We left the tank about seven for some breakfast and then set out to build a blind next
to a fence with a broken top strand on a ridge where the elk had obviously been crossing.
The boys were helpful in dragging logs and branches, over which I stretched some camo
netting for a makeshift blind.
The weather was clear and cool so we elected to hike south from the blind, walking along
the ridge about halfway up, looking for another tank about a quarter mile away. We had
stopped for a rest and were discussing the various differences and benefits of pocket-
knives when Chris spied some elk coming down the ridge about 200 yards south of us. We
sat quietly, although in the open, and watched them make their way down the ridge angling
toward us. The boys whispered in hushed tones as we watched the elk. I was grateful that
they were able to see some elk while we were there.
There were about eight cows in the group. About half way down the ridge they split up
with one half angling on down the hill below us and the other half taking a trail along
the side of the ridge which would bring them within 15 yards above us. The excitement
was almost too much to bear. The elk came closer with every step and soon they were on
the hill right above us.
The three of us sat there on the rock watching them as they paused about 15 yards away.
Neither of the boys had even seen elk before let alone get this close. It was really
exciting. Whether we were winded or the elk saw some movement we'll never know but after
stopping in mid-stride they took off up the hill and were gone in a second. The boys
were now more watchful than ever.
We continued south to look for the tank and then headed east back to the road and back
to camp. After a lunch of sandwiches and soda we brought out the pellet gun and sharpened
our shooting skills with some cans behind camp. Again that evening we sat the tank along
the fence-line and again saw nothing. It would have been nice to have a coyote or bobcat
come in to water but it was not to be. Dinner Saturday night was hot dogs and Bush's
beans and with no complaints from the boys. There's something about roasting hot dogs
over a camp-fire that boys just love.
We were back up early again Sunday and took a long hike along two canyons, which took us
to lunch-time. While we saw no elk that morning, the trip had definitely been a success.
We had built the blind, seen elk up close and enjoyed the country and weather and the
escape from the city.
Two weeks later, my son Jason and I left the house late Thursday afternoon to rendezvous
with a friend of mine from church at a campsite with several other men for the '98 elk hunt.
I had given Steve my portable CB so that once we were in range he could guide us to the
camp in the dark. They were camped in a small meadow just off of the road in four tent
trailers. Seven of us had elk permits and we were all pretty excited about opening morning
the next day. I had taken Jason out of school for Friday in hopes that he would be able to
get a shot during the first three days of the hunt. We had no idea just how exciting that
hunt would be.
Early Friday morning we drove to where I had camped two weeks previously, parked the truck
and hiked to the blind in the dark. It was easy to find since we only had to follow the
fence to the top of the next ridge. Jason sat on a small stool near the front of the
blind and I sat on a log toward the back. Before it began to get light, we could hear
the elk bugling in the distance and it sounded like they were coming our way. There were
several bulls bugling and they were definitely coming closer.
As the eastern sky began to turn orange the bugling was still getting closer but seemed
to be moving toward the ridge to the west of us. While we had hoped they would cross
the fence by our blind, Steve was in a tree stand on the next ridge over. We thought,
perhaps they would offer him a shot.
Sure enough, not long after we heard the elk pass to the west of us, Steve came huffing
and puffing up the steep ridge to our blind saying he had shot one from his tree stand.
It was a complete pass through shot so I left Jason in the blind saying I would call him
with a coyote call if we needed his help and returned with Steve to track his elk. Jason
is an amazing tracker and has helped me find elk I wouldn't have found without him. But,
since Steve's shot sounded good, I expected a good blood trail and thought Jason might yet
have a shot at an elk if he stayed in the blind.
Steve and I tracked the elk for about two hundred yards where the blood trail petered out.
We had looked for about 15 minutes when I coyote called to Jason over on the next ridge
and we resumed our search. Several hours later and another two hundred yards and the
trail had stopped completely. Steve was really bummed. We elected to go back to camp
and return with more help after lunch.
We were back shortly after lunch with the help of Dan who is a veteran elk hunter and
began combing the ridge where the elk had disappeared. Dan is a quiet kind of guy who
isn't always talking about his successes but he's taken his share of elk and deer and
knows his stuff. Again, after several hours of searching, Jason and I left Steve and
Dan and returned to the blind hoping the elk would use our ridge for their return trip
north while Steve and Dan continued looking for his elk.
Having seen or heard nothing all evening, Jason and I returned to camp for the evening
and a great dinner of fresh elk liver and onions courtesy of Albert, one of the others
in camp, who had gotten his elk that morning. So much for opening day.
Saturday morning came early as we were camped far from where our blind was and we wanted
to be there before daylight again. It seemed to take forever as the truck jostled over
the rough road to the old campsite by the fence. We parked under the tree where the
other boys and I had camped only two weeks ago. Once again, settled in the blind, we
heard the elk come down from the north but then again they went to the west before
crossing the fence. This time we would try to intercept them.
An old skid trail led from our blind to the south in the direction the elk had gone
on Friday. As we hurried down the trail we could hear them ahead of us but could not
catch up to them without making way too much noise. We got close enough to sight a
couple of cows but were discovered before getting close enough for a shot. Once again
we returned to camp for lunch but this time we had at least gotten within sight of them.
We now knew that the elk did not return to the north by that path in the evening so we
decided to move farther to the west and set up some makeshift blinds on the ridge near
where Steve had placed his tree stand. All was quiet as we waited in separate blinds
until dark when we walked back out to the truck.
Sunday would be Jason's last day hunting, as we had to return to Phoenix so that he
could go to school on Monday. Taking him out on Friday was the most school we wanted
him to miss due to hunting. Well, it's the most school his mom wanted him to miss.
We pondered several new options for the morning hunt but ended up going back to the
same blind as before, and boy were we glad we did.
Sure enough we heard the elk coming down from the north again but this time they stayed
on the ridge we were on. The excitement really began to build as we could see their
antlers as they worked their way south to the fence where we were hidden. There were
three bulls, one with only one antler, two five by fives and about eight or ten cows
and calves.
It is impossible to describe the tension in the air. The bulls were bugling non-stop.
The cows would trot over to one and then back to the other, all the while coming nearer
the fence and the blind. They seemed to be everywhere. Jason and I just sat there in
awe watching all this take place. Soon some of them were at the fence. Several of the
cows had followed one bull down the draw to our right but the others had stayed with
the other bull near the blind. The noise was tremendous. It was incredible! The bulls
were just screaming at each other. I've never seen or heard anything like it. The
excitement was almost too much to bear.
I decided to sneak out the back of the blind, to go after the ones that went down the
draw and leave Jason to tend to the ones by the blind. I was sure that one of the cows
would decide to cross the break in the fence and he would have an eighteen-yard shot.
Just as I was out of the blind a cow down by the draw decided to switch her allegiance
back to the other bull and came up the other side of the fence-line headed toward the
break and offered a good shot. She was about 20 yards away and I was behind a small
juniper but I elected to pass, expecting Jason would get the shot after she went a
little further.
As he moved to draw the bow, another cow farther up on the ridge spooked and jumped
back a couple steps. He remained perfectly still except that I could see he was
shaking. I knew exactly how he felt. I don't know if it is the adrenaline or what,
but your heart is pounding like you think your having a heart attack, your mouth is
all dry and it feels like if you don't do something you'll explode.
The cow calmed down a little and the other cow approached the break. As he drew his
bow and was lining up the shot, I could see the arrow bouncing on the rest. Watching
him shoot was more exciting than doing it myself without a doubt. The arrow went high
and sailed over her back. The elk exploded in all directions and soon all was quiet.
Wow! This was indeed the greatest show on earth. In twelve years of hunting I have
never been more excited. It was incredible! We attempted to go after the elk for
awhile but they were long gone so we returned to camp to get ready for the trip back
to Phoenix.
I returned to camp Monday afternoon with more ice and supplies intending to spend the
full eleven days if that's what it would take. One fine addition to this elk camp was
a shower that Steve had erected behind the tent trailer. It is fabricated from pipe
and a tarp and assembles in minutes. There is nothing like a nice hot shower after
spending a couple days in the woods. It's also quite nice if the ones you are sharing
a tent trailer with takes one once in a while.
Tuesday morning I sat the blind again and not having any success decided to hunt over
to the west some just to do something different. After crossing the draw by the blind
I worked slowly up the other side, past Steve's stand, keeping into the wind. I keep
a small squeeze bottle of baking soda in my pocket to check on the wind periodically
as it changes with the terrain. There was a small stand of jack pines just to the
north-west and I thought I heard some cow talk in that direction so I started to still-
hunt over there.
In order to get there however, I had to cross a small clearing. Aside from a couple
of large ponderosas, there was next to no cover. I didn't want to take the time to
walk all the way around it and risk losing them so I started across, staying clear of
the few ponderosas because they were surrounded by noisy pine cones. It would be like
walking through a mine field. One false step and, crack, the whole forest knows where
you are.
As soon as I was in the middle of the clearing I spied a large set of antlers coming
through the jack pines my direction. I froze. There was nowhere to hide and I didn't
want to spook the bull for fear he would run off with all of his cows in tow. So I
stood there. Right out in the open.
He walked into the clearing, feeding as he went. He'd take a step or two, pick up a
mouth-full of grass, look around a little and take another step. All the while getting
closer and closer to me. In a few minutes he had closed the distance to about fifty
yards and was still coming straight at me. I stood like a statue, bow hanging at my
side, peeking out from under the brim of my hat, watching him, hoping he wouldn't spook.
Now, this was exciting.
His cows were still out of sight behind him. He kept coming. He had to turn to one
side or the other any time now. As he closed the distance to under ten yards I began
to get worried. Part of me wanted to see just how close he would come, just for the
excitement of it. At the same time, a more sensible part of me was looking at those
huge pointy antlers and saying I'd better end this game of chicken before I was skewered.
I was thinking of just how much damage that animal could do if he wanted. But I waited.
And still he came. He would stop, raise his head in the air with his antlers almost
touching his rump, look at me sideways so that I could see the whites of his eyes, then,
he'd resume eating. When he was only six or seven feet away he paused like he had been
doing and looked straight at me. Good grief! We were exactly eye to eye and I could
have touched him with my bow! He was that close. He cocked his big head to the side
and looked again. I remember looking at his eyes. They were so big! Then, not knowing
anything better to say to an elk, I said in a shaky voice "I think that's far enough!"
He jerked his head back but still didn't spook.
Now I was really getting worried. This was one big animal and I was in his bedroom
uninvited. And, as a matter of fact, I was interested in his cows. This time I raised
my hands in the air as I yelled "get outa here". He trotted off back to his cows but
still really didn't spook. I just stood there for a while. Now that was the greatest
show on earth.
Wednesday was uneventful. Steve and I tried sitting different tanks in morning and
evening but were not having much luck. Thursday, after sitting my blind in the morning
and hearing the elk go on by to the south again, I decided that they must be bedding in
one of the small canyons down there and I would go find them.
I went over to the ridge that they seemed to be using most of the time and still-hunted
quietly south. I found a trail where they had crossed back across the draw and followed
it. Sure enough, on the east side of the draw were fresh beds, lots of them. Now I had
a plan. The next morning I would come in from the south and meet them there.
While discussing the hunt Thursday night I told Steve of my plan. So Friday we took the
road that I had walked out the previous morning. We parked the truck and walked north
a ways, then crossed a draw to the east and immediately found ourselves in very dense,
cool cover with lots of elk sign and fresh beds. We hid ourselves and waited.
When nothing came down the draw we decided to look around and found another hunter
walking a skid trail, coming from the north where the elk should have come from. Well,
that explained the disappearing elk. Now, having some time on our hands we thought we
would explore some of the other two-tracks in that area so we took one that headed
farther east and spooked two cows as we came around a bend.
Things were looking up but we needed to be more careful. We then snuck up on a bull
and watched him for a while hoping he might have some cows with him and then sat down
for a snack and to discuss what to do next. Just as we were deciding to split up and
meet back at the truck I spotted movement through the trees in the direction we had
been moving.
We couldn't tell if they were bulls or cows but we quietly stowed away our food and
began to stalk them. There were at least two and as we closed the distance we could
tell they were cows. We decided that I would sneak up behind them and Steve would go
off to the left in the direction they were moving in case I spooked them. Having
recently read Stalking and Still Hunting by G. Fred Asbell, I put on my best effort.
He would have been proud.
Slowly, quietly, I took a few steps at a time. Toe first then heel. Weight on the
rear foot until the front one was solid. The cows had split up now and only one was
in sight. The others had gone in Steve's direction. So far so good. One of us
should get a shot. I continued my stalk.
Each time she would put her head down to feed I would take a step or two. When she
would look up, I would freeze. It seemed to take forever but I was soon only thirty
yards away but directly behind and still closing the distance. The timber was thick
with small trees and twigs and would make a shot difficult. I had to get closer and
more to the side.
I slowly started moving to the right to make for a quartering away shot. I was now
about twenty yards close and she still didn't have a clue I was there. Just a few
more steps. No, now there is another small tree in the way. Another step. At this
angle I will have to shoot in behind the rib cage, aiming for the far shoulder. I
figured the arrow would go through the liver and at least one lung before stopping
at the far shoulder.
I quietly drew my bow and, instead of the jitters, I am strangely calm. Earlier in
the week I was shaking like a leaf as I drew on one from the blind. Somehow this was
different. I was not shaking. I was deliberate. The twenty yard pin settled on the
spot, paused for a second, and the arrow was away.
It felt like a good shot and the Zwickey Eskimo tipped XX75 buried to the fletching
exactly where I wanted it to. The elk crashed off to the left and I wondered if
Steve saw her run. Then it was quiet. I paced off the distance as eighteen yards
and marked the spot with a lucky piece of surveyor's tape given me by Albert in camp
after he shot his elk on opening day. I knew it was a good hit so we began tracking.
Although the hit was good there was absolutely no blood trail. Not a drop. Her
hoof marks were easily distinguishable from the others because they were deeper.
Steve thought that she had circled back to the right so he took a shortcut in that
direction and I followed her steps in the soft earth one at a time making a trail
with biodegradable tape.
In about 15 minutes Steve called and said he had found blood. I rushed to where
he was standing and there was the cow, 110 yards from where she was shot. After
tagging the elk I knelt down and thanked God for this gift of his great creation
and for providing food for our family, for good health and the privilege of spending
time in the outdoors.
While all of the elk that I have killed have affected me emotionally, this one was,
for some unknown reason, the worst. It is a feeling of both great sadness and
happiness at the same time. I cannot explain it. It just is.
To top off an already great hunt, complete with the greatest show on earth, she
fell right beneath a huge juniper that was only about 50 yards from a skid trail.
Steve was able to use the GPS to go directly to the truck and then back to where
I had begun field dressing the elk. We were able to put a snatch block in the
tree and use the Ramsey winch to pull her up for skinning and quartering. By
noon we were back in camp with the meat cooling in the air-conditioned 4Runner.
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