RE: We're done!
With today being the last day of the archery season, I had decided that I was going to shoot the first decent branch antlered bull that I had an opportunity to take. I like elk meat, a lot, and this was my first tag in the last three years. I've been enjoying helping my buddies on their elk hunts over the last few years, but I couldn't seem to get drawn (of course, I pretty much just apply for tough to draw tags) so I had decided that anything bigger than a small raghorn was going to be in trouble today.
We left camp while it was still well before the first hint of daybreak. We headed south from camp, down toward Big Flat and the hills to the east of there. We'd been into elk just about every time we went down there, but I hadn't seen a single bull I wanted to shoot earlier in the hunt. Now, I figured that most any of those bulls would be welcomed to ride home in the back of my truck. We parked in several spots while it was still pitch black, listening for bugles. What we got instead was the old Simon and Garfunkel tune "The sound of silence". Nothing, not one single bugle. Since our final parking spot was right where we could encounter elk as soon as we left the truck, we waited until it got close to light enough so that I could see my sight pins, then we headed out to the specific hills where we'd called in several bulls on Monday and Tuesday.
Upon arriving there, we set up and called several times, but Simon and Garfunkel just kept coming back at us. Silence. We hunted several of these hills, going through calling seuences about every ten minutes, and....nothing. We finally decided that the elk that were in there had moved on, and we headed back to the truck to try some other areas around 9:00. We finally headed back to camp at 10:30 without having seen or heard a single elk this morning. We then had a difficult decision to make. Should we hit the same general areas for the balance of the day? Or, should we head clear across the unit to where we've been sitting on that tank? We decided that since elk had come in to the tank during shooting light in four of the five afternoons that I sat there, that would be the wise move. Part of our thinking was that today was crystal clear and warmer than it had been the last two days, so we figured that elk would water even more than they had the last couple days. Since the morning had been a bust, we figured it was our best option. It was a big gambleu, but we knew quite a few elk were living in that area and they seemed to be more vocal than in other spots, though it was all relative. The bugling has seemed to taper off significantly the last three days, perhaps due to the weather or to the moon, who knows?
We arrived over at the tank shortly after 12:00 and I settled in for eight hours of stand hunting. I know that most archers are used to sitting on stands, but for those don't bow hunt, or who haven't done much sitting, you probably wonder how a guy can sit there for so long without going stir crazy. I've learned that sitting for long periods is an acquired skill. You have to get out there and do it and stretch your times out to be able to eventually put in the time required to be successful sitting. It can be boring, but is very productive if you are persistent. I like to take books to read, and that really helps pass the time. However, I'd long since finished the only book I brought on this trip, so I just kept my mind busy for those eight hours by enjoying every bit of wildlife I could find to watch. A raven came in to the tank to drink, just like the golden eagle did yesterday. At 2:00, I heard a mew, and soon after saw a mature cow heading down the slope. I figured she was the lead cow for a group, so I prepared myself for an eventual shot at the bull that was sure to be with this group she was leading. The only problem was, she was all by herself and traveling. I watched the cow feed across the sage flat and out of sight, without ever coming near the tank. It's funny, the things you can find to occupy your attention. At one point, I noticed an inchworm on one of the branches of my blind, so I watched him go about his business for several minutes. Now think about this, how often do any of us take time to notice stuff like this? I know I generally don't, but when I'm on stand, whether in a tree or ground blind, I enjoy watching every little detail going on around me. The inchworm brought back the memory of sitting in a ground blind in New Mexico's unit 15A about five years ago. I was on a tank waiting for elk to show up, but the only wildlife that day was a tarantula hawk (a huge black wasp), and the tarantula that he had stung and was dragging around my blind. It was kinda fascinating to watch him go about his business, sort of like my own personal National Geographic moment. That particular event didn't end too well, as I was a full draw on a 330 class bull when I noticed something on my bow arm shoulder. It was the tarantula hawk, and he was just about ready to climb over my collar and go down into my shirt. While staying at full draw, I leaned toward a tree, intending to crush the tarantula hawk and then make my shot on the bull. Instead, he stung me and I let out a howl, my arrow went off into space on a trajectory similar to the space shuttle and the elk about jumped out of his hide, I gave him such a surprise. Those are some of the memories from stand hunting.
After the cow, nothing else came along for a few hours, other than a pair of hawks that were hunting the sage flat. They finally left and it was getting late, not a single sign of any elk showing up yet, but then, it only takes one elk and I still had plenty of time. I only needed one to come in. I whiled the time away by thinking of some past hunts, and hunting partners. I thought about the only two elk hunts I ever got to share with my father. He died in 1980, at the young age of 46, so we never got to do as many hunts together as we wanted. He never hunted elk in September, and that is something I think he'd have enjoyed greatly. I also thought about a great elk hunt I got to share with my son in 2004, when he drew his first elk tag at the age of 16. It was an early muzzleloader elk tag in Arizona. We had a great hunt together, and he took a beautiful 6 pt. bull for his first elk. A year later we enjoyed another elk hunt, right here in Utah when he drew a youth any bull tag. I remembered how much he impressed me when he declined to shoot a 310 class bull on the last day, because there were too many other elk around it and he didn't want to risk hitting more than one elk. When I was his age, it would have been 'blazing saddles', and who knows what may have been hit. That moment is one I'll always be proud to think back on with him. He was only 17, and walked away from a very nice bull for all the right reasons. Two years ago, we had a great hunt on the Kaibab plateau when he drew a late rifle buck tag. My son really wanted to come along on this hunt, but he's away at college now, so it just wasn't possible. That was what occupied my afternoon thoughts. It was becoming a bittersweet day.
I had placed a note on a log, stuck in the road headed into the tank, that read: "Archery elk hunter on stand just ahead. Please don't disturb. Thank you!" The few quads or pickups that had seen it previously had all driven off, respecting my request for solitude. About 30 minutes before the sun was to set on my season, two quads rode up to the sign on the road, read it and then came up toward the tank. When they neared, I stepped out from the blind and motioned to them, but on they came. When they got to within 15 feet of me, I told the fellow that I only had about 1 1/2 hours left in my elk season, and I'd really appreciate it if they went somewhere else instead of wrecking what little opportunity I might have left. He just looked at me, sorta clueless, and said 'Oh Yeah, I got it'; and off they rode back the way they came from. I was just a dad with his young child on one quad, and grandpa on the other, seemingly just out for a joyride. I doubt they were scouting for the rifle hunt, but who knows. At the moment, I didn't care.
A while later, I coyote came out of the timber from about 40 yards to my left, and he proceeded to start hunting on the sage flat. I watched him for about five minutes before he disappeared, along with the sun. I was down to my last 30 or so minutes before my season would be over, but I only needed one elk to come in. The wind was blowing briskly, this was the third straight day of full winds, but at least today the skies were clear. It was quite chilly, especially since I hadn't bothered to bring a heavy jacket to the blind at noon. As it got darker, I reflected on the bulls I'd seen on this hunt, and the ones I could have come to full draw on, but chose not to. There was a 320 class bull, two 330 class bulls and some smaller five and six point bulls that I'd be glad to have now...or their little brother for the matter. There were a number of other bulls which I didn't have a chance at, some of which were pretty nice. There was one very special bull, one I haven't previously mentioned for a reason. I realize that some of the people on this hunt have been following this thread, and a few knew where I've been hunting. I did not want anyone to realize the primary reason we've been hunting that one tank all week. On Monday, we had a herd come in to the tank at around 4:00, about twenty five cows and only one bull. He was a giant! I figured he'd score at least in the 370's, and possibly a fair bit higher. That bull was one of the main reasons we've been sitting that tank every afternoon. He never presented a shot opportunity on Monday, and I've been expecting to see him again at some point. It could happen, literally, at any time.
As it began to get dark, I kept watching for a bull to materialize where most of the others had jumped the fence, but still nothing came. As it got darker, I noticed a great view of the siloette of Monroe Peak, the pink glow of dusk behind it, and a lone star just above the peak.
My season had ended.