elkfanatic
Active Member
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A Miracle in ?God?s Country?
This year started out really good with me and my dad drawing oryx tags and both killing good oryx. Then I found out I had drawn an archery elk tag in a not so good unit, a deer tag with my brother and uncle, and a javelina tag with my brother. Also my dad went antelope hunting in Colorado with his bow and ended up killing a decent buck.
About mid-August I started doing some research on the unit. I read forum after forum about the unit and found out it was going to be tough hunting. When my dad went scouting he found a couple of spots and a good wallow that we could camp near.
My dad guides for an outfitting service whenever he can and the owner?s son came out to help my dad scout for a few days. Within the next few days the rancher ended up getting kicked by a horse and broke a few ribs and one of his legs. Then school started and it seemed like it was going to be a good year this year.
Then a week before the hunt I had some so-called ?bad luck?(AKA stupid decisions). The weekend before the hunt I was trying to unscrew a broadhead from an arrow by using my hand and I cut myself about an eighth of an inch deep. Then I was shooting and lost one of my arrows with a broadhead and everything (I tend to shoot a few too many shots in my practice rounds.). Then the worst thing of all happened and you shouldn't do what I did it hurts pretty bad. My little brother has a little pull-up bar that hangs on your doorframe and I went to jump on it and it fell off the frame and I fell?hard. I fell and spun trying to land on my butt and my foot caught the door. When I got up I felt it. I couldn't move my toe. The next morning my dad took me to the doctor and we found out I broke my toe in the second joint back in your foot and had to get a walking boot. I was on crutches for a week before the day I had a second doctor?s appointment and was to leave for hunting. The doctor told me that my bone was starting to grow back to normal and that I was clear to walk as long as it didn't hurt too bad. That was a relief knowing it hadn't moved because I had already walked on it a little bit.
That day we met my dad in a small town and hit the road to go to the unit. I got a little disheartening news when we met him. He said he hadn't seen or heard an elk and that the wallow we were planning to sit was already taken. To top it off all our camping spots were loaded with hunters.
My dad decided to camp at the top of the mountain about 2 miles up the hill from the wallow in ?God?s Country? as he calls it. Where my dad hunts is usually around 6500 feet. We camped at 7300 feet.
The next morning we drove up the mountain stopping to walk down and bugle every once in a while. We found a huge canyon and a relatively flat spot, the only one within probably a 10-mile radius. We walked about a half mile off the road on the flat and came to a hidden two-track road. It was pretty open so my dad decided to throw out a bugle while I was looking around. I'm looking around while my dad is bugling and found a steep drop off with about a 60-degree slope and 500 yard deep canyon. I'm standing there and my dad isn't getting an answer and I told him to try the one cow call that always works. He did and from the other side of the canyon wall we hear a bugle and my dad said we would have to go after him. He hit the call again and he was 100 yards down the canyon and he stopped bugling for a minute and the next time he bugled he was at the bottom of the canyon. My dad and my brother start running the opposite way up a 70- degree sand slide that was about 20 feet tall. The bull started running and I heard him and was trying to tell my dad but that didn't work out. I clipped on my release and I saw his legs coming through the trees at about 30 yards down the slope. I'm standing on a two-track road with a background of a sand slide and I thought I was going to get busted so badly. The bull kept coming but he was looking at the ground watching his feet. It looked like he was going to go behind a tree so I could draw but he switched back and went behind a big sage bush. I yanked the bow back as fast as I could and anchored. The bull switched back again and came out and I forgot to put my mouth diaphragm in and I had to mouth call. I tried to stop him on one side of a tree but he kept going so I mewed again and stopped him on the other side. He locked on a soon as he saw my outline and I squeezed the trigger and he jumped the string a little and whirled towards me and I saw my arrow sink up the fletching right behind his shoulder. He started running and my dad freaked out because he thought I fell down the rockslide because he didn't even sit down before I shot the bull. I started yelling and jumping around and my dad told me to stop. Then I thought and I put my diaphragm in and started mewing and bugling but it took me a while to bugle because I can bugle without a call. My dad and brother slid down the slide to look for blood and my arrow. About 10 minutes pass and my brother hears breathing and sees the bull fall. After 5 minutes my dad called at him and he didn't move. I practically ran down to the bull as fast as I could and thanked God for the bull and thanked the bull for his meat. I ended up shooting the bull at 10 yards and he was 10 yards away from where we called.
The next miracle was the two-track because my dad and little brother were the only ones that could carry anything and we were able to get our atv to the two-track.
The bull was my first big game animal with a bow and my second animal overall
This year started out really good with me and my dad drawing oryx tags and both killing good oryx. Then I found out I had drawn an archery elk tag in a not so good unit, a deer tag with my brother and uncle, and a javelina tag with my brother. Also my dad went antelope hunting in Colorado with his bow and ended up killing a decent buck.
About mid-August I started doing some research on the unit. I read forum after forum about the unit and found out it was going to be tough hunting. When my dad went scouting he found a couple of spots and a good wallow that we could camp near.
My dad guides for an outfitting service whenever he can and the owner?s son came out to help my dad scout for a few days. Within the next few days the rancher ended up getting kicked by a horse and broke a few ribs and one of his legs. Then school started and it seemed like it was going to be a good year this year.
Then a week before the hunt I had some so-called ?bad luck?(AKA stupid decisions). The weekend before the hunt I was trying to unscrew a broadhead from an arrow by using my hand and I cut myself about an eighth of an inch deep. Then I was shooting and lost one of my arrows with a broadhead and everything (I tend to shoot a few too many shots in my practice rounds.). Then the worst thing of all happened and you shouldn't do what I did it hurts pretty bad. My little brother has a little pull-up bar that hangs on your doorframe and I went to jump on it and it fell off the frame and I fell?hard. I fell and spun trying to land on my butt and my foot caught the door. When I got up I felt it. I couldn't move my toe. The next morning my dad took me to the doctor and we found out I broke my toe in the second joint back in your foot and had to get a walking boot. I was on crutches for a week before the day I had a second doctor?s appointment and was to leave for hunting. The doctor told me that my bone was starting to grow back to normal and that I was clear to walk as long as it didn't hurt too bad. That was a relief knowing it hadn't moved because I had already walked on it a little bit.
That day we met my dad in a small town and hit the road to go to the unit. I got a little disheartening news when we met him. He said he hadn't seen or heard an elk and that the wallow we were planning to sit was already taken. To top it off all our camping spots were loaded with hunters.
My dad decided to camp at the top of the mountain about 2 miles up the hill from the wallow in ?God?s Country? as he calls it. Where my dad hunts is usually around 6500 feet. We camped at 7300 feet.
The next morning we drove up the mountain stopping to walk down and bugle every once in a while. We found a huge canyon and a relatively flat spot, the only one within probably a 10-mile radius. We walked about a half mile off the road on the flat and came to a hidden two-track road. It was pretty open so my dad decided to throw out a bugle while I was looking around. I'm looking around while my dad is bugling and found a steep drop off with about a 60-degree slope and 500 yard deep canyon. I'm standing there and my dad isn't getting an answer and I told him to try the one cow call that always works. He did and from the other side of the canyon wall we hear a bugle and my dad said we would have to go after him. He hit the call again and he was 100 yards down the canyon and he stopped bugling for a minute and the next time he bugled he was at the bottom of the canyon. My dad and my brother start running the opposite way up a 70- degree sand slide that was about 20 feet tall. The bull started running and I heard him and was trying to tell my dad but that didn't work out. I clipped on my release and I saw his legs coming through the trees at about 30 yards down the slope. I'm standing on a two-track road with a background of a sand slide and I thought I was going to get busted so badly. The bull kept coming but he was looking at the ground watching his feet. It looked like he was going to go behind a tree so I could draw but he switched back and went behind a big sage bush. I yanked the bow back as fast as I could and anchored. The bull switched back again and came out and I forgot to put my mouth diaphragm in and I had to mouth call. I tried to stop him on one side of a tree but he kept going so I mewed again and stopped him on the other side. He locked on a soon as he saw my outline and I squeezed the trigger and he jumped the string a little and whirled towards me and I saw my arrow sink up the fletching right behind his shoulder. He started running and my dad freaked out because he thought I fell down the rockslide because he didn't even sit down before I shot the bull. I started yelling and jumping around and my dad told me to stop. Then I thought and I put my diaphragm in and started mewing and bugling but it took me a while to bugle because I can bugle without a call. My dad and brother slid down the slide to look for blood and my arrow. About 10 minutes pass and my brother hears breathing and sees the bull fall. After 5 minutes my dad called at him and he didn't move. I practically ran down to the bull as fast as I could and thanked God for the bull and thanked the bull for his meat. I ended up shooting the bull at 10 yards and he was 10 yards away from where we called.
The next miracle was the two-track because my dad and little brother were the only ones that could carry anything and we were able to get our atv to the two-track.
The bull was my first big game animal with a bow and my second animal overall
