M
MudRunner
Guest
Alright, so it's about time I break out the story.
After a long 14 years of putting in for this hunt this year we finally knew we had the odds to draw the tag. We're a patient crew, but none the less we've been anxiously awaiting our turn for a while now. I won't go into a lot of the scouting that led us to where we were the weekend of the hunt, but it was a lot of time that was well worth it.
So, the day before the opener we'd already decided on where we wanted to be, we packed in light set up our spike camp and were ready to go out heavy. That afternoon as predicted a wet and heavy storm rolled in, but we weren't about to sit it out. We knew once the rain stopped those bulls we'd had our eyes on were going to be singing a new tune. They were, but what we didn't plan on was the fog. It was thick and even though we could hear the roar of bulls around us we couldn't see them. It didn't bother us to bad, being the day before the hunt started all we cared to know what that they were still hanging out where we thought they'd be. Later that night however the fog lifted and my brother Seth who was sitting up on a ridge overlooking a few nearby canyons spotted a nice bull cruising around and making himself known. He was one we hadn't seen before, but after reviewing some footage of him we knew he'd be a shooter in the morning if he showed himself.
That Footage:
That night we sat and listened to at least 5 different bulls signing between 600 and 1000 yards from camp. It was a little too close for comfort, but we knew they wouldn't bother dropping down into where we were camping. At least that's what we thought. We headed to bed and because of the river we we're camped on we didn't hear anything the rest of the night. That night was one of the longest nights I've ever had. Just way to excited about the morning.
The morning came and we got on the mountain extreemly early just as planned, but the rest of it morning didn't go as planned. All those bulls we were hearing were either quiet and hiding or as we later learned not even there. We sat around on the mountain wet and cold for a couple hours glassing everything in site and waiting for something to start talking. We could hear some distant bugles but nothing close enought to get us excited. We couldn't figure out what happened. There were bulls everywhere on these hills last night. As the morning drew on, we honed in on one bull bugling across the dirt road over a mile away. It took us a while to locate him glassing from that distance, but once we found him we knew he was a good bull and might even be the one we got video of the night before. We watched him and his cows for over and hour until we decided they weren't going anywhere. My dad and and my brother Seth who were sitting on a distant ridge decided they needed to make a move on this bull. They hiked back out of the canyon we were in and a couple hours later found themselves on top of the ridge (wind in they're favor) and overlooking the draw we last saw those elk move into. After they got settled in, my brother Trent and I made our move, we positioned ourselves on a ridge directly in front of that canyon about 3/4 mile away from my dad. We had a really good view of the canyon, which was extremly important, because we hadn't hunted this area much and knew if that bull moved we'd have to be on top of our game to get my dad in position for a shot. The canyon was thick with oak bruch twice as tall as these elk which made it hard for them on top looking down to see much of anything. Around 4 in the afternoon the bull (which miraculously was sitting close to the exact same spot we watched him go move into) finally made his move. He bugled and started moving across the canyon. We watched as he moved through a clearning and on top of a little finger, then back into the thick grove of quaking aspens. He was alone for some reason and looked to be on a mission. All the while my Dad and bother on top of the ridge struggled to even see him. He made his way down into the bottom which to our supprise was only a couple hundred yards from Trent and I. He proceeded to tear into a few trees, and take a mud bath before moving back up the same way he came down. We wondered why he was heading back, but knew that this might be the break we needed. On his way back up he managed to keep out of the sight of my dad and brother for most the time. And he moved right back into the thick brush he came out of. Great I though, now we play the waiting game all over again. Then all of the he bugled a growly bugle, almost as if he was mad and proceeded to push his cows up further and into a clearing just 350 yards below my brother and dad who were mewing to get his attention. Not having had a real good look at this bull, my dad had to make a quick decision that this bull was for sure a opening day shooter. He pulled up and rested on the bush in front of him and let'er rip. He missed the first few shots, but connected on the third and that's all it took. He moved out of sight and no longer than 5 min he was sending out his death moans. He was down! Trent and I, after a lot of cheering and jumping around headed down into the deep canyon and started making our way back up to them. When we walked up on the bull we were supprise to see he was way bigger than he looked walking around on the mountain. And with those 18" G4's sticking up in the air we knew this was the bull we wanted.
In the end all that hard work and preperation paid off. We may not have been in the right place that morning, but everything we learned about these elk in the weeks prior quickly lead us to where we needed to be and our patience put him right where we needed him.
Here's a little footage of us dinking around the bull after he was down.
Congrats Dad! Bull of a lifetime!
After a long 14 years of putting in for this hunt this year we finally knew we had the odds to draw the tag. We're a patient crew, but none the less we've been anxiously awaiting our turn for a while now. I won't go into a lot of the scouting that led us to where we were the weekend of the hunt, but it was a lot of time that was well worth it.
So, the day before the opener we'd already decided on where we wanted to be, we packed in light set up our spike camp and were ready to go out heavy. That afternoon as predicted a wet and heavy storm rolled in, but we weren't about to sit it out. We knew once the rain stopped those bulls we'd had our eyes on were going to be singing a new tune. They were, but what we didn't plan on was the fog. It was thick and even though we could hear the roar of bulls around us we couldn't see them. It didn't bother us to bad, being the day before the hunt started all we cared to know what that they were still hanging out where we thought they'd be. Later that night however the fog lifted and my brother Seth who was sitting up on a ridge overlooking a few nearby canyons spotted a nice bull cruising around and making himself known. He was one we hadn't seen before, but after reviewing some footage of him we knew he'd be a shooter in the morning if he showed himself.
That Footage:
That night we sat and listened to at least 5 different bulls signing between 600 and 1000 yards from camp. It was a little too close for comfort, but we knew they wouldn't bother dropping down into where we were camping. At least that's what we thought. We headed to bed and because of the river we we're camped on we didn't hear anything the rest of the night. That night was one of the longest nights I've ever had. Just way to excited about the morning.
The morning came and we got on the mountain extreemly early just as planned, but the rest of it morning didn't go as planned. All those bulls we were hearing were either quiet and hiding or as we later learned not even there. We sat around on the mountain wet and cold for a couple hours glassing everything in site and waiting for something to start talking. We could hear some distant bugles but nothing close enought to get us excited. We couldn't figure out what happened. There were bulls everywhere on these hills last night. As the morning drew on, we honed in on one bull bugling across the dirt road over a mile away. It took us a while to locate him glassing from that distance, but once we found him we knew he was a good bull and might even be the one we got video of the night before. We watched him and his cows for over and hour until we decided they weren't going anywhere. My dad and and my brother Seth who were sitting on a distant ridge decided they needed to make a move on this bull. They hiked back out of the canyon we were in and a couple hours later found themselves on top of the ridge (wind in they're favor) and overlooking the draw we last saw those elk move into. After they got settled in, my brother Trent and I made our move, we positioned ourselves on a ridge directly in front of that canyon about 3/4 mile away from my dad. We had a really good view of the canyon, which was extremly important, because we hadn't hunted this area much and knew if that bull moved we'd have to be on top of our game to get my dad in position for a shot. The canyon was thick with oak bruch twice as tall as these elk which made it hard for them on top looking down to see much of anything. Around 4 in the afternoon the bull (which miraculously was sitting close to the exact same spot we watched him go move into) finally made his move. He bugled and started moving across the canyon. We watched as he moved through a clearning and on top of a little finger, then back into the thick grove of quaking aspens. He was alone for some reason and looked to be on a mission. All the while my Dad and bother on top of the ridge struggled to even see him. He made his way down into the bottom which to our supprise was only a couple hundred yards from Trent and I. He proceeded to tear into a few trees, and take a mud bath before moving back up the same way he came down. We wondered why he was heading back, but knew that this might be the break we needed. On his way back up he managed to keep out of the sight of my dad and brother for most the time. And he moved right back into the thick brush he came out of. Great I though, now we play the waiting game all over again. Then all of the he bugled a growly bugle, almost as if he was mad and proceeded to push his cows up further and into a clearing just 350 yards below my brother and dad who were mewing to get his attention. Not having had a real good look at this bull, my dad had to make a quick decision that this bull was for sure a opening day shooter. He pulled up and rested on the bush in front of him and let'er rip. He missed the first few shots, but connected on the third and that's all it took. He moved out of sight and no longer than 5 min he was sending out his death moans. He was down! Trent and I, after a lot of cheering and jumping around headed down into the deep canyon and started making our way back up to them. When we walked up on the bull we were supprise to see he was way bigger than he looked walking around on the mountain. And with those 18" G4's sticking up in the air we knew this was the bull we wanted.
In the end all that hard work and preperation paid off. We may not have been in the right place that morning, but everything we learned about these elk in the weeks prior quickly lead us to where we needed to be and our patience put him right where we needed him.
Here's a little footage of us dinking around the bull after he was down.
Congrats Dad! Bull of a lifetime!
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