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Bedrooms | April 2006 | |
Gerhard Schroeder |   | |
Sweet! I had received permission to enter some
bedrooms again with intentions that would not be considered
good by all occupants. Okay, before your mind slips too far
into the gutter here, let me add some clarifying details.
The permit arrived in the form of a cow elk tag, issued for
unit 3B, where I do know of quite a few ‘bedrooms’, places
elk often return to during mid-day. Any year with an elk
tag is a great hunting year, so I did not complain one bit
that this was my only permit in the fall of 2005. And in
3B I had hunted elk about ten times (not always as a permit
holder) in the last dozen years or so. No scouting required.
It also only took one session with the custom .375-.338 magnum
Mauser to become comfortable for the early December hunt.
Gary Burk made the deal even sweeter, volunteering to not only
ride shotgun, but also provide creature comforts in Pinetop.
I met him and Cindy there Thursday night. Cindy had volunteered
to create tasty dinners. Ah, the relaxation of a real bed, and
a quick bite for breakfast in a real kitchen.
Opening morning was here. We entered hunting ground within
less than a mile. Gary drove my 4Runner. As we approached
‘Spike Hill’ confirmation already lay on the ground that the
area around this little knoll (named after a spike that my
brother and me had killed on its top in ’96) is often frequented
by elk. No, not tracks in the snow – there was none, all was
sadly dusty. Somebody had bagged what looked like a yearling.
Those guys were about to field dress their animal.
With that area already somewhat disturbed, I gave Gary directions
to drive to a little loop road that Mike Kelley had discovered on
his bull hunt last fall. We parked, and walked the loop.
Sure enough, half way through we spooked one elk, most likely a
bull. On our return leg suddenly there was more movement on the
other side of a thick stand of young trees. Turns out, it was an
entire herd of cow elk, just what my tag had called for. Except
none of them was quite stupid enough. By the time I had moved
along the forest road for an unobstructed shot, all but one had
already departed. And that last one was lucky. I had the
crosshairs on her chest just as she reached the next patch of
trees. Oh, what one more second could have done! But hey, we’re
talking opening morning here, not even 9AM.
I followed after that herd, up a sizeable mountain, only to never
see their hides again. What peaked my interest, however, was
plenty of sign of old elk beds, with plenty of obvious elk track
paths crisscrossing the steep hillside – another bedroom, for
future reference!
Gary and I met at the Toyota. By now it was almost 10AM. Time
to try some bedrooms. Those are usually steep hills sides with
fairly thick old growth timber. Elk love to bed there, protected
from the wind usually, difficult to spot, yet they can easily see
and hear danger approaching, and the steep slope allows them
effective escape routes.
The first bedroom would be rather small. Informing Gary that it
should take no more than half an hour to check out, I had him drop
me off near the top of the hill, and told him to park near the
bottom.
I moved in within fifty steps of where I had killed my last elk
two years prior, topped the small hill from the easy side, then
crossed over onto the steep slope.
Dressed in my homemade 3D camo, and with rifle at the ready, I
carefully inched along one of their trails. It did not even take
fifty steps. ‘She’ just stood there, her butt almost facing me,
her head turned to look over her back straight at me, maybe sixty
paces ahead. In the scope, set at about 5X, I verified one last
time that nothing was growing between her ears, swept the crosshairs
a little high behind her shoulder (only the upper two thirds of her
chest were visible, the rest covered by a crest along the slope we
were on), and squeezed.
Up until then I had been unusually calm. That did not change even
when I saw the elk, almost as if she showed up where she was
supposed to be. The recoil, however, was another thing all together.
Not only was it unusually stiff, the muzzle climbed higher than I
had been aware of previously. Launching 260 grains of Nosler
Partition at about 2700 fps also opened that stupid hinged magazine
bottom, and all spare rounds spilled over my trigger hand and onto
the forest floor.
With light mental cussing – at least the shot had ‘felt’ good – I
checked where the elk had been. Nothing to see, nothing to hear,
no animal(s) running. So what the heck, I closed the hinged magazine
bottom, collected the dumped ammo, cleaned them and stuffed them back
into the Mauser, chambered a round, and then proceeded to where the
cow had stood.
Immediately another elk appeared, a little further away, also just
standing there, staring at me. Better not shoot until I check on
the first one. Sure enough, another fifteen steps further and I
could see my cow, on the ground, right where she had stood. Game
over!
Coincidentally, this elk had dropped within eighty yards of where
my brother had taken his biggest bull. Yes, there were three other
cows stupid enough to hang around. They eventually moved on as I
approached my animal. It would have been easy to royally screw up
and shoot another.
“Gary, do you copy?”
“Did you get one? I heard you shoot.”
“Standing right next to her.”
That was our exact communication. Soon Gary was with me, and we
decided to drag my elk down the steep slope to where the SUV could
reach her. That required just a little heavy breathing.
I performed the red work before bringing my Toyota to the scene.
The Nosler Partition, by the way, had cut four ribs on its way in,
then traversed one lung slightly to end up in the spine. No wonder
the animal dropped where it had stood. That, then, made this the
third elk bagged by my custom .375 Mauser, all one-shot-go-nowhere
affairs.
Throwing a rope across a sturdy branch way up on a convenient mature
oak required several attempts. Once the pulley was anchored, the
4Runner got the honor of pulling my cow way off the ground, so high
that a coyote might be able to jump and just bite into its hind
hooves. We tied her up that way, then drove off to fetch Gary’s
trailer.
About an hour later, with trailer in position, we lowered the beast
gently, and tied her down for the trip back to Gary’s place. There
the critter took another ride up between two trees, again way off
the ground for the night.
Preparing a work bench for the butchering chores was the final
opening day act. Did I mention taking real showers? Also can’t
beat a great dinner with good friends. It was an enjoyable evening
after a successful hunt.
Saturday morning at first light I began to skin my elk, then
anatomically cut off sections to be de-boned. All precious meat,
by now nicely cooled out, was in the 100 quart ice chest, and the
place cleaned up by 4PM. A perfect hunt, I would say.
It may make for a short adventure to arrange a meeting with elk in
their bedrooms!
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