It has been almost two decades since my last bull elk hunt. Ok, there were
cow hunts, and cow hunts in limited opportunity units. It’s been years since
elk meat rested in my freezer. But for 2019 Steve, Ron and I also got bull
elk tags.
Jetlagged from my Germany visit, I arrived in elk camp about a half hour before
shooting light. Ron and Steve had come up the day before. So all I had to do
is say hello, grab my equipment and head out while it was still dark. My goal
is to be away from camp when it’s light enough to see things through the scope.
The plan for the day was to first sneak along a long-deserted and partially
overgrown forest road, then wait out the day in a ground blind fashioned back
in May by leaning branches against two close-together trees. That location was
not random. Tracks indicated that elk might (and hopefully would again and often)
frequent this area.
It had rained hard the days before the hunt. Somewhere along the old road,
crossing elk tracks had stirred hope. Both sides of that road had thick
vegetation. With no wind and absolute silence, following them was out of the
question. By the end of opening day none of us had seen any elk, but we had
seen plenty of other hunters in vehicles.
For Saturday my plan was to get to the old road where the tracks were, and
somehow set up a provisional blind there. I did not make it in time.
About a hundred yards before reaching said tracks, there stood an elk already
on the old road, about fifty steps from me. I froze, then carefully lifted
my binoculars. Of course ‘she’ had made me. Long minutes of standoff passed.
But wait – such cows seldom appear alone. I replaced Kahles with Tikka, ready
in case a bull should show up. Again I would not be choosy, would take the
first legal bull.
Eventually she resumed feeding, and slowly moved out of sight. A second elk
emerged from the left – cow. And another – cow. Excitement and arm fatigue
from holding the rifle so long did battle within me. Another elk – cow. And
so it went for at least fifteen minutes. In all, eight elk came into good
shooting distance, none with head jewelry.
I did trim out some brush and waited in ambush where all the tracks and now
these elk had crossed, in hopes that a lone bull might follow the ladies later.
But that did not occur. Right after dark, back in camp, rain began to drum on
Steve’s kitchen tent. It would stay with us, off and on, and there would be
no sun on Sunday.
But having just had plenty of rain practice in Germany, I went out in the dark
anyway. Taking a different road led me higher up the mountain. At one point
an opposite hillside looked open enough to check out with binos. Sure enough,
there were elk over there, a good five hundred yards away. But before I could
check them all out, clouds moved in and disguised them entirely. I moved a
little closer on my ridge. Once those clouds lifted some, I could not find
the elk again. Nothing happened for Ron and Steve, either.
Monday awoke with open skies, all the stars to see, and dead silence. I
carefully made it to my deserted road blind to set my chair into the sun to dry.
Despite all the rain, the road was too loud to follow. So, plan B, return to my
May ground blind.
After waiting there the first boring hour, suddenly movement behind me. What?
Another hunter. Oh, it was Ron. I signaled, he came over. We chatted for
several minutes, trying to make sense out of the tracks we’d seen in the mud,
tracks which must have been made early that morning, or during the night.
Eventually Ron decided to go east. Not two minutes later I left that blind,
intending to follow the tracks to learn what terrain those elk were headed for.
I only made it five steps, then froze. Because there was movement ahead – elk,
heading right towards me. Darrnn – why did I not remain in my hiding spot??
Now here I was, totally in the open. Of course the rifle came off the shoulder,
slowly. There was even time to wipe the scope lens with my Kleenex (which I
should have done way earlier when I noticed some condensation while still in the
blind). The first two elk were ladies, still steadily approaching. But now my
pulse hastened, because #3 had obvious spikes. I would take him! Except he
milled behind trees and bushes, almost out of sight. Now the ladies had made it
to within about 30 yards, and there they stopped to check me out.
My excitement climbed … may that spike hurry up and get in the open, please! He
did approach, but so perfectly behind a tree that only the tips of his antlers
showed on both sides. And when he cleared that he was smack behind those cows.
Two more steps, please, please. Right then those front two decided that they did
not like what I may be, and gently fled left, and of course the bull did likewise.
But I had him in my scope. Except at 6X I could stay with him but not keep track
of the trees. I will forever remember that I was quite concerned to nail a tree
as I squeezed the trigger. And immediately and decisively ran the bolt.
No need! The cows got faster, and in the background a whole herd of at least a
dozen elk also thundered away. But my bull stopped, got wobbly quickly, and
went down. 200 grains of Nosler Partion from my suppressed .308 Win went low
through both shoulders, just missing leg bone but hitting ribs and apparently
had significant effect. Again I thanked God for his creation and provisions,
for this elk.
I yelled: “Ron, elk are coming your way”, then walked up to my bull, about
fifty steps away. Ron had heard my shot as well, and returned. He also did
not see any further antlers on the other elk.
On an elk, doing the red work with two guys makes it a lot easier. That done,
I looked around for a suitable tree. There was, some thirty steps away. And
it looked easy to drive to that juniper from the nearest forest road. Ron
helped me drag the bull closer to that tree, then guarded my animal and stuff
while I hurried to camp to get the 4Runner. Once the elk was hanging, Ron went
on hunting. Skinning and cutting apart that bull was routine but so much more
effort than on a whitetail.
By around 2PM the whole ‘operation’ had moved to camp. There I hung the
individual elk parts for better cooling, and began the deboning, until dark.
Butchering resumed Tuesday morning. Amazing that an elk will easily fit into
a 100 qt ice chest, including several frozen water jugs.
We all stayed until dark on Thursday, the last day of the hunt. Steve never
had the luck of encountering an elk. Ron saw elk several times, also that
last afternoon after all of camp had been packed away. Unfortunately, he
never verified antlers.
No telling when we may get drawn again for bull elk. But we want to!