Thanks guys, I appreciate the comments. I guess I could tell the story as well.....
I had hunted the same UT general bull area for almost 15 years. Last year we decided we ought to try some place new. We saw good numbers of elk, but didn't choose to harvest anything. (we mainly saw really small spikes) Fast forward to this year. We decide to go back to this same "new" area as we had learned some things hunting it the previous year.
I setup at first light with a few inches of new snow and saw very little move. I had 4 cows and a rag horn come off the ridge above and walk right into me. The bull hung up at about 275 yds in the trees. I had only a small window shooting lane. When the cows busted me and they all took off, I took a shot at the rag horn. I don't claim to be an expert marksman, but I've always held my own at <300yds. Well, I missed this bull, but just to be safe I decided to track him and the cows back up and over the ridge. I found no sign of blood/guts and the bull stayed right with the cows through some might steep country. I followed their tracks off the other side and held up in some quakes to take a look around - it was a beautiful morning!
I'd been leaning against this big quakie for 5 to 10 minutes when I started to hear something behind me. I had been looking uphill as the wind was carrying my scent downhill. I continue to hear what sounds like something getting closer. I finally turn around far enough to see this bull at 40 yards and closing the gap. I have my rifle slung on my shoulder and don't dare move just yet. I let him keep coming. At 10 to 15 yards I finally quickly unsling my gun, the motion spooks the bull and he whirls and heads back downhill. He went about 30 yards with me whistling at him and turned around broadside to check me out. Bad mistake!
The ole Ruger .270 broke the silence and the 150gr Fusion did it's job with a fatal heart shot. The bull turned and ran downhill 30 yards, smacked a quakie, taking a 2" gouge out of it and fell over. I have historically been with my father each time I have killed a bull elk, this time I was alone. I thanked the Lord for being able to harvest this animal and for my father that taught me and continues to teach me so many things in life!
I field dressed the bull and began to skin and quarter as the snow began to fall. By the time we had everything packed out there was 8 inches of new snow on the ground and we were some wet cold dogs!
It was a great hunt, shared with great friends and many good memories!