The Highs and Lows of Hunting: 2018 MT Success Story

406LIFE

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I wanted to share this story with those who understand and those who will understand the emotional toll hunting can require.

My hunting partner and I entered this season full of confidence and hope. We had limited success last year in a new area. We scouted hard, put on the miles, and got some great trail cam pics that helped us to figure out the puzzle. The number of bulls (and bears for that matter) in the area was high and we felt dialed in. We prepped gear and both dropped some weight to get up and down drainage. All we needed was opening day.

I started in Idaho two days before he did in Montana. I bumped a lot of elk, but wasn't able to to position myself for a shot. The opener in Montana we found two bulls raking the same tree, had a standoff with a group of cows at 17 yards for 15 minutes, and missed one bull at 55 yards when the trees I ranged behind him were at 65. Several more encounters but no shots closed a great first week of elk season.

Then the hordes came. We had never seen so many in such a small area. There were vehicles from Minnesota, Wisconsin, California, Idaho, Wyoming, Nebraska, Washington. At least two elk were taken from right under us, but that's public land hunting. We didn't begrudge them, but the elk sure did. They vanished quicker than moonshine at a family reunion in the south. We didn't see hardly any elk or sign for the next two weeks.

Then the rut. The elk came back, found their voices and it was on. They weren't aggressive, but they were responding. I was able to put one to bed and then got up on him early the next morning. I bugled from the road and he had moved off about 400 yards from where he was the night before, up the mountain. The wind was still coming down and in my favor. I beat feet 300 vertical feet and came to the top of this nob, and face to face with a cow elk 25 yards away. The sun was behind me, and just cresting the trees. She looked up, and then looked back down still feeding. I heard the bull back in the trees a bit and nocked an arrow. Again, the cow looked up, but was still unconcerned. In this small mixed growth clearing were a dozen cows and handful of calves. There were also six black moo cows mixed in with the elk herd, something I had not seen before. I ranged the trees where the cows were coming through at 24 yards. This was the moment of decision. I could take a cow on my archery tag, but I also knew that the bull was not far behind. The cows were feeding to my right, and they could feed past me and then wind me. I opted to wait for the bull, immediately second guessing if I had made the right call.

Most of the cows were now right in front of me, and I had my bow growing heavy in my had as I held it up. I wondered if I would be able to lift and draw when the bull walked through. He appeared to my left, pushing the other cows towards me and bugling proudly. They followed the others through the same trees and he paused as he walked through. I drew back and immediately all the cows turned to see what had moved so close to them. The bull took one step, cleared the trees, and I released my arrow. I watched as it made the three point star from my broadhead in his side. It was further back than I had wanted, but only by a couple of inches. The herd blew up running to my right as the moo cows also were now startled and ran to my left. I was now alone and shaking from the adrenaline of shooting my first archery bull.

I sat for an hour. I sent my partner, parents and wife the message on my InReach that I just shot a bull. My wife responded with my amazement. My dad asked how big it was. My buddy said he was canceling his morning meeting and driving the three hours to me. I did everything I could to make the hour pass quicker. I played on my phone. I replayed in my mind the shot, trying to remember every detail. The arrow had bright red blood and was drenched. After half an hour I stopped shaking. I ate a cliffbar and closed my eyes. Finally, I got up and looked at the first drop of blood. It was small, but bright. Ten feet away was another small drop. The next 30 yards were this way until I found several large drops of bright red blood on a rock. I trailed like this marking on OnX every time I found blood. Then at 200 yards it just stopped. No blood. I circled around the last blood for 100 yards. I followed what I thought was his trail (it probably was, I found later on) only to have it disappear, too. I began to grid a half mile away from last blood, finding nothing. After 4 hours, I walked back to the truck to meet my Hunting partner. We went back to the truck, expanding the grid to a mile in three directions of the bull. After six and half hours, I resigned to thinking I had hit the bull too far back, and that we had probably bumped him and with no trail called the search. We would keep looking as we worked back to the truck. My buddy said he would go up the mountain to a small blank spot on the map that we had not been through. Five minutes later I heard through the tree "Hey, you want your bull?"

I ran up the mountain, in disbelief. He had his phone out, capturing the moment that I would come up on the bull. I paused when I reached him, knelt down with my left hand on its antler, thankful for the divine grace necessary in finding him. A few minutes of awe and pictures were needed before we put two hours into quartering him for the pack out. The "Spade Bull" as we called him because of the blading on his left G-3, had the decency to run towards a road and we were only 300 yards from it, downhill. It took four trips to bring the meat and head out.

It has been three days and the high from this encounter is still very fresh. I put the meat in the freezer today, still wondering how this happened. All of the variables that needed to be were in my favor; all of my gear was fine tuned and proven; months and miles of hardwork had been invested. And it all just came together.

My buddy was ready for his bull, and the next morning we were out. It would take all day before we were able to get a bull to respond to my bugling, but we found one who did not want another bull around. He was 200 yards down hill and I stayed up while my buddy went down. For five minutes we had an epic bugling contest, cutting each other off and chuckling with anger. My partner was able to put a shot on him at 19 yards, bugling when he released the arrow. The shot took a lung, and the blood trail was thick for 200 yards. Then we bumped him. He had bedded, but was still alive. We had waited 45 minutes, but clearly not long enough. We backed out and came back in the morning. We called in reinforcements and six of us grided the whole day with no results. The only consolation was finding another two week old dead head, a very nice 5x5 bull, that I gave to my buddy. I didn't feel like it was right for me to come home with two, and he none.


The worst moment next too the realization you have lost an animal for good, is probably the time you wait after you have pulled the trigger until the moment you recover it. Yet, the elation once you place your hands on an animal can feel surreal, ethereal. There is little else that can match that. There is little else we want than that.

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congrats to you--way to stick with it! Glad to see a happy ending, too, what a unique bruiser of a bull!
 
Thanks for sharing. Sorry your buddy didn't recover his. As someone else commented, 2 of 3 bulls in the story not recovered is sad. Trying to remember the "wound loss" numbers Rinella was talking about with Pat Durkin(?).

BTW, you can remove the lower portion of the legs by cutting through the ligaments and tendons of the knee. Just use a knife that you don't mind resharpening because the bone will dull your blade a bit. Helps lighten your load and get under trees...of course, you only had a few hundreds yards, so whatever works.
 
Stories like this need to be told to remind us all of how things can go sideways quickly.......and sometimes they also come right side up when you least expect it. Congratulations and thanks for sharing your adventures.
 
Thanks All. Maybe my writeup wasn't clear; we only lost one bull. Still, that is why I kept it in there. Hunting is not point and click, there are no guarantees at any time, even after you put a well executed shot on one.

@Co Engineer: We didn't have a saw on the first trip out, so we took the hind quarters and then brought a saw back. We figured get the biggest meat out first.

@kansasdad: That's what I tell new hunters that I take out and seem to get bored. One moment I saw no elk, then I look up and one is staring me in the face. Another moment I gave up on my bull and then my buddy finds it. This should make us all be optimists as hunters.
 
Leupold BX-4 Rangefinding Binoculars

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