C
Chef
Guest
Hello Gents.
I just returned from my early rifle elk hunt in Colorado. This was my first time in Colorado as well as my first elk hunt.
Our hunting party arrived three days before opening day. The weather had just turned gorgeous after a few days of light rain. We were up at 10500 feet and it was muddy when we arrived. We pitched quite the elaborate camp with a kitchen tent and a large canvas wall tent with a wood burning stove.
We were able to scout and familiarize ourselves with the area. Hunting pressure was slim in the area because of road closures. Any hunting done deep in the canyons was to be done on foot or horses. That was fine by me. I enjoy going for miles and just being outdoors.
The days before the opener were quiet. No elk sign. Plenty of mule deer though. I always chuckle at the sight of abundant deer when no tag is in hand! I also enjoyed finding all sorts of tracks in the mud. From turkey, to bear, to coyote, to elk, to cattle.
Opening day was anxiously greeted. I left camp at first light and still hunted South from camp. I continuously dropped in elevation and went deeper into the canyons. I carried my triple four loaded with Corbon's 280 grainers. I also had a giant smile on my face just enjoying being where I was. I tried to breath in the outdoors as much as I could.
An hour into my adventure I heard a close bugle in the next valley maybe 300 yards over. I thought to myself..."these hunters sure are wasting their time calling, the rut is supposed to be over" I was now weary of continuing in the bugles direction since I felt I was just walking into a group of overly anxious hunters. I looked across the valley onto my opposite hillside only to catch a glimpse of elk behind moving into the timber! "There is elk here!" I remember thinking. Not only that, but they were headed to the calls! The bugles and cow calls became more and more. Before I knew it I was under the impression that there had to be multiple hunters all bugling and mewing.
The party was halted with the report of gunfire. "They got him" I said. Then the bugles comensed. Something wasn't right. I now came under the realization that I was smack in the middle of a herd of elk. I heard trampling heading away from my direction. I quickly found cover, sat down and started to bugle myself.
Next thing I know I hear some crashing coming down the hillside in my direction. I see a bull! I drop the call and shoulder my Marlin...one bull...two bulls...three bulls...four bulls...FIVE BULLS come out of the heavy timber towards me! I quickly field judge the bulls to settle on the fourth in line which was the largest.
KABOOM! KABOOM!......elk down! I couldn't believe it. One hour and forty five minutes into my hunt and I down an elk. I was ecstatic. I waited for the bull to expire (that's what they say to do anyway) but galloped my way down the hillside towards the bull after seeing a large pool of blood running from its muzzle. I thanked God and raised my arms and fists in the air as if I just won a heavy weight boxing match!
Now the hard part started. I was so deep into the forest, packing out the bone was not an option. By then my father arrived since he "knew it was the sound of my triple four" that he had heard in the distance.
Needless to say, it was very tough to gut, quarter, bone out, and pack out this animal. It took us a whole three days with me only packing out the hide on the third day. We nicknamed our camp "Heaven" because we had been to Hells Canyon!
(Notice the custom "rack" I have for my guide gun as I pack out the head.)
My friend Dave also tagged a bull opening day. So two out of five wasn't bad for the whole trip.
I enjoyed being out with my Dad and great friends. I am finally in the stage of my life when I can take him hunting instead of him taking us "boys". Everyone out there was very friendly. I was very happy to tag a bull and even happier to do so with my Marlin.
Thanks for looking.
Regards,
Chef
"I Love Animals...They're Delicious!"
I just returned from my early rifle elk hunt in Colorado. This was my first time in Colorado as well as my first elk hunt.
Our hunting party arrived three days before opening day. The weather had just turned gorgeous after a few days of light rain. We were up at 10500 feet and it was muddy when we arrived. We pitched quite the elaborate camp with a kitchen tent and a large canvas wall tent with a wood burning stove.
We were able to scout and familiarize ourselves with the area. Hunting pressure was slim in the area because of road closures. Any hunting done deep in the canyons was to be done on foot or horses. That was fine by me. I enjoy going for miles and just being outdoors.
The days before the opener were quiet. No elk sign. Plenty of mule deer though. I always chuckle at the sight of abundant deer when no tag is in hand! I also enjoyed finding all sorts of tracks in the mud. From turkey, to bear, to coyote, to elk, to cattle.
Opening day was anxiously greeted. I left camp at first light and still hunted South from camp. I continuously dropped in elevation and went deeper into the canyons. I carried my triple four loaded with Corbon's 280 grainers. I also had a giant smile on my face just enjoying being where I was. I tried to breath in the outdoors as much as I could.
An hour into my adventure I heard a close bugle in the next valley maybe 300 yards over. I thought to myself..."these hunters sure are wasting their time calling, the rut is supposed to be over" I was now weary of continuing in the bugles direction since I felt I was just walking into a group of overly anxious hunters. I looked across the valley onto my opposite hillside only to catch a glimpse of elk behind moving into the timber! "There is elk here!" I remember thinking. Not only that, but they were headed to the calls! The bugles and cow calls became more and more. Before I knew it I was under the impression that there had to be multiple hunters all bugling and mewing.
The party was halted with the report of gunfire. "They got him" I said. Then the bugles comensed. Something wasn't right. I now came under the realization that I was smack in the middle of a herd of elk. I heard trampling heading away from my direction. I quickly found cover, sat down and started to bugle myself.
Next thing I know I hear some crashing coming down the hillside in my direction. I see a bull! I drop the call and shoulder my Marlin...one bull...two bulls...three bulls...four bulls...FIVE BULLS come out of the heavy timber towards me! I quickly field judge the bulls to settle on the fourth in line which was the largest.
KABOOM! KABOOM!......elk down! I couldn't believe it. One hour and forty five minutes into my hunt and I down an elk. I was ecstatic. I waited for the bull to expire (that's what they say to do anyway) but galloped my way down the hillside towards the bull after seeing a large pool of blood running from its muzzle. I thanked God and raised my arms and fists in the air as if I just won a heavy weight boxing match!
Now the hard part started. I was so deep into the forest, packing out the bone was not an option. By then my father arrived since he "knew it was the sound of my triple four" that he had heard in the distance.
Needless to say, it was very tough to gut, quarter, bone out, and pack out this animal. It took us a whole three days with me only packing out the hide on the third day. We nicknamed our camp "Heaven" because we had been to Hells Canyon!
(Notice the custom "rack" I have for my guide gun as I pack out the head.)
My friend Dave also tagged a bull opening day. So two out of five wasn't bad for the whole trip.
I enjoyed being out with my Dad and great friends. I am finally in the stage of my life when I can take him hunting instead of him taking us "boys". Everyone out there was very friendly. I was very happy to tag a bull and even happier to do so with my Marlin.
Thanks for looking.
Regards,
Chef
"I Love Animals...They're Delicious!"
