OYOA hunts Montana elk

I would like for this to be some long winded thread of how we hunted so hard and on the last day, we pulled out a miracle bull. Seems it usually happens that way for us.

Not on this hunt. Saturday, my son, Matthew, flew into town and by Sunday we were using a helicopter to access a piece of isolated public ground in central Montana, both having rifle elk tags.

Couldn't hunt that day, so we scouted. Found a big wad of elk, but most were on private. And, the few on public were about a three hour hike away.

Next morning, we climbed up and were glassing at dawn. Mostly trying to sort the rain drops that were coming in more horizontally, than vertically. Made for difficult glassing. Even with that, we noticed a huge mass of elk moving across the foothills like a parade of ants marching along. Not sure how many, but it was in the hundreds. They had made it to the timber by about 9:30 am, bedding in a scattered pattern that put most of them on private.

Rather than dedicate an entire day to hiking down there, losing 600' of elevation and gaining back 400' more, just to navigate a private boundary, I decided to keep an eye on them and see if they came out again in the evening. If so, Day Two of hunting would have us navigating the darkness to be in position.

Seems like every time I hunt this area, the elk are on the opposite side of where we camp. In the past two years, if I had camped here, I would have had elk at my feet, nothing more than a few hundred feet of vertical separating me from them. Now that I camped over here, the elk were bunching up on the opposite end, about 2.5 miles as the crow flies, but way worse when it comes to what it takes on a dark hike and circumventing boundaries.

We retreated to camp to get out of the drenching rain and wind. Wondered if the hurricane had changed course and made it to Montana. By mid-afternoon, the wind had cleared the skies and we were up on the rock doing more glassing.

Knowing a little of what a long hike to that area of the public land would entail, I left Matthew and Brad to spot and scout from above while Mason and I took the map and the GPS to plot the path that would be needed for us to get there in the dark. Way easier to navigate in the daylight and mark the path of least resistance while the sun was up, than to go in cold and fight through that mess in the dark.

Two and half hours later, Mason and I returned, having marked the easiest trail on the GPS to where we would hook up with another trail that was about 1.75 miles of pretty flat downhill slope. Crazy to invest that kind of time into plotting a trail, but having hunted here and knowing how mobile these elk are, it seemed like the proper thing to do.

When we returns, Matthew and Brad had seven bulls down below, but all on private. Far out on the flats, we noticed a huge mass of elk returning to their feeding grounds. Again, almost all on private, but right on the boundary of public.

That did it. Seeing that mass of elk, I resolved we would get up way, way, before sun up, tighten our packs and lace our boots for the long three-hour hike of darkness that would put us in position for an assault the next morning.

I warned the crew of what laid ahead. We packed extra food and water, along with some essentials in the event we did not want to hike back and found it prudent to spend a night over there in these forecasted warmer temps.

Matthew on the rock, giving him almost a 360 degree angle for glassing.

The wind howled all night, slamming into the tent. These Hilleberg tents are rock solid in this harsh wind, but the slapping tent in loud fashion, which when combined with the dreams of big elk in my mind, made it hard to get much sleep.

When the alarm went off, I wondered if I had slept at all. I woke the troops and we groggily assembled our gear, none of them having slept any better than me.

It was a full of a moon as you could ask for. Slight cloud cover dimmed it some, but not enough to prevent us from using moonlight to help navigate. We needed to be in place by 7:30am, not knowing where they would be, where they would come back to timber, and having never hunted this part, I needed to gain some quick familiarity with the nuances of the terrain on that public/private boundary.

My mind was worrying we would not make it in time. I was going at the fastest clip my legs and this new beta blocker medication would let me. Given we were all sweating profusely, I think I was going plenty fast.

At about 7:00 am, we were getting close, acccording to the GPS. All headlamps were dimmed. The three young guys told me they could hear bugling far off. My ears suffer from too many years at the range, so I relied on what the guys told me and I headed to the map contours shown on the GPS that seemed to give us some benefit of view.

At 7:30, even I could hear this orgy of elk out in front. Through the scattered pines, I watched as several hundred elk frolicked, fed, and called out in front of us. Amazing spectacle. And unfortunately, all on private.

We were positioned about a quarter mile off the private-public boundary, praying the elk would head upwind, taking them into the public and the small rolling scattered-pine ridges that would give us some cover.

Brad and I watched off our side of the ridge as one huge bull chased a yearly cow only 400 yards out. then, he pushed her our direction another 200 yards. If not for this little notch of private that jutted into the public, they would be 200 yards on to the public and within my comfort of shooting an elk near a boundary.

We sat, hoping he would push his girl right underneath us, giving us 150 yard shots off either side of our ridge. The noise was getting closer. Bipods were set and rounds chambered. This would be the biggest bull ever shot on OYOA, by at least 50". Amazingly, he was still intact, while all his other big brothers were busted to some degree and some to a great degree.

For whatever reason, his cow decided she did not like venturing this far from the herd. She turned and he chased her back into the mob. Damn it. That was close.

It was now 8:00 am and the herd was starting to move upwind. Great news, except for the fact that many hundred sets of eyes would see these four orange-clad humans crossing a couple hundred yards of open ground. Being pinned down, I was now regretting staying in the previous spot in hopes of hammering "Big Hank." We might pay a price for my gamble.

I am not sure how many elk were in this group, but they were in three big chunks. I would guess 120 to 150 in each band. It was so loud, even at 400 yards, all you could do is shake your head and smile.

When the first big group had passed the little gap and moved behind a knoll, it gave us a chance to sprint across that opening, knowing the dozen or so cows would see us, but probably not enough to scare the entire flock.

As fast as we could run in a low stoop crawl, we did. We got to one little pine tree and hid. Now, the front of the next group was starting to emerge. Out in front, we heard calling and bugling that told us they were now well into the public. We just needed to get there. This group kept us pinned behind that tree for another five minutes.

Seeing no other choice and not wanting this chance to get away, I made the decision to hop to the next tree a mere 50 yards away, then continue into the grove of trees that would give more and more cover as we went. We did that with only a few elk watching this peculiar action and none taking flight. Whew.

We now eased up a little ridge, thinking the largest portion would be right out in front. I peeked over and quickly ducked down. There were some out front, but the majority had made it further to our right and could see me if I stood up. I motioned the troops that we would drop down and circle back into the trees and parallel the elk until we got another good overlook.

It was now a scramble. Most the elk were dead center in the public section by this time, but many were now making it to the thick timber that is hard for killing and elk and even harder for filming.

As we moved forward, a small band of elk busted from our right. The wind was perfect, so I know they did not smell us. They must have seen us before we saw them. Luckily, they ran deeper into the timber, keeping us between them and the big herd.

We now had to cross a grass bench, void of any trees. It was 30 yards across. While in the lead, I could see some bulls through the small row of stunted pines in front.

Mason grabbed me and motioned to my 2:00 O'Clock. There on an open spot in the timber stood a group of bulls, including one very nice one. They had seen us. They were pretty much bunched up. I ranged them at 265. Matthew was getting ready for a shot at the biggest one, when they turned and headed to timber. Just not enough of a shot. Forward and onward.

We continued the remaining fifteen yards to the small row of pines. Out in front was an amazing mass of elk. Bulls, big and small, cows, calves. All calling and bugling like it was mid-September. I cannot properly describe this elk oratory, so you will have to watch to episode to get a better feel.

One very nice 6X7 was standing broad side at 280 yards. He was the nicest bull within good range. Not even close to the big one that escaped us earlier, but with TV, you take the chances that are provided.

Matthew looked at the bull, looked at me, and said, "That's a good one." He then got in position to shoot while the cameras positioned behind and next to him. I was loading and making ready for a finishing shot, in the event the bull headed by toward private.

Brad gave "Clear to fire." Mason then gave Matthew the go ahead. I started to worry that another elk was walking toward this bull and would put herself behind the bull, making for a bad shooting situation. Before she could get there, Matthew squeezed the trigger, followed by a smack and the bull doing a nose dive into the turf.

The herd looked around, then circled the wagons, heading further toward the timber, calling and talking as they went. So cool. It worked out perfectly. One shot and the bull hit the dirt. Matthew had filled a tag exactly as we had hoped for.

Seems it never goes this good. Especially on the second morning of a five day hunt. Yee Haw!

Not huge, but a great public land bull.


Happy, happy, happy.


Not much for cover.

More to this story, as you can see when I blow up one of the photos of Matthew posing with his bull. The background is littered with fur and antler.

Sounds like a great hunt so far, congrats to Matt.

Looks like a two-fer, great job. Cushman and I will be hoping for the same this next week here in CO.

WOW! As always, well done and congrats to Mathew.

Good Going Fin and Company! john

After Matthew shot, I was glassing everywhere, hoping some other bulls might be hanging close. Glass as I may, the big groups had now joined together and moved into timber on the private. Dang. My dreams of a "twofer" seemed to disappear with them.

A few cows were on the ridge that was almost parallel to the property boundary. The camera guys had cow tags, so it did enter my mind to let one of them shoot a cow. But, knowing how these groups can have a few stragglers, I decided we should stay in the little cover provided in our pine grove.

A few more cows came over the ridge. Then a couple small bulls. Then a few more cows. Seems like a group of elk must have been over that ridge where we could not see them. Finally a group of four bulls came over, with one of them being a good one, just busted all to hell.

They were paralleling the ridge, slightly to our side, making them fair game, though not by much. I ranged him. 420 yards. Not the shot I want, especially near a boundary. I told the guys we would sit and wait for them to get behind the next small ridge and then we would loop to try cut them off before they got to the private timber.

As we sat there, I inspected the biggest of these bulls. He had one very long 4th on one side, but the main beam broke off right there, along with a busted 2nd point on that side. Then on the other side, he busted off the 4th, but had a great 5th and some long whale tail. Hmm. Since I have a yank for ugly animals, this guy seemed to fit the bill.

We sat, waiting for them to get behind the ridge. Within a couple minutes, all the cows and the other bulls were now obscured from view. If this guy would just get with the program and follow them, the plan could continue.

For some reason, the bull turned our direction and slowly closed the gap. He was now 340 and further from the boundary. Would still like some closer shooting, but if he turned broadside, I might take it.

No broadside shot. He fed a little, then kept walking, as if he wanted to come over and give us a piece of his mind for shooting his pal. Fine, keep coming.

And he did. 310. Then 270. Then some feeding at 250. Matthew read off 200. I had been watching through binos, so I did not realize he was that close. I pulled my range finder. Yup, 194. Never has a bull walked right to me in a straight line for 250 yards, with cameras running.

Wake up, Fin! The time for shooting has arrived.

I whispered to the camera guys that I would take a broadside shot if it was presented. Almost as though the bull heard me, he obliged and gave me a wide open view of his entire passenger side. He was looking at Matthew's bull, as if curious why his buddy would take a nap when all the cows had moved on.

Not sure what the last thought was that went through his mind, but I know what it was for me - golden opportunities like this do not come to TV very often, so hold and squeeze. I really don't remember pulling the trigger, just getting the scope back on him as he rocked backwards in that classic, "Someone knocked a lung loose" stagger. Not wanting to chance anything with a private boundary 200 yards behind him, I then anchored him, though inspection of the first shot would show it to have been unnecessary.

Now we could celebrate. Two bulls, ten minutes and 100 yards apart. No way. Things don't happen as you dream them. Or, maybe every once in a while they do. I was hugging and giving Matthew a hatwash. Calm as always, he just gave his standard happy, contented smile, never quite reaching the excitement level his old man seems to find.

I really did not care what this bull scored. These could have both been B&C bulls and it would not compare to the record book experience of he and I getting to share elk camp after him being off to college for four years. It brought back some deep and powerful memories of just how important hunting has been in our father-son relationship. How much the fabric of our family is woven by this thing called hunting.

As we walked to the bulls, I am sure it was the biggest smile Ol' Fin has ever had. Or at least since Matthew shot his first big game animal. We sat there, recounting the amazing luck, the hour and a half of playing cat and mouse with the big group of elk, and in my mind, wondering when we will get to do it again.

Some pics of my bull. I only wish pics or words could give all of you the feeling of what a wondeful time it was to spend elk camp with Matthew again. To eat crappy food, go without showers, hike our tails off in the dark of night, then share in each other's success.

To all of you who take your children hunting, cheers! May we all have many more special hunts together.

A guy who liked a good fight. I think he was punch drunk to walk up to us like that.


Very good width and decent mass.


Give him back a matching 20" 4th point on one side, then match the same 15 inch 5th and whale tail on the other side and I think he would have been a real good one.

Nice job, guys! Glad you finally had one go better than planned. That looks like a nice flat spot to land a helicopter, too!

I've been waiting for this story. It should make a great show.

NIce job Fin and Son.

Well done, seems like one heck of an adventure working out the elk and getting it done fair and square on the public...sweet deal..

Nice hunt. You can't beat that!

That is just too cool! Can't wait to see the episode. Congrats to you both!

Nicely done! Congrats on two fine bulls.

Like they say, "The apple doesn't fall far from the Fin tree."

That's one for your history book. Congrats to the both of you.

What's that fur you refer to,,,looks like something between the two bulls??? Doesn't get any better!!!! You'll have that memory for a lifetime!!!!

very nice Randy..my Dad and I doubled up on deer a few times..great memories indeed!

nice

good luck to all
the dog

Congrats on a great trip and awesome bulls. Sounds like it's a little more enjoyable when you're not competing with the two legged creatures you had to deal with in the past.