Saturday passed rather uneventfully. The highlight was glassing a bull that was well over 300. We debated back and forth about his probable score. I said 320, Brett 330 and Jason 350. Who knows for sure because mid conversation the bull and cows start to bolt like they just winded people. They were well upwind and 500 yards from us across a canyon. No way it was us. What was it?
The answer came Sunday. We hiked down the drainage from camp and stumbled into a CAMP not 200 yards from ours! When we hiked in on Thurs in the dark, we marched right past it. There were other hunters about.
Now lets get this straight, we have never seen another camp back in this location and have only seen one other person in 5 years. We were peaved to say the least. Its a free country and this is public land. However it sometimes feels like an intrusion when you have such a good thing going. It only takes one set of loose lips.....
Sunday morning was slow, but Sunday evening was on fire. I came to within 45 yards of a giant herd bull. The story is one that deserves its own topic. "Running at a herd bull while bugling your head off". Unconventional but it worked. Anyway, a story for another day.
Brett returned to camp Sunday night after packing his bull back to a safe cool place. We then decided to visit our new neighbors. Our neighbors were as feared. They went on and on about the number of bugling bulls and the overall good size. They" use to hunt the Breaks but have been looking for change". They also mentioned a big group they hunt with, blah, blah, blah . ..... Paradise lost is all we could think. We returned to our tent more than a little dejected.
Monday morning came with a somber mood. Luckily the best salve for a wounded spirit is a huge herd of bugling bulls competing for a hot cow. That was the scenario unfolding below us.
Again, we played the wind and ridge. The plan worked to a tee. The herd slowly worked towards us and we herd non stop bugling. Two big herd bulls were competing and fighting. Several satellites were circling like moons around Saturn. One satellite peeled towards and Jason and he dispatched it at 12 yards.
Another satellite came in my direction but crossed me up. The bull almost got around me, but luckily Jason saw what was happening and steered the bull just a little closer.....
Now I know some people are going to get their feathers ruffled but ....I took a long shot. In fact it was the longest shot I have ever taken at an elk- 32 yards ( stepped off after the shot.) I passed three elk at 15-25 early in the season because they were looking at me or were edgy. This bull was standing broadside and looking away from me. I felt surprisingly confident.
I drew, anchored, sort of gapped it, and slowly squeezed it off. It felt and looked perfect. He didn't move until the arrow struck its mark. The shot was perfect. I was relieved and pleased.
Two bulls down in less than 20 minutes and we did it just how like it: Coming to a caller and bugling their heads off.
The season is over. It was a series of ups and downs. By the time we packed the bulls and camp out, we had logged 50 plus miles that week. Painful, but oh so fun.
As for next year, I think our secret is no longer SECRET. We'll see. Until then, its the sweet afterglow of an elk in the freezer.
Thanks for coming along.
Jeff
Topic: Montana Bull... The joy and pain of elk hunting (Read 989 times)
