I know this is going to sound a little crass, but I usually mark the time I want to be out chasing elk by my ex's birthday. I've shot more elk on that day, or within a day or two of that day, than any other day. I told that to a client once and he asked if that's because that's when the elk are the most active or is it a coincidence, that I'm usually out hunting on that day instead of with her? And is that why she's an ex? It's a fair point. Regardless, this is go-time for me and this year, it is day one and an epic day one at that. (To be fair, I did spend a couple days last week, scouting and found some elk, which led to this opportunity.)
Last week I did locate these elk across the drainage from my neighbor's property near Lincoln, MT. He has a camper set up on 50 acres and elk often cross through there. When I went up there last week to scout it out, I spotted what I thought were about 25 elk with a couple bulls bugling. They were on private property with no way to get to them accept maybe driving around to the other side of the mountain and hiking up over the top.
So, my first day of my scheduled time off, I had to make a choice; do I go to one of my money spots or do I go to the area around Lincoln where I spotted these elk? Lincoln is about an hour away and then you have to hike. But it's an easy hour of driving. One of my favorite spots is only 30 minutes out, easy hiking and I've killed several elk up there, but is becoming increasingly busier and busier with the parking area filled with Texas, Oregon, and Minnesota license plates. Another of my favorite spots is only 26 miles but takes almost an hour and a half to drive because the road sucks. By the time I get back from that place, I feel like a pair of old tennis shoes I've tried to re-constitute in a washer and dryer.
The weather is a factor as well. It had been raining for two days and the wind is a constant 20 miles an hour with swirling gusts. I don't want to bust anything out of one of my favorite spots with the wind so, it's recon time and Lincoln gets the call.
The onX app is an amazing tool. It shows all the public lands and block manage areas where a hunter can access spots that normally, you wouldn't be able to see on a map. Before heading over, I was able to locate some access points to a ridge and plateau just above the area where I located this herd of elk last week. I knew it would be bit of a hike and a gamble that those elk would ever venture off private land, but if I got up there and didn't see anything, at least I eliminate it from options for the rest of the week. With such a short time to hunt, being economical in your time is always on your mind. One of the biggest factors for me is how much time do I have left to hunt and am I just wasting time in areas that aren't holding elk. A few hours in the afternoon doesn't seem like much on day one but day seven of eight? With the weather not being ideal, I felt ok with the outcome if I was scrapping day one in order to check out new country.
The plan was set to access some block management land adjacent to the ridge I was looking at. One thing that doesn't show up on onX however, is random closures to block management. When I got there, the area was in fact, closed. Instead of seeing the green sign on the sign-in box that all hunters need to sign in as a kind of permission slip to hunt, there was the red sign signifying a closed area. Damnit.
As we often taught our kids in Alternative Youth Adventures as a core value, "adapt, improvise and overcome." On to plan B.
I drove up the drainage to the National Forrest boundary. It would be a straight up hike through dead falls and a burn area, but I could get right up above where I had seen these elk. Again, a lot of work with no guarantees. More than likely, I would locate the herd, and they would still be on private land with no way to call them off. They ain't stupid. They know where they are safe but not a lot of options now as I have committed to the plan, so I bust out my gear and make the painful climb to the top.
Of course, as luck would have it the wind is directly from my back, which is no good for trying to sneak into an area with elk. And it's swirling and pretty much completely screwing me. My motivation is dwindling and every step over a fallen tree is making the trek up less and less desirable. I look back down to the truck every once in a while, as I can see it the entire way up and wonder if I should just get back down and drive around for a while hoping something would cross the road. Wow, that sounds like I'm becoming a road hunter...
Pride won't let me give in. I keep hiking up.
As I crest the ridge and keep pushing through the underbrush that grows thick as the Tom Sellek's mustache in these burn areas, I look up to the ridge to the North and low and behold, there's a fricken elk standing there.
"Holy crap," I thought to myself.
Just seeing an elk on public land is a win. And now, the entire day changes and there's no need to manufacture some kind of motivation through pride or the fact that "at least I'm out getting exercise experiencing nature..." It's like when a client tells you that they just enjoy getting out on the water and they don't care if they catch anything. You may say that but it's not what we're here for. It's like negotiating with yourself, justifying spending the time and energy or money and not being successful. Yeah, I know. Are you a glass half empty or a glass half full person where you try your best to make everything a positive. Those people drive me nuts. I'm a realist and as much as I'm here to enjoy the outdoors, part of that is seeing elk and actually believing I've got a chance and this sighting is telling me, "So you say I have a chance..."
By the time I spotted this elk, I was already past her and now, slightly downwind with her being about 400 yards uphill to the north. I could circle more downwind to the east and up the ridge and either wait her out and see if she keeps feeding along the ridge or I could walk back upwind towards her and try to get close enough for a shot. The one thing I was pretty sure of, however, is that she wasn't alone. Taking my time and trying to locate the herd would most likely dictate my next moves and before long, I started spotting more and more elk along the ridge and even heard a couple bulls bugling. This was going to get interesting and because I had managed to inadvertently sneak past them, I had put myself in a really good position.
I worked my way through the deadfalls and brush more downwind of the group of elk and started working my way back up to them. It's a huge burn area so pretty open with new growth pines we often refer to as "pecker poles." I'm not sure why it just is what it is. They offer some cover but aren't grown up enough to obstruct the view of these elk. I find it difficult to cover ground without continually glassing the elk to make sure I haven't busted them out. The wind is offering cover from the noise of pushing through Sellek's mustache and these elk are content on feeding. I keep pushing until I'm within a couple hundred yards of the herd.
I don't call. These elk are busy doing their thing. I hear a bull bugle and figure I'll let him do the work. Then I hear another bull that is obviously quite a bit larger than the first. I can't see him, but you just know with the growl and the depth of his voice. He's just different.
At some point, one of the smaller bulls steps out. He's decent. Probably a small six-point. He's circling around as if to inventory the cows. He's not big enough to be the herd bull. Then another smaller bull steps out. I'm well within 200 yards of these bulls and only about 120 yards from the closest cow. It's decision time. I think there are about 20 elk in this group, and I really want to get a look at the herd bull, so I place the diaphragm call against the roof of my mouth, bring the grunt tube to my lips and belt out my own bugle just to test the waters.
The herd bull crests the ridge in front of me, about 200 yards out. He is huge and he's coming.
But his aggression shifts from me to the other two bulls in the herd and I watch as he lowers his head and charges them. They want nothing to do with this guy and the run off, scampering over dead falls and brush doing anything possible to create distance between them and the monarch. The two bulls drop down into a draw and then up the adjacent ridge before stopping. Game f'n on!
I bugle again and the monarch turns to look my direction. He takes a couple steps my way, tilts his head back, curls his upper lip and rips a big growl at me. All I have to do is piss him off just enough and like an enraged, half-drunken jealous boyfriend, he'll come charging and I will get my shot.
I pull my range finder out and pick a couple burnt stumps he should pass by. If he follows the path, I envision him taking, I should have him at forty yards. I range him. He's cut the distance to about 150 yards and stops. I see him licking his nostrils trying to figure me out. The wind is swirling and every once in a while, I feel the air on the back of my neck, and I know he's getting a whiff of something he's not sure of. He turns and walks back to the middle of the herd. He's not convinced I'm something he needs to confront, and I feel the anxiety of these less-than-ideal conditions, with the swirling wind in my head telling me I need to make my move.
This is what drives elk hunters crazy and what we talk about in the off-season. It's the "what-ifs," and the, "if I had just done this..." that we lament on. The truth of the matter is, there is no right answer to what to do in this situation. Your options are to either wait it out or to make the charge. If you wait, the hope is that these elk mill around a bit and eventually, one of them gets close enough for a shot. I have a couple cows within 120 yards. I have three bulls that are messing with each other. One is a giant. But I also have a swirling wind and there is a high probability that one of these elk will get my sent, bark, and game over.
If you charge in, or sneak in, there's a chance you could close the distance and get a shot...what's not happening is this bull is not going to come to the call and I'm just alerting the herd to the fact that something they're not all that sure about is 120 yards away and they are getting nervous.
There is a draw between myself and the herd and I'm able to drop down so I'm out of sight. I take my chance figuring I can come up the side of the draw and be within 50 yards of a cow. I'm a meat hunter. I'll take the cow if I get the chance.
As I drop down, I don't hear the pounding of hoofs on the shale that would indicate them busting out. I'm feeling pretty good I'll get within shooting range. But as I crest the top of the draw, the one thing I was afraid of rings out across the mountains as one of the bulls on the other side of the drainage that had just been chased out by the monarch barks and all hell breaks loose. I had no idea the number of elk that were in this draw and it's something I'll never forget.
The sidehill from where the bark came was to my left across a draw. Ahead of me were the elk I was sneaking in on. To my right was another draw where the knob I was sneaking up on sluffed off to where I couldn't see down into it. When the elk barked on the sidehill, all the elk in front of me and to my right started filing out. Dozens and dozens of elk came up out of the draw and crossed directly in front of me. There had to have been a hundred elk in this herd. I had no idea and part of me just watched in awe. The noise they made. The dust they kicked up. It was like watching a stampede of horses in some old spaghetti western.
I blew on my cow call just hoping to stop one of them within range and it worked. Two spike bulls stopped 40 yards out. The problem is you can't shoot spikes in this area.
I pushed up the hill to get a better vantage point almost becoming part of the herd. It seemed to take minutes for all these elk to bust out of the draw.
One of the cows stopped 65 yards away and stood broadside. I had already knocked an arrow before making my move knowing that if it happened, it would happen quick. I drew my bow back, settled the pin behind her front shoulder and as I pulled the trigger on my release, she bolted. I watched my arrow sail right behind her flanks. I then continued to watch as this herd of at least a hundred elk disappeared over the next ridge, still hearing the clicking of hooves against the shale and snapping of branches as the they tore through the pecker poles and underbrush.
As I immediately engaged in the "what-if's" that will occupy my mind for the next year if the rest of the season isn't successful, I turned to the ridge to the southeast and noticed another herd of at least 75, maybe 100 elk feeding about 600 yards away.
"Jeezus!"
One of the bulls in that group was bugling. I thought about shifting my focus, but I needed to find my arrow and confirm the miss. I also knew these elk were straight downwind and there was no way to get around them so with tail between my legs, I spent the rest of the evening climbing down the mountain, going over what I should have done or would have done had I known there were that many elk in that draw and at some point got to the realization of how fricken awesome that was. Day one was a success. In just about every measure for every bow hunter, it was a success, and it will get keep me motivated for the rest of the week.
Keep 'em where they live...
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