Well, I made my first stalk on an animal this weekend. It was Saturday morning, the second day of my coastal elk hunt. I was still-hunting a trail that the elk sometimes use to travel to their bedding areas after a night of feeding in a large meadow. I had been hunting for about an hour when I heard a series of sharp “Eyous..Eyous” in the distance. I had heard the same sound the evening before while sitting in my blind and was unsure what it was. Then as I was leaving I encountered a herd of about 30 elk in the dark and realized that I was listening to the sound of cow elk communicating with each other.

I determined that the calls were originating in the meadow that I was working towards. I picked up my pace and when I arrived at the edge of the meadow I spied a half dozen elk feeding in the open on the opposite side at about 120 yards. They were large animals with thick dark manes that contrasted sharply with their heavy tan bodies. As I watched them through my binoculars I was mesmerized by their size and grace. I felt the blood of my hunter/gatherer ancestors surging inside of me - God I wanted to get close to one of those animals. But I couldn’t just step out into the meadow and stroll over to them. No, these animals had already survived one bow season and two rifle seasons. They were ultra wary and the slightest hint of trouble would send them stampeding to the safety of the surrounding swamp and trees. I decided that I would make a wide circle around the meadow and setup in the timber on the other side. I calculated that if I hustled I might be able to ambush one of the elk as it left the meadow to travel to its bedding area.

The next hour was spent alternating between slogging through thigh deep bogs, scratching my way through blowdowns and thick brush, and fording rain swollen creeks. When I finally arrived at on the other side I snuck to the edge of the meadow and peered through a small hole in a tangle of blackberries to see if I could locate the elk. Much to my chagrin I saw the rump of the last elk in the herd as it exited the meadow. They were already in the timber and I wasn’t yet in position - so much for Plan A.

I figured my only hope was to quickly get above them and cut them off before they melted into the forest. As fast as I quietly could I angled through the trees toward where I thought I might intercept them. Within minutes I encountered fresh elk sign and slowed down. Then I heard something heavy moving through the brush to my right, a cow called very close ahead of me, and then a stick snapped behind me. I thought, sh*t I’m right in the middle them and I need to find a spot to setup and prepare for a shot, and fast. I took another step and an elk came crashing out of the brush 10 yards to my left. Dam* where did that one come from - and then they were gone.

I’d blown a golden opportunity at an elk. But I learned a valuable lesson today - you really CAN get too close.

Oh well, one more chance to get it done...

Happy Thanksgiving and be safe,

Gordon a.ka. Muddler