So, this morning, I decide I’m too sick and tired of hunting elk and never seeing anything. So I drive to this spot only a couple miles from town for a nice little hike through a creekbed. Whitetails like valleys, and I’ve seen a nice little 5×5 back in the pre-season who runs around down there. At the least, I expect to see a doe or two, and have a nice little hike in the bush. I’ve also been meaning to explore this valley bottom for a long time, because it’s close to home, and there’s no roads (which means usually not much in the way of other hunters).
On the way in, I accidentally run a bowhunters morning. I saw his truck on the way in, and figured someone was probably hunting around there, so on purpose to give him room, I drove in a lot deeper than I was planning to so whoever was hunting there would have some space. 2 kilometers in, I find 2 people with Excalibur crossbows strapped to their back hiking down the main road. The nearest one to me flags me down, and yells at me a bit (politely of course, he is Canadian after all, but he wasn’t happy). I apologized and offered to leave the area to him, but he told me to go on and dive in and have my hunt, as all the game was probably spooked anyway. I felt really bad about it – I know what it’s like to have your morning hunt ruined – but wasn’t much I could do about it at that point.
So, I hike up into this valley bottom I’ve been meaning to explore for like 3 years now. After a couple hours, I got kind of lost, but recognized a big rock face while orienting myself in a clearing, and headed for it. Came out walking up a draw I knew that comes out on a forrestry road that would orient me for the hike back. It’s a VERY steep draw, and I’ve been hiking for hours, so I hit the top huffing and puffing and sweating like a pig. I figure after all the noise, and the smell of sweaty human, hunting is over around there. But, I found enough optimisim to go setup on a little rock bluff that gave me about 15 feet of elevation from the bottom of the draw in a nice bottleneck spot. You never know..
So, I sit there for half an hour till I can breathe straight after the hike. I got my feet up on a rock, my back up against another one, might as well have been kicked back in a lazyboy. Feeling good, enjoying the squirrels. Another half hour goes by, and I’m starting to get a bit chilly, so I figure I’m about to get up and see if I can’t navigate my way back to the truck, so I can drive over and have a sit-down hunt in one of my favourite whitetail spots.
An elk chirps in the bush. At least I thought it was an elk. So I sit tight. I wish I had time to turn around, becuase I’m facing 180 degrees the wrong way, but it would make too much noise and movement to turn around. So I swing my head, and wait for the inevetable cow elk. All I ever see are cow elk. But hey, seeing a cow elk is better than seeing nothing all day. Who knows, maybe there’s a 6 point bull in tow.
A few minutes later, taking his time, comes a lone bull elk. As he came into focus amongst the branches, I thought he looked a little small. Must have been chased off from the cows by a bigger bull. Then I notice, that up top of each antler, he’s got 3 points. “Oh really?” I say to msyelf. As he gets closer, and less bush separates us, I start counting the low tines. Hey, 3. 3 down low. 3 up top. (I count points like 30 times trying to convince myself I’m not about to shoot a 5 point). Oh YEAH! He’s a small 6 point, but dang if he ain’t 6×6. “Come to pappa!” screams my brain.
He passes by this thick area of bush and I can’t see him. By this time he’s far enough by me that me being facing the wrong way won’t matter. I line up on the clearing he’s about to walk into, flip the saftey off, and wait. His antlers come through, a bit of neck… and he stops. “Oh, you have to be kidding me!” I want to scream. I peek out from behind the scope, and he’s looking right at me, starting to tense up. It took me about half a second to lean out hard, and put a bullet right through both lungs and clipped the top of his heart, easy money from about 15 yards away. Were I a millisecond slower, and he would have launched back into thick brush, I would be telling you a whole different story.
So, he went about 20-30 yards, and went down bellowing. Maybe 30 seconds later, the noise stopped. I went over to him. He still had some life left in him, but not much. He raised his head and looked at me for a few seconds, then laid down and was gone. It was a special moment I will never forget. I knelt down and prayed right there on the spot, about 5 feet away from him. A 6×6 point bull just bumbling down the trail on his own letting me take a 15 yard shot at him is a gift from God, I don’t care who you are.
Oh, and the best part – that draw I had hiked up in from the backside is about 100 yards from a decent skid trail which leads to a forrestry road. So, a couple pastors from my church, and my wife came out to help me with that. 110 yards of rope, a pulley, and a spare pickup truck – and we had the whole elk in the back of my truck, and no strained backs at all. Also turns out my pastor used to be a professional butcher – you have never seen the skin come off an elk so fast in your life! That man is spooky good with a knife! I helped out best I could, but he was so fast I’d hardly figure out what to do next before he was done with it.
Anyway, What a Day! I am a blessed man.
