We have spent too many years playing catch and release with fish, and it has dwindled over into our elk hunting. I'd tackle them and hold them down while Dad would measuere the horns to see if they had enough girth. None of them were as big as his moose, so we had to let them all go. It was a great hunt and I'm not sure if I have spent as good as camp time as I had this year. I had my girls and (my wife still) if any of you have been following that saga for the first 5 days and it was great. I then took them home and replaced them with Dad, who isn't as good looking and snores more, but a little less work. We then enjoyed the hell of ourselves. He may have enjoyed himself more than me after all of the painkillers he had to take after I drug him around all day, each day, but oh well. That darn fletch kept showing up with bloody hands though putting the pressure on me.......and darn it , get the story straight, it was 15 bulls the day before the season, and those as*hol* idiots who bungled up the hunt scouting poorly the day before had the nerve to cut my Dad and myself off opening morning after we had been there long before them........Typical Washington stuff though. I can't wait until its my turn. : ) It was Good Huntin' Greg! and.....GOOD LUCK in Montana. Don't let that darn Mike get first shot.