J
jewillia
Guest
I finally drew a big bull tag. I took the 40 days off from work, planning on hunting the entire hunt. I set up camp one week before the hunt and came off the mountain every five days to shower.
My family showed up on Labor Day weekend for a nice visit. We camped and hunted all weekend. On Sunday, my 13 year old son asked if he could stay until Saturday and make up the school work the following week. Of course I said yes and we teamed up on Mom, and she reluctantly agreed.
Jay and I chased elk for several days. Unfortunately, Jay didn't get an elk. On Friday, Jay was chasing a small two point deer that happened to walk across the trail we were on. While waiting for him to get back, I decided to bugle.
Much to my suprise, four bulls answered the bugle and one of them was close. We jumped off the four wheeler, and started hiking down the hill toward the bull that was the closest. The bull was very vocal and had a distinct bugle. He would whistle high, then end the bugle with a loud grunt. Jay and I nicknamed him "Growler."
Jay and I hiked into a flat and could hear the bull was very close. I left Jay in the trees and snuck down into the flat. As I snuck down the hill the bull came into view. He was a six point, mature bull with unique eye guards that twisted inwards. The morning was super cold. When the bull would lean his head back to bugle, I could see the breath coming out of his mouth. He was destroying a bush with his antlers, throwing the bush and dirt into the air. He would stop, bugle, then throw the bush around some more.
I bugled at the bull attempting to draw him across the flat into the trees that I was hidden in. The bull bugled several more times, but wouldn't come across the flat. Eventually, the bull walked into the pine trees and didn't come back out. I decided to go into the trees after him. I snuck down the tree line until I was approx. 60 yards from where he disappeared. As I was looking around, I noticed another bull - this one a four point raghorn - come out of the trees and stand 60 yards from me. This bull stood there trying to figure out what I was for several minutes. After seeing the mature bull, I really didn't want to shoot the small one.
I backed out leaving "Growler" for another day.
Saturday morning found my son and I waiting for my wife to return. After 9 years, we were having family pictures taken. We had family pictures taken up at Fish Lake, Utah. If you have never been to Fish Lake, you are missing out. The lake is beautiful. It's set in a high mountian valley, surrounded by pines and quaking aspen trees.
After pictures, we had dinner at a local restaurant. By the time dinner was over it was too late to hunt. I went to my brother's house and slept there.
Sunday was a beautiful morning. It was so much warmer in the valley compared to the mountain. I grabbed a cup of coffee and headed to the same ridge where Jay and I saw the elk on Friday.
While driving the four wheeler across the ridge, I smelled elk. I saw elk tracks on the trail and immediatley shut off the four wheeler and started listening. "Growler" bugled approx. 100 yards away. I grabbed my bow, pack and bugle and started his way. I could see several elk bodies through the trees and "Growler" walked by an opening at 80 yards. I bugled at him. He stopped, looked toward me, trying to pick out a rival bull. He couldn't see me, stretched his neck toward a cow and started following her. I snuck closer and got picked off by that danged four point raghorn.
He barked and the entire herd went over the lip of the ridge into the canyon. I followed them to the edge, watching to see how far they would go. Much to my relief, the elk dropped 300 yards and started feeding across a terrace. I circled the top of the canyon to the next ridge. After sneaking down in their path, I knelt next to a tree and waited for them to get close. They were feeding toward this ridge and I was in a perfect position to intercept them.
As I knelt down by the tree waiting for the elk to come into bow range, I kept wishing Jay was with me. The cows were feeding toward me and I could hear "Growler" screaming his rage into the morning sun. The elk were coming closer and closer. The wind was in my face, and the cows were soon 50 yards away. Suddenly, I heard a stick snap behind me. I slowly turned around and watched 15 more elk walk past me and join the other herd. The herd turned downhill and fed away from me. Believe me, a few bad words were muttered under my breath.
I snuck down the hill toward the elk again. We were getting close to the bottom of the canyon. While sneaking, I noticed a cow on the opposite ridge. She was looking toward "Growler" and slowly working her way toward the herd. As soon as she walked behind the trees, I hustled toward the herd. One of them picked me off as I crossed an open area. The entire herd bolted, through the creek and up over the next ridge.
I chased those elk two more ridges, always led by "Growler's" distinct bugle. At 10:15, he stopped bugling. By then, I had snuck within 200 yards of the herd again. I thought about trying to sneak into his bedding area, but realized that I am not that quiet. I backed out while hoping he would be in the same area for the evening hunt.
The evening hunt found me sneaking up the ridge where I had last heard the elk. At 1730 "Growler" let one of his sinister bugles go. I sat down on a wallow and waited to hear if he was coming closer or getting farther away. He bugled a second time and was further away. I jumped up and started hiking toward where he sounded like he was.
While hiking up the trail, I saw a cow cross the pines in front of me. She hadn't seen me, but was feeding slowly away from me. I sat down and gave her a five minute head start. I figured she had watered, and was going to return to the herd.
I got on the trail and "Growler" bugled again. He was close. The terrain changed from densly wooded pine trees to quaking aspen trees, with rolling hills approx. 80 yards apart. The hills and valleys were just far enough apart that you had to be on the top of the hill to see into the valley. I crossed a creek and found fresh elk droppings. I slowed way down and started looking hard. The breeze was in my face and I knew the elk were close.
I saw a cow walking up the next hill as I climbed rolling hill in front of me. I took one step and saw another cow. Another step, two more cows came into view. Each step revealed more elk. They were 80 yards away, feeding away from me with no clue that I was in the area. I was looking for the bull, and took another step. I could see 20 elk by now, and the bull was nowhere to be found. I took another step...still no bull. I kept thinking to myself, "Where was he?"
I had an arrow knocked and glanced to my right. THERE HE WAS. 29 yards away, calmly feeding without a care in the world. He was facing directly toward me. I stepped behind a quakie tree and tried to calm my breathing. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. I stood there for 4-5 minutes trying to calm myself down. "Growler" fed right there, 30 yards away.
My family showed up on Labor Day weekend for a nice visit. We camped and hunted all weekend. On Sunday, my 13 year old son asked if he could stay until Saturday and make up the school work the following week. Of course I said yes and we teamed up on Mom, and she reluctantly agreed.
Jay and I chased elk for several days. Unfortunately, Jay didn't get an elk. On Friday, Jay was chasing a small two point deer that happened to walk across the trail we were on. While waiting for him to get back, I decided to bugle.
Much to my suprise, four bulls answered the bugle and one of them was close. We jumped off the four wheeler, and started hiking down the hill toward the bull that was the closest. The bull was very vocal and had a distinct bugle. He would whistle high, then end the bugle with a loud grunt. Jay and I nicknamed him "Growler."
Jay and I hiked into a flat and could hear the bull was very close. I left Jay in the trees and snuck down into the flat. As I snuck down the hill the bull came into view. He was a six point, mature bull with unique eye guards that twisted inwards. The morning was super cold. When the bull would lean his head back to bugle, I could see the breath coming out of his mouth. He was destroying a bush with his antlers, throwing the bush and dirt into the air. He would stop, bugle, then throw the bush around some more.
I bugled at the bull attempting to draw him across the flat into the trees that I was hidden in. The bull bugled several more times, but wouldn't come across the flat. Eventually, the bull walked into the pine trees and didn't come back out. I decided to go into the trees after him. I snuck down the tree line until I was approx. 60 yards from where he disappeared. As I was looking around, I noticed another bull - this one a four point raghorn - come out of the trees and stand 60 yards from me. This bull stood there trying to figure out what I was for several minutes. After seeing the mature bull, I really didn't want to shoot the small one.
I backed out leaving "Growler" for another day.
Saturday morning found my son and I waiting for my wife to return. After 9 years, we were having family pictures taken. We had family pictures taken up at Fish Lake, Utah. If you have never been to Fish Lake, you are missing out. The lake is beautiful. It's set in a high mountian valley, surrounded by pines and quaking aspen trees.
After pictures, we had dinner at a local restaurant. By the time dinner was over it was too late to hunt. I went to my brother's house and slept there.
Sunday was a beautiful morning. It was so much warmer in the valley compared to the mountain. I grabbed a cup of coffee and headed to the same ridge where Jay and I saw the elk on Friday.
While driving the four wheeler across the ridge, I smelled elk. I saw elk tracks on the trail and immediatley shut off the four wheeler and started listening. "Growler" bugled approx. 100 yards away. I grabbed my bow, pack and bugle and started his way. I could see several elk bodies through the trees and "Growler" walked by an opening at 80 yards. I bugled at him. He stopped, looked toward me, trying to pick out a rival bull. He couldn't see me, stretched his neck toward a cow and started following her. I snuck closer and got picked off by that danged four point raghorn.
He barked and the entire herd went over the lip of the ridge into the canyon. I followed them to the edge, watching to see how far they would go. Much to my relief, the elk dropped 300 yards and started feeding across a terrace. I circled the top of the canyon to the next ridge. After sneaking down in their path, I knelt next to a tree and waited for them to get close. They were feeding toward this ridge and I was in a perfect position to intercept them.
As I knelt down by the tree waiting for the elk to come into bow range, I kept wishing Jay was with me. The cows were feeding toward me and I could hear "Growler" screaming his rage into the morning sun. The elk were coming closer and closer. The wind was in my face, and the cows were soon 50 yards away. Suddenly, I heard a stick snap behind me. I slowly turned around and watched 15 more elk walk past me and join the other herd. The herd turned downhill and fed away from me. Believe me, a few bad words were muttered under my breath.
I snuck down the hill toward the elk again. We were getting close to the bottom of the canyon. While sneaking, I noticed a cow on the opposite ridge. She was looking toward "Growler" and slowly working her way toward the herd. As soon as she walked behind the trees, I hustled toward the herd. One of them picked me off as I crossed an open area. The entire herd bolted, through the creek and up over the next ridge.
I chased those elk two more ridges, always led by "Growler's" distinct bugle. At 10:15, he stopped bugling. By then, I had snuck within 200 yards of the herd again. I thought about trying to sneak into his bedding area, but realized that I am not that quiet. I backed out while hoping he would be in the same area for the evening hunt.
The evening hunt found me sneaking up the ridge where I had last heard the elk. At 1730 "Growler" let one of his sinister bugles go. I sat down on a wallow and waited to hear if he was coming closer or getting farther away. He bugled a second time and was further away. I jumped up and started hiking toward where he sounded like he was.
While hiking up the trail, I saw a cow cross the pines in front of me. She hadn't seen me, but was feeding slowly away from me. I sat down and gave her a five minute head start. I figured she had watered, and was going to return to the herd.
I got on the trail and "Growler" bugled again. He was close. The terrain changed from densly wooded pine trees to quaking aspen trees, with rolling hills approx. 80 yards apart. The hills and valleys were just far enough apart that you had to be on the top of the hill to see into the valley. I crossed a creek and found fresh elk droppings. I slowed way down and started looking hard. The breeze was in my face and I knew the elk were close.
I saw a cow walking up the next hill as I climbed rolling hill in front of me. I took one step and saw another cow. Another step, two more cows came into view. Each step revealed more elk. They were 80 yards away, feeding away from me with no clue that I was in the area. I was looking for the bull, and took another step. I could see 20 elk by now, and the bull was nowhere to be found. I took another step...still no bull. I kept thinking to myself, "Where was he?"
I had an arrow knocked and glanced to my right. THERE HE WAS. 29 yards away, calmly feeding without a care in the world. He was facing directly toward me. I stepped behind a quakie tree and tried to calm my breathing. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. I stood there for 4-5 minutes trying to calm myself down. "Growler" fed right there, 30 yards away.
