Epic Week One of the 2020 Gun Season

 

For so many years, I've heard elk hunters complain about the temps being too high and no snow during the gun season that makes it hard to find elk. They get pushed up into the high country and don't come back down until the snow flies and they have to find food. Well...

Thursday evening, just a couple days before the opener, Mother Nature decided she'd give the hunters what they have always been asking for. It dumped about a foot of snow in the Helena Valley and at least twice that much in the surrounding mountains. Because of that, elk came down and couldn't head for the hills once those dedicated hunters went after them. It wasn't easy but definitely worth the effort. 

Barret, my buddy from Milwaukee and I headed out on Saturday around noon. It took that long to get my truck shoveled out and loaded up. The original plan was to head into an area that has an elevation of around 7,200 feet. That wasn't going to happen so we called an audible, guessing elk would be coming out of the mountains fast. On our way to plan B, we spotted about 100 elk, with 5 or 6 legal bulls out in the flats. We weren't the only ones. Three game wardens and about a dozen trucks were watching those elk as well. 

We talked to one of the wardens who informed us that those elk had come down from the side of the road we could hunt and that she suspected  they would head back soon. We didn't want to be any part of the blood bath so we headed into the area I was hoping to be able to get into. That area is known for being a good place for elk to hang out and feed once the snow flies. It didn't disappoint. 

We were only about a quarter of a mile from the trail head when we spotted three elk crest a ridge, coming out into the park. One was a bull. We looked hard for brow-tines, as that's the tag Barret holds but unfortunately--just a rag-horn and not legal. The focus turned to the cows. I do have a cow tag for that area. 

I got set up on a good rest and at 277 yards, thought it was well within my range. I blew it. I knocked a little hair off her and a couple drops of blood but not enough to get the job done. We tracked her for a couple miles before she crossed a creek, jumped a barbed wire fence without touching it, and headed up the next mountain. She'll be fine. Good for her, bummer for us.

Fortunately, I loaded up the tow-strap, come-along, chainsaw, and chains. This was us trying to get closer to where the elk ran to after the shot. I probably should have put the chains on sooner. 

This snow is certainly a pain in the butt. It makes hiking harder, driving harder, and even just getting motivated to pack up everything you might need and getting out there harder. It was Barret's first elk hunting trip. He's never really had to hike in the mountains and his first experience is this? Well, that's elk hunting in Montana and Barret was a trooper. 

We went back in on day two and saw another group of elk in that same spot as the day before. Unfortunately, we were on our way out when we spotted them and shooting hours had expired a few minutes before. We also saw elk tracks crossing through this area just about everywhere including on top of our tracks we left on the way in. The thing about the weather is yes, it is a pain in the butt and it limits the areas you can hunt but it also concentrates animals in places they might not be, early in the season. And listen; you don't have to be one of those hunters that drives around looking to coral a group of elk into an area where they are trapped either. That's the dirty part of hunting that has given hunters a bad name. 

Day three was an epic hike up the ridge to where we were spotting elk the first two days with no luck. Thirty mile an hour winds didn't help. 

Day three was a light day with us driving around and glassing an alternate area. Again, snow drifting definitely limited our access into some spots but we did see some sign of elk and thought we could put together a good plan for the next day. 

Incidentally, we were glassing a few elk in a piece of public land near town and almost decided to go in after them. We watched a nice bull with a couple cows side-hilling across a ridge about a mile away. We then watched as someone shot that bull. Congrats to whomever the hunter was. 

The older I get, the less I want to get up at 5 am to get all dressed up to go out into the cold and hike. I'm not gonna lie. But the elk are there and you just gotta get after them. The reality is, we're not the only ones chasing elk; and during the rifle season, you have to put yourself in a position to get lucky. People are pushing animals around and they are moving because of the weather and you ain't shooting nothin sitting on your couch. 

We hiked about five miles on day 4 before we saw a small group of elk in a park. Actually, I had dropped Barret off on a ridge and I took a little walk and located them. I grabbed Barret but by the time we got back to the ridge to were we could see them, they had fed off the park, into the timber. Had they still been in the park, they would have been about 900 yards out anyway, so we decided to go back to the truck and make a plan. 

We grabbed some food and water and drove the truck to a better access point, closer to the elk before heading back in. This never works for me, by the way. By the time you get to where they were, they are usually a drainage or two over. This day? This day was different. 

With a wind that was actually cooperating for once and soft, melting snow; we were able to locate the their beds and could tell they had just gotten up and were heading back out to the park. We put a sneak on them, not knowing how far they had gotten or if we may have even pushed them out of the area all together. 

Through the timber, I saw movement.

"Stop, stop, stop," I whispered back to Barret and grabbed my cow call. With a couple me'ews, they all stopped. 

I was able to get a good look at one of them and since I had the cow tag, I had to decide whether to take the shot or wait to see if there was a legal bull in the group.

Barret and I had already established that we wanted elk meat regardless of who shot it or what it was as long as it was legal, of course. The cow was 75 yards out and I had a clear shot through the trees. I put the .270 on my shoulder and locked in on her with the crosshairs just behind the front shoulder and squeezed. 

Chaos ensued as elk busted out of the timber and quickly got out of sight. Most took off to the right and side-hilled their way across the park. A couple turned and ran straight down-hill. I assumed the cow I was shooting at took off across the park. We followed the tracks and no blood. 

"Did I fricken miss, again?!!" That's all I could think.

 I was pissed but I also remembered seeing at least one elk heading down-hill so we went back to where they were standing when I shot and started following a set. Still no blood. 

We followed the tracks for about 30 yards before looking down to the cow piled up just another 50 yards away. The photo above shows the relief on my face knowing I wasn't going to have to make good on my internal threats to give up hunting all together. 

Just as a technical note, the .270 gets some flack for being too fast and too small to open up a big enough wound to produce a blood trail. I went to heavier rounds with a little more impact to get the job done. The first elk I shot at made me question whether I should move up to a bigger gun. The reality is, you just have to hit them in the right spot. 

I shot this elk just behind the front shoulder. The bullet went through both lungs. The reason we didn't find a blood trail right away is because I didn't take the time to go to the actual place where this cow was standing before following tracks. Had we done that, we would have seen blood immediately and would have found her piled up in just a few seconds. The .270 is fine.

The cow was a mile from the truck. It's a big, adult cow and I'm sure, if you've ever been hunting elk or read about it, you've either experienced or heard stories of epic pack-outs. Elk are big. This was not one of those pack-outs. 

We dragged the cow to a spot were she wouldn't slide down the hill and gutted her out. We then slid her the rest of the way down the hill to a road that had the perfect amount of ice and snow to drag a sled over. We were able to load her on the sled whole and because it was pretty much down-hill the entire way, easily slid her down to the truck--most of the way, with just one of us pulling. Truly the easiest pack-out I think I've ever had. Don't worry, Barret, we'll get you your bull and then you'll see an epic pack-out. 

Keep 'em where they live, don't forget to vote, and wear the damn mask!