NM elk hunt

[Big Fin]

Just back from my NM archery elk hunt.

Glanced at the new Hunttalk threads posted since I was last near civilization ten days ago, and it looks like the men around here have been schooling the critters real well, as I expected. Some whopper elk have been laid to rest so far this year. Congrats fellas.

Trying to get myself cleaned up and make the wife happy. Hopefully I can sneak away for a couple minutes to post the entries to my daily hunting journal.

More later.

View attachment 6670

 

[ELKCHSR]

Thats a great looking back pack you have...

Welcome back and hurry up with the wife so we can see your story...

 

[ERSS]

Good lookin' rack, Congrats

Bring on the details.......

 

[mtmiller]

Looking forward to more story and pics....

 

[1_pointer]

Very nice!!! Glad someone running a camera didn't keep you from shooting him...

 

[AZ402]

Good job Randy!!

 

[JoseCuervo]

I don't understand how come other people always have elk in their packs and surrounded by relatively flat country.

What is the fun of elk hunting if you can't blow a knee on the side of a mountain. Nothing says "ain't this fun" like falling down in downed timber with a hind quarter on your back.....

Oh yeah, congrats on the hunt.

 

[AZMIKE111]

Great looking rack, Congrats!!

 

[Oak]

Nice job, Mr. Fin.

 

[Big Fin]

OK, domestic obligations finished, here is the day by day.

Travel and Scouting:

Well, not sure where to start. Just back from two days of scouting, six days of hunting, and two days of travel for my archery elk hunt in New Mexico Unit 16A. I was joined by four great friends, two with tags, Joe and Scott, and two who came along to call, Jerry and Wade.

In spite of the struggles, ups and downs, and other factors that accompany an On Your Own public land elk hunt, it was the hunt of a lifetime. Like all of you, I do not measure the quality of a hunt merely by the size of the animal harvested.

After two long days of travel, I arrived and was trying to meet up with one of my hunting friends who had already established a camp. I got to the agreed meeting place 3 hours late, so Joe headed back to his camp for the night. I spent the evening sleeping in a big open park, with the stars for my protection. Very clear skies, lots of stars, and one very bright full moon.

I awoke to coyotes howling, a lot of frost on my sleeping bag, and a bull pushing 10 cows across the park, down below me. A very good omen.

I finally found where Joe had set up camp, and proceeded to set out the wall tent and make home for the next week. My truck was filled with the gear needed for this hunt, my NM antelope hunt, and my upcoming WY rifle elk hunt. I had not a spare spot for anything more. I left my truck in NM after this hunt, as I am flying down in five days for my antelope hunt, will then drive from NM to WY. This hunting can turn into work, if a guy isn’t careful.

The next two days were spent scouting, driving lots of the terrain, and taking as much video as possible. Very quite the first day. Saw some bulls, but nothing that the Gila is known for. Spent the entire first afternoon checking water sources. All the moisture had every little pond filled with water. Hunting water would require some luck to be sitting at the “lucky” water.

The second scouting day was crazy. I was hearing bugle from the tent all night, thinking it was a little raghorn. I went and investigated, and found a nest of bulls only 1.5 miles from camp. One very nice herd bull was trying to fend off some similarly sized satellite bulls. In the end, two of the satellites each made off with a couple his cows. The herd bull was in the 340 range, with the satellites being very close. This was exciting to watch and was good news. It was the last day of the season preceding my season, so I was hoping no one would go in and mess with these elk. Well, a group of elk as noisy as these will attract attention on public land, and that evening, some guys went after them. I spent two days in that spot and never again encountered these bulls.

Me, taking a break after scouting some big burns.
View attachment 6671

Joe, looking over a big waterhole, with 12 old wallows
View attachment 6672

Free promotion for Loren, Bjorn, and crew from Big Sky Brewing. My camp is always well stocked.
View attachment 6673

Jerry and I deciding what strategy to employ.
View attachment 6674

 

[Big Fin]

Day One:

The first day of season was really slow. Full moon for most of the night. Heard one good group of bulls and tried to get in on them, but with no luck. They kept moving and moving fast. Calling was not of much value. I suspect the two archery season before this one had educated some of these bulls to the way of human calling.

The first evening was spent in a different location where I had scouted via Google Earth. Very steep and thick, and about 30 miles from camp, but void of any hunters.

It was a good choice. I had a very nice 6X6 fending off his cows, just before dark. I ran straight to the sound of the bugles and got between them. He came down and stood behind a trio of pinion tree and screamed at me from 25 yards. I waited for him to come left or right from that spot, knowing either direction gave me a great shot. No luck. His cows were being harassed by bulls above him. He turned completely around and walked directly away from me. Probably the nicest bull I saw on the hunt, but no presentable shot.

 

[Big Fin]

Day Two:

The second day I went back to where I heard the bulls the first morning. It was a waste. Not one bugle was heard, though I almost smacked a bull with my truck driving to that spot in the dark. Hearing nothing, I decided I would cross this spot off my list.

I then drive the 30 miles for the evening to find the same bull I had encountered the first evening. I heard a few bugles and tried to get in on them. They were way up the mountain. After a really long hike, we were close. When I moved in on the bugling, I forgot to think about any cows and when the wind carried my scent down to where the cows were hidden, a stampede ensued and the cows headed downhill, carrying all the bulls with them.

I was very frustrated, having climbed that far, through blowdown and burns, only to mess it up by not being cognizant of the cows that were sure to be nearby. Damn it! I headed down the ridge, hoping to get to the truck before dark. I busted a nice 5X5, and my caller, Jerry, was able to bring him in to 55 yards. Not a shot I was going to take, but was a lot of fun to mess with him and provided for some really good footage.

Have camera, will travel!
View attachment 6675

 

[Big Fin]

Day Three:

Day three started by me going and checking a spot near camp. I heard a few faint bugles and decided to check them out. Within an hour, I was among a really active group of bulls. They were moving fast through burned canyons, and it was all we could do to keep up with them. I hoped they would slow down, but they never did. Finally, we had pushed them hard enough that they had bumped a few other bulls and things were getting really crazy.

Unfortunately, we had pushed them into a deep canyon near a main forest service road. That much bugling was sure to attract a lot of other hunters. We were watching a satellite bull silently work the fringes of the two herds ahead of us. From above, I hear a “human-sounding” bugle, and instantly, that satellite comes running past us. Whether it was the scent or bugle, that bull knew something was astray, and he decided to not hang around any longer. I tried to stop him as he ran past at 100 yards, but he was not waiting.

We sat and watched these two hunters circle the two herds we were chasing and watching. These guys crossed the ridge right above us and seemed to not have a clue we were there. They head directly upwind of the bulls. Not sure what their strategy was, but as quick as they headed upwind, we ran downwind, thinking they would scare the elk past us. Correct. Both herd bulls and their cows came tearing past us, but way too far and too fast for any shot. Both were very nice 330 type bulls. We stayed put, hoping a satellite would follow, one of which obliged. We were in a big open burn and had to guess where he would cross. He came within 55 yards, but not even cow calling was enough to interest him and draw him our direction. The smell of two herds of cows was more than he could stand.

That stalk/chase covered 5.5 miles on the GPS, through some of the more rugged canyons in the unit. To say I was spent would be an understatement.

I decided that evening, I would try something a little easier on my feet. The third evening was spent trying to locate where the bulls were watering each afternoon. We drove the 30 miles to where we had been chasing bulls each evening. One guy had a Garmin GPS with the downloadable maps, which showed a lot of water holes that were not on my maps.

We checked them all, and found fresh tracks on everyone. Which one to set-up on? We drove in on one tank that was surrounded by moocows, only to bust a big 6X6 from the pond at 3:30 in the afternoon.

We hunted the ridges above this series of ponds, hoping to intercept any bulls coming down. No luck. Didn’t even hear a bugle. Not what I had hoped for.

We know they are in the thick stuff below, but can't find them.
View attachment 6676

Alway bulls over the next ridge, right?
View attachment 6677

 

[Big Fin]

Day Four:

Day four was the normal drill of getting out an hour before daylight and listening from the ridges. Instantly, we heard a group of bulls and walked close to them in the dark. We had them very near, but could not see exactly where they were. I snuck down into the timber and tried to close the gap, but it was so damn noisy, that I am sure they knew I wasn’t an elk.

About an hour after daylight, two hunters appeared in a park below me, walking up toward the bugling. They didn’t seem to mind that the warming air was traveling uphill, straight to the elk. The elk seemed to care. I circled in front and tried to cut them off. They came by at 60 yards, with two nice 6X6 in the groups, followed by some raghorns. My cow calling didn’t stop them long enough for a shot. I think the human odor they had just smelled, was enough to keep them moving.

The rest of the day was spent chasing solemn bugles that I suspected were from bedding bulls. I was trying to hunt the canyons and oaks during the day, and it is very hard to sneak up on them in that stuff. At least very hard for a knot head like me. That evening was a complete bust, with only one bugle heard.

 

[Big Fin]

Day Five:

Day five was back in the truck early to make the thirty-mile drive to the area where we were having our best afternoon opportunities. We decided to try it as a morning spot, hoping they would be coming from the water, up the high ridges to bed for the day.

When we stopped at the trailhead, we instantly heard the makings of an elk orgy. We ran in the dark as fast as we could, hoping to get above the two herds leaving the waterholes. The first herd got past me, just at daylight. One very nice 6X6 was pushing his cows, and not waiting for daylight to blow his cover.

I moved across the ridge toward the sound of another big bull and a bunch of satellites chasing his herd. I set-up where I thought they would cross the ridge. They were about 100 yards out, so I moved forward to close the gap. When I came around a batch of pinions, there was a raghorn standing there looking at me from 30 yards. He ran toward the herd, taking most the critters with him.

I could hear another bull lingering below, so I moved forward. Jerry stayed back out of sight and cow called. The bull was coming up the hill, right near where I was sitting. I could see him broad side at 60 yards, but that is beyond my range. Jerry called him up the hill toward me, and I moved closer. I waited behind a big burned out tree, as he was now only 25 yards away in the pinions.

For whatever reason, he stopped behind that tree for a long time, and then started circling uphill at an angle too much away for me to shoot. It was beyond a quartering shot, so I had to let down. The elk continued to scream as they made their way to the highest ridges.

We followed along, hoping the harassment by the satellite bulls was enough to slow them down. It worked. Around 9:00 am, we were getting close to a cluster of bugling bulls. I spotted two raghorns on the ridge, looking down into the dark timber. They moved down the ridge, giving me a chance to move forward. As I started moving up, I could see antlers coming over the horizon. I dropped and readied, having only the shade of some pines for cover, yet being completely in the open.

The bull came toward Jerry’s cow calls and put on a display for us. I came to full draw as he stepped behind a small bush. He stopped broad side at 35 yards, with the small bush in the way. I held, hoping he would take one more step. He was suspicious, but looked Jerry’s direction, giving me a chance to let down.

He then turned to walk back over the ridge. Jerry cow called and stopped him. Unfortunately, from my angle, the only thing sticking out behind the ponderosa 40 yards ahead, was the bull’s neck and head. I again drew, hoping he would take one more step and stop. He quickly bolted over the ridge, not providing a shot.

Talk about frustrating. I was seeing many bulls, but getting no perfect opportunities. None of these bulls were huge, but most were nice 6X6’s that I would have gladly shot, on this, the second to last day of the hunt.

I followed that bull over the ridge and could see another raghorn across on the other side. Like me, he was looking to see who was making all the noise down in the bottom. I dropped down to get closer. For whatever I reason, I felt like something was watching me. I looked right, and eight cows were standing in the oaks, watching me as I tried to sneak. Upon us making eye contact, they bolted over the ridge from where I had just came, taking the bull with them. A very nice bull. I never did catch up to that group.

I returned to where the cows had busted me, and took off after some other bugles. After topping another ridge, I came across a nice bull taking out his frustrations on a small pine, some 80 yards away. I tried to sneak up to him for a shot. As I got near, I saw two cows with him. They were looking at me, and gave the snappy sounding alert call, which put all eyes on me. We stared each other down for about twenty seconds, until they concluded that my image 40 yards away was more than they could tolerate. Damn, another chance blown.

As they left, another nice bull eased off below me. I went after him, staying within 100 yards, but never getting much closer. When he finally stopped, we tried to cow call, but only produced two little spikes for our efforts. He would occasionally bugle as he moved uphill. I tried to circle about, having Jerry stay below and try to get the bull to sound off. I couldn’t gain the elevation quick enough, and he made it over the mountain before I could.

By that time it was 11:30. I was toast. I was out of water and getting dehydrated. We had already covered 4.5 miles and most of that was up or down. I took a break and tried to rest. Being near a state of vapor lock, I told Jerry we had to head for the truck where I would re-hydrate. As luck would have it, we busted a bull and six cows from their beds as we neared the final ridge above the truck. All told, I had seen 12 different bulls that morning and had close range encounters, but no shots I was comfortable with.

I concluded that for my evening effort, I would try to hunt one of the two water holes that were below the ridges we had hunted all morning. "Which one?" was the question. We had busted a nice bull from the lower hole earlier in the hunt, but it had few tracks.

We checked the upper hole, probably 150 yards away from the lower hole. There were more tracks, but it was impossible to find a good place to set-up. The closest cover would make for a 50-yard shot, at minimum, and possibly much further.

We decided that Jerry would sit on the ridge behind the waterholes and I would build a makeshift blind on the lower hole. If Jerry saw something coming down the ridges, he could drop to my blind and let me know which hole they were coming to. We parked the truck at the upper pond, right on the very head of the pond, where all critters coming in to water would see it. Our theory being that it would serve as a deterrent and they would come to the lower pond where I had set up my blind.

By 3:00 pm, I was getting settled in my blind. About that time, a lightning storm of great proportions came in. It drove Jerry from the ridge, down to the truck. I moved out of my blind (built under the tallest tree in sight) and assumed the crouch position in a flat area of grass. Fortunately for me, no bulls came in while I was squatted out in the open, praying that I not get hit by lightning. Funny thing was, the thunder really got the bulls bugling.

Jerry stayed in the truck, as more clouds were on the horizon. Unknown to me, while he was sitting in the truck, a nice 5X5 walked by the truck and watered about 40 yards away. There was no way Jerry could sneak from the truck to my blind to tell me. So much for our deterrence strategy.

After the storm subsided, Jerry climbed the ridge and confirmed the bulging I heard was a bull pushing four cows, and they looked to be coming my way. I waited, but it was now pretty late, and I didn’t know if they would get there during a period of filming light, let alone legal shooting light.

Just when I concluded all was lost for the evening, I looked and there was a nice 6X6 standing on top of the dike looking at my blind. I had ranged that spot to be 60 yards. He stood there for a couple minutes, testing the wind, all the while looking at my blind. Obviously, he understood that the pile of brush had not been there the last time he was here to water.

I could hear some cows coming up behind him. A calf walked up beside him and ran for the pond. She was followed by her mother and another cow-calf pair. They jumped and drank while he kept an eye on me.

Finally, he relented and walked down toward the corner of the pond which I had ranged to be an exact 30 yards down to my right. As he stepped behind a small bush, I drew. He walked to the pond, and then turned straight on, looking at my blind. He then started to drink, all the while staring straight at me, presenting no shot.

I could not hold my draw much longer. I moved my arms and shoulders while bracing my bow at full draw, trying to use other muscles. I resorted to holding at full draw near my waist, using my knee to help relieve some of the pressure. Finally, the bull turned to leave the pond.

As he headed up the dike, I cow called. He turned at a quartering angle, straddling a rock I had ranged at 42 yards. I put the 40-yard pin high on his ribs and held for the opposite shoulder. I released and watch the arrow fly true. The sound of the smack was good.

To my disbelief, I hit the bull low and further back that I had aimed. When I released, I was sure I had made a great shot. Reviewing the film afterwards, the bull started to walk up the dike as I released.

I was sick. The bull crested the dike with my fletching sticking out of his hindquarter, with the arrow buried in his lower abdomen. WTF. I really didn’t know what to do. This was only the second animal I had ever released an arrow on in eight years or archery hunting, and I had fugged it up.

When I went to where he left the dike, I found a lot of blood. Jerry scrambled down to the blind, stating he saw the bull head out, but was having a hard time clearing the first little ridge about the pond. We followed a pretty good blood trail to the top of the first ridge, but once we saw the trial going into the timber below, we backed out and decided not to push him in the darkness.

I slept not one wink that night. After all the work, the effort, the struggles, the frustrations, I finally had a perfect chance I had been waiting for, and I had screwed it up. People say, “That’s hunting.” Well, it is hunting, but it is by far the worst feeling I have ever had related to any of my hunting activities.

Previously, friends had told of that feeling when they had lost an animal, or when they had to leave a hit animal in the hills for a night. I thought I could appreciate their sick feelings as they told the story, but I now realize that until you live it, you don’t really know how sick of a feeling it really is. As of that minute, I would have given all my archery equipment to the first person that would have taken it from me.

Before leaving the woods that evening, I pulled out my knife and punched my tag. I had hit a bull, and was certain he would die. Whether or not I found him, I would punch this tag and not hunt again that season. Even with one day left in the season, I could not rationalize trying for another bull if I failed to recover this one the next day.

 

[Big Fin]

Day Six:

The next morning, five of us hit the blood trail. Things looked very promising, as we came across a big pool of blood where he had bedded. When he moved on, the trail was pretty good. We then found another bed area with a big blood clot in it. We surmised he would not make it out of the drainage. Wrong.

We took the trail at 6:40 in the morning, and it was now 9:00 am. It was hands and knees, looking for specks of blood. Following scuff marks where he was limping on his back left leg. Hope was quickly fading and rapidly being replaced by a feeling of ineptitude, guilt, disgust, and all other feelings that make one want to puke.

At 10:00 am, we came across a bed, with some blood in it. The blood looked very fresh. There was no blood trail leaving the bed. All of us were on our hands and knees trying to find a red drop of blood in the mat of orange-brown pine needles littering the ground. Nothing.

We started making small circles in every direction, making sure to not scuff the ground or create a false trail. This continued for 45 minutes. I found a rock to sit on and tried to rationalize all I had done. Nothing was giving me any comfort. The animal deserved a lot better than this. I have never been as depressed or as remorseful about anything I have done.

I was trying to sort out how I would tell the guys that they must give up and go try fill the last tag on this last afternoon of the season. I would stay and continue to look. They had given more of their time and effort than any hunt friends should. We were now .9 miles from the truck via GPS. The trail had dried up. I had made the biggest hunting mistake of my life.

We huddled and discussed strategy. For a final attempt, we would all go slight different angle from the last blood spot and make progressively bigger circles. I told them I could do that, while they hunted, but they insisted to stay and help.

When the yell of “Dead bull!” echoed from the trees to my right, I thought one my pals was playing the world’s cruelest joke. His whooping continued, so I knew he was on to something. I covered those 150 yards as fast as possible, and then stood in amazement that the bull had died just over the ridge, in a direction opposite his trail had been going.

This probably sounds way too mushy for hunting stuff, but it was very hard to stay composed as I thought about the range of emotions I had experienced in the last fifteen hours. I was so close to giving up, and now knowing the elk had died just 150 yards away, gave prayers of thanks for the great friends who kept us going and gave up much of their time to help.

It wasn’t until I was quartering and packing that it dawned on me just how lucky I was. I had the hunt of a lifetime, not because of a huge bull, but because of the experience of the hunt.

I am ashamed that he probably died just a short time before we found him, knowing that he suffered much. If I find any consolation, it would be that the meat was fine and not one piece was lost.

Never have I experienced higher “Highs” or lower “Lows.” The joy and frustration. The excitement and disappointment. The physical toll. The mental challenge to keep going when you want to take a nap or go back to camp. The hard work of cooking a meal after a hard day in the hills. The desire to sleep in, overcome by the understanding that you only have so many days to hunt.

All the things that you get when you decide to go On Your Own, with you and your hunting friends, on public land. An experience that doesn’t have any shortcuts, but depends on hard work and determination. The things that make it so rewarding. Those of you, who take this challenge to travel to new country and go On Your Own, know what I am talking about.

The friendship of camp was great, but to have guys who gave up so much of their time to keep my melting mind moving forward was something I will never forget. No truer friend can be found than he who will give up his hunting time to help you, knowing the struggles of that day, may haunt you the rest of your hunting life.

To get to chase wild elk on public lands for the mere cost of a tag, in this uniquely American thing called fair chase hunting, is a treasure I hope to never take for granted.

To know that an animal suffered due to my miscalculation still causes me pain. Yet, I realize that relentless effort on our part to recover this bull allowed us to have a much happier ending to this story than what might have been.

Thanks to all who helped, both in the field, with advice, and with support. This bull will go on my wall, not as the biggest bull I have shot, but the most memorable hunt of my 30 hunting years.

Happy Hunting!

And Yes, I have 26 hours of videotape to log and edit, so it will be a while before the video story is finished.


A smile of relief disguising deep despair.
View attachment 6678

True friends. The measure of one's worth on this earth.
View attachment 6679

The good feeling of the last heavy load and memories of a lifetime.
View attachment 6681

 

[ELKCHSR]

WoW!!!

Great story and even better recovery...

Did you get your meat also?

I finished reading day five and thought it was done but decided to hit the refresh button and got to finish the story...

Thanks...

Enjoyed the read very much...

 

[T Bone]

Nicely done Randy. Excellent job having the bloodhound friends along and not giving up.

 

[IdahoBugler]

I haven't had a chance to read the whole story but I just wanted to say congrats on a great bull.

 

[elk_hunter]

Wow. Simply amazing story, Randy. Thanks for sharing the narrative and pics! Congrats on your bull -- what a great feeling to recover the beast!

Like you, Colorado Elk was an amazing hunt for me (and my dad and 2 brothers), with it being my first time archery hunting this year. In all the years I've hunted, this was by far the most favorite and best year yet, even though no one killed anything. The high highs and low lows were amazing. The hiking was incredible. Up, down, left, right, over, under, tiptoe, run. My sht has muscles now! Navigating terrain, dealing with climate changes (snow, wind, rain, thunder/lightning, sun, overcast skies and so on) and absolutely hiking our asses off. Did I mention the hiking??

But, you're right. The chance we have to chase these smart bastards in the wild is the best! And, screwing with some bulls and pissing them off with bugles and cow calls was fun too!!

I love this thing we call hunting. It's absolutely awesome!!!