Sometimes things just work out...

While Doug and I hunted side by side for much of Thursday and Friday, on Wednesday we went our separate ways for much of the day and this is his tale of his Wednesday afternoon (in his own words and used with his permission)...

The morning of the opener of Utah's general season muzzleloader elk hunt came along a lot faster that I would have ever imagined. I found myself glassing for elk like I had imagined all summer long. My heart skipped a beat when I finally spotted tan dots in the distance moving into a stand of oak. My binos dropped to my chest and I grabbed the spotting scope and tripod and lined them up as if I was going to take a shot. At over a 1000 yards I could tell the that the bull that I was looking at was a 6pt on at least his right side. From that point on I had enough adrenalin to last me into the end of the day. We decided that since in years past we could just aimlessly wander the hillsides and come across elk there was nothing to lose going in after those elk so immediately we packed up of the heavy gear and left it in the car as we started hour trek towards the elk. Just before dropping down where we would lose sight of where they were we noticed another herd just below a saddle headed in the direction we wanted.

As we arrived at where the elk were we discovered that they were no where to be found. So I radioed Jared and he informed me that they had moved to the pines above my current location. It was then that I realized that I had a vacant rangefinder pouch on my belt. I am famous for losing rangefinders and apparently my trademark move manifested itself again. I did a brief retrace of my steps and never located it and finally decided to pursue the elk in the pines. As I approached the pines I discovered 3 hunters at the top of the hill and I can only assume that at least one of them was hard of hearing because they were all talking in a manner that would enable me to hear their conversation from hundreds of yards away. I figured that any elk in the area would move on since their voices echoed throughout the canyon.

The next hill over is beyond what I would consider to be reasonable hiking distance from our vehicle but I decided to go ahead and check it anyways. As I reached the summit I picked out a tan dot leaned up against a triangle shaped rock several ridges over. Unsure if it was an elk I decided to check it out anyways. Sure enough as I hiked and hiked and hiked the dot stood up to graze and to adjust to get comfortable. From 1000's of yards I could tell that it was a cow elk but I had high hopes that perhaps a bull was in the vicinity. The location was miles and miles from where I had originally started out and there were several 1000ft of elevation that I would have to go up and down in order to get to the elk, but I figured an elk is an elk. The triangle shaped rock was a perfect landmark and I just wanted to kill an elk.

So I dropped down 1000ft in elevation only to climb 549ft to be able to get a better look at the cow. Once I reached the summit I discovered that several moose were going to be obstacles that I was going to have to work around to get to the elk undetected. 2 bull moose and a cow and a calf were going to have to keep mum as I snuck past them in order to line up a shot on a non existent bull bedded with the cows. I figured worse case scenario I get a little bit of practice at stalking elk and best case scenario there is a bull bedded down with the cows. So I had nothing to lose and stalked past the first 2 bulls. I could watch the tips of their palms as I snuck past them and they never even stood up. Next the cow and the calf decided to stand up and they head up the hill and vacated the area. I was able to keep tabs on the cow the entire hike and she finally had me pinned once I got within 200 yards of her. She stood up and I expected her to vacate the area and I got ready for a shot in case a bull followed her. As she got antsy I noticed other elk in the stand of trees magically appear and stand up from her proximity. Soon they started to file out 2 cows and a calf exited the bedding area and one calf remained.

I once heard on a forum that a calf elk weighs about as much as a big buck deer and I figured I could handle packing out a calf and I happened to have a cow elk tag on me so I lined up a shot and got on the ground and rested my muzzleloader on my pack. Boom! Smoke and rotten eggs smell was all over the place. Then when the smoke cleared the calf was laying right where I had shot at her and her legs were kicking up in the air. I gave a high five to an imaginary friend knowing that he would not be helping me with the pack out. I began to hike towards my elk and suddenly it got its hind feet up. It made an attempt to bleat but blood clogged its throat and it spit out blood. It was doing a rear wheel drive plow and moving along. I could hear all kinds of commotion in the direction it was headed and I knew it would not be getting far. I waited for about 30 minutes because surely I had a dead elk on my hands.

After an eternity of cleaning my gun and loading a round I headed up and found sure signs of a lung hit and foliage smeared with blood. Just as I was approaching where I expected her to be I noticed 2 camouflage hunters on a dead run. As soon as I raised my binoculars onto them I gazed over at their quarry. Sure enough I spotted the calf bedded down with grass matted down on a circle around her. Just as I focused on her I watched her hind quarter raise and she rolled over and a nano-second later I heard a boom! She was kicking in the air unable to get up this time. From my optics I watched an adult approach the elk and slit its throat. I was headed down to make sense of what had just happened when I could see camera flashes on the hillside. I raised my binos to see a kid holding up the head of the calf. It was getting late and I still had miles and miles to hike before reaching civilization so I decided to let the young hunter and mentor enjoy their moment.

The next day we observed the same hunters with some pack horses and the calf wrapped up in florescent orange. I couldn't help but feel better about not having to have to pack that calf out of there. My cow tag is a late season tag that will be starting at a later date for the same area so I would have another opportunity to fill it.

Sometimes things just work out.

That One Good Chance...

In an effort to not tempt fate, or anger the gods, or invoke bad juju… each year when the hunts begin I enter the field with the hope of getting just one good opportunity to fill my tag and put some antlers on the wall and meat in the freezer. I trust that when that one good chance does happen that I am up to the task. This year’s muzzleloader elk hunt was all about that one good chance…

Darren, Doug, and I piled all our gear and food into my Chevy Equinox and made the relatively short drive up the canyon to the cabin. Grandpa, having left earlier that morning would be waiting for us to arrive with the fire already roaring, the cabin toasty warm, and a pot of taco soup simmering on the stove. We unloaded our gear and settled in for the evening with the anticipation of opening morning growing. Jared would arrive early Wednesday morning, and my uncle would arrive Thursday morning due to some Church responsibilities.
Darren, Grandpa, and my uncle would primarily drive the roads hoping to find “a stupid one” which they could shoot. Doug, Jared, and I would take a very different approach. Opening morning found Doug, Jared, and I high atop the ridge glassing the big valley below and across from us. After several more minutes than we had originally hoped, as Doug hunched over the eyepiece of his spotting scope he muttered the words that would set the day into motion… “We got elk!”

Sure enough it was a decent sized herd working along an area we call The Short Ridges. A plan was devised and off we went splitting off to cover different routes in our pursuit of the herd. Shortly after that a second herd was spotted coming down a rocky chute from a saddle two ridges away. I dropped all the way down to the bottom of the big canyon then up the other side where I ultimately lost the two herds. I decided to take a stroll up the ridge to glass a familiar bowl with ponds where another friend and I had shot a cow elk during the muzzleloader deer hunt. I found a great rock to lean up against as I sat on the ground and glassed the hillside. I had a prime view of the area and there was a good deal of animal activity in the area… three bull moose sparring over a cow, two small buck deer grunting and chasing three does and a smaller buck around… but no elk.

I got comfortable sitting against that rock and just soaked in the late October scenery and the activity around me knowing that the herds could not have gone far and I had a pretty good idea where they were. Up the hill above me near the rim of the bowl I began to hear talking and I scanned the horizon to locate three guys above me in not-so-quiet conversation about their morning hunt. It was noon, and after several minutes of listening to their conversation I began to hear the unmistakable sound of elk vacating an area. It took me a second to get eyes on the herd because it sounded like they were stampeding from everywhere. Eventually a string of 17 elk made their way south of me back across the rocky chute below the saddle and out the area I was watching. The elk were actually right where I thought they would be. There were 10 cows and calves and seven bulls in the herd. One of the bulls was a good bull, considerably larger than the raghorn bulls in the group.

I decided to try and follow the herd and I made my way across the rocky chute and up to the saddle. At the top I peeked over and took a couple minutes to glass an area that we call “The Claw.” Even if I was able to spot something I’m not sure if I would have been too anxious to go any further after it because with every step my little silver car on the horizon two ridges to the north was getting further and further away and the afternoon getting later and later. I also peeked around the rocky saddle to the south and spotted a group of three hunters sitting on the ridge below me quite a ways. I decided that it’d be best to begin my trek back in the direction of the car figuring that it may take me all the remaining daylight hours to get back there. On the return hike I was able to spot and photograph one of the biggest bull moose I've seen in a while.

After finally reaching the car, I realized that I may have overextended myself on this opening day!
The forecast for Thursday was not great as a small storm system would work its way through the area. We again found ourselves high on the ridge in the morning glassing and spotted the herd from the previous day again working their way down the rocky chute below the saddle. The clouds began to roll in and visibility soon became somewhere between none and zero. We tried to wait it out as long as we could and spent a good chunk of time in the car just kind of existing together waiting for any little break in the clouds. We’d had enough of that and decided to head back to the cabin. The valley around the cabin was considerably clearer so we decided to hike up to a spot that my family calls “The Big Rock” which was a very popular place to go sit years ago during the rifle deer hunt… too popular in my uncle’s words. We spooked a couple of deer but that was about it and as the storm began to roll into this valley we decided to head back to the cabin and hunker down for the night & Jared decided to call it a trip and head for home.
Friday morning Doug and I followed the usual routine and arrived high on the ridge and began glassing. In the very early pre-dawn we spotted a new herd of elk directly across the canyon from us. There were 6 or 7 cows and calves and 4 bulls… one small bull and three 5x5s. We watched as the cows/calves made their way into some nearby pines and we assumed at that time they bedded down. The three 5x5 bulls continued to feed, moving at a very leisurely pace. We hatched a plan to shadow them from the ridge we were on and see if we could see where they would possibly bed down and hopefully it would be in a spot that would allow us to make a decent stalk.
The three bulls entered a small clump of pines and didn’t come out. We decided to give them a couple minutes and just make sure. One of the bulls emerged from the pines, circled them, then went right back in and did not come out. By this time we had dropped nearly halfway down from the ridge we were on & we knew that we had three elk in a clump of pines and it appeared like they were in a relatively vulnerable position. Our plan was to always keep those pines in sight and we would leap frog each other to various landmarks until we got all the way down to the bottom of the canyon and would have to lose sight of the clump of pines. Once at the bottom of the canyon, we made a straight line assault on the steep incline to a pine tree that we had selected as our preferred final destination.
As we skirted the pine and found a good spot to sit in full view of the pines, we spotted one of the three bulls bedded just behind a scrubby bush. He was bedded with the front shoulder and a small portion of his vitals exposed. We debated as to whether or not to try the shot, but I never could feel confident looking through the 1x scope the vertical crosshair covered up that entire opening. The range finder repeatedly told me the elk was 161 yards away. Doug and I sat in the wet leaves for several minutes with both of us stating our disbelief that our plan had actually worked and here we sat with what we really hoped would be that one opportunity… that one chance.
We sat for a couple minutes and discussed the shot that we were hoping would be presented and I clearly remember reminding each other to aim slightly lower than we would think due to the steep angle of the shot. At 161 yards, at that angle, the aim point should be right on the vital area with very little compensation for the distance. We were ready for anything to happen now, I was on the shooting sticks and it was a waiting game. Sooner than expected, the bedded bull that we could see came to alert and then stood. It was slow motion and chaos simultaneously! Everything that we had just discussed went completely out the window and the first bull stepped clear of the scrubby bush. I put my vertical crosshair right where the dark mane of the neck meets the light hair of the body and the horizontal crosshair at the top of the hump on the shoulder and fired. The other two bulls stepped out as well and Doug fired. The bulls then stampeded down the hillside towards the bottom of the canyon appearing no worse for wear. We sat in the wet leaves reliving the three seconds that it took for us to both shoot and the elk to be gone and as we recounted to each other our shots we both realized that in the heat of the moment “Bull Fever” won the day. Both of our shots wizzed just over the backs of different bulls! A good scouring of the area where the bulls were bedded then ran revealed that the elk had incurred no injury and were safe on this morning. I have relived that image through my scope a number of times now and think of the “what could have been” had I actually followed my own advice and aimed just as we had discussed!

We made it back to the car and a wave of unforecasted snow settled into the valley for the afternoon. Back at the cabin we again relived our exploits of the morning and prepared for Saturday morning which would be our last morning to hunt. Saturday morning we located the cows and calves that were with the bulls the previous day but they were methodically moving their way up the mountain putting distance between us and them at a steady pace. We closed the final chapter of this hunt by watching that string of elk zigzag through the pines two ridges to the west of us and up over the top dropping over into The Claw.