Over the last several weeks I have been waging one of those internal struggles that would impact how I go about my business hunting and fishing going forward. I had been putting off taking my kids because of how young they are and because my hunting and fishing style is, for lack of better words, just a lot of work. I guess you could say that one of my New Year's “resolutions” was/is to include my children in some of theses activities.
I had a cow elk tag that ran through the end of the year for 2015 and had been unable to make much time to try and fill this tag, so a couple friends and I decided to take the last two days of the year off and dedicate that time to chasing some cow elk. The night before (so the 29th) as the kids were getting ready to go to bed I asked my wife if I should take my oldest son with me. As soon as my wife said that would be fine, I got nervous... the forecast was for exceptionally cold temperatures and I began to get uneasy that I would be able to keep him warm enough to be able to out there for very long. When I asked him if he wanted to go he just lit up and I told him to gather his snow gear as if we were going snowmobiling.
The next morning (the 30th) I poked my head into Logan's bedroom at 5am to wake him up and he popped up out of bed. We got dressed in the kitchen where I had laid out his clothes and made sure that he matched how I dressed layer for layer. We jumped in the car and headed for the canyon. As we pulled into the parking area of the WMA there was a large herd of elk just off the side of the road. These elk were safely within the fences of private property. As we entered parking lot to the WMA we found a dozen or more trucks already there with small orange dots peppering the hillside and canyon in front of us. I'm conditioned to hunt private property where pressure is light, and in many instances my hunting party may be the only one on the mountain for days, so this was going to be very different for me... let the rodeo begin.
We chatted briefly with a gentleman that was waiting in his truck for a friend. He was extremely anxious because his friend has access to the private area adjacent to the WMA where the large roadside elk herd was located. I asked if there was any way for others to gain access or permission from the landowner but was told that only 4 individuals were granted access to the ranchers property. After hearing that I immediately considered the possibility that this rancher who is not allowing hunters to push elk off his property would soon be crying for assistance from the DWR to pay for damage to his property and feed by these elk... a frustrating train of thought. The roadside herd of elk began working it's way out of the bottoms into a large bowl that is also part of the ranchers property.
He began to use some colorful language in front of my 8 year old son, so I ended the conversation and began hiking. We worked our way up the bottom of the canyon for about a mile. We spotted a good number of deer but no elk. We had heard a handful of shots early while talking to the gentleman in the parking area, but we were not seeing much in terms of elk.
We picked out a small knoll that we figured would give us a good vantage point and made our way to the top. At the top we spotted two cow elk bedded in in a open area about a mile away.
As we looked over these two cows, we also spotted two orange dots between us and the elk. We thought for sure they had seen the elk and were working their way over to them. As we watched these two hunters for several minutes it became apparent that they could not and had not seen the elk. A plan was hatched for a couple of us to skirt below the two hunters who had hunkered down under a couple pines and close the distance on the two bedded cows. I asked Logan if he wanted to come with me or if he wanted to stay on the knoll with a couple of the other guys. He was coming with me, so off we went blazing our own trail through thick brush and thigh deep snow... waist deep for him. He was with me stride for stride and we covered ground faster than I had thought we would. Doug had reached the landmark before I did and had a couple minutes to get settled into position and keep and eye on the elk.
Logan decided to stay by the tree while Doug and I moved 30 or 40 yards to get a clearer shot.
My elk was to be the one on the left, so with a clear shot on the bedded cow I took aim and fired. The bedded cow stood, so a second shot was taken. At the second shot she lurched and took off on a mad dash down into some of the thickest and nastiest stuff I have ever seen. We found the blood trail and we followed it for a short time until we found her laying down in an even thicker thicket. We negotiated thick brush, steep slopes, and waist and thigh deep snow... and the whole time Logan was right there pointing out drops of blood that had frozen on twigs and branches. A final shot was administered to ensure the chase ended there shortly after noon. My goodness, she went through some of the most awful brush that I have ever seen and had there not been a blanket of white snow on the ground making a blood trail clear I would guarantee that we would have probably never found her.
Doug took a couple pictures with Logan and I. I've taken some amazing pictures hunting and fishing over the years... but these are my favorites.
Logan is a very methodical and observant little guy and had a litany of questions as I began to skin and quarter the cow (which we actually determined to be a female calf, her ivories had just barely erupted). He watched as I began to peel the hide back to reveal the muscle and observed that muscles continued to twitch and everything appeared to be “wrapped in plastic already.” He made sure that I took all of the meat that he could see. I skinned and quartered solo since Doug had left Logan and I once we had found this elk to go and track the other one. I wanted no part of coming back into that area for a second trip so I loaded up my pack with all the meat it would hold, then made up a second sack that I would carry in my arms. We would go about 50 yards and I'd need a rest. Bless his heart, Logan was right there in my footsteps.
It was about a half mile to where we would meet up with the guys that we had left (they had worked their way one knoll closer to where the elk had been), and when we finally reached them I was absolutely gassed, and Logan was talking a blue streak. His energy and excitement really kept me going. Josh offered to take the bag that I was carrying in my arms, which really helped. We were able to get back to the main trail which really helped, because plowing through deep powder with an extra 70ish pounds on your back is pretty rough. We made it back to the parking area and loaded the meat in the cooler at about 4pm.
The heater in the car was turned on and layer after layer of clothes were shed, toes and fingers were warmed up, and picture texts were sent to mom and just about every family member I had a phone number for showing our trophy saying we would be home soon.
My Fitbit read 8.25 miles, more than half of that was plowing through fresh powder... and throughout the day I did not hear one word of complaint from Logan. I am not only prouder than heck of him but I'm truly impressed with him... he's one tough little dude.
With the meat home I took the next couple days to butcher everything and get it into our freezer. I laid out the steaks and roasts. My other boys ran over to the table and screamed “STEAK!!!” much like a Civil War General would have yelled “CHARGE!!!” to his troops. I got my wife's attention with the 17 pounds of ground that I later laid out on the table. For many years now I have put meat in the freezer and it's always been “dad's elk” or “dad's deer”... this one is different, it's “our elk” and I hope that he takes as much satisfaction and pride in putting it on the table as I do.
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.
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.
Shortly after finding out that Doug had struck out on drawing his usual Utah deer tag, and dealing with the disgust and disappointment that followed, we began to investigate other “options.” The previous year Doug had drawn a Utah antlerless pronghorn tag and had really enjoyed his experience so I ended up on the Wyoming Game and Fish website trying to get a feel for that states requirements and costs for a doe/fawn tag. I would learn that the application period was still open for another couple days and the cost of the doe/fawn tags was “cheap” with respect to non-resident tag fees.
So, being a good friend and trying to soothe Doug's now eternally bitter soul, I shared my findings with him and we submitted a group application for Wyoming pronghorn, each of us applying for a pair of tags.
Results were posted sometime in June and Doug’s luck had changed… we ended up drawing our second choice tags. Research began and as the hunt opened in October we felt like we had a least a couple of places where we could shoot a handful of pronghorn. Doug was able to make two trips to The Cowboy State before I was able to. During his first trip he was stopped glassing a large field and a local Sherriff stopped and talked to him. The Sheriff gave him the name and phone number of the property owner, and after a quick phone call Doug was granted permission to hunt the private property with the stipulation that he wait until after the deer hunt had closed.
So a week or so later, with permission in hand, Doug returned and was able to fill both of his tags in one morning. He returned and once I was able to clear my schedule for an afternoon we again obtained permission to hunt the swath of private property and it was my turn to try and fill my tags.
We left northern Utah at about 12:30 and made the quick drive to our hunting area. The first herd of pronghorn that we saw was mostly bucks. We estimated maybe 30 head in that herd and I got my first taste of how quickly those critters get jittery and begin to shuffle around and move off into another county. We inspected a couple other agricultural fields before finding a herd that was in a prime location for a stalk. We parked the car and began closing the distance on this herd. I guess I surprised Doug because when we hit the creek bottom and lower field and were completely hidden from view of the pronghorn I began to run through the sagebrush. We reached the tree that we had made our reference point but I was unable to get into a good position for a shot. The herd soon became agitated and began to move off without a good clear shot ever presenting itself. We continued to pursue the herd because they were merely wandering up over the ridge, they were not running with the intent to leave the county.
As we reached the ridge a doe pronghorn came out and stood right in front of us at something like 180 to 200 yards. I tried to steady the crosshairs on her but ended up pulling the shot. Now the pronghorn were serious about getting out of there. We continued to work that ridge pushing a couple little herds around but never getting any quality opportunities to shoot. We reached the end of the ridge and stood at the top where the valley now opened up before us. It was a perfect vantage point and we were treated to a scene right out of a PBS Nature show about African plains animals. A herd of pronghorn a couple hundred strong stretched across the valley floor and halfway up the opposite side of the valley. The wind was bad and we were left to simply be awestruck as the entire herd worked its way across the valley floor and bedded in the sage on the opposite side.
We worked back towards the car and near the car we spotted a buck with two fawns feeding along a fenceline. We tried to close the gap without really trying, and the buck ended up splitting from the fawns and running across the road while the fawns stayed along the fenceline and skirted along in front of us. I kind of gave up on them and we made it back to the car.
We decided to go check out another field where Doug had killed one of his does about a week ago. When we arrived at the field there was a random smattering of cattle, mule deer, and pronghorn. We decided to try to use a small rise in the field to conceal our approach and we belly crawled through the cut alfalfa to as close as we felt we could. From a prone rest I steadied my rifle on the packs and took a bead on a bedded doe that was clear of any of the other animals. The trigger broke and nothing happened… I’d forgotten to put a round in the chamber, go figure. I fixed that little oversight and steadied again. This time the rifle came to life but the shot sounded strange… I thought that it sounded like the bullet had kind of squibbed through the grass in front of me. The herd of pronghorn stood and began to make their way in the opposite direction. I was able to get a second clear shot at the doe but again the shot sounded like it had hit the grass in front of me.
We decided to pursue the herd and took a direct line through the field. As we walked through the field the herd of cattle definitely took exception to our presence and began to follow us. They snorted and coughed and were right on our heels as we closed the gap on the pronghorn. It was mildly entertaining to see them get so agitated with us but at the same time it was a little bit unnerving. Because we had 50+ beef cows following us through the meadow any hopes of relying on stealth to get close to these pronghorn were gone. We turned back towards the car and as we reached the edge of the field the cows finally felt satisfied that they had triumphed over the intruders and went back to their beef cow lifestyles.
With about an hour of daylight left we decided to drive back towards the area where we made the stalk on the first herd. As we drove, we spotted hundreds of deer… and one very nice mule deer buck that we stopped and photographed. By this time I was ready to accept defeat and call it a night. We turned the car around and began to make our way back towards civilization.
Doug spotted two pronghorn feeding in an upper field and we soon identified them as the two fawns that we had seen earlier that day. In one last ditch effort as the sun began to set we parked the car and headed off across the creek bottom towards the two unsuspecting fawns. We picked out a tree as our first landmark and made it there quickly enough, then had to negotiate a barbed wire fence. I was worried about the fence, as we climbed it the wire creaked under our weight and I thought for sure it would give us away. Another twenty or thirty yards beyond the fence and I could tell we were running out of cover and should be getting very close. I caught a glimpse of white and tan…
I turned to Doug and mouthed “50 yards.” The fawn that was standing broadside to me looked up and right at me. It was now or never so I put the crosshairs right behind the shoulder and pulled the trigger. The fawn turned and ran and dropped just a couple steps later. The second fawn ran away but stopped and looked back for its companion. I took a couple of hasty off hand shots at the second fawn missing narrowly both times. The fawn then offered me a perfectly broadside shot. The cloud of dust and reaction of the animal gave me no indication of a hit so I began to fidget with by bullet pouch on my belt and shove new bullets into the magazine with the intent of further pursuing. As I close the bolt Doug says, “She’s going down.” Sure enough, I looked up in time to see the fawn begin running in small circles, a phenomenon that I’ve decided to call the “Pronghorn Death Spiral,” and topple over. We walked over to her to find the off hand shot when she was broadside was nearly perfectly placed.
In a matter of minutes and seconds I went from an admission of defeat to having two animals on the ground and both tags filled. We butchered quickly and stuffed all 8 quarters along with 4 backstraps and 4 tenderloins into my pack. As I lifted my fully loaded pack and put it on my back I began to laugh, I was packing two entire pronghorn fawns in one single trip and it all weighted less than the elk quarter that I packed out just a few weeks earlier!
I’m pleased with my success, and I’m excited to try out pronghorn meat. I’ve heard greatly mixed reviews on it ranging from the meat tasting like a fine delicacy down to not fit for dog food… so I’ll get my chance to make my own determination! We also had a great time picking up sheds from small mule deer bucks and even found a handful of pronghorn sheaths… with one sheath being from a very respectable buck that was considerably larger than any of the other sheaths we picked up. It was a fun “couple hour” hunt.
My 2015 hunting season had already opened on September 10th because I drew a pair of doe pronghorn tags in Wyoming but I hadn’t been able to make the time to drive out there before the Utah general muzzleloader deer hunt started.
The Friday before the deer hunt opener I was finally able to make it out to the range and found that over the course of the year nothing had changed. My groupings were what I had come to expect from the previous couple years, so I didn’t waste any components or money by taking more shots than what was necessary to see what I needed to see.
Darren and I went and bought groceries late Monday night, and I prepared my gear. Cody was set to fly in to Salt Lake International Airport at about 7:00pm Tuesday evening from Albuquerque, so the plan was for me to pick him up at his parent’s house once I had helped get all my little kids to bed for the night. We would than make the short drive up the canyon to my family cabin where my grandfather, father, and brother (with his two young sons) would be waiting for us. I had shared a couple of ideas for different hikes Cody and I could take on opening day and Cody said that he wanted to stay out the whole day. So we decided on a route that would take us far from the parking spot where we would leave the ATVs, hoping that we would be so far from the ATVs that going back to the cabin for lunch would not be a desirable option.
We decided to leave the cabin Wednesday morning and time the drive so that we would arrive at the gate right at legal shooting light. Our timing was perfect as we rode through the pre-dawn and began to enter the large meadow and approach the gate. We stopped to inspect a number of does at the side of the road to our right, then I glanced to my left and on the skyline not far from me I see a head with respectable antlers between the ears. I jumped off the ATV, ripped my right glove off with my teeth, and tried to get a primer in one fell swoop. It wasn’t as smooth as I had hoped or envisioned but eventually I took a bead on him at about 50 yards and tried to squeeze the trigger but nothing happened. There’s a little thing on a gun called a safety… and in this case it functioned exactly as intended sparing this buck momentarily. One quick flick of the finger and the quiet of the early morning was broken. A short tracking job later I found my buck piled up on a log in the middle of the game trail. He is a beautiful little 3x4 and my best buck to date.
The drag was short back to the ATVs and we were on our way back to the cabin to hang him in the basement in short order. Since we had planned to be out all day, hiking into relatively unknown areas to us we decided to take the morning and get my buck skinned, quartered, and boned out before heading into one of my favorite little bowls in the afternoon. By late morning we had the buck processed and I had saved the cape for my grandfather who had wanted to mount some old antlers from “Utah’s Glory Days” but lacked a good looking cape. We cooked us up some late breakfast and prepared to head out once again.
Shortly after lunchtime we were back out on the ATVs again. We made the several miles drive through mud puddles and up rocky slopes to the little parking area where the private property ends and public land begins. From there it was a mile and a half hike down into the bowl where we would sit in the shade of a large pine tree. We hadn’t even arrived at our spot under the pine tree when I spotted 2 spike elk grazing through the understory of some aspens 250 yards up the hill from us. Not long after that 4 cows worked their way along the edge of the pines and through the same aspens. It was early and it was hot so we knew at some point in the evening that they would come down to the pond directly in front of us for water, but for the time being the elk were content to mill around in the shade of the aspens and pines of this north facing slope.
Sometime around 3 or 3:30 some movement caught my eye coming from the bottom of the canyon towards us… a coyote. The coyote ran right up the bottom of the bowl right past the pond then up the hill almost directly into the elk. That kind of set everything into a bit of chaos. The elk barked and carried on for quite a while but eventually settled down, the problem was the coyote had ran between the elk and the pond so every time the cows started to come down to the water they got agitated again.
A bugle rang out from the pines and I was hoping to get a glimpse of this herd bull. He bugled several more times and sounded like he was getting close. Up in those same aspens where we originally spotted the pair of spikes I was able to get my first look at him. It wasn’t a great look but I could tell he was by far the biggest bull of the group and was very respectable. He ran around almost in a bit of a panic, kind of jumping around and darting back and forth through the trees for several minutes, then disappeared into the pines again. We had figured that since the coyote had been through the area that there was a very real possibility that would not get a chance to fill our antlerless tags tonight. So I decided to take matters into my own hands, got one of my mouth calls out of my pack, and blew two soft cow calls from where we sat. That turned the mountain to life. Within a couple seconds the herd bull emerged from the pines and stood still as a statue in the small clearing looking my direction and I finally got a really good look at him and what a stud of a bull. His left side was a perfectly formed 6 point antler, probably of 310 to 320 caliber if the right side was a match… however the right side was not a match. From the right side of this bull’s head grew a single curving spear of an antler that had to be 3.5 to 4 feet long. I was so interested with just looking him over and admiring the uniqueness of his headgear that the thought to take any pictures of him didn’t enter my mind until it was too late.
Then my attention turned back to the group of 4 cows who were now up and moving, being pushed by two smaller bulls, a 2x2 that appeared to have unusually thick antlers compared to other young 2x2s that I had seen before and a bizarre little 2x4 bull who’s left side looks more like a caribou antler. Two of the cows had made their way down to where they were just starting to get in range for a shot but it was clear that the discomfort from the coyote was gone and they would be coming all the way down to the pond. Cody was the first shooter in this scenario because he would only have the deer hunt to fill his antlerless control tag while I would have several other opportunities to fill my cow tag. Cody got set up on the shooting sticks and we waited. The first cow made her way down the trail leading to the pond. The first gap in the pines that she would pass through was about 150 yards. I told Cody to wait and be patient. The second gap that she would pass through in the pines was 115 yards, but again I told Cody to wait and be patient. Finally, as the cow cleared the last of the pine trees and stepped into the clearing around the water hole I told him to take the first good shot. She stopped and stood broadside at 85 yards and Cody’s gun went off and down she went. It was about 5:30 so we hustled over to her and began the quartering and boning process knowing that it was a race against darkness now. We also decided that we didn’t want to make two trips down into the bowl that night so we would haul her out in one heavy load each. We reached the top of the bowl right as the last little bit of light faded and fired up the ATVs to head back to the cabin. At this point we realized/remembered that the headlights on one of the ATVs didn’t work so we slowly made our way along the trail with Cody using his headlanp as his headlights which made for a couple of very interesting sections of the trail back to the cabin. We watched those elk for about 4 hours before a shot was ever taken and sitting back watching that little herd for that span of time was pretty cool.
Thursday we tried a couple of things to fill Cody’s deer tag and my elk tag. We rode around in the morning just to give our bodies a little extra time to recover from the haul out the night before. We saw a lot of deer but didn’t shoot anything. In the afternoon we decided to go do some more hiking around and ended up getting separated. Ultimately I went south and he went west and we didn’t meet up again until dark when we returned to the ATVs. I saw a half dozen bucks with two of them being pretty nice but I was looking for elk and didn’t find any.
Friday afternoon we went back in to the ponds and sat in the same spot as Wednesday afternoon and evening. We knew it was a long shot because we would quite literally be sitting over the carcass of the cow that we left two nights before. A bull and cow moose were up the hill making all sorts of noise but eventually the caribou bull showed up and came all the way down to water. He was the only elk to show up that night and we made our way up out of the bowl and back to the ATVs before dark so that we didn’t have to drive out again using a headlamp in place of the broken headlights.
Saturday morning we decided to try the canyon right above the cabin and spend the morning there. We hiked to a small knoll and had a seat. We could hear animals in the canyon but it was so thick that we couldn’t see anything. I thought I’d get out my calls again and give it a try because the critters in there were definitely not deer & had to be moose or elk. I cut loose a couple quick cow mews and immediately something was headed my direction. After about 20 minutes I spotted a spike elk looking straight at me from some bright red oak brush about 150 yards away. He continued in my direction and eventually popped out of the brush at about 35 yards. It was a faceoff and he just stared at me wondering where this cow was that should be right there. More movement was heard from behind and within a matter of seconds a herd of a dozen elk… a raghorn 5x5, two spikes, and nine cows… ran over the knoll from behind me and within feet of my location. I was getting hit by the dirt and rocks they were kicking up and they ran past me. I was taken by surprise so badly that I didn’t even grab for my gun. The spike stayed put however, and as this herd crashed through the canyon in front of me the spike stared at me for another couple seconds before joining the stampede. I had never been successful (at least to me knowledge) in calling a bull into my location like that. It was really cool.
The last few years have taught me one thing… I enjoy hunting deer but I am an elk hunter! I love chasing those critters and any time that I can be in the woods with them I am happy. I have two bulls on my “hit list” for the general muzzleloader hunt coming up the end of October… I can only imagine how phenomenal that 6x1 bull would look as a European mount on my wall! But I’d not hesitate to shoot that caribou bull just because he is unique as well and I have several pictures of him from trail cameras over the summer so I feel like there’s some history there between us.
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