Okie_Poke
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- May 18, 2022
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My audition to be the world's worst elk hunter continues. This year I spent my five Colorado elk points to draw a muzzleloader tag. I had very high hopes, saw quite a few nice bulls, coulda-shoulda closed the deal, but ultimately came up empty. Here's a summary of my hunt---hopefully someone else can learn from my experience. This is the second time I've had to learn one lesson in particular . . . I hope it has finally sunk in.
The Setting. South-central Colorado, in a unit that used to be OTC for archery, is still OTC for 2nd and 3rd rifle seasons, and that I have now hunted a total of five times (counting two seasons when I didn't have a tag and was just along for the ride) in various seasons, from September to November. It's steep; elevations go up over 11,000 feet even outside the Wilderness area; and it's too thick for much glassing. There are a lot of elk in the unit, but they are not terribly easy to find. Finding elk sign isn't difficult, but finding where elk are at any particular poin in time is quite the challenge. Forget about herds of dozens---the most elks I've seen together in this unit is 10, but most of the time they are in groups of 2-5. Muzzleloader season in Colorado is the third week of September. This year, so was the full moon.
Day 0. Season started on Saturday morning, so we drove all night Thursday night to get to the last Wal-Mart early Friday morning. We ate a big breakfast, bought an OHV tag, picked up last minute food items, and topped off fuel tanks and ice chestts before heading up the mountain. Our hunting area was about 2 hours from the last Wal-Mart, and we headed out of town about 11:00 a.m. We got to camp around 1:00 and went about setting up. I have a cargo trailer that I have insulated and wired with 12v house batteries, so it's kinda like an RV/toy hauler but more rough around the edges. It has a counter top and lights, and you can plug it into a generator to run a microwave and charge batteries. It's got sliding windows and an RV vent with a fan, so we can cook in it and run a Buddy heater when needed to dry clothes or stay warm. After unloading the SxS from the back, two cots fit about perfect side by side. It was originally conceived for a November hunt so was a bit overkill in September, but it worked well. It's cleaner than a wall tent with a dirt floor.
After setting up, we drove around a bit to see where other camps were at and finalize our Day 1 plans. About 4:00, we headed up the mountain a bit to spot check some meadows at various elevations and look for sign. Suprisingly, at about 5:45 (earlier than I would have expected), a herd of ten came out of the trees into a big park at just over 10,000 feet (lower than I expected). There was a nice 6x6 bull and a few more cows still in the trees when the photo below was taken, but they all came out and milled about.
We watched them from about 300 - 350 yards away for about 30 minutes as the bull took a particular interest in one cow and the others moved on back into the trees. We backed out slowly and they never knew we were there. We returned to camp with plans to return to the same park in the morning and dreams of opening morning success.
Day 1: Opening Day. Alarms went off at 3:45. Got up, brewed coffee, warmed up some pre-cooked breakfast burritos, took care of morning necessities, and hit the road in the SxS. Shooting light began at about 6:15, and the very first bits of light started cracking the horizon in the valley as we drove in the day before between 5:45 and 6:00. We wanted to be on that meadow, sitting with a favorable wind and quiet before that happened. We were (despite my tangling with the trees in the dark and losing my ramrod), but the elk weren't there. We sat that meadow until about 7:30 and then started up the mountain, picking our way along the edges of pocket meadows and following game trails through as many aspen stands as we could. We bumped a spike or raghorn about 9:00 in the morning (no shot, but I'm not too proud to shoot a legal raghorn) but didn't see or hear anything else that morning. In hindsight, we should have headed up mountain much sooner.
We took our time following game trails up-mountain. Saw lots of sign, including fresh sign, but didn't hear or see a thing other than the spike we bumped. Since we hadn't done any scouting other than our lucky meadow on Day 0, we went all the way up to 11,000 feet. The sign got older and the grass was burnt up and dry above about 10,800. We sat a meadow around 11:00, ate lunch, took a bit of a nap, and waited for the thermals to switch and hold steady (about 1:00). Then we slipped into thick timber from above and headed into an area I knew from experience was a likely bedding ground. Sure enough, lots of fresh sign between 10,600 and 10,800 on a northeast facing bench. We still-hunted through the timber/deadfall for most of the afternoon. We saw three cows bedded but no bulls, and so about mid-to-late afternoon we headed back to our park hoping Big Hank would follow his cows back to the same spot two nights in a row. No luck; we hiked out at dark. I had hot spots forming from all the side-hilling we did in timber that afternoon and had lost my wind checker bottle somewhere along the way.
Day 2. Alarms at 3:45; same routine. This time we went to the south end of this particular mountain system to sit a different park I've seen a bunch of elk on in the past in various, albeit later seasons. We got there, hiked in as planned, and setup with a favorable wind where we could see fairly well. As the sun came up, we learned: (1) there were a lot of beef cows in that park, and (2) except for the shaded, low area where all the beef cows were at, the grass in that park was toasted from the sun. We didn't hear any bugling before or after sun-up. After it got light, we headed into the aspens looking for game trails.
We found a very little fresh sign that morning and started heading back to the SxS late morning. On our way out, we bumped a bull and cow. They were bedded in some aspens at about 10,200 on an east slope---not quite where I would expect but not completely unexpected either. I saw the cow dart across an opening about 120 yards in front of me, so I took off at a run toward that spot. Sure enough the bull followed her. I pulled up as he got close and took aim as he crossed the opening. He was probably 75 yards away, quartered away from me, and trotting. I had my sights on his shoulder but hesitated because I haven't practiced shooting running game and hoped he would stop. He didn't, and I didnt' force the shot. They were headed downhill and toward my left. I knew the trees ran out pretty quickly down there and figured that rather than run out into the open they would try to circle and get back above us into the thick stuff. I ran to my left to cut them off but never saw them again. I'm guessing they circled the other way.
We went back to camp for lunch and a nap. My short mountain run had also worsened my hot spots and they now required some attention, so I doctored them as well. That afternoon, we drove back around to the east side of the mountain system. But this time, we hiked around a different way and went and sat a small pocket meadow on the north end, at a higher elevation. We figured the grass would be better and the elk more likely to come out up higher first. It was a good plan, and the grass was better, but no elk. Hiked out in the dark, or really after the sun went down but by moonlight with a nearly full moon.
Day 3: My best and worst day of hunting. Alarms at 3:45; same routine, but now it's harder to get up. A fitting on our stove started leaking gas, resulting in a small flash and an extra pilot light we didn't want, so I had to fix that (needed new yellow cellophane tape). I didn't want to eat but forced it down. Then I threw up. After drinking some water, and sitting for a bit, I chalked it up to the phlem and cough I've been fighting for three weeks and we headed out. Went back to the same area we started at on Day 1, but this time we only waited on the outskirts of that meadow until legal shooting light to confirm nothing was there. Happily, although the moon was full (or almost so), it had gone down earlier in the night and the sky was dark. After we could see just enough to climb, we headed up a different drainage than they way we went on Day 1.
About 6:30 we start hearing bugles up ahead of us. The climb sucked, but the bugles kept us motivated. We reached the top of that drainage right at 7:00. There was a bull bugling ahead of us and I heard some cows mewing in the same direction. We heard a bugle back down the mountain behind us anwering the bull in front, but I figured it was either a hunter or, if it was another bull, not a wothwhile target becasue the thermals were headed to him from us. So we studied our map, planned to skirt a meadow through the aspens to where we thought the elk we heard were at, and started that way.
Then the bull behind us screamed a challenge bugle from very close! I'd never heard one of those in real life, and I felt this one in my chest. My brother in law, who was on his first-ever elk hunt, started literally jumping up and down. I made him sit down next to a tree and I watched for the elk. Then, I saw several cows slipping through the trees about 50 yards away. I knew the bull was behind them and would follow, so I shifted over to have a clean shooting lane to where they were crossing. I had about a 2 foot wide lane that went for 40 yards, right to a big tree they had all crossed in front of. I couldn't see the bull but I could see his mass behind the brush to my left. Sure enough, he came walking through after his cows. I didn't have time to count points but he was mature and obviously legal. I put the peep sight on his shoulder and pulled the trigger. The gun went boom, the bull humped up like he'd been hit, and darted off into the timber to my right. I hit my cow call to try and calm him down in hopes he wouldn't run very far. I marked the spot of my shot and where he was on my map. 7:09 a.m.
I was elated. I knew I had hit him. I was shooting a 300 grain Thor Hammer bullet pushed to 1800 fps by Blackhorn 209 at 40 yards. He was dead, probably within 50 yards, I thought. I told my BIL that we were going to give him at least 30 minutes so as to not bump him and let him die, and just sit down and enjoy our coffee. Ten minutes later I couldn't take my own advice and had just had to "sneak" up to the spot where the bull was shot to look for blood. Five yards from it I hear a grunt and crashing to my right. I couldn't see the bull because of the brush, but I knew it was him. ****! I'd bumped him! No matter, it didn't sound like he crashed for more than a couple of seconds. We'd find him. I didn't see any blood at the spot of the shot, but that's not terribly surprising for a muzzleloader. I went back to my BIL and sat down for another 25 minutes, giving the bull time to die.
About 7:45 we head slowly back up to where the bull was when he was shot and start looking for blood. None. We start following tracks in the direction he ran but can't tell if they are his or the cows' or both. No blood. We circled back to the spot and start working out slowly. No blood. At 8:00 a.m. is starts raining. We continue looking for blood for a while, but it didn't take long for the rain to soak us and everything else. At that point we put on our rain gear and just started gridding the area looking for the bull. The rain got heavier. Three hours later we had gridded out to 100 yards at least twice, I had fallen down at least that many times stepping over dead fall, and we found nothing. The rain continued unabated, so we headed down the mountain in the worst mood I have felt in a long time. The drainage was slick and treacherous and I fell pretty hard once on the way down, slightly bruising my ribs.
The rain continued through the afternoon. So, that afternoon we drove back to town to refresh our ice chests and eat a chesseburger. The rain didn't let up on the mountain until evening. Some old timers, who I think were ranchers in the area, drove by our camp on their SxS that evening and asked us how we were getting along. I shared the story of that morning's hunt, and they assured me it was common for them to not bleed and he was dead up there on the mountain; I'd just have to use my eyes to find him. We resolved to go back up the next morning and try to find him again when it wasn't raining. I had to re-doctor my feet after the day's activities, but we were able to get our clothes and boots dried out with the Buddy heater.
Day 4. We slept in to 6:00 a.m. this morning, knowing that we were searching and not hunting. We took a ridge up instead of the drainage, and that was a bit less steep but didn't have any less deadfall. I was now using a trekking pole in the hand not carrying my rifle. I should have done that before. We spent the morning gridding and re-gridding the area out to about 250 yards from where he was shot, in the direction he ran. Out past that the country was too big, and he had too many places to go, that searching without a blood trail was futile. We never saw hide nor hair of him. I'm still convinced he died; I don't know if he's within the area we gridded and just piled up under deadfall and we didn't see him, or if he relocated to the next zip code before succumbing. I don't know, but it'll eat at me for a long time.
After we had searched all we knew to search, and the sun had been out and heated things up, we decided to try to still-hunt through some dark timber. An hour later, the rain pushed us back down off the mountain. We headed out again that evening to a new spot, but another storm blew in and ruined our evening hunt as well.
Day 5: First time calling bulls in on what ended up being the last day. Alarms at 4:00; usual routine. Headed back to the basin we hiked up on Day 3, hoping to hear some more bugling activity. We went up the ridge like we did on Day 4, but early like Day 3. At the top, we hear a bull bugling in the same area as the one we heard on Day 3 that we were about to chase. On to that area, then. He shut up shortly after 7:00, so we didn't have much to go by. We were following game trials, trying to stay in aspen stands and around (but not in) pocket meadows as much as we could. At about 9:15, I decided to use some cow calls along a meadow in a particularly promising area. Five minutes later, we see a bull come through the aspens on the other side of the meadow to look for the cow. After watching for a bit, he turns to go. I start slipping through the trees to head him off, but the wind switched directions suddenly, he smelled me, and was gone. We tried to make a big circle and come back into him from the north, but we never saw him again.
After spending about an hour still-hunting the bench where we had seen and heard that bull, we turned and headed up-mountain using another drainage I figured most of the elk feedng low over night had used to get back to their higher bedding locations. We take our time and still-hunt the whole way up. Then we ate lunch in a meadow and waited for the thermals to shift before heading into their bedding area. There's a 30-acre or so bench between 10,600 and 10,800 facing northeast with lots of apsens. They can feed in there and have cover and shade all at the same time. I figured that's where they would be, and so we headed in there. It was thick, but game trails abounded and there were plenty of small pocket meadows, chutes, and other openings you couldn't see on a map. On one very small meadow---basically a circle with a 20 yard diameter---I decide to give the cow call another try. Two minutes later, we see a smaller, but still 5-point bull come in to check it out. He came in super quiet and stopped on the other side of the meadow, behind an evergreen tree and between two aspens, looking at me no more than 20 yards away. I just froze as he was heads up and all I could see was his face. It took him turning his head a few times before I could even confirm he was a legal bull. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity but was probably only 5 minutes. He turned to walk away without presenting a shot, I called again once his back was turned but that startled him and he trotted off.
We made a big circle trying to stay downwind of him. We found another meadow about a hundred yards away, set up, and started calling again. We waited about ten minutes before moving on. As we did, we heard a snort and something big crashing off downwind of us. We think the same elk came back in, slower this time, and circled us before coming in. We didn't see him that time, and that was the last elk we saw or heard. We spent quite a bit of time picking our way through that area nice and slow, calling ever-so-often, but didn't turn anything else up. When it got hot in the middle of the afternoon, we headed north, side-hilling into even thicker cover hoping to jump something and get lucky. Nothing. Late afternoon, we worked our way down some steep stuff to setup on another meadow at the bottom of a drainage we thought they might come down to in the evening. We sat it until almost dark, and then limped out (literally), skirting the edges of meadows with the wind in our face and hoping to catch something in the last minutes of shooting light. No luck. We hiked back to the SxS at dark.
The side-hilling from the day had torn my blisters open, and I had a new blood blister on my big toe that was very painful. My BIL's legs and back were hurting. He probalby could have made it up the mountain another time, but I was done. I was gimping pretty badly coming down the mountain, and my feet weren't any better the next morning. We packed up and came home empty handed on Day 6. I saw as many if not more bull elk on this trip as I ever have. I've never had one scream a challenge bugle close before, and I've never personally pulled the trigger on one. Lot's of good experiences on this one, and I got to take one of my BILs on his first-ever elk hunt. But it's hard to call it a good hunt when I lost a bull and my feet forced the hunt to a close at least a day early.
Main lessons: (1) Don't get in a hurry to track a bull elk after the shot. They need time to die. (I knew this from a different BIL losing one three years ago, but I failed to internalize it). (2) Take care of your feet. These boots were not new, and I had worn them on three mountain hunts previously without trouble. But I didn't spend any time in them ahead of this season and so my feet weren't used to them this fall. I think that and my feet getting wet is what did them in. Plenty of other minor errors that happened in the moment along the way, but these are the big ones in my opinion. I hope y'all fill your tags this year, but I'm eating tag soup again (for elk).
The Setting. South-central Colorado, in a unit that used to be OTC for archery, is still OTC for 2nd and 3rd rifle seasons, and that I have now hunted a total of five times (counting two seasons when I didn't have a tag and was just along for the ride) in various seasons, from September to November. It's steep; elevations go up over 11,000 feet even outside the Wilderness area; and it's too thick for much glassing. There are a lot of elk in the unit, but they are not terribly easy to find. Finding elk sign isn't difficult, but finding where elk are at any particular poin in time is quite the challenge. Forget about herds of dozens---the most elks I've seen together in this unit is 10, but most of the time they are in groups of 2-5. Muzzleloader season in Colorado is the third week of September. This year, so was the full moon.
Day 0. Season started on Saturday morning, so we drove all night Thursday night to get to the last Wal-Mart early Friday morning. We ate a big breakfast, bought an OHV tag, picked up last minute food items, and topped off fuel tanks and ice chestts before heading up the mountain. Our hunting area was about 2 hours from the last Wal-Mart, and we headed out of town about 11:00 a.m. We got to camp around 1:00 and went about setting up. I have a cargo trailer that I have insulated and wired with 12v house batteries, so it's kinda like an RV/toy hauler but more rough around the edges. It has a counter top and lights, and you can plug it into a generator to run a microwave and charge batteries. It's got sliding windows and an RV vent with a fan, so we can cook in it and run a Buddy heater when needed to dry clothes or stay warm. After unloading the SxS from the back, two cots fit about perfect side by side. It was originally conceived for a November hunt so was a bit overkill in September, but it worked well. It's cleaner than a wall tent with a dirt floor.
After setting up, we drove around a bit to see where other camps were at and finalize our Day 1 plans. About 4:00, we headed up the mountain a bit to spot check some meadows at various elevations and look for sign. Suprisingly, at about 5:45 (earlier than I would have expected), a herd of ten came out of the trees into a big park at just over 10,000 feet (lower than I expected). There was a nice 6x6 bull and a few more cows still in the trees when the photo below was taken, but they all came out and milled about.
We watched them from about 300 - 350 yards away for about 30 minutes as the bull took a particular interest in one cow and the others moved on back into the trees. We backed out slowly and they never knew we were there. We returned to camp with plans to return to the same park in the morning and dreams of opening morning success.
Day 1: Opening Day. Alarms went off at 3:45. Got up, brewed coffee, warmed up some pre-cooked breakfast burritos, took care of morning necessities, and hit the road in the SxS. Shooting light began at about 6:15, and the very first bits of light started cracking the horizon in the valley as we drove in the day before between 5:45 and 6:00. We wanted to be on that meadow, sitting with a favorable wind and quiet before that happened. We were (despite my tangling with the trees in the dark and losing my ramrod), but the elk weren't there. We sat that meadow until about 7:30 and then started up the mountain, picking our way along the edges of pocket meadows and following game trails through as many aspen stands as we could. We bumped a spike or raghorn about 9:00 in the morning (no shot, but I'm not too proud to shoot a legal raghorn) but didn't see or hear anything else that morning. In hindsight, we should have headed up mountain much sooner.
We took our time following game trails up-mountain. Saw lots of sign, including fresh sign, but didn't hear or see a thing other than the spike we bumped. Since we hadn't done any scouting other than our lucky meadow on Day 0, we went all the way up to 11,000 feet. The sign got older and the grass was burnt up and dry above about 10,800. We sat a meadow around 11:00, ate lunch, took a bit of a nap, and waited for the thermals to switch and hold steady (about 1:00). Then we slipped into thick timber from above and headed into an area I knew from experience was a likely bedding ground. Sure enough, lots of fresh sign between 10,600 and 10,800 on a northeast facing bench. We still-hunted through the timber/deadfall for most of the afternoon. We saw three cows bedded but no bulls, and so about mid-to-late afternoon we headed back to our park hoping Big Hank would follow his cows back to the same spot two nights in a row. No luck; we hiked out at dark. I had hot spots forming from all the side-hilling we did in timber that afternoon and had lost my wind checker bottle somewhere along the way.
Day 2. Alarms at 3:45; same routine. This time we went to the south end of this particular mountain system to sit a different park I've seen a bunch of elk on in the past in various, albeit later seasons. We got there, hiked in as planned, and setup with a favorable wind where we could see fairly well. As the sun came up, we learned: (1) there were a lot of beef cows in that park, and (2) except for the shaded, low area where all the beef cows were at, the grass in that park was toasted from the sun. We didn't hear any bugling before or after sun-up. After it got light, we headed into the aspens looking for game trails.
We found a very little fresh sign that morning and started heading back to the SxS late morning. On our way out, we bumped a bull and cow. They were bedded in some aspens at about 10,200 on an east slope---not quite where I would expect but not completely unexpected either. I saw the cow dart across an opening about 120 yards in front of me, so I took off at a run toward that spot. Sure enough the bull followed her. I pulled up as he got close and took aim as he crossed the opening. He was probably 75 yards away, quartered away from me, and trotting. I had my sights on his shoulder but hesitated because I haven't practiced shooting running game and hoped he would stop. He didn't, and I didnt' force the shot. They were headed downhill and toward my left. I knew the trees ran out pretty quickly down there and figured that rather than run out into the open they would try to circle and get back above us into the thick stuff. I ran to my left to cut them off but never saw them again. I'm guessing they circled the other way.
We went back to camp for lunch and a nap. My short mountain run had also worsened my hot spots and they now required some attention, so I doctored them as well. That afternoon, we drove back around to the east side of the mountain system. But this time, we hiked around a different way and went and sat a small pocket meadow on the north end, at a higher elevation. We figured the grass would be better and the elk more likely to come out up higher first. It was a good plan, and the grass was better, but no elk. Hiked out in the dark, or really after the sun went down but by moonlight with a nearly full moon.
Day 3: My best and worst day of hunting. Alarms at 3:45; same routine, but now it's harder to get up. A fitting on our stove started leaking gas, resulting in a small flash and an extra pilot light we didn't want, so I had to fix that (needed new yellow cellophane tape). I didn't want to eat but forced it down. Then I threw up. After drinking some water, and sitting for a bit, I chalked it up to the phlem and cough I've been fighting for three weeks and we headed out. Went back to the same area we started at on Day 1, but this time we only waited on the outskirts of that meadow until legal shooting light to confirm nothing was there. Happily, although the moon was full (or almost so), it had gone down earlier in the night and the sky was dark. After we could see just enough to climb, we headed up a different drainage than they way we went on Day 1.
About 6:30 we start hearing bugles up ahead of us. The climb sucked, but the bugles kept us motivated. We reached the top of that drainage right at 7:00. There was a bull bugling ahead of us and I heard some cows mewing in the same direction. We heard a bugle back down the mountain behind us anwering the bull in front, but I figured it was either a hunter or, if it was another bull, not a wothwhile target becasue the thermals were headed to him from us. So we studied our map, planned to skirt a meadow through the aspens to where we thought the elk we heard were at, and started that way.
Then the bull behind us screamed a challenge bugle from very close! I'd never heard one of those in real life, and I felt this one in my chest. My brother in law, who was on his first-ever elk hunt, started literally jumping up and down. I made him sit down next to a tree and I watched for the elk. Then, I saw several cows slipping through the trees about 50 yards away. I knew the bull was behind them and would follow, so I shifted over to have a clean shooting lane to where they were crossing. I had about a 2 foot wide lane that went for 40 yards, right to a big tree they had all crossed in front of. I couldn't see the bull but I could see his mass behind the brush to my left. Sure enough, he came walking through after his cows. I didn't have time to count points but he was mature and obviously legal. I put the peep sight on his shoulder and pulled the trigger. The gun went boom, the bull humped up like he'd been hit, and darted off into the timber to my right. I hit my cow call to try and calm him down in hopes he wouldn't run very far. I marked the spot of my shot and where he was on my map. 7:09 a.m.
I was elated. I knew I had hit him. I was shooting a 300 grain Thor Hammer bullet pushed to 1800 fps by Blackhorn 209 at 40 yards. He was dead, probably within 50 yards, I thought. I told my BIL that we were going to give him at least 30 minutes so as to not bump him and let him die, and just sit down and enjoy our coffee. Ten minutes later I couldn't take my own advice and had just had to "sneak" up to the spot where the bull was shot to look for blood. Five yards from it I hear a grunt and crashing to my right. I couldn't see the bull because of the brush, but I knew it was him. ****! I'd bumped him! No matter, it didn't sound like he crashed for more than a couple of seconds. We'd find him. I didn't see any blood at the spot of the shot, but that's not terribly surprising for a muzzleloader. I went back to my BIL and sat down for another 25 minutes, giving the bull time to die.
About 7:45 we head slowly back up to where the bull was when he was shot and start looking for blood. None. We start following tracks in the direction he ran but can't tell if they are his or the cows' or both. No blood. We circled back to the spot and start working out slowly. No blood. At 8:00 a.m. is starts raining. We continue looking for blood for a while, but it didn't take long for the rain to soak us and everything else. At that point we put on our rain gear and just started gridding the area looking for the bull. The rain got heavier. Three hours later we had gridded out to 100 yards at least twice, I had fallen down at least that many times stepping over dead fall, and we found nothing. The rain continued unabated, so we headed down the mountain in the worst mood I have felt in a long time. The drainage was slick and treacherous and I fell pretty hard once on the way down, slightly bruising my ribs.
The rain continued through the afternoon. So, that afternoon we drove back to town to refresh our ice chests and eat a chesseburger. The rain didn't let up on the mountain until evening. Some old timers, who I think were ranchers in the area, drove by our camp on their SxS that evening and asked us how we were getting along. I shared the story of that morning's hunt, and they assured me it was common for them to not bleed and he was dead up there on the mountain; I'd just have to use my eyes to find him. We resolved to go back up the next morning and try to find him again when it wasn't raining. I had to re-doctor my feet after the day's activities, but we were able to get our clothes and boots dried out with the Buddy heater.
Day 4. We slept in to 6:00 a.m. this morning, knowing that we were searching and not hunting. We took a ridge up instead of the drainage, and that was a bit less steep but didn't have any less deadfall. I was now using a trekking pole in the hand not carrying my rifle. I should have done that before. We spent the morning gridding and re-gridding the area out to about 250 yards from where he was shot, in the direction he ran. Out past that the country was too big, and he had too many places to go, that searching without a blood trail was futile. We never saw hide nor hair of him. I'm still convinced he died; I don't know if he's within the area we gridded and just piled up under deadfall and we didn't see him, or if he relocated to the next zip code before succumbing. I don't know, but it'll eat at me for a long time.
After we had searched all we knew to search, and the sun had been out and heated things up, we decided to try to still-hunt through some dark timber. An hour later, the rain pushed us back down off the mountain. We headed out again that evening to a new spot, but another storm blew in and ruined our evening hunt as well.
Day 5: First time calling bulls in on what ended up being the last day. Alarms at 4:00; usual routine. Headed back to the basin we hiked up on Day 3, hoping to hear some more bugling activity. We went up the ridge like we did on Day 4, but early like Day 3. At the top, we hear a bull bugling in the same area as the one we heard on Day 3 that we were about to chase. On to that area, then. He shut up shortly after 7:00, so we didn't have much to go by. We were following game trials, trying to stay in aspen stands and around (but not in) pocket meadows as much as we could. At about 9:15, I decided to use some cow calls along a meadow in a particularly promising area. Five minutes later, we see a bull come through the aspens on the other side of the meadow to look for the cow. After watching for a bit, he turns to go. I start slipping through the trees to head him off, but the wind switched directions suddenly, he smelled me, and was gone. We tried to make a big circle and come back into him from the north, but we never saw him again.
After spending about an hour still-hunting the bench where we had seen and heard that bull, we turned and headed up-mountain using another drainage I figured most of the elk feedng low over night had used to get back to their higher bedding locations. We take our time and still-hunt the whole way up. Then we ate lunch in a meadow and waited for the thermals to shift before heading into their bedding area. There's a 30-acre or so bench between 10,600 and 10,800 facing northeast with lots of apsens. They can feed in there and have cover and shade all at the same time. I figured that's where they would be, and so we headed in there. It was thick, but game trails abounded and there were plenty of small pocket meadows, chutes, and other openings you couldn't see on a map. On one very small meadow---basically a circle with a 20 yard diameter---I decide to give the cow call another try. Two minutes later, we see a smaller, but still 5-point bull come in to check it out. He came in super quiet and stopped on the other side of the meadow, behind an evergreen tree and between two aspens, looking at me no more than 20 yards away. I just froze as he was heads up and all I could see was his face. It took him turning his head a few times before I could even confirm he was a legal bull. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity but was probably only 5 minutes. He turned to walk away without presenting a shot, I called again once his back was turned but that startled him and he trotted off.
We made a big circle trying to stay downwind of him. We found another meadow about a hundred yards away, set up, and started calling again. We waited about ten minutes before moving on. As we did, we heard a snort and something big crashing off downwind of us. We think the same elk came back in, slower this time, and circled us before coming in. We didn't see him that time, and that was the last elk we saw or heard. We spent quite a bit of time picking our way through that area nice and slow, calling ever-so-often, but didn't turn anything else up. When it got hot in the middle of the afternoon, we headed north, side-hilling into even thicker cover hoping to jump something and get lucky. Nothing. Late afternoon, we worked our way down some steep stuff to setup on another meadow at the bottom of a drainage we thought they might come down to in the evening. We sat it until almost dark, and then limped out (literally), skirting the edges of meadows with the wind in our face and hoping to catch something in the last minutes of shooting light. No luck. We hiked back to the SxS at dark.
The side-hilling from the day had torn my blisters open, and I had a new blood blister on my big toe that was very painful. My BIL's legs and back were hurting. He probalby could have made it up the mountain another time, but I was done. I was gimping pretty badly coming down the mountain, and my feet weren't any better the next morning. We packed up and came home empty handed on Day 6. I saw as many if not more bull elk on this trip as I ever have. I've never had one scream a challenge bugle close before, and I've never personally pulled the trigger on one. Lot's of good experiences on this one, and I got to take one of my BILs on his first-ever elk hunt. But it's hard to call it a good hunt when I lost a bull and my feet forced the hunt to a close at least a day early.
Main lessons: (1) Don't get in a hurry to track a bull elk after the shot. They need time to die. (I knew this from a different BIL losing one three years ago, but I failed to internalize it). (2) Take care of your feet. These boots were not new, and I had worn them on three mountain hunts previously without trouble. But I didn't spend any time in them ahead of this season and so my feet weren't used to them this fall. I think that and my feet getting wet is what did them in. Plenty of other minor errors that happened in the moment along the way, but these are the big ones in my opinion. I hope y'all fill your tags this year, but I'm eating tag soup again (for elk).
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