I had drawn a cow tag the year before Washington went to the current point system we have, and it seemed like a curse to me.
8 long years had come and gone without me drawing a Bull Elk tag in the Colockum. However the WDFW must have felt sorry for me, as I finally got drawn for my much coveted permit.
I was the lucky holder of one of only 18 any bull permits for the Quilomene rifle hunt. I had also been drawn for an any buck tag for the same unit only with a muzzleloader this time. I really didn't hunt all that hard for a Muley but spent the time looking for Elk, and boy did I find them. I found a herd bull frantically fending off several satellite bulls 2 weeks before my Elk hunt began. Just for fun I figured I would sneak up and see how close I could get to the big boys. I managed to sneak within 60 yards and watched as a huge 7 point took a not too shabby 6 point to school. The sounds of there horns clashing was amazing. I kept an eye on this herd and hoped they would still be around come opening day of my season.
Opening day of my Elk hunt finally came, and after a full day of hiking I had seen plenty of Elk but no big boys. The second day was more of the same. On Wednesday after seeing hardly any Elk on the morning hunt my campmate Russ and I decided to go for a little drive and cover some ground and so some glassing. We ended up low on fuel and decided to go down to Malaga and fuel up. It was strange not to see people wearing orange and camo at the Malaga Market, lol.
On our way back to to camp I spotted a herd of Elk on a distant ridge starting to come out of the timber to feed. I knew the ridge and figured if we hurried that we would have around 4 hours before the end of hunting light. Russ and I started down the ridge and as we came to the end after about a mile realized we were on an adjacent ridge, the elk were on the next ridge to our south. As we sat down and glassed them, I saw what looked like the giant 7 point I had seen during my earlier scouting trip!
We dropped down to the bottom between the ridges and back up a steep basalt strewn hillside and began our sneak towards the elk. After another mile or so we were close to the timber the Elk were last seen in. Russ decided to hold back, and wait for them to come back out of the timber. I dropped off the side of the ridge and slowly worked my way towards the flat that the Elk had been feeding on. It was only a few hundred yards, but it seemed like it took hours to slowly test each Basalt rock, and look for any stick that would betray my presence. As I finally got to a good spot to peek over the edge I saw 6 cows about 35 yards away. I dropped back down out of sight and waited for a minute then took another peek. It was then that the wind that had steadily been blowing in my face decided to take a quick break and blow directly at them. The cows abruptly lifted there heads and moved back into the trees. I stood up and all of the Elk had moved off into the timber.
That's when I heard the bugle, a bull was just inside the timber! I dropped my scope power to 4x and started to sneak in after him. Moving slowly and looking for any glimpse of tawny hide I worked my way through the timber following the herd. Several hundred hards later I found myself on the nose of the ridge on a gently sloping meadow, seperated by a thin row of trees that had another meadow beyond it. The bull I was following bugled again, and it was replied to by another bull in the second meadow. I looked at him and could plainly see horns with the naked eye at 175 yards. I quickly sat down and pondered just how nice a bull he was. I could see the G-4's were ivory tipped and that he was symmetrical. This was when I noticed the size of his body compared to the cows and spike that were in the field with him. This bull had a huge body on him. The first bull I was following had moved off further into the timber and this bull was distracted by him. At this point the bull in the meadow took a half step and was broadside facing slightly away from me. I decided that he would be worthy of my 9 year quest, flicked the safety off and send a 200 grain Nosler Partition from my Remington .300 Ultra Mag into the crease behind his front shoulder. The bull moved 20 yards uphill trying to follow the fleeing herd but stopped, I jacked another shell and sent another bullet into him. I thought about a third but he had turned away from me and slowly walked out of sight slightly downhill.
My heart was beating and my breathing was short and uneven. I could hardly believe that I had found a bull and shot him. I tried to force myself to wait and let the bull die, but after counting to 60 twice couldn't handle it anymore. I walked over to where I had last seen the bull and followed his last direction. There about 45 yards away I saw the bull bedded down. A final shot to the neck finished him. That's when the shaking began, my hands were like they belonged to someone else as they shook from the adrenalin coursing through my body. I actually muttered out loud that I had actually done it.
I don't know what he weighed, but I had him hoisted by the back legs on a gambrel 8' in a tree and his snout was still on the ground. This was such an awesome experience for me, as the largest bull I had shot before this was a 1x2 and I look forward to savoring the massive backstraps and tenderloins from him this winter.
