely a no no though, it'd be slow and easy up the mountain... Come last Friday morning Duane and I slowly worked our way up the slope to where the elk had been passing thru heading to their daytime beds. We had no more than topped the hill when we heard a couple of bulls sparring below us. Probably due to the heat and drought we'd been having there hadn't really been much rutting action around here yet but the bulls were certainly thinking about it. Duane showed me the trail so I backed in under a fir tree a dozen yards below the trail and waited. Duane slipped back up over the crest of the hill to make such his wind was good and occasionally let out a soft cow call.
A short thirty minutes later while still listening to the sparring bulls I look up above the trail where I was expecting the elk and 35 yards away out steps a cow followed by a half dozen more head. The cagey old lead cow looks down in my direction and is real suspicious for some reason. I know she hasn't smelled me or spotted me but she knows something isn't right. After several minutes of intense staring she finally walks on over the hill taking all those other eyes with her. I figured more elk might follow her path and would probably be too far out for me to shoot. I grabbed one arrow from my quiver laying on the ground, ran up the slope a dozen yards and dove in behind a 4' tall fir tree. I hadn't been there two seconds when out steps a nice bull. Now I'd already decided that with the weather, my injuries and such I was shooting the first elk that gave me a decent opportunity. I hardly looked at the horns before raising my bow and starting the draw. The shot was uphill at a 60 or so degree angle and 25 yards which was certainly beyond my comfort range but as I reached full draw it just felt right. There was a perfect dark crease tight behind his shoulder which naturally drew my eye. Without thinking and no pain by the way the arrow was away. Just at the release he started to step away toward the ridge. The arrow hit just where I was looking but the quartering angle was quite a bit steeper than I'd wanted almost looking like the arrow had run up behind the shoulder instead into the chest cavity.
The bull went running over the hill toward where the cows had gone then Duane who'd witnessed the whole event let go a couple cow calls stopping him out in the open. Duane said he could see quite a bit of blood running down the bulls leg but not a lot of penetration. He said he was pretty confident I'd gotten in the goodies but just wasn't sure how deep. I got up top just in time to see the bulls antler tips disappear over the hill. To be on the safe side we backed out for a couple hours to give him plenty of time to bed. We took up the blood trail and my spirits rose considerably when I saw the amount of blood some of it with plenty of red foam in it. Most elk I've killed if hit right have only gone a short distance before going down so when the trail stretched out to a hundred yards and the blood seemed to be thinning my hopes started to sag again. Another 40 yards and the trail started to “weave” and I was feeling better again. Another 40 yards and Duane spotted the bulls dark brown hide back under the thick fir trees. Believe me we were a couple of happy bowhunters, one of the best parts was we were able to drive Duane's tractor thru the trees right to the bull.
Turns out I had entered the chest cavity and what appeared to be short penetration was the arrow “bouncing” back off the far shoulder or something. There was a little damage to the lungs but mostly the lethality was from taking some of the plumbing off the top of the heart. I'm still amazed this bull went as far as he did but they are big tough animals.
Finally I can't say enough how much I appreciate having buddies like these and many others who have helped or I've gotten to help out over the years. That's what it's all about Gang.
Thanks and I hope you enjoyed reliving our hunts with me.
Topic: Playing Hurt and Good Friends (Read 2165 times)
