Bambistew
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Day 3 of a 6 day hunt. We had spotty rutting activity, until thursday morning, I hiked in to a spot about 2 miles from the road and was pretty discouraged, I hadn't so much as heard a bugle all morning, then around 8:30 or so they started going nuts. I could tell they were about 1/2 a mile away and it sounded like moving up the hill. I quickly moved to intercept. I finally got to within what I felt was about 200 yards of two bulls. I blew the cow call a few times and they would answer, called a couple more, and could tell that both of the bulls were coming toward me, then I heard a bugle about 100 yards away. I spotted him walking throught the trees at about 75-80 yards. He bugled and I saw that he had thick eyeguards, reguardless of what he was packing he was going to get shot if I got the chance.
I sat down, dumped my pack, and made a rest out of the nearest lodgepole. He kept coming and I still couldn't tell how big he was due to a big christmas tree being in the way. Finally at about 18-20 yards he stopped and I saw it was a friggn hoss bull, but still had no shot... I could see his outline through the tree and for a second condeplated shooting through the tree limbs but came to my senses. He didn't know I was there, I had perfect wind, and he was looking for a cow that he though was about 15 yards to my left and farther back in the trees. Hhe stood there watching for about 30 seconds and my heart was pounding. I kept telling myself, don't screw this up, he's as good as dead! Finally he started walking toward me again and had to make a slight turn to go around a small tree, at that point I touch the trigger as soon as his shoulder cleared. I knew as soon as I shot I had just smoked either the first or second biggest bull I have ever seen hunting elk in 18 years! I laid back on the ground trying to recover for a few moments then decided I better gather my composure, reload the muzz and go see what kind of blood I had. I walked the 14-15 steps to where he was standing at the shot, the smoke was still lingering in the air where he stood. There was no blood but the ground was wet and his prints were easy enough to pick out on the forest floor.
I slowly followed along, keeping my head up looking for him. I walked probably 40-50 yards and spotted him standing facing away with his head down, looking pretty sick. He spun his head, spotted me and started trotting away, but at that point I had the sights lined up for a THS, and pulled the trigger. He took off down hill and 5 seconds later I heard him crash about 60 yards below me. I reloaded again... crept up to where I had last seen him. There was blood everywhere and I knew it wouldn't be long. I spotted him lying in the tall grass below me but not quite finished. I let him sit for a few minutes and he laid over and died. I knew he was big, but with so much timber and undergrowth I never got a very good look at him. The pack wasn't too bad, maybe 2.5 miles or so. Glad I had help, I was totally spent after man handling him and wrastling quarters alone. God I forgot the love/hate relationship I have with elk.
I sat down, dumped my pack, and made a rest out of the nearest lodgepole. He kept coming and I still couldn't tell how big he was due to a big christmas tree being in the way. Finally at about 18-20 yards he stopped and I saw it was a friggn hoss bull, but still had no shot... I could see his outline through the tree and for a second condeplated shooting through the tree limbs but came to my senses. He didn't know I was there, I had perfect wind, and he was looking for a cow that he though was about 15 yards to my left and farther back in the trees. Hhe stood there watching for about 30 seconds and my heart was pounding. I kept telling myself, don't screw this up, he's as good as dead! Finally he started walking toward me again and had to make a slight turn to go around a small tree, at that point I touch the trigger as soon as his shoulder cleared. I knew as soon as I shot I had just smoked either the first or second biggest bull I have ever seen hunting elk in 18 years! I laid back on the ground trying to recover for a few moments then decided I better gather my composure, reload the muzz and go see what kind of blood I had. I walked the 14-15 steps to where he was standing at the shot, the smoke was still lingering in the air where he stood. There was no blood but the ground was wet and his prints were easy enough to pick out on the forest floor.
I slowly followed along, keeping my head up looking for him. I walked probably 40-50 yards and spotted him standing facing away with his head down, looking pretty sick. He spun his head, spotted me and started trotting away, but at that point I had the sights lined up for a THS, and pulled the trigger. He took off down hill and 5 seconds later I heard him crash about 60 yards below me. I reloaded again... crept up to where I had last seen him. There was blood everywhere and I knew it wouldn't be long. I spotted him lying in the tall grass below me but not quite finished. I let him sit for a few minutes and he laid over and died. I knew he was big, but with so much timber and undergrowth I never got a very good look at him. The pack wasn't too bad, maybe 2.5 miles or so. Glad I had help, I was totally spent after man handling him and wrastling quarters alone. God I forgot the love/hate relationship I have with elk.
