2012 bull story w/pics
I haven't cruised around on this site for years, but I got to thinking that some of you might like to see some pictures of the bull I tagged this last September, 2012.
I work for an outfitter, so Septembers are usually pretty hectic for me. When I'm not guiding I am packing drop camps, doing meat runs, and even cooking for some summer recreational pack-trips. I arm wrestled my boss for a little time off to do some rut bowhunting, and he let me have 8 days.
I saddled up my ponies (two packers and a rider) and pushed about 25 miles in on the first day. I got up early, and was disappointed to find very little elk sign , and alot more hunter sign than I'm used to finding this far back. Turns out that a neighboring outfitter had been cramming camps in this particular drainage for most of the season, which had been going on for three weeks by this point.
I hunted hard for my whole second day, and didn't hear a peep, see an elk, or find any fresh sign. I think a wolf pack may have moved in and stirred things up a bit. Conditions were hot and dry, so I made the call to move up in elevation from 5,500 to about 8,000. I saddled up the third morning, and headed to a central location between several alpine cirques I felt the elk might be rutting in. I was right!
The second evening provided my first elk sighting. Three young bulls feeding out the ridge a few miles from where I camped and hobbled my ponies. It was a challenging stalk through some serious mtn. goat terrain down to the little meadow they were feeding in, but I was able to make it down to their level, set up, and begin my hunt. I set up behind a small group of trees and cow called softly and infrequently, but couldn't pique their interest, and I made it back to camp at dark with no bloody arrows.
The fourth morning proved to be even more exciting than the previous evening. I spotted a very nice bull with only one horn. I'm not much of a trophy hunter, and a bull with any horns at all is fine by me, so I went for it. He was feeding in a meadow about 2,000 feet below me, and bu the time I got down there the sun was hitting the meadow, and the winds were swirling. Long story short, the bull cow called into within 10 yards, caught a wiff, stood me off, staring directly at me, and finally whirled and ran.
Feeling a little defeated I climbed back up to the ridgeline, hoofed it down to the next basin to see what I could stir up. Right as I first reached the second basin I heard two bugles right on top of one another. I waited a few minutes, and the bulls bugled on top of one another again. I was able to pinpoint their location in the sparse stringers of subalpine fir and whitebark pine a little below me and a few hundred yards around the corner. I dropped in and as I worked my way towards the bulls I cow called suggestively, which really got thing heated up. Both bulls ran towards me immediately. It sounded like a freight train coming, with logs breaking, rocks rolling, chuckling, glunking, and general mayhem. Just what we all dream about. I set up behind a small cluster of subalpine fir trees, crouched down, and resumed calling. I made a mistake here that I've made hundred of times. I called as the first bull popped into view at about 20 yards, such that he pinpointed my position exactly, and headed straight for the trees I was tucked behind. He came within five yards, hung up, and ran.
As he took off, I think he spooked the other bull which was a hundred yards or so, and they both headed back to where I had initially heard them talking from.
They both continued to bugle, so I made the call to follow them. What I found as I pushed towards them was what some of you might have seen before. It was a true Elk lair. Every sapling was raked, every spring was a wallow, and the smell of rutting bull made my eyes water. As I began bugling to keep the bulls in a frenzy, It became clear to me that there was a larger bull in there acting more silently than the original two. I made absolutely sure to check the wind constantly. I geared down, did some breathing exercises, and generally took the time to center myself and "get in the zone" I tried to study the clues of what was going on in this lair, and since there were no cows around, I figured that the lair belonged to a larger bull, and the two satellite bulls were pestering him. I elected to quietly sneak into his lair And pretend like on of the smaller bulls, raking trees, bugling, glunking and generally thrashing around. It pissed him off for sure, and he began to bugle a bit as well. I tried to cover his bugles which pissed him off, but didn't really bring him towards me.
Then I hit onto a bright idea. I felt that I needed to sound like I had some cows, and that I was leaving the country with them. I started mixing cow calls in with my thrashing, and then I walked deliberately away from the bull, herd calling. This caused exactly the response I had hoped for, the bull started following me, above me a few hundred yards. I seemed like he was trying to cut off my exit from the meadow, so I took off towards the back door, got behind a big hose sized rock, and the bull got there only a few second after I did.
He stepped into the open, ripped a bugle which made my lungs rattle, and continued walking as I drew my bow, anchored in, and put a sitka spruce arrow right behind the elbow at 17 paces.
I never even looked at the antlers. I could see my arrow bury to the feathers, and then corkscrew and pop out as he lunged away. He slowly walked wobbily away, and crashed over just out of sight.
I was pumped.
As I walked up to him, I couldn't help but stare in disbelief. What an incredible feeling. My first branch antlered bull was laying there dead. unreal.
I know I exclaimed to myself out loud at least once "that is a nice bull"
I sat there reverently beside him for a half hour or so, contemplating my journey, as well as his, to reach this point together. I'll admit I felt a sense of loss, as the other two bulls continued bugling in the meadow below us. While sad, I felt excited to have played a part in the primal drama.
I haven't cruised around on this site for years, but I got to thinking that some of you might like to see some pictures of the bull I tagged this last September, 2012.
I work for an outfitter, so Septembers are usually pretty hectic for me. When I'm not guiding I am packing drop camps, doing meat runs, and even cooking for some summer recreational pack-trips. I arm wrestled my boss for a little time off to do some rut bowhunting, and he let me have 8 days.
I saddled up my ponies (two packers and a rider) and pushed about 25 miles in on the first day. I got up early, and was disappointed to find very little elk sign , and alot more hunter sign than I'm used to finding this far back. Turns out that a neighboring outfitter had been cramming camps in this particular drainage for most of the season, which had been going on for three weeks by this point.
I hunted hard for my whole second day, and didn't hear a peep, see an elk, or find any fresh sign. I think a wolf pack may have moved in and stirred things up a bit. Conditions were hot and dry, so I made the call to move up in elevation from 5,500 to about 8,000. I saddled up the third morning, and headed to a central location between several alpine cirques I felt the elk might be rutting in. I was right!
The second evening provided my first elk sighting. Three young bulls feeding out the ridge a few miles from where I camped and hobbled my ponies. It was a challenging stalk through some serious mtn. goat terrain down to the little meadow they were feeding in, but I was able to make it down to their level, set up, and begin my hunt. I set up behind a small group of trees and cow called softly and infrequently, but couldn't pique their interest, and I made it back to camp at dark with no bloody arrows.
The fourth morning proved to be even more exciting than the previous evening. I spotted a very nice bull with only one horn. I'm not much of a trophy hunter, and a bull with any horns at all is fine by me, so I went for it. He was feeding in a meadow about 2,000 feet below me, and bu the time I got down there the sun was hitting the meadow, and the winds were swirling. Long story short, the bull cow called into within 10 yards, caught a wiff, stood me off, staring directly at me, and finally whirled and ran.
Feeling a little defeated I climbed back up to the ridgeline, hoofed it down to the next basin to see what I could stir up. Right as I first reached the second basin I heard two bugles right on top of one another. I waited a few minutes, and the bulls bugled on top of one another again. I was able to pinpoint their location in the sparse stringers of subalpine fir and whitebark pine a little below me and a few hundred yards around the corner. I dropped in and as I worked my way towards the bulls I cow called suggestively, which really got thing heated up. Both bulls ran towards me immediately. It sounded like a freight train coming, with logs breaking, rocks rolling, chuckling, glunking, and general mayhem. Just what we all dream about. I set up behind a small cluster of subalpine fir trees, crouched down, and resumed calling. I made a mistake here that I've made hundred of times. I called as the first bull popped into view at about 20 yards, such that he pinpointed my position exactly, and headed straight for the trees I was tucked behind. He came within five yards, hung up, and ran.
As he took off, I think he spooked the other bull which was a hundred yards or so, and they both headed back to where I had initially heard them talking from.
They both continued to bugle, so I made the call to follow them. What I found as I pushed towards them was what some of you might have seen before. It was a true Elk lair. Every sapling was raked, every spring was a wallow, and the smell of rutting bull made my eyes water. As I began bugling to keep the bulls in a frenzy, It became clear to me that there was a larger bull in there acting more silently than the original two. I made absolutely sure to check the wind constantly. I geared down, did some breathing exercises, and generally took the time to center myself and "get in the zone" I tried to study the clues of what was going on in this lair, and since there were no cows around, I figured that the lair belonged to a larger bull, and the two satellite bulls were pestering him. I elected to quietly sneak into his lair And pretend like on of the smaller bulls, raking trees, bugling, glunking and generally thrashing around. It pissed him off for sure, and he began to bugle a bit as well. I tried to cover his bugles which pissed him off, but didn't really bring him towards me.
Then I hit onto a bright idea. I felt that I needed to sound like I had some cows, and that I was leaving the country with them. I started mixing cow calls in with my thrashing, and then I walked deliberately away from the bull, herd calling. This caused exactly the response I had hoped for, the bull started following me, above me a few hundred yards. I seemed like he was trying to cut off my exit from the meadow, so I took off towards the back door, got behind a big hose sized rock, and the bull got there only a few second after I did.
He stepped into the open, ripped a bugle which made my lungs rattle, and continued walking as I drew my bow, anchored in, and put a sitka spruce arrow right behind the elbow at 17 paces.
I never even looked at the antlers. I could see my arrow bury to the feathers, and then corkscrew and pop out as he lunged away. He slowly walked wobbily away, and crashed over just out of sight.
I was pumped.
As I walked up to him, I couldn't help but stare in disbelief. What an incredible feeling. My first branch antlered bull was laying there dead. unreal.
I know I exclaimed to myself out loud at least once "that is a nice bull"
I sat there reverently beside him for a half hour or so, contemplating my journey, as well as his, to reach this point together. I'll admit I felt a sense of loss, as the other two bulls continued bugling in the meadow below us. While sad, I felt excited to have played a part in the primal drama.
