Henry Mtns
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PleaseDear
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That is a damn nice Buff----Girl!!
Robb
Robb
predator
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LAST EDITED ON Nov-17-16 AT 11:33AM (MST)[p]John, you meant there are no DEER or BISON on the Henry's, right? Totally understood, my friend!
Ok, so the story starts as all do with the drawing of a tag. My best friend of many years has been accumulating points and decided that at the age of 60 he would cash in, and drew. The planning began, to include the complication that I may not be able to join him at all, as I had drawn numerous tags in several states during the month of November. The stars would align, however, and I was able to join my buddy for at least a week. We planned our arrival a couple days early to verify the very minimal scouting he had been able to do, and maybe pick the brains of some of the management deer hunters still doing their thing.
Well, anybody who has ever driven the Henry Mountains knows that it can be tough on vehicles, let alone trailers. The rule is slow going gets you there intact. Our first challenge was to see if we could get the 24-ft utility trailer across several washes. We were hoping the basecamp out of a BLM campground mid-way up the mountain, but if we couldn't get there, we would make do where we could. We enjoyed the breathtaking desert views in this, one of the more remote parts of Utah.
Well after several agonizingly slow hours of driving, we did make it to the campground only to have disaster strike. It is difficult in the dark, on an uphill curve, to see the campground entrance, which is marked by a yellow cattle guard. This particular cattle guard had been modified by horsemen (or so we were told), who had disconnected the left side from it's frame, leaving a place to cross their horses. Well it also left a 4-foot gap and about the same drop. And that's exactly where poor Kevin put the left 2 axles of the trailer, shearing off the shackles and leaving us completely blocking the entrance and unable to move with two unattached axles.
To say we were screwed was an understatement. Only a third of our group was coming this day, and we were at a loss once we realized that while we could build up the hole, moving the trailer without completely tearing off the other side of the axles was next to impossible.
Hunting community to the rescue. There were two other camps already in the campground, and they could hear the commotion at the gate, so they came to investigate. A DWR biologist who was driving home also stopped to see what was going on. It always helps to have fresh eyes look at a problem, fellas, and over the next few hours we collectively MacGuyver'd a solution that not only got the trailer out of the hole, but out of the entrance and down to our camp. We were able to get a text out to the rest of our group, two of whom happen to be welders, to bring their equipment with them.
We had made new friendships that would turn out to be again valuable in the days to come. For us, it was a very long day that in the end resulted in us heading for bed wherever we parked.
The following morning, the serious business of setting up basecamp began. We had to set up a cook tent, a Taj Mahal for the boys to sleep in, my own tent and the general business of camp life such as firewood gathering and cutting, food prep and the like.
The weather was looking to be turning, winds were howling into the night. But our camp was here, we were settled in and getting to know each other again. Stories were told, strategies were discussed and plans made.
The hunt was about to begin.
Ok, so the story starts as all do with the drawing of a tag. My best friend of many years has been accumulating points and decided that at the age of 60 he would cash in, and drew. The planning began, to include the complication that I may not be able to join him at all, as I had drawn numerous tags in several states during the month of November. The stars would align, however, and I was able to join my buddy for at least a week. We planned our arrival a couple days early to verify the very minimal scouting he had been able to do, and maybe pick the brains of some of the management deer hunters still doing their thing.
Well, anybody who has ever driven the Henry Mountains knows that it can be tough on vehicles, let alone trailers. The rule is slow going gets you there intact. Our first challenge was to see if we could get the 24-ft utility trailer across several washes. We were hoping the basecamp out of a BLM campground mid-way up the mountain, but if we couldn't get there, we would make do where we could. We enjoyed the breathtaking desert views in this, one of the more remote parts of Utah.
Well after several agonizingly slow hours of driving, we did make it to the campground only to have disaster strike. It is difficult in the dark, on an uphill curve, to see the campground entrance, which is marked by a yellow cattle guard. This particular cattle guard had been modified by horsemen (or so we were told), who had disconnected the left side from it's frame, leaving a place to cross their horses. Well it also left a 4-foot gap and about the same drop. And that's exactly where poor Kevin put the left 2 axles of the trailer, shearing off the shackles and leaving us completely blocking the entrance and unable to move with two unattached axles.
To say we were screwed was an understatement. Only a third of our group was coming this day, and we were at a loss once we realized that while we could build up the hole, moving the trailer without completely tearing off the other side of the axles was next to impossible.
Hunting community to the rescue. There were two other camps already in the campground, and they could hear the commotion at the gate, so they came to investigate. A DWR biologist who was driving home also stopped to see what was going on. It always helps to have fresh eyes look at a problem, fellas, and over the next few hours we collectively MacGuyver'd a solution that not only got the trailer out of the hole, but out of the entrance and down to our camp. We were able to get a text out to the rest of our group, two of whom happen to be welders, to bring their equipment with them.
We had made new friendships that would turn out to be again valuable in the days to come. For us, it was a very long day that in the end resulted in us heading for bed wherever we parked.
The following morning, the serious business of setting up basecamp began. We had to set up a cook tent, a Taj Mahal for the boys to sleep in, my own tent and the general business of camp life such as firewood gathering and cutting, food prep and the like.
The weather was looking to be turning, winds were howling into the night. But our camp was here, we were settled in and getting to know each other again. Stories were told, strategies were discussed and plans made.
The hunt was about to begin.
predator
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LAST EDITED ON Nov-17-16 AT 04:50PM (MST)[p]LAST EDITED ON Nov-17-16 AT 04:47?PM (MST)
Day 1 dawned windy, cold and drizzling, with the tops of the Henry range cloaked in clouds.
We had brought quite the crew, mostly to deal with the aftermath of knocking down a bison. We planned to split our group up, sending some high, some low and some roaming around to locate the shaggy beasts.
We had learned a few things in the one day we had to look around- that bison on the Henry's aren't necessarily in the traditional big herds you would imagine, that they can be very difficult to see in anything but open ground, and that cows and bulls can be hard to determine. Dave had an any-animal tag, but had his heart set on a good bull (although none of us really knew what a 'good bull' was). With these things in mind, Dave and I decided we would sit on a chained area where we had seen a lone bison the night before. In our conversations with people over the summer, we figured this might be a mature bull, one beyond his prime that just lived solo. Our hopes were high as we worked our way into the area.
After only a few minutes, we received word that other hunters had broken up a herd at the top of the mountain. 3 bulls had dropped down into a canyon and our spotters had an eye on them. Off we went! We raced to our spotting point and Trent quickly pointed out two options-go into the clouds after a broken herd that might contain a bull (but looked to be mostly cows/calves), or drop down into the canyon after the bulls, which were just below us at 1500 yards.
We watched as one of the bulls bedded down. Game on! We immediately dropped off the point, which in hindsight was a bad idea. That whole side was nothing but rockslides and tangled scrub oak. Both of our legs were jello in about 20 minutes. And ground truth hit us hard when we were faced with an eroded stream channel with severe drop-offs. I asked Dave for an honest assessment of how he was feeling physically and if finding a way around this challenge was helpful or potentially harmful. He honestly admitted that the challenge was beyond his physical limit. Reluctantly we climbed back out of that piece of crap canyon, giving one victory to the bison. While there was no way to get to them from where we started, we began thinking about where we might try to go. We knew where those bulls were going to be, and no one but us knew they were there. Getting to them was probably possible, shooting at one the same, but retrieval? THAT could be a real issue, even with all hands on the job.
After a quick lunch, we decided to roam around. There were mule deer bucks running rut-silly all over the place! Truly an added bonus, but we found ourselves becoming distracted watching them and forgot we were looking for bison!
We looked over lots of deer, and some massive drainages that made you feel like an ant, but did not locate any other bison. Dave was pretty much fried from our morning death march, so we continued to learn the area. In the meantime, some of our group had re-located the bulls from the morning, so we all met at the lookout to see what we could figure out. We all agreed that getting to them was not possible with the daylight remaining, and that getting one out was going to be very difficult. Again, we felt comfortable that no one else knew about these bulls, and that maybe once the pressure over the weekend eased, they may move back to a more accessible area.
Just before dark, we saw that same lone bull out in a chaining. He hadn't moved at all, and we knew exactly where he was going to be in the morning!
We returned to camp tired but excited for the next day. The group that had helped us with the trailer came over to share the good news that they had tagged out in the morning, and although they would be packing out tomorrow, they would be willing to be an extra set of eyes for us.
This is why I love the hunting community. For the most part, guys and gals willing to help each other be successful. Given the absolute idiocy of the pre-election we had left behind, it was most refreshing and heart-warming.
Day 1 dawned windy, cold and drizzling, with the tops of the Henry range cloaked in clouds.
We had brought quite the crew, mostly to deal with the aftermath of knocking down a bison. We planned to split our group up, sending some high, some low and some roaming around to locate the shaggy beasts.
We had learned a few things in the one day we had to look around- that bison on the Henry's aren't necessarily in the traditional big herds you would imagine, that they can be very difficult to see in anything but open ground, and that cows and bulls can be hard to determine. Dave had an any-animal tag, but had his heart set on a good bull (although none of us really knew what a 'good bull' was). With these things in mind, Dave and I decided we would sit on a chained area where we had seen a lone bison the night before. In our conversations with people over the summer, we figured this might be a mature bull, one beyond his prime that just lived solo. Our hopes were high as we worked our way into the area.
After only a few minutes, we received word that other hunters had broken up a herd at the top of the mountain. 3 bulls had dropped down into a canyon and our spotters had an eye on them. Off we went! We raced to our spotting point and Trent quickly pointed out two options-go into the clouds after a broken herd that might contain a bull (but looked to be mostly cows/calves), or drop down into the canyon after the bulls, which were just below us at 1500 yards.
We watched as one of the bulls bedded down. Game on! We immediately dropped off the point, which in hindsight was a bad idea. That whole side was nothing but rockslides and tangled scrub oak. Both of our legs were jello in about 20 minutes. And ground truth hit us hard when we were faced with an eroded stream channel with severe drop-offs. I asked Dave for an honest assessment of how he was feeling physically and if finding a way around this challenge was helpful or potentially harmful. He honestly admitted that the challenge was beyond his physical limit. Reluctantly we climbed back out of that piece of crap canyon, giving one victory to the bison. While there was no way to get to them from where we started, we began thinking about where we might try to go. We knew where those bulls were going to be, and no one but us knew they were there. Getting to them was probably possible, shooting at one the same, but retrieval? THAT could be a real issue, even with all hands on the job.
After a quick lunch, we decided to roam around. There were mule deer bucks running rut-silly all over the place! Truly an added bonus, but we found ourselves becoming distracted watching them and forgot we were looking for bison!
We looked over lots of deer, and some massive drainages that made you feel like an ant, but did not locate any other bison. Dave was pretty much fried from our morning death march, so we continued to learn the area. In the meantime, some of our group had re-located the bulls from the morning, so we all met at the lookout to see what we could figure out. We all agreed that getting to them was not possible with the daylight remaining, and that getting one out was going to be very difficult. Again, we felt comfortable that no one else knew about these bulls, and that maybe once the pressure over the weekend eased, they may move back to a more accessible area.
Just before dark, we saw that same lone bull out in a chaining. He hadn't moved at all, and we knew exactly where he was going to be in the morning!
We returned to camp tired but excited for the next day. The group that had helped us with the trailer came over to share the good news that they had tagged out in the morning, and although they would be packing out tomorrow, they would be willing to be an extra set of eyes for us.
This is why I love the hunting community. For the most part, guys and gals willing to help each other be successful. Given the absolute idiocy of the pre-election we had left behind, it was most refreshing and heart-warming.
predator
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RE: Henry Mtns Bison
Day 2 dawned clear.
We sent searchers to the four directions, and Dave, myself and couple others snuck back into the chained area. Once again, ground truth was very different from what we had seen above; what looked like flat ground was a lot of little gulches and gullies. Not exactly what we hoped for, but it was what presented itself. We found a small hill near where the bull was last seen and waited for the light to come up. Nothing. One of our party hiked out and up to a knoll where he could look down on our position, and we could see him frantically waving and pointing in front of us. We waited. Nothing. He came running back and indicated that the bull had been literally walking down one of the gullies right in front of us, and he watched him go into the cedars about 400 yards away. We began to intensively glass those cedars with no results. Then discussed whether we should go in after him. Eventually the wind made our decision-it was beginning to switch uphill and if we didn't get out of there, our scent would be blowing straight to him. I don't really know how sensitive bison are to scent, but any good hunter should at least consider the possibility. We backed out, put our noses into the wind on the backside of the cedar patch, worked our way above him and waited. For hours, and not a sign of him. We decided to not push our luck-he had been in that same chained area for days, and we were sure he would be there in the evening.
We checked in with our lookout, and they no longer could find the 3 bulls. Again, we knew they were probably still in the drainage, but we weren't sure where. I was beginning to understand that when bison decide to wander, they will and there is no predicting where they may go.
That meant more roaming around looking at more new country and all the bucks!
The afternoon headed to evening, and we all agreed we would not give up on that lone bull. We snuck in again with the wind in our face and found a better vantage point to overlook the cedars we felt he had bedded in, and a large part of the chained area. We had a guy up on the knoll to cover the backside we couldn't see, and made sure this time that we had an actual hand signal language to interpret that everyone understood. Anticipation again set in.
Nothing. Super quiet. We glassed until dark and left a little disappointed.
Back to camp and dinner, then a tabletop strategy session. Should we continue to work this one bull? Should we keep looking for the other 3? Should we give it a rest and go someplace completely different?
In the end, we decided to spread out again. Still have someone in the lookout, but everyone else was going to go far, far out. I still believe that lone bull was around, he'd really not been pressured. I felt we needed to spend time on him, so Dave and I would again sit on the chained area.
We had a plan, and it felt good. Everyone hit the sack with an early wakeup call in place.
Day 2 dawned clear.
We sent searchers to the four directions, and Dave, myself and couple others snuck back into the chained area. Once again, ground truth was very different from what we had seen above; what looked like flat ground was a lot of little gulches and gullies. Not exactly what we hoped for, but it was what presented itself. We found a small hill near where the bull was last seen and waited for the light to come up. Nothing. One of our party hiked out and up to a knoll where he could look down on our position, and we could see him frantically waving and pointing in front of us. We waited. Nothing. He came running back and indicated that the bull had been literally walking down one of the gullies right in front of us, and he watched him go into the cedars about 400 yards away. We began to intensively glass those cedars with no results. Then discussed whether we should go in after him. Eventually the wind made our decision-it was beginning to switch uphill and if we didn't get out of there, our scent would be blowing straight to him. I don't really know how sensitive bison are to scent, but any good hunter should at least consider the possibility. We backed out, put our noses into the wind on the backside of the cedar patch, worked our way above him and waited. For hours, and not a sign of him. We decided to not push our luck-he had been in that same chained area for days, and we were sure he would be there in the evening.
We checked in with our lookout, and they no longer could find the 3 bulls. Again, we knew they were probably still in the drainage, but we weren't sure where. I was beginning to understand that when bison decide to wander, they will and there is no predicting where they may go.
That meant more roaming around looking at more new country and all the bucks!
The afternoon headed to evening, and we all agreed we would not give up on that lone bull. We snuck in again with the wind in our face and found a better vantage point to overlook the cedars we felt he had bedded in, and a large part of the chained area. We had a guy up on the knoll to cover the backside we couldn't see, and made sure this time that we had an actual hand signal language to interpret that everyone understood. Anticipation again set in.
Nothing. Super quiet. We glassed until dark and left a little disappointed.
Back to camp and dinner, then a tabletop strategy session. Should we continue to work this one bull? Should we keep looking for the other 3? Should we give it a rest and go someplace completely different?
In the end, we decided to spread out again. Still have someone in the lookout, but everyone else was going to go far, far out. I still believe that lone bull was around, he'd really not been pressured. I felt we needed to spend time on him, so Dave and I would again sit on the chained area.
We had a plan, and it felt good. Everyone hit the sack with an early wakeup call in place.
predator
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RE: Henry Mtns Bison
Day 3, an early day with most of our group planning long scouts. The other camp stopped by and offered their help if we knocked one down, and also said they would be checking out some new areas for us. We felt today was the day with so many people looking out for Dave!
The lookout called an hour into the morning light and said they had a young bull just sitting by the road. We had heard of a calf being separated from a cow that had been wounded opening morning, and wondered if that was it. Our spotter encouraged us to come up and check it out. Dave was adamant in staying put. He wanted an adult, and the drive back to the top of the mountain was at least 35 minutes. He decided to stay put, and we all put eyes to glass once again.
Chad suddenly piped up. "Buffalo! Check it out-I think those 3 bulls walked all the way down the canyon!", as he pointed across the valley. Sure enough, there were 3 bison walking out into the open at the bottom of the canyon in which we'd seen them days ago. They were meandering, and looked to be in no hurry, so we took a bearing on the ridge above and took off, just the 3 of us.
Of course, ground truth slapped us in the face pretty quickly again, as what had again appeared relatively flat just wasn't. We had to cross several drainages, to include the main one, but at least we found a way across this time. It was very hard going, and really slowed us down, and we all were puffing pretty hard when we got to the area where the bison were last seen. We peeked up over the edge, and.....gone! Nothing but moo cows. We frantically scanned those carefully, as we had seen the bison mix in with them before. Nothing. Realizing we really couldn't see the whole area, as it was tilted (again, it looked flat from where we spotted things), we worked our way over to the other side and saw a dense cedar pocket before us. We figured those bulls probably headed for shade, so we quietly walked the edge until we found tracks. Now, I have to admit, telling the difference between cow tracks and bison tracks was difficult for us, and the tracks we followed might just have been cows, but they were fresh and we were committed. Unfortunately we lost them on the rocky bed of a gully that was in the middle of those trees.
We had worked so hard to get here, we decided to sit on the pocket for a bit. The waiting began, but as usual we had deer to watch. It was interesting to see the body language when 2 ran into each other. No fights occurred, but there was a lot of laid back ears, stiff-legged posturing and drooling going on!
The wind was about to switch, so we decided at the very least we would push the lower half of the canyon to rule it out as the bedding area. We put Dave up on a point, and Chad and I did the literal dirty work. NOT. A. THING. But we did find some game trails we wouldn't have know about without walking around, so we added that info to everything we had learned.
I was now convinced that these bison live in caves in the ground. How does something the size of a small car just disappear?? We later found out from our spotters that we were only 15 minutes behind them. They were in that cedar pocket, by golly, and we had ruled out half of it. We had a plan for the afternoon!
We spent the hours in-between shading up (it got pretty warm this day) and of course-watching the bucks running around.
Soon we were heading back at our perch. I was so excited! We had a plan, we had the wind, and Dave would get his bison, and we would get to share that moment together. All we had to do was wait. And wait. And wait. And wait...just a moment...WTH!!!
Day 3, an early day with most of our group planning long scouts. The other camp stopped by and offered their help if we knocked one down, and also said they would be checking out some new areas for us. We felt today was the day with so many people looking out for Dave!
The lookout called an hour into the morning light and said they had a young bull just sitting by the road. We had heard of a calf being separated from a cow that had been wounded opening morning, and wondered if that was it. Our spotter encouraged us to come up and check it out. Dave was adamant in staying put. He wanted an adult, and the drive back to the top of the mountain was at least 35 minutes. He decided to stay put, and we all put eyes to glass once again.
Chad suddenly piped up. "Buffalo! Check it out-I think those 3 bulls walked all the way down the canyon!", as he pointed across the valley. Sure enough, there were 3 bison walking out into the open at the bottom of the canyon in which we'd seen them days ago. They were meandering, and looked to be in no hurry, so we took a bearing on the ridge above and took off, just the 3 of us.
Of course, ground truth slapped us in the face pretty quickly again, as what had again appeared relatively flat just wasn't. We had to cross several drainages, to include the main one, but at least we found a way across this time. It was very hard going, and really slowed us down, and we all were puffing pretty hard when we got to the area where the bison were last seen. We peeked up over the edge, and.....gone! Nothing but moo cows. We frantically scanned those carefully, as we had seen the bison mix in with them before. Nothing. Realizing we really couldn't see the whole area, as it was tilted (again, it looked flat from where we spotted things), we worked our way over to the other side and saw a dense cedar pocket before us. We figured those bulls probably headed for shade, so we quietly walked the edge until we found tracks. Now, I have to admit, telling the difference between cow tracks and bison tracks was difficult for us, and the tracks we followed might just have been cows, but they were fresh and we were committed. Unfortunately we lost them on the rocky bed of a gully that was in the middle of those trees.
We had worked so hard to get here, we decided to sit on the pocket for a bit. The waiting began, but as usual we had deer to watch. It was interesting to see the body language when 2 ran into each other. No fights occurred, but there was a lot of laid back ears, stiff-legged posturing and drooling going on!
The wind was about to switch, so we decided at the very least we would push the lower half of the canyon to rule it out as the bedding area. We put Dave up on a point, and Chad and I did the literal dirty work. NOT. A. THING. But we did find some game trails we wouldn't have know about without walking around, so we added that info to everything we had learned.
I was now convinced that these bison live in caves in the ground. How does something the size of a small car just disappear?? We later found out from our spotters that we were only 15 minutes behind them. They were in that cedar pocket, by golly, and we had ruled out half of it. We had a plan for the afternoon!
We spent the hours in-between shading up (it got pretty warm this day) and of course-watching the bucks running around.
Soon we were heading back at our perch. I was so excited! We had a plan, we had the wind, and Dave would get his bison, and we would get to share that moment together. All we had to do was wait. And wait. And wait. And wait...just a moment...WTH!!!
BIGJOHNT
Long Time Member
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RE: Henry Mtns Bison
>SMACK! Cuz you are a
>better buff hunter than us!!
> Or that you tied
>one up and fed it
>apples all summer. I'm
>still unclear on that part.
>
I don't think better is the word ? I think guide is the word. I hired the best guide on the Henry's. But also a little bitter sweet. I only got to hunt one day. But the stress of a OIL hunt was off me.
>SMACK! Cuz you are a
>better buff hunter than us!!
> Or that you tied
>one up and fed it
>apples all summer. I'm
>still unclear on that part.
>
I don't think better is the word ? I think guide is the word. I hired the best guide on the Henry's. But also a little bitter sweet. I only got to hunt one day. But the stress of a OIL hunt was off me.
predator
Very Active Member
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RE: Henry Mtns Bison
And that investment paid off in spades, didn't it! And the stress, boy oh boy, you are not kidding there. Either way you did it, we did it, and all of us were privileged enough to hunt one of the only truly wild herds on the continent, in one of the most beautiful places in our state, yes?
That alone makes the experience itself OIL.
And that investment paid off in spades, didn't it! And the stress, boy oh boy, you are not kidding there. Either way you did it, we did it, and all of us were privileged enough to hunt one of the only truly wild herds on the continent, in one of the most beautiful places in our state, yes?
That alone makes the experience itself OIL.
predator
Very Active Member
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WTH are those guys doing??!!! We were all set to make this happen and what do we see? 2 guys walking right up the middle of our set, with the wind. At first I couldn't even be angry, I mean, this is public land, it's a OIL hunt and maybe someone besides us saw those bulls too.
But these guys weren't even hunting. They were....flagging. I recall doing something similar during my college field biology days. Transecting and such. Were these biologists?? Whoever they are, they are about to completely jack up our evening set. So I walk over to introduce myself.
"So, uh, what are you guys doing?", ask I.
"Confirming GIS data for a road survey", says Guy 1.
"Interesting" say I. "Did you know there is a hunt going on right now?"
Guy 1: "Uhhh, no, we weren't told that".
Me: "Yeah, a bison hunt. See that guy up there? He's waited his whole life to do this, and we have 3 bison bulls bedded in this cedar pocket, and you guys are about to really make a problem for us. Do you have to do this today"
Guy 2: "We are on a timeline, sorry. The BLM didn't tell us there was hunt going on. Geez, maybe we should put on some orange or something"
Me: "Well, you don't look like bison, soooooo. Anyway, can I ask you if you have to go beyond this trail here? Can I ask you not to? Just for tonight? Please?"
Guy 1: "Well, we probably shouldn't have to go higher, no. But we have to get this done today".
Me: "ok, fine. Just don't go beyond that trail, and please can you be quiet about what you're doing?"
Guy 2: "yeah, ok".
So I stomp my way back up to Dave, muttering under my breath. Our luck, I swear. We pick the ONE drainage on the entire Henry Mountains that we know has bison in it and run into SURVEYORS, fer cryin' out loud! I told Dave what was up, we looked over at our spotters on the other side of the drainage and held our hands up as if to say "what are the odds".
And went back to waiting. In the meantime, those two idiots starting jib-jabbing back and forth, and we could hear them plain as day. I was disgusted. If we could hear them, surely the bison could. And we saw no bison, we felt now we wouldn't see bison, so we started back out a little early. We had already made arrangements to be picked up on the main road, and headed to that area.
Then we heard yelling. It was Mark, at the pickup point, yelling that he had bison spotted and we needed to hurry. We were now in a literal footrace against the sun, which had just gone down. I turned to Dave and told him we needed to go, right now, as fast he could, and began jogging toward Mark. Dave wanted to slow, but I wouldn't let him because I didn't want him to think too much and give up. We had been so close the last couple days that I didn't want to lose what sounded like our best opportunity yet. We made it to Mark, threw ourselves in the truck and he took off, telling us that as they drove in to get us, he happened to see bison in the next chaining.
We drove like we were in the Baja 500. Light was waning, we had only 15 minutes of shooting light left. We found Stuart and he pointed out the bison, which we could only see through a small lane in the trees. At least 2 were bulls, and I couldn't see why the third wouldn't be. Could this be them? The same 3 we had seen on Day 1?
The range was 400 yards with no place to rest a rifle. I could see Dave starting to think. About the range, about the darkness approaching, about everything. I knew if I let him think about it, he wouldn't try the shot. I knew I needed to get him closer and within the next 5 minutes, or these bulls were safe for another day. So I grabbed him by the shirt, said "let's go" and started running into the trees towards a higher spot that might cut 50 yards off the distance and give us a shooting platform.
As we entered the trees, I saw it-a shooting lane. Not only a shooting lane, but a shooting lane with a rifle rest right in the middle. As we got closer, I couldn't believe our luck. There was a perfect bow in a tree limb that would allow Dave a standing rest.
NO WAY! NO FREAKING WAY!! I tapped the limb and yelled "Right here, put the rifle right here".
I ranged the bulls-279 yards. Awesome, we didn't have to account for bullet drop, either. Now I had to decide which bull to shoot, and Dave was asking, and I could hear the stress in his voice as the light really started to fade. The bison in the middle, the one we hadn't been able to see the obvious signs of bull-ness, suddenly turned broadside, and he looked like a tank compared to the other two. "THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE, SHOOT THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE", I yelled. I reminded him to breathe.
The rifle went off, and that bison did a face-plant, clearly Dave had put one right where it counted-through the shoulders. The bison tried to get up again, and fell again, then rolled over into some brush. We lost sight of it, but didn't see him come out. I was pretty sure it was down for good. Now a second race began, that of trying to cross yet another drainage to get at least in the area before full dark and locate what we hoped was one deceased bison bull.
We didn't beat the darkness, and again found that where that bison lay looked nothing like what we had seen. It was pretty steep and everything looked the same in the dark. By now we had radios turned on, and Mark had stayed where we had shot from to direct the search. With his help, I finally saw what we had all been waiting for-one very large beastie, dead on the ground. It was with great pleasure that I announced "Attention please: Buffalo down, boys, buffalo down!". And it was a bull, after all. Dave found his way to me and we both marveled at the size and the beauty of his bull.
Within 25 minutes, we had made contact with most of our party and even the other camp. Everyone was ecstatic for Dave, and congratulations were made all around.
By the time the moon came up, we had 6 knives running, 2 people sharpening and everyone else holding lights. We had that bull broken down into pieces in about 2 hours, believe it or not.
The only thing left was packing it out. The other camp had offered the use of their horses, but wanted to see if that was possible with daylight. The real work was left for the morning.
But these guys weren't even hunting. They were....flagging. I recall doing something similar during my college field biology days. Transecting and such. Were these biologists?? Whoever they are, they are about to completely jack up our evening set. So I walk over to introduce myself.
"So, uh, what are you guys doing?", ask I.
"Confirming GIS data for a road survey", says Guy 1.
"Interesting" say I. "Did you know there is a hunt going on right now?"
Guy 1: "Uhhh, no, we weren't told that".
Me: "Yeah, a bison hunt. See that guy up there? He's waited his whole life to do this, and we have 3 bison bulls bedded in this cedar pocket, and you guys are about to really make a problem for us. Do you have to do this today"
Guy 2: "We are on a timeline, sorry. The BLM didn't tell us there was hunt going on. Geez, maybe we should put on some orange or something"
Me: "Well, you don't look like bison, soooooo. Anyway, can I ask you if you have to go beyond this trail here? Can I ask you not to? Just for tonight? Please?"
Guy 1: "Well, we probably shouldn't have to go higher, no. But we have to get this done today".
Me: "ok, fine. Just don't go beyond that trail, and please can you be quiet about what you're doing?"
Guy 2: "yeah, ok".
So I stomp my way back up to Dave, muttering under my breath. Our luck, I swear. We pick the ONE drainage on the entire Henry Mountains that we know has bison in it and run into SURVEYORS, fer cryin' out loud! I told Dave what was up, we looked over at our spotters on the other side of the drainage and held our hands up as if to say "what are the odds".
And went back to waiting. In the meantime, those two idiots starting jib-jabbing back and forth, and we could hear them plain as day. I was disgusted. If we could hear them, surely the bison could. And we saw no bison, we felt now we wouldn't see bison, so we started back out a little early. We had already made arrangements to be picked up on the main road, and headed to that area.
Then we heard yelling. It was Mark, at the pickup point, yelling that he had bison spotted and we needed to hurry. We were now in a literal footrace against the sun, which had just gone down. I turned to Dave and told him we needed to go, right now, as fast he could, and began jogging toward Mark. Dave wanted to slow, but I wouldn't let him because I didn't want him to think too much and give up. We had been so close the last couple days that I didn't want to lose what sounded like our best opportunity yet. We made it to Mark, threw ourselves in the truck and he took off, telling us that as they drove in to get us, he happened to see bison in the next chaining.
We drove like we were in the Baja 500. Light was waning, we had only 15 minutes of shooting light left. We found Stuart and he pointed out the bison, which we could only see through a small lane in the trees. At least 2 were bulls, and I couldn't see why the third wouldn't be. Could this be them? The same 3 we had seen on Day 1?
The range was 400 yards with no place to rest a rifle. I could see Dave starting to think. About the range, about the darkness approaching, about everything. I knew if I let him think about it, he wouldn't try the shot. I knew I needed to get him closer and within the next 5 minutes, or these bulls were safe for another day. So I grabbed him by the shirt, said "let's go" and started running into the trees towards a higher spot that might cut 50 yards off the distance and give us a shooting platform.
As we entered the trees, I saw it-a shooting lane. Not only a shooting lane, but a shooting lane with a rifle rest right in the middle. As we got closer, I couldn't believe our luck. There was a perfect bow in a tree limb that would allow Dave a standing rest.
NO WAY! NO FREAKING WAY!! I tapped the limb and yelled "Right here, put the rifle right here".
I ranged the bulls-279 yards. Awesome, we didn't have to account for bullet drop, either. Now I had to decide which bull to shoot, and Dave was asking, and I could hear the stress in his voice as the light really started to fade. The bison in the middle, the one we hadn't been able to see the obvious signs of bull-ness, suddenly turned broadside, and he looked like a tank compared to the other two. "THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE, SHOOT THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE", I yelled. I reminded him to breathe.
The rifle went off, and that bison did a face-plant, clearly Dave had put one right where it counted-through the shoulders. The bison tried to get up again, and fell again, then rolled over into some brush. We lost sight of it, but didn't see him come out. I was pretty sure it was down for good. Now a second race began, that of trying to cross yet another drainage to get at least in the area before full dark and locate what we hoped was one deceased bison bull.
We didn't beat the darkness, and again found that where that bison lay looked nothing like what we had seen. It was pretty steep and everything looked the same in the dark. By now we had radios turned on, and Mark had stayed where we had shot from to direct the search. With his help, I finally saw what we had all been waiting for-one very large beastie, dead on the ground. It was with great pleasure that I announced "Attention please: Buffalo down, boys, buffalo down!". And it was a bull, after all. Dave found his way to me and we both marveled at the size and the beauty of his bull.
Within 25 minutes, we had made contact with most of our party and even the other camp. Everyone was ecstatic for Dave, and congratulations were made all around.
By the time the moon came up, we had 6 knives running, 2 people sharpening and everyone else holding lights. We had that bull broken down into pieces in about 2 hours, believe it or not.
The only thing left was packing it out. The other camp had offered the use of their horses, but wanted to see if that was possible with daylight. The real work was left for the morning.
predator
Very Active Member
- Messages
- 2,567
LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16 AT 05:40PM (MST)[p]LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16 AT 04:57?PM (MST)
LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16 AT 04:56?PM (MST)
LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16 AT 04:47?PM (MST)
Another dawn, but one of relief. All we had to accomplish today was getting that bull off the ground and into the bags. It was nice to sleep in, but not too long because the sun would hit the meat in short order.
The cavalry arrived, and we set out as a group to see what this looked like in the daytime. Packs strapped to backs, rope in the pockets, and we set off to relocate Tatanka.
We were really relieved to find the carcass unmolested, we had been hearing coyotes every day and had anticipated some meat loss. They amazingly left everything alone. The meat had cooled nicely, too.
Everyone pitched in, and in short order game bags were on backs. The head and cape gave us pause, they really are an awkwardly shaped package. Nonetheless, we found that we could strap the whole thing, and the back cape to a frame pack, making a decent litter to carry it out. The whole process took us less than an hour. Everybody was still excited, and Dave had to watch because no one wanted him to have to lift a finger. He did his job, now it was our turn.
On the way out, we marveled at how the hunt went down, and all agreed that this bull was meant to be. Had we not decided to come out early. Had Mark not looked over at that moment, the only spot on the entire road that one can see into that chaining. Had there not been that shooting lane. Had there not been that tree limb. Call it Fate, call it Luck, call it what you want. I firmly believe this bull and Dave were supposed to meet.
Back at camp, it was time to hang meat, cape out a head and clean the hide, and start repairs on the trailer.
We all settled into our respective tasks, but not after a celebratory photo shoot and a moment to sit down. Dave wanted a representative bull, and I think he accomplished that. We guessed his age at a mere 5 years, in his prime, and I'm sure Dave will look fondly on the beautiful mount he will make.
Dave's Bison Crew:
The bull:
With all the work done, we had nothing better to do than relax.....and go look at those magnificent deer and the other critters that call this place home.
I would be leaving this place the following day, taking with me the physical pieces of the bison we hunted, as well as the wonderful memories of time spent with friends, hunters, and my best friend. A more fitting once-in-a-lifetime experience could not have been had, it seems.
Dave would like to thank his brothers Stuart and Arnie, the father and sons team of Kevin, Trent and Kade; fellow pheasant slayer Chad; Jeff, Stan and Cowboy; lifelong friend Mark; and the Perkins family for staying true to the hunting brotherhood.
*THE END*
John's turn!
LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16 AT 04:56?PM (MST)
LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16 AT 04:47?PM (MST)
Another dawn, but one of relief. All we had to accomplish today was getting that bull off the ground and into the bags. It was nice to sleep in, but not too long because the sun would hit the meat in short order.
The cavalry arrived, and we set out as a group to see what this looked like in the daytime. Packs strapped to backs, rope in the pockets, and we set off to relocate Tatanka.
We were really relieved to find the carcass unmolested, we had been hearing coyotes every day and had anticipated some meat loss. They amazingly left everything alone. The meat had cooled nicely, too.
Everyone pitched in, and in short order game bags were on backs. The head and cape gave us pause, they really are an awkwardly shaped package. Nonetheless, we found that we could strap the whole thing, and the back cape to a frame pack, making a decent litter to carry it out. The whole process took us less than an hour. Everybody was still excited, and Dave had to watch because no one wanted him to have to lift a finger. He did his job, now it was our turn.
On the way out, we marveled at how the hunt went down, and all agreed that this bull was meant to be. Had we not decided to come out early. Had Mark not looked over at that moment, the only spot on the entire road that one can see into that chaining. Had there not been that shooting lane. Had there not been that tree limb. Call it Fate, call it Luck, call it what you want. I firmly believe this bull and Dave were supposed to meet.
Back at camp, it was time to hang meat, cape out a head and clean the hide, and start repairs on the trailer.
We all settled into our respective tasks, but not after a celebratory photo shoot and a moment to sit down. Dave wanted a representative bull, and I think he accomplished that. We guessed his age at a mere 5 years, in his prime, and I'm sure Dave will look fondly on the beautiful mount he will make.
Dave's Bison Crew:
The bull:
With all the work done, we had nothing better to do than relax.....and go look at those magnificent deer and the other critters that call this place home.
I would be leaving this place the following day, taking with me the physical pieces of the bison we hunted, as well as the wonderful memories of time spent with friends, hunters, and my best friend. A more fitting once-in-a-lifetime experience could not have been had, it seems.
Dave would like to thank his brothers Stuart and Arnie, the father and sons team of Kevin, Trent and Kade; fellow pheasant slayer Chad; Jeff, Stan and Cowboy; lifelong friend Mark; and the Perkins family for staying true to the hunting brotherhood.
*THE END*
John's turn!
BIGJOHNT
Long Time Member
- Messages
- 5,172
>LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16
>AT 05:40?PM (MST)
>
>LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16
>AT 04:57?PM (MST)
>
>LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16
>AT 04:56?PM (MST)
>
>LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16
>AT 04:47?PM (MST)
>
>
>
>
>Another dawn, but one of relief.
> All we had to
>accomplish today was getting that
>bull off the ground and
>into the bags. It
>was nice to sleep in,
>but not too long because
>the sun would hit the
>meat in short order.
>
>The cavalry arrived, and we set
>out as a group to
>see what this looked like
>in the daytime. Packs
>strapped to backs, rope in
>the pockets, and we set
>off to relocate Tatanka.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>We were really relieved to find
>the carcass unmolested, we had
>been hearing coyotes every day
>and had anticipated some meat
>loss. They amazingly left
>everything alone. The meat had
>cooled nicely, too.
>
> Everyone pitched in, and in
>short order game bags were
>on backs. The head
>and cape gave us pause,
>they really are an awkwardly
>shaped package. Nonetheless, we
>found that we could strap
>the whole thing, and the
>back cape to a frame
>pack, making a decent litter
>to carry it out.
> The whole process took
>us less than an hour.
> Everybody was still excited,
>and Dave had to watch
>because no one wanted him
>to have to lift a
>finger. He did his
>job, now it was our
>turn.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>On the way out, we marveled
>at how the hunt went
>down, and all agreed that
>this bull was meant to
>be. Had we not
>decided to come out early.
> Had Mark not looked
>over at that moment, the
>only spot on the entire
>road that one can see
>into that chaining. Had
>there not been that shooting
>lane. Had there not
>been that tree limb.
>Call it Fate, call it
>Luck, call it what you
>want. I firmly believe
>this bull and Dave were
>supposed to meet.
>
>
>Back at camp, it was time
>to hang meat, cape out
>a head and clean the
>hide, and start repairs on
>the trailer.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>We all settled into our respective
>tasks, but not after a
>celebratory photo shoot and a
>moment to sit down.
>Dave wanted a representative bull,
>and I think he accomplished
>that. We guessed his
>age at a mere 5
>years, in his prime, and
>I'm sure Dave will look
>fondly on the beautiful mount
>he will make.
>
>Dave's Bison Crew:
>
>
>
>The bull:
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>With all the work done, we
>had nothing better to do
>than relax.....and go look at
>those magnificent deer and the
>other critters that call this
>place home.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>I would be leaving this place
>the following day, taking with
>me the physical pieces of
>the bison we hunted, as
>well as the wonderful memories
>of time spent with friends,
>hunters, and my best friend.
>A more fitting once-in-a-lifetime experience
>could not have been had,
>it seems.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>Dave would like to thank his
>brothers Stuart and Arnie, the
>father and sons team of
>Kevin, Trent and Kade; fellow
>pheasant slayer Chad; Jeff,
>Stan and Cowboy; lifelong friend
>Mark; and the Perkins
>family for staying true to
>the hunting brotherhood.
>
>
>
>
>
> *THE END*
>
>John's turn!
>
>
>
>
Oh I just saw that......John's turn. I am autcually writing my story for a magazine. ? I just hope I do as well as you did. It's kind a of funny. I drive up and down seven mile road all the time. Then I see you posting pictures from there on Monster Muley . Realizing that I was driving past your tent the whole time. Now you drive by my camp on this trip. I wonder how many of us pass each other as we hunt the high country or deserts. It's a small world this Monster Muley community. I guess sharing the same interests and passions take us to the same areas in this world. Much like the great Henry mountains. I say this as I am watching Jeremiah Johnson for the millionth time on tv.. Thanks for sharing a great adventure with us, Lisa !
>AT 05:40?PM (MST)
>
>LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16
>AT 04:57?PM (MST)
>
>LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16
>AT 04:56?PM (MST)
>
>LAST EDITED ON Nov-18-16
>AT 04:47?PM (MST)
>
>
>
>
>Another dawn, but one of relief.
> All we had to
>accomplish today was getting that
>bull off the ground and
>into the bags. It
>was nice to sleep in,
>but not too long because
>the sun would hit the
>meat in short order.
>
>The cavalry arrived, and we set
>out as a group to
>see what this looked like
>in the daytime. Packs
>strapped to backs, rope in
>the pockets, and we set
>off to relocate Tatanka.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>We were really relieved to find
>the carcass unmolested, we had
>been hearing coyotes every day
>and had anticipated some meat
>loss. They amazingly left
>everything alone. The meat had
>cooled nicely, too.
>
> Everyone pitched in, and in
>short order game bags were
>on backs. The head
>and cape gave us pause,
>they really are an awkwardly
>shaped package. Nonetheless, we
>found that we could strap
>the whole thing, and the
>back cape to a frame
>pack, making a decent litter
>to carry it out.
> The whole process took
>us less than an hour.
> Everybody was still excited,
>and Dave had to watch
>because no one wanted him
>to have to lift a
>finger. He did his
>job, now it was our
>turn.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>On the way out, we marveled
>at how the hunt went
>down, and all agreed that
>this bull was meant to
>be. Had we not
>decided to come out early.
> Had Mark not looked
>over at that moment, the
>only spot on the entire
>road that one can see
>into that chaining. Had
>there not been that shooting
>lane. Had there not
>been that tree limb.
>Call it Fate, call it
>Luck, call it what you
>want. I firmly believe
>this bull and Dave were
>supposed to meet.
>
>
>Back at camp, it was time
>to hang meat, cape out
>a head and clean the
>hide, and start repairs on
>the trailer.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>We all settled into our respective
>tasks, but not after a
>celebratory photo shoot and a
>moment to sit down.
>Dave wanted a representative bull,
>and I think he accomplished
>that. We guessed his
>age at a mere 5
>years, in his prime, and
>I'm sure Dave will look
>fondly on the beautiful mount
>he will make.
>
>Dave's Bison Crew:
>
>
>
>The bull:
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>With all the work done, we
>had nothing better to do
>than relax.....and go look at
>those magnificent deer and the
>other critters that call this
>place home.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>I would be leaving this place
>the following day, taking with
>me the physical pieces of
>the bison we hunted, as
>well as the wonderful memories
>of time spent with friends,
>hunters, and my best friend.
>A more fitting once-in-a-lifetime experience
>could not have been had,
>it seems.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>Dave would like to thank his
>brothers Stuart and Arnie, the
>father and sons team of
>Kevin, Trent and Kade; fellow
>pheasant slayer Chad; Jeff,
>Stan and Cowboy; lifelong friend
>Mark; and the Perkins
>family for staying true to
>the hunting brotherhood.
>
>
>
>
>
> *THE END*
>
>John's turn!
>
>
>
>
Oh I just saw that......John's turn. I am autcually writing my story for a magazine. ? I just hope I do as well as you did. It's kind a of funny. I drive up and down seven mile road all the time. Then I see you posting pictures from there on Monster Muley . Realizing that I was driving past your tent the whole time. Now you drive by my camp on this trip. I wonder how many of us pass each other as we hunt the high country or deserts. It's a small world this Monster Muley community. I guess sharing the same interests and passions take us to the same areas in this world. Much like the great Henry mountains. I say this as I am watching Jeremiah Johnson for the millionth time on tv.. Thanks for sharing a great adventure with us, Lisa !
littlebighorn
Long Time Member
- Messages
- 5,313
It's been a long work day for me, but reading about your adventure just breathed new life into my weekend.
Congratulations to Dave and your crew. Your story and pictures were as incredible as your hunt. Thanks Pred. I always love to read your posts, but this one was very special!
Congratulations to Dave and your crew. Your story and pictures were as incredible as your hunt. Thanks Pred. I always love to read your posts, but this one was very special!
PleaseDear
Long Time Member
- Messages
- 10,431
Very cool photo hunt essay!
congrats
Robb
congrats
Robb
eelgrass
Long Time Member
- Messages
- 31,423
It's odd how some events happen that turn out for the very best some times.
If those surveyors hadn't caused you to leave a little early maybe you wouldn't have made it to the "shooting rest" in time.
Great account as usual Predator. I will never forget your telling of your Africa hunt a few years ago.
If those surveyors hadn't caused you to leave a little early maybe you wouldn't have made it to the "shooting rest" in time.
Great account as usual Predator. I will never forget your telling of your Africa hunt a few years ago.
