What a story!.....
Brad French and I have been in Colorado all week hunting elk. We're hunting with July 29th Outfitters west of Aguilar. I can see Fred Eichler's house outside the window right now. Beautiful country with lots of deer and elk.
We fished a little here and there too.
It's been HOT. And just coming out of the full moon too. Lots of nocturnal bugling, but daytime movement has been slow. In spite of all that, I was blessed with a great bull last night.....
Yesterday afternoon we went to the top of a mountain. The guides were bugling and cow calling. A bull on the ridge across the canyon kept answering, but no answers on our mountain. So at about sundown we hurried back down the mountain to the valley between the two ridges. The guides kept calling all the way down, and the bull kept answering.
After another 15-20 minutes of calling, the bugles coming out of the timber on the ridge above kept getting closer and closer until the bull finally emerged out of the timber at the bottom of the ridge at the edge of the meadow.
Steve and John really amped up the pleading cow calls then. Brad and I were set up and ready on opposite sides of a tree. The bull came in on my side of the tree. I was hunkered down in the tall grass. He hung up at 75 yards and turned around. It sounded like he was walking in to dollar night at a whore house, but he couldn't see any of the ladies he was expecting to see. I thought he might be leaving. The guys amped up the cow calls even more, and he turned back our way. In a few seconds he was walking broadside at 45 yards. I ranged him and raised up on one knee as I drew. I watched the red lighted nock disappear 2 inches behind the crease. THWAK!
The bull ran down the draw and crossed the creek through some thick brush 200 yards away and was then out of sight. We fist bumped and celebrated for about 10 minutes. We couldn't find the arrow. Either it stayed in him or buried up so deep in the grass we couldn't see the nock. It got dark by the time we got to where we last saw him. Zero blood. Ugh.
We looked all over the meadow in the chest high grass in the dark, but couldn't find any sign of him other than some wet grass and dirt for about 10 yards after he crossed the creek. We went from the thrill of victory to the agony of defeat. Not a good feeling at all.
So after a restless night, we went back at first light and resumed the search.
The guides went to the ridge where the wet tracks were headed last night. They got on a trail with fresh tracks and followed to the top. I was the only one who saw my shot as the other guys were behind brush. I was confident in the shot though. All I could remember was that red light disappearing right in the center of the lungs.
I went to the ridge too, but I stayed on a trail that leveled off about 1/3 of the way up. I just couldn't see how he could have gone to the top with holes through both lungs. I saw a track sliding down the slope, so I went down to a lower trail. I don't know if it was my bull that slid down and made that track or not. It could have been another elk just going down the steep slope. At any rate, God was with me. A little ways further I smelled rutting elk. I followed my nose 50 yards down to the edge of the meadow and saw the tips of an antler sticking up out of the grass.
Found him! My first elk. What an awesome experience to fulfill a lifelong dream. Thanks to all the guys at July 29th Outfitters!
Brad French and I have been in Colorado all week hunting elk. We're hunting with July 29th Outfitters west of Aguilar. I can see Fred Eichler's house outside the window right now. Beautiful country with lots of deer and elk.
We fished a little here and there too.
It's been HOT. And just coming out of the full moon too. Lots of nocturnal bugling, but daytime movement has been slow. In spite of all that, I was blessed with a great bull last night.....
Yesterday afternoon we went to the top of a mountain. The guides were bugling and cow calling. A bull on the ridge across the canyon kept answering, but no answers on our mountain. So at about sundown we hurried back down the mountain to the valley between the two ridges. The guides kept calling all the way down, and the bull kept answering.
After another 15-20 minutes of calling, the bugles coming out of the timber on the ridge above kept getting closer and closer until the bull finally emerged out of the timber at the bottom of the ridge at the edge of the meadow.
Steve and John really amped up the pleading cow calls then. Brad and I were set up and ready on opposite sides of a tree. The bull came in on my side of the tree. I was hunkered down in the tall grass. He hung up at 75 yards and turned around. It sounded like he was walking in to dollar night at a whore house, but he couldn't see any of the ladies he was expecting to see. I thought he might be leaving. The guys amped up the cow calls even more, and he turned back our way. In a few seconds he was walking broadside at 45 yards. I ranged him and raised up on one knee as I drew. I watched the red lighted nock disappear 2 inches behind the crease. THWAK!
The bull ran down the draw and crossed the creek through some thick brush 200 yards away and was then out of sight. We fist bumped and celebrated for about 10 minutes. We couldn't find the arrow. Either it stayed in him or buried up so deep in the grass we couldn't see the nock. It got dark by the time we got to where we last saw him. Zero blood. Ugh.
We looked all over the meadow in the chest high grass in the dark, but couldn't find any sign of him other than some wet grass and dirt for about 10 yards after he crossed the creek. We went from the thrill of victory to the agony of defeat. Not a good feeling at all.
So after a restless night, we went back at first light and resumed the search.
The guides went to the ridge where the wet tracks were headed last night. They got on a trail with fresh tracks and followed to the top. I was the only one who saw my shot as the other guys were behind brush. I was confident in the shot though. All I could remember was that red light disappearing right in the center of the lungs.
I went to the ridge too, but I stayed on a trail that leveled off about 1/3 of the way up. I just couldn't see how he could have gone to the top with holes through both lungs. I saw a track sliding down the slope, so I went down to a lower trail. I don't know if it was my bull that slid down and made that track or not. It could have been another elk just going down the steep slope. At any rate, God was with me. A little ways further I smelled rutting elk. I followed my nose 50 yards down to the edge of the meadow and saw the tips of an antler sticking up out of the grass.
Found him! My first elk. What an awesome experience to fulfill a lifelong dream. Thanks to all the guys at July 29th Outfitters!
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