DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
- 36,924
- 5,115
I always approach elk season with high expectations. This year is no exception. I've seen quite a few herds during the past two weeks, and the elk are bugling as frost is beginning to occur regularly in the valleys. On Wednesday, Gil (my hunting partner of a decade or more) and I were looking for a moose to invite home to dinner. We had glassed a moose about 2.5 km away. Since the limit of shooting light was quickly approaching, we decided to make a quick dash over to the valley where we had seen the moose. If it was a bull, it was a young bull. If it was a cow, there was the possibility a bull was close by. We didn't have a spotting scope with us, so we couldn't really make that determination. Thus, it was determined that we needed to make the trek over to see what we were looking at.
We circled northward and moved steadily toward the west, which would permit me to drop down into the valley as we turned back south. As we neared one opening, we spotted a spike elk. Thursday, the following morning, was the opening day for elk. We opted to glass the spiker, waiting to see if other elk would follow. Sure enough, shortly a bull and a cow appeared. The bull was chasing the cow all over the field. We glassed the area, watching the made pursuit for about fifteen minutes. We made the decision to hike back to our camp (about 1.5 km east) and come back early the following morning to see what we could find.
The alarm chimed at four a.m. and we climbed out of bed, into the brisk air and hurriedly dressed. I munched a granola bar and a fruit bar. I was somewhat concerned as I was nursing the remnants of a blister on my left foot. I laced my boots tightly, ensuring there was no slippage, and gingerly tested for tenderness. Fortunately, I retained enough medical skills that I managed to salvage my ability to walk unhindered. It is a good thing, as we would cover quite a bit of territory that morning. We sprayed ourselves generously with scent suppressant and affixed wafers impregnated with elk in estrus urine. I keep some hats and clothing that are used only for this purpose, as it couldn't be worn in polite company ever again. I had some young ladies throw our hats out into the yard when we visited their father on one occasion, but that is another story.
As we approached the field where we had witnessed the elk the previous evening, we heard the first defiant bugle. A bull was screaming his defiance of every other bull and at the same time giving vocal vent to his passionate desire for any cows in the vicinity. We had carried two decoys with us along with our other gear. We hurriedly set up the decoys, liberally spraying them with elk in estrus urine. Ah, that delectable aroma always brings tears to my eyes (and to the eyes of anyone else in my immediate vicinity). After a few whispered consultations as we finalised plans for our set up, we situated ourselves about twenty five yards apart. It was 172 yards to the opening where elk often came out, with a second opening about six hundred yards to the west.
After a few minutes, Gil bugled a challenge to the bull, which was immediately met by an angry response from down in the valley. I added a couple of plaintive cow chirps, doing my best to sound as if I were pleading with a big bull to come rescue me from this tiny molester. This generated a furious rejoinder from the bull. Now was the time to be silent and let his imagination work. He was coming, screaming defiance and lust the whole way. Then, it happened.
Glancing at the opening, I saw an old cow tentatively step out. Gil was looking to the west, waiting for the bull to come out there. He didn't see the cow, but she seems to have seen him. She couldn't really identify what that strange critter was, but her fear was partly allayed by the two elk she saw contentedly standing in the midst of the meadow. So, she carefully circled to the east watching the whole while. For almost four minutes she circled; the whole time I was trying to get Gil's attention to alert him to cease his movement. In the interim, he had decided that it was time to again bugle. The cow was startled. She knew the sound, but it was emanating from the strangest looking bull she had ever seen--and he smelled as if he were a she. Confusion was writ large on her face as she lifted her head and stopped.
At this point, I ranged her a mere sixty-seven yards from me, and she hadn't yet seen me. At last, Gil looked to his left, and there was was--confused and now increasingly alarmed. At this, she wheeled and began to gallop off the meadow. Gil chirped a couple of cow calls, which stopped her mad flight. Again, seeing the decoys and assuming they were her fellow elk, she paused and began to head bob to see if anyone would move. When the other elk continued to stand still, she calmed down and began to graze. For about ten minutes she grazed and slowly worked her way toward the opening from whence she had first appeared. For about another five minutes I observed her lift her head to look over the tall grass to see if anything was amiss before she returned to grazing. At last, she left the field.
In the interim, the bull had developed a severe case of laryngitis or lock-jaw, I really couldn't tell which. He ceased being vocal. I later accused Gill of sound too mean. He insisted that he sounded like a little bitty satellite bull. Whatever was the case, we did not again get the bull to respond, and he never showed himself so that we could see him. If he was the bull we had seen the previous evening, he was a five-by-five. I had seen a six-by-six the previous week, and he already had a herd of about fifteen or twenty cows and calves. We don't know which we had doing the trash talking, and we'll have to see if we can tease him out later.
We decided to move down into the valley. As we approached one finger area on the hillside, Gil stopped me, indicating that he saw three elk about six hundred meters west of us and on the treeline. We moved up a draw and set up the decoys and began to call. Though we never got a response, after about fifteen minutes, a spike elk moved into an opening and cautiously surveyed the scene. He was nervous, but for a full five minutes he walked back and forth looking carefully to see what he had heard. Gil had said that if a spike bull or cow came close enough, he would shoot it. He was carrying his recurve bow and wanted to use it to take an elk. Unfortunately, this little gaffer kept a fair bit of bush between us and himself. He moved back from the direction he had come. I made the decision to move closer and through the opening if possible to take a shot at the bull that Gil had seen with the other elk. I was within about twenty yards of the opening when a heifer broke through the bush and stood transfixed, staring at the strange creature crouched near the opening. I held still, and though she could clearly see me, she walked steadily across the area and disappeared into the brush on the north side. I can't help but think that the sight of a couple of decoys standing about eighty yards behind us served to calm her fears.
After she moved out of sight, I moved on to the opening. Cautiously sticking my head through, I verified that there were no more elk in sight. They had moved into the woods. I had though I had seen movement as they skirted our position to the south, and it is likely that they had indeed moved into the trees to the south and then moved eastward in the deep timber. We moved on down into the valley and set up to see if anything else would appear. Other than a coyote pouncing on mice, we didn't see anything the remainder of the morning. We heard large creatures moving through the woods behind us on a couple of occasions, but they chose not to come out.
In the remainder of the day, we saw one other spike elk about about two hundred yards and quite a number of whitetail and mule deer. Unfortunately for me, I have work to do, or I would have remained in the field to harass the elk today. Well, there is always tomorrow, and I likely will find my way out to the area early tomorrow morning. As I explained to my wife when I came in late last evening, "This is why I speak of 'hunting,' and not of 'shooting.'"
We circled northward and moved steadily toward the west, which would permit me to drop down into the valley as we turned back south. As we neared one opening, we spotted a spike elk. Thursday, the following morning, was the opening day for elk. We opted to glass the spiker, waiting to see if other elk would follow. Sure enough, shortly a bull and a cow appeared. The bull was chasing the cow all over the field. We glassed the area, watching the made pursuit for about fifteen minutes. We made the decision to hike back to our camp (about 1.5 km east) and come back early the following morning to see what we could find.
The alarm chimed at four a.m. and we climbed out of bed, into the brisk air and hurriedly dressed. I munched a granola bar and a fruit bar. I was somewhat concerned as I was nursing the remnants of a blister on my left foot. I laced my boots tightly, ensuring there was no slippage, and gingerly tested for tenderness. Fortunately, I retained enough medical skills that I managed to salvage my ability to walk unhindered. It is a good thing, as we would cover quite a bit of territory that morning. We sprayed ourselves generously with scent suppressant and affixed wafers impregnated with elk in estrus urine. I keep some hats and clothing that are used only for this purpose, as it couldn't be worn in polite company ever again. I had some young ladies throw our hats out into the yard when we visited their father on one occasion, but that is another story.
As we approached the field where we had witnessed the elk the previous evening, we heard the first defiant bugle. A bull was screaming his defiance of every other bull and at the same time giving vocal vent to his passionate desire for any cows in the vicinity. We had carried two decoys with us along with our other gear. We hurriedly set up the decoys, liberally spraying them with elk in estrus urine. Ah, that delectable aroma always brings tears to my eyes (and to the eyes of anyone else in my immediate vicinity). After a few whispered consultations as we finalised plans for our set up, we situated ourselves about twenty five yards apart. It was 172 yards to the opening where elk often came out, with a second opening about six hundred yards to the west.
After a few minutes, Gil bugled a challenge to the bull, which was immediately met by an angry response from down in the valley. I added a couple of plaintive cow chirps, doing my best to sound as if I were pleading with a big bull to come rescue me from this tiny molester. This generated a furious rejoinder from the bull. Now was the time to be silent and let his imagination work. He was coming, screaming defiance and lust the whole way. Then, it happened.
Glancing at the opening, I saw an old cow tentatively step out. Gil was looking to the west, waiting for the bull to come out there. He didn't see the cow, but she seems to have seen him. She couldn't really identify what that strange critter was, but her fear was partly allayed by the two elk she saw contentedly standing in the midst of the meadow. So, she carefully circled to the east watching the whole while. For almost four minutes she circled; the whole time I was trying to get Gil's attention to alert him to cease his movement. In the interim, he had decided that it was time to again bugle. The cow was startled. She knew the sound, but it was emanating from the strangest looking bull she had ever seen--and he smelled as if he were a she. Confusion was writ large on her face as she lifted her head and stopped.
At this point, I ranged her a mere sixty-seven yards from me, and she hadn't yet seen me. At last, Gil looked to his left, and there was was--confused and now increasingly alarmed. At this, she wheeled and began to gallop off the meadow. Gil chirped a couple of cow calls, which stopped her mad flight. Again, seeing the decoys and assuming they were her fellow elk, she paused and began to head bob to see if anyone would move. When the other elk continued to stand still, she calmed down and began to graze. For about ten minutes she grazed and slowly worked her way toward the opening from whence she had first appeared. For about another five minutes I observed her lift her head to look over the tall grass to see if anything was amiss before she returned to grazing. At last, she left the field.
In the interim, the bull had developed a severe case of laryngitis or lock-jaw, I really couldn't tell which. He ceased being vocal. I later accused Gill of sound too mean. He insisted that he sounded like a little bitty satellite bull. Whatever was the case, we did not again get the bull to respond, and he never showed himself so that we could see him. If he was the bull we had seen the previous evening, he was a five-by-five. I had seen a six-by-six the previous week, and he already had a herd of about fifteen or twenty cows and calves. We don't know which we had doing the trash talking, and we'll have to see if we can tease him out later.
We decided to move down into the valley. As we approached one finger area on the hillside, Gil stopped me, indicating that he saw three elk about six hundred meters west of us and on the treeline. We moved up a draw and set up the decoys and began to call. Though we never got a response, after about fifteen minutes, a spike elk moved into an opening and cautiously surveyed the scene. He was nervous, but for a full five minutes he walked back and forth looking carefully to see what he had heard. Gil had said that if a spike bull or cow came close enough, he would shoot it. He was carrying his recurve bow and wanted to use it to take an elk. Unfortunately, this little gaffer kept a fair bit of bush between us and himself. He moved back from the direction he had come. I made the decision to move closer and through the opening if possible to take a shot at the bull that Gil had seen with the other elk. I was within about twenty yards of the opening when a heifer broke through the bush and stood transfixed, staring at the strange creature crouched near the opening. I held still, and though she could clearly see me, she walked steadily across the area and disappeared into the brush on the north side. I can't help but think that the sight of a couple of decoys standing about eighty yards behind us served to calm her fears.
After she moved out of sight, I moved on to the opening. Cautiously sticking my head through, I verified that there were no more elk in sight. They had moved into the woods. I had though I had seen movement as they skirted our position to the south, and it is likely that they had indeed moved into the trees to the south and then moved eastward in the deep timber. We moved on down into the valley and set up to see if anything else would appear. Other than a coyote pouncing on mice, we didn't see anything the remainder of the morning. We heard large creatures moving through the woods behind us on a couple of occasions, but they chose not to come out.
In the remainder of the day, we saw one other spike elk about about two hundred yards and quite a number of whitetail and mule deer. Unfortunately for me, I have work to do, or I would have remained in the field to harass the elk today. Well, there is always tomorrow, and I likely will find my way out to the area early tomorrow morning. As I explained to my wife when I came in late last evening, "This is why I speak of 'hunting,' and not of 'shooting.'"
