RE: The Elk Nazi Got Me.
Great story!
OHHHH! I know the feeling!!!
Some people wonder why I talk so much about hunting but have a relatively empty freezer at times, and I just say “because once you down an animal, the fun ends and the work begins!”
This year I found myself with an unfilled tag as well, but I had a very memorable season. The experience you related brought back some great “no elk for me this year” past memories as well. Of course, I always want to tag an elk each year, but having experiences much like yours are worth eating a tag.
One in particular came at the last day of my archery season. It was the waning hours of the day and I found myself stocking in on a herd, of which numbers I hadn’t determined. I was weaving thru tall timbers and following the herd down the mountain. They were about 100 yard ahead of me, and I was slowly trying to make up ground. I had seen two or three of the elk to know there were bulls in the herd, but knew nothing of potential size.
All of a sudden the elk were gone, and I didn’t know if I had spooked them or not. The land started to get steeper and the trees thinner, opening up into high desert sagebrush below. I clambered over a crop of lava rock, hoping to spot the herd when I reached the summit. The path I chose turned out to have a poor view so I made my way down the other side. Just as I came off the last rock at the bottom, I found myself smack dab in the middle of the herd! The rocks had not only hid the elk from me, but me from them.
To my right was a group of about 20 cows, the closest was a young calf about 10 yards away. To my right was a group of bulls (3 spikes, a rag horn, and a small 5 X 5). One of the spikes was only 30 yards away, but behind a tree. It was the last day to hunt, so I looked at him as a good shooter, especially since the sun was already behind the mountains. The wind was perfect, and there was enough cover to slip in for a shot. The calf became a problem, as it was her that I needed to watch and not spook. When she grazed, I moved. It took a couple of minutes and I found myself at a perfect broadside of the spike at 20 yards.
Then I noticed HIM! The new spot I found myself in gave view to the herd bull. He was a beautiful 6 X 6 easily in the 300 class. He was below me and in the open. Between us was about 80 to 100 yards of bare ground with nothing to hide behind. He was a very busy bull. He would check his cows, then trot over and inspect the bulls. I could do nothing. I had the shot on the spike, but now my focus was on this bruiser. Antler fever if you will.
I then thought “a small challenge bugle may get this guy to come running to me”. I reached into my pocket for my reed call, but it was GONE! With the crawling to get into position it must have fallen out (at this time I was using a reed for both bugle and cow talking). I looked back but could not see my reed. All I could do now was watch and hope for a shot.
The herd bull continued his back and forth checkup, but would never stop long enough for a shot, let alone get in a comfortable range. The calf, being young and dumb, got used to the weird looking bush and was eating away, but the spike grew leery of my presence and slowly trotted off. With him he took the other bulls, leaving the herd bull to focus on his cows. At this time the cows had gone over the ridge, and I heard the distant talk of a “lost cow”. Immediately the herd bull trotted after.
This gave me a break as the last of the cows crested the ridge. I sprang up and went into a dead run down the opposite side of the ridge, bee lining to get below the chirping cow. Time was against me as the light began to fade. I circled underneath the herd up under a large pine tree. I could still hear the chirp of the lower cow now right above me. I stepped around the tree and came face to face with the herd bull. He looked at me, and I at him, both just as surprised as the other. He was about 80 yards above me, and the light was near gone.
I realized not only had I lost the light, but this would be a very ill decision to try a long, almost blind, shot at the bull. We stood there eyeballing each other, knowing the game was up. I finally broke the silence with a deep yell. “AAAAARRRRGGGGGGG!” The bull spun and trotted up the mountain.
As I descended off the ridge in near darkness, the bull decided to let me depart with the sounds of his majestic bugle, a final salute saying “better luck next time buddy”.
I returned to that same ridge 2 months later to fill my tag (this unit allows a general archery any elk/ spike only rifle tag, bull rifle tags are draw only) and ran into the bull again. He was alone, and we came face to face. This time it was like he knew I couldn’t shoot him, and he just turned and walked away. I ended up finding my spike and filling my tag, but the memory of that bruiser that got away still haunts me, with a smile on my face.