S
South_slope
Guest
Where it began:
Last year I was fortunate enough to draw a limited entry archery elk tag in Utah. After pounding the unit all summer scouting the hunt finally arrived. I hunted almost the entire season and luck was just not on my side. After killing several small trees and some missed shots due to my peep sight being pulled off by the oak brush I finally was able to shoot a very nice bull. I waited an hour even though I immediately found great blood. As luck would again have it unbeknownst to me another young man was less than 100 yards from me. He came across the blood and started chasing the bull. I caught up with him and the end of the blood a half a mile away. After an exhaustive search my bull was nowhere to be found. After years of applying and never having killed a good bull I was needless to say beside myself. I learned ten years? worth of elk hunting from that hunt so I did not end up completely empty handed. I spent many hours in the field with friends and family which is really the point. My uncle has watched me miss more big bulls than anyone ever should.
Uncle Al and I
This spring I attended many of the wildlife organization fundraisers as I usually try to support where I can. A longtime friend and I attended the RMEF banquet for the fun of it. It was a great event and I was able to sit with Brent Todd how lucky can you get. As chance would have it they were auctioning off a LE rifle elk tag for the same unit I had last year. Long story short, I sent my wife a text that I had just purchased the any weapon permit for the Wasatch unit. She happened to be on a girl?s weekend in St George at the time and replied something like ?Cool, how much?? Now the stage is set for redemption.
Summer Scouting:
Video taken while this picture was taken.
http://www.monsterhuntclips.com/video/1509/Utah-Scouting-II
Summer came and in July the scouting started I looked in many of the same spots as the previous year and found a few new places to hunt. I was able to video a few good bulls and looked at what seemed like hundreds more. I set up a trail camera or two in new areas. One camera in particular had more than 2000 pictures in the two weeks it was up. My oldest son Jordan made the four mile round trip with me to get the trail camera out without complaining a bit. For an 8 year old to make the trek I was never more proud of him. I was reluctant to go back to the area where I had shot the bull that Stoney from Wallsburg had chased off the previous year. In fact I never scouted it at all.
I am sweating more than Jordan
The Hunt:
The week leading up to the hunt was filled with the usual where can I find the biggest bull and the urge to hit opening day with hopes of anchoring one of the best bulls I had found. I realized from the year before that the best time I have ever had hunting was a deer hunt in Wyoming the year before. My son Jordan was with me when I was able to harvest a deer. I never really pegged him as much of the hunting type but after shooting the deer I was immediately lavished with high fives and that was so cool.
Jordan with the buck we took in Wyoming last year
I decided just before the season opened that hunting with family and friends was much more important to me than a monster bull. The first two days would be with family. I invited my dad who has never been able to harvest a bull elk to spend opening day with me. This would mean riding horses which I am not a huge fan of hunting on. Just before the season my grandpa was again in the hospital. He is 94 and has his good and bad times. My dad is his primary care and was unable to come hunt.
Opening morning came and Jordan, Jenny, and I spent the first part of the morning parked on top of the mountain in a rain and wind storm. Visibility was maybe 50 yards and the roads were soaked slick clay. The storm broke and we were finally able to get out we spent opening day hiking around and we were able to get a look at a few decent six point bulls. On Sunday my friend was able to join us and my family returned home that night. After many miles and a missed opportunity on a really nice bull Justin hunted with me until having to return home Tuesday afternoon.
Jordan with the thumbs up
Justin at his best LOL
Tuesday night I started the solo part of my hunt. Wednesday morning I was torn between returning to where we had been hunting and where I had missed the bull from the year prior. For whatever reason, I decided to return to the spot where I ended my season the year prior with heartache, frustration, anger, and depression. I reached the spot where I would begin hiking just before dark. As I opened the truck door to get out I was immediately greeted with the sounds of elk bugling in the direction of where I was headed. I had the plan. The same plan as the year prior, I would work under the bulls and get downwind between the feed and where they bed. As I was getting into position and the sun started to make enough shooting light the bugles subsided. I moved into a point where I thought I could intercept them going to bed. The thick cover was tough to know if they had beaten me into their beds or if they were still in the feeding area. I worked my way slowly back toward the truck in the direction of the location I last heard bugles. I was a little surprised when a herd of 20 or so cows busted out and took a large bull through the thick cover.
Thursday morning, same plan only I was going to get there a little earlier and get closer before sun up. Again as I started my hike in the dark I started making mental map of all the bulls by where they were bugling from. I worked my way around them and started picking out the bulls by the sound of their bugles. As I got into position I could hear the deepest bugle had already beaten me to the bedding area even before light. I worked my way to a bull that sounded good and while he was a good bull he was not for me. I worked my way left around him and headed to where two other bugles were originating. As I worked my way closer I hear the unmistakable sound of running elk. Dang, I am busted again I thought as I look around the tree to see to my amazement I bunch of cows running right at me. I knelt down next to a small bush and actually had to kind of lean into it to let the cows go by in fear they would run me over. They are being trailed by a 5 point bull?? I know there is another bull since I heard 2 distinct bugles. As the 5 point passed I looked over the bush and see a much bigger bull coming. I think to myself this is the herd bull and ready for the shot. As he comes into clear view I can see that this bull is a nice 6 point, but again as so many times before not a bull for me and let him go by.
As I was getting ready to stand up I hear an enormous bugle on the other side of a pine tree, the kind that you can feel. I soon realize that the reason these bulls are running is not chasing the cows but away from this bull. As he clears the pine tree 20 yards in front of me I can clearly see that this bull has long front tines and is as mature as they come. I look through the scope turned to 4.5x power and try and find his shoulder in the sea of tan. Boom, the 325 WSM interrupts the frenzy of bugles and cow calls all around me. The bull humps up and then starts to take a few steps. I stand to my feet and take a few steps to the right and in a single motion have loaded another shell. The fear of him running or just instinct had me place another shot behind his shoulder and the bull is down. It does not immediately dawn on me that this bull fell less than a hundred yards from where I had shot the bull the year before with my bow. Again, a flood of emotion overcame me.
After a few self-taken pictures off my pack and dressing enough of the animal to get him well cooled I had to hike the mile out to go drive to where I had phone service. I called my dad who told me he would help me pack with horses. After a few texts sent to family and friends I met my dad and to my pleasant surprise my grandpa. As we reached the elk grandpa was first on the scene. He quickly had pocket knife in hand and started attempting to sharpen it on the side of the horns. I quickly state I have a sharpener in my pack. I asked him if he recognized the knife I use and has been on every hunt in my life. It was the knife my dad and grandpa gave me 20 years ago on my first hunt. After two trips out with the pack horse we had meat and antlers back at the truck. My grandpa commented to my dad a couple times how he had really enjoyed the experience. Talking with my dad it will probably be the last time he has the chance to do something like this and I know it meant a lot to my dad to have him there.
Dad leading the pack horse out on the second trip
Grandpa and I
All in all, the season was a success. I was able to spend time with family and friends which was my real goal. I was able to harvest a mature bull which I decided not to even measure because I am not concerned about the score. I don't believe score has anything to do with the measure of success for this hunt. Every time I look at the euro mount I plan to complete myself and see the marks from grandpa sharpening his knife I will be able to look back and smile. In my Native American heart I prayed for the animal and thanked our creator for all the many ways I have been blessed in my life. I also have to thank a very supportive wife who has over the years given me support to pursue my insane passion for hunting and outdoors.
Jordan and Jen
P.S. More of my story with video and scouting pictures is in the hunt challenge section under my name.
Last year I was fortunate enough to draw a limited entry archery elk tag in Utah. After pounding the unit all summer scouting the hunt finally arrived. I hunted almost the entire season and luck was just not on my side. After killing several small trees and some missed shots due to my peep sight being pulled off by the oak brush I finally was able to shoot a very nice bull. I waited an hour even though I immediately found great blood. As luck would again have it unbeknownst to me another young man was less than 100 yards from me. He came across the blood and started chasing the bull. I caught up with him and the end of the blood a half a mile away. After an exhaustive search my bull was nowhere to be found. After years of applying and never having killed a good bull I was needless to say beside myself. I learned ten years? worth of elk hunting from that hunt so I did not end up completely empty handed. I spent many hours in the field with friends and family which is really the point. My uncle has watched me miss more big bulls than anyone ever should.
Uncle Al and I
This spring I attended many of the wildlife organization fundraisers as I usually try to support where I can. A longtime friend and I attended the RMEF banquet for the fun of it. It was a great event and I was able to sit with Brent Todd how lucky can you get. As chance would have it they were auctioning off a LE rifle elk tag for the same unit I had last year. Long story short, I sent my wife a text that I had just purchased the any weapon permit for the Wasatch unit. She happened to be on a girl?s weekend in St George at the time and replied something like ?Cool, how much?? Now the stage is set for redemption.
Summer Scouting:
Video taken while this picture was taken.
http://www.monsterhuntclips.com/video/1509/Utah-Scouting-II
Summer came and in July the scouting started I looked in many of the same spots as the previous year and found a few new places to hunt. I was able to video a few good bulls and looked at what seemed like hundreds more. I set up a trail camera or two in new areas. One camera in particular had more than 2000 pictures in the two weeks it was up. My oldest son Jordan made the four mile round trip with me to get the trail camera out without complaining a bit. For an 8 year old to make the trek I was never more proud of him. I was reluctant to go back to the area where I had shot the bull that Stoney from Wallsburg had chased off the previous year. In fact I never scouted it at all.
I am sweating more than Jordan
The Hunt:
The week leading up to the hunt was filled with the usual where can I find the biggest bull and the urge to hit opening day with hopes of anchoring one of the best bulls I had found. I realized from the year before that the best time I have ever had hunting was a deer hunt in Wyoming the year before. My son Jordan was with me when I was able to harvest a deer. I never really pegged him as much of the hunting type but after shooting the deer I was immediately lavished with high fives and that was so cool.
Jordan with the buck we took in Wyoming last year
I decided just before the season opened that hunting with family and friends was much more important to me than a monster bull. The first two days would be with family. I invited my dad who has never been able to harvest a bull elk to spend opening day with me. This would mean riding horses which I am not a huge fan of hunting on. Just before the season my grandpa was again in the hospital. He is 94 and has his good and bad times. My dad is his primary care and was unable to come hunt.
Opening morning came and Jordan, Jenny, and I spent the first part of the morning parked on top of the mountain in a rain and wind storm. Visibility was maybe 50 yards and the roads were soaked slick clay. The storm broke and we were finally able to get out we spent opening day hiking around and we were able to get a look at a few decent six point bulls. On Sunday my friend was able to join us and my family returned home that night. After many miles and a missed opportunity on a really nice bull Justin hunted with me until having to return home Tuesday afternoon.
Jordan with the thumbs up
Justin at his best LOL
Tuesday night I started the solo part of my hunt. Wednesday morning I was torn between returning to where we had been hunting and where I had missed the bull from the year prior. For whatever reason, I decided to return to the spot where I ended my season the year prior with heartache, frustration, anger, and depression. I reached the spot where I would begin hiking just before dark. As I opened the truck door to get out I was immediately greeted with the sounds of elk bugling in the direction of where I was headed. I had the plan. The same plan as the year prior, I would work under the bulls and get downwind between the feed and where they bed. As I was getting into position and the sun started to make enough shooting light the bugles subsided. I moved into a point where I thought I could intercept them going to bed. The thick cover was tough to know if they had beaten me into their beds or if they were still in the feeding area. I worked my way slowly back toward the truck in the direction of the location I last heard bugles. I was a little surprised when a herd of 20 or so cows busted out and took a large bull through the thick cover.
Thursday morning, same plan only I was going to get there a little earlier and get closer before sun up. Again as I started my hike in the dark I started making mental map of all the bulls by where they were bugling from. I worked my way around them and started picking out the bulls by the sound of their bugles. As I got into position I could hear the deepest bugle had already beaten me to the bedding area even before light. I worked my way to a bull that sounded good and while he was a good bull he was not for me. I worked my way left around him and headed to where two other bugles were originating. As I worked my way closer I hear the unmistakable sound of running elk. Dang, I am busted again I thought as I look around the tree to see to my amazement I bunch of cows running right at me. I knelt down next to a small bush and actually had to kind of lean into it to let the cows go by in fear they would run me over. They are being trailed by a 5 point bull?? I know there is another bull since I heard 2 distinct bugles. As the 5 point passed I looked over the bush and see a much bigger bull coming. I think to myself this is the herd bull and ready for the shot. As he comes into clear view I can see that this bull is a nice 6 point, but again as so many times before not a bull for me and let him go by.
As I was getting ready to stand up I hear an enormous bugle on the other side of a pine tree, the kind that you can feel. I soon realize that the reason these bulls are running is not chasing the cows but away from this bull. As he clears the pine tree 20 yards in front of me I can clearly see that this bull has long front tines and is as mature as they come. I look through the scope turned to 4.5x power and try and find his shoulder in the sea of tan. Boom, the 325 WSM interrupts the frenzy of bugles and cow calls all around me. The bull humps up and then starts to take a few steps. I stand to my feet and take a few steps to the right and in a single motion have loaded another shell. The fear of him running or just instinct had me place another shot behind his shoulder and the bull is down. It does not immediately dawn on me that this bull fell less than a hundred yards from where I had shot the bull the year before with my bow. Again, a flood of emotion overcame me.
After a few self-taken pictures off my pack and dressing enough of the animal to get him well cooled I had to hike the mile out to go drive to where I had phone service. I called my dad who told me he would help me pack with horses. After a few texts sent to family and friends I met my dad and to my pleasant surprise my grandpa. As we reached the elk grandpa was first on the scene. He quickly had pocket knife in hand and started attempting to sharpen it on the side of the horns. I quickly state I have a sharpener in my pack. I asked him if he recognized the knife I use and has been on every hunt in my life. It was the knife my dad and grandpa gave me 20 years ago on my first hunt. After two trips out with the pack horse we had meat and antlers back at the truck. My grandpa commented to my dad a couple times how he had really enjoyed the experience. Talking with my dad it will probably be the last time he has the chance to do something like this and I know it meant a lot to my dad to have him there.
Dad leading the pack horse out on the second trip
Grandpa and I
All in all, the season was a success. I was able to spend time with family and friends which was my real goal. I was able to harvest a mature bull which I decided not to even measure because I am not concerned about the score. I don't believe score has anything to do with the measure of success for this hunt. Every time I look at the euro mount I plan to complete myself and see the marks from grandpa sharpening his knife I will be able to look back and smile. In my Native American heart I prayed for the animal and thanked our creator for all the many ways I have been blessed in my life. I also have to thank a very supportive wife who has over the years given me support to pursue my insane passion for hunting and outdoors.
Jordan and Jen
P.S. More of my story with video and scouting pictures is in the hunt challenge section under my name.
