Average Joe's 2019

I hate to break it to you guys, but this is not going to be an intense, action packed, edge of your seat type of write up… It just wasn’t that kind of a trip. There might have only been about 45 minutes of notable action from the entire hunt. The hunt was more of a mental break for me than an actual hunt… a much needed break. More on that later.

Here are the gripping details of each day’s events in separate posts.

Day 1 - My plan was to sit on the same ridgeline I primarily hunted last year. It’s a great transition area and pinch point where the elk regularly travel through (they did it 8 out of the 12 days I hunted there last season.) I figured since I was able to get 2 shots off there 2 days in a row last year, I might as well pick up right where I’d left off.

I got to the ridge 20 minutes before legal light and was regretting my choice in clothing… I was FREEZING! Even though the ambient temp was up around 45 degrees, I still haven’t acclimated to temps below 75-80 degrees. Plus it was foggy and wet, which only compounded my lack of acclimatization. Regardless, I was just happy to be in the elk mountains. It was the first day I had to myself since the end of March.

My focus was on glassing into what we called “Spike Meadow” to the right of the ridge. If you remember from last year, it’s not really a meadow, but new-growth, THICK new-growth, that held a small herd of cows, calves, a raghorn, and several spikes.

It wasn’t long, maybe 20 minutes, before I heard the first few snaps of branches breaking in the new-growth below me. “Perfect!” I thought. “They’re right where we left em.”

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I became so target fixated on the trees rustling in the new-growth that I semi-ignored the “squirrel” sounds on the left side of the ridge. The squirrels were barking, scurrying up and down trees, dropping pine cones from the tops of trees and making quite a ruckus….. But then I heard a sound which instantly brought me back to the marshy cattle pasture I spent all of my youth chasing whitetails. There’s a distinct difference between the sound a holstein cow and a whitetail deer makes while walking through tall grass. The sound I heard on the ridge above Spike Meadow was not the cautious swish of a whitetail sneaking through the grass as if it were the wind. The sound was too loud and heavy to be anything other than a beef cow or an elk, and since there weren’t any cattle in the area it could only mean one thing… Elk… And they were close.

I slowly turned my head to the left and confirmed my suspicions. The lead cow had already fed well within bow range, but wasn’t in the open yet. I scrambled to get my release on the string and started looking for gaps in the trees. I noticed there were at least a hand full of elk milling around within bowrange. Then the lead cow stepped through a small gap in the trees… missed it. That’s ok. They were close, and the wind was good. “Done deal,” I thought. “I’m gonna be done in 20 minutes. I can’t believe this”

The lead cow cleared the last tree before entering a large meadow, and was standing perfectly broadside in the wide open.

“Crap!” I made the mistake of thinking past the problem set which was right in front of me. I lost focus. I forgot to get ranges to each of the gaps. It was too late, and I wasn’t confident in my guestimation. I let her walk thinking the next one would step out right there too…. I was wrong.

The biggest con with this spot is its proximity to the road (which is also a huge pro.) A few other cows walked through the far side of the gap but were shielded by branches. Just as a cow as about to walk into a gap less than 30 yards away, a truck door slammed shut at the bottom of the hill… The hunter let out a god-awful bugle and few cow calls… They were also directly upwind of us. The gig was up and the entire herd beat “hooves” up and over the ridge and into the fog.

That was the extent of Day 1’s elk action. The rest of the day was a mix of misery and hopelessness as the fog was incredibly thick, and the rain was unrelenting in it’s torment. An occasional lightning strike kept me on my toes and off the top of any ridgeline. I slowly crept through new-growth until I reached my wit’s end. It just wasn’t enjoyable. It also was a terribly low-odds venture. I mean, what are the chances that I’m able to sneak up to within 5 yards of a bedded elk? Because that’s all the further you could see in most of the new-growth. Honestly… I’m not even sure why I tried. I guess I’m just stubborn.

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As I mentioned in a previous post, the skies did eventually let up and gave us a beautiful sunset. But the elk didn’t seem to care, or if they did… they didn’t do it within my view.

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Day 2 - Same plan as day 1. Sit the pinch point, glass, hope for the best, and be ready this time. Unfortunately, the elk didn’t walk right past me this time. They crossed the ridge about 600 yards above me. I watched them feed into a new-growth filled saddle that I knew had a manmade trail blazed through it. The wind was good, so I went after them.

I easily picked up the tracks in the fresh mud, and soon found the elk again. They were moseying to the left and right of the trail, feeding slowly to me. “Awesome,” I thought. “Just a few more yards and they’ll be right in my lap.” I unnecessarily ranged every twig in the opening… Everything was top pin distance (aka, close-close, or real-close, or “if you miss this, all of mankind will never let you live it down...close.)

A cow was coming STRAIGHT to me. I drew my bow before she entered the shooting lane… when suddenly, she decided the grass to her left looked extra delicious, and she just had to have it. When she stopped, her vitals were well protected by the spindly twigs of the decaying dead-fall.

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“Dang it!” I thought. “Eh, that’s alright. I’ll get a shot still. I’m ready.”

Meanwhile, in the new-growth to my left, a cow was coming straight at me as well. She hit the brakes at bayonet range…

I was still at full draw, sort of pointing my bow at the first cow, and sort of mentally preparing to kill this other cow out of self-defense. We made eye-contact. It was awkward for both of us. Even though the staredown probably lasted only 10 seconds, it... felt... like... an... eternity.

The cow to my left, a mere yard or two away, barked and ran back into the new-growth... Out of my life forever. She blinked first, and with that victory, I let down my draw, and headed to the first mature fir tree to shield myself from the rain.

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There was nothing significant to report from the rest of the day. Just a lot of miles, a soaking rain, and a miserably cold wind. (I admit… Living in the desert for almost 6 years has made me soft. My inner Wisconsinite cringes at the idea, but hey, I still over-enunciate my O’s and I’s mOst tImes.)
 
Day 3 - Same plan for the morning of day 3. Unlike the government, I like to actually apply the idea of, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The wind was still good to sit above Spike Meadow and it has proven to be a productive tactic.

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Well… sure enough. No more than 15 minutes into the day, I spotted a group of 4 elk on the ridge opposite of Spike Meadow (to the right of the ridge.) I set my bow down to get a better look through my binoculars. A tiny raghorn, 2 cows and a calf.

I put my binos back into my harness and slid my cold left hand into my pocket to warm it up after holding my bow for a while. I watched the elk on the opposite ridge and started building my plan when something in the corner of my left eye caught my attention….

“Ope. There’s an elk,” I thought. “Right. ****-ing. There.” I screamed in my head.

Somehow, 2 cows and a calf were able to sneak to within 20 yards. They were just as confused as I was. I stood there, as still as humanly possible... and did not make eye contact. They obviously knew something about a bi-pedal mammal standing next to a tree was not okay, but they didn’t turn and run right away. The cow in the back slowly grabbed a mouthful of grass, then suddenly jerked her neck up. I think she was trying to get a reaction out of me, much in the same way humans instinctively play peekaboo with infants to get a laugh or a giggle or sometimes tears (especially if it’s not yours.)

We did this dance 3 or 4 times before the lead cow had enough. They slowly turned away and trotted to about 50 yards away. Both of the cows were behind some thick vegetation so I attempted to grab my bow… SLOWLY. The calf watched curiously as I picked it up and clicked my release onto the string. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The cows had enough, and ran off like a race horse shot out of the gate.

I turned back to check on the elk in Spike Meadow… they too were trotting away. The reason why became clear to me a few moments later when 2 hunters walked up the old logging road. I’m don’t think they even knew the elk were there. The hunters tried a couple bugles and cow calls, before heading back to where they came from. I had a pretty good idea of where the elk most likely went. So, I gave it a few minutes before attempting to find them, but was unsuccessful.

Midday thunderstorms had me seeking shelter under a large fir tree halfway down a steep ridge. Luckily, I had cell service so I could share some misery with Dan.

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The storms didn’t let up until roughly 90 minutes before dark. Visibility dramatically improved, so I decided to go to a good glassing spot to see if any elk were enjoying the relatively pleasant weather. Sure enough, ¾ of a mile away, 2 massive ridges over, a 5x5 was feeding in the middle of a steep hillside meadow. He was bright and shining in the sun, like a billboard screaming, “do it, you idiot… hike over here and try to kill me. You know it’ll be dark by the time you get here. You won’t do it. Bet you won’t” (These are all normal thoughts for me before I’m about to do something that other people think is dumb. This is also a line of statements my peers and I will use to see if we can pressure someone else into doing something ridiculous.)

So I did what I always seem to do. I surveyed the terrain, gave my map a cursory glance to guess the elevation gain, calculated my run time, and started running toward the elk. Well… with the amount of deadfall in the area, it was more like parkouring. (*note* I don’t actually run. I move fast, and I’m still extremely careful. I do not advocate running in the woods, especially while hunting solo. That’s just not a risk worth taking)

I slowed down when I thought I needed to, and crept diagonally up the steep hill toward the drainage I guessed the elk would be in. Sure enough… they were there. A lot of them. Way more than I thought there would be, considering I only saw 1 bull in the meadow. Regardless, I snuck as close as possible and found a spot that I could get a shot off if the opportunity presented itself.

The first elk to step into my shooting lane was just a tiny calf. It still had hints of spots on it, and plus, there’s no way I’m going to ever shoot a calf. I ranged it at 39 yards.

“Perfect,” I thought as I clicked my release on the d-loop, straightened my peep, set my feet, confirmed my sight was set properly, grabbed my release, and re-established my grip hand. When I looked back up, a mature elk replaced the calf within the gap, and was perfectly quartered away with its head out of view. Without thought, I quickly drew my bow, settled the pin on the heart and executed my shot sequence. Much to my dismay, the arrow travelled through the air longer than I anticipated and hit much lower than I’d aimed; if I even hit the animal at all. It was LOW. I knew the elk had to have been significantly further than 39 yards away. I was sick. I knew it was a bad shot. I messaged my wife, Dan and another buddy on my inreach… I waited 45 minutes before doing anything else. Maybe there was hope.

I hung a small piece of flagging tape in the tree next to me for a reference and made my way down to my arrow… I found it right where the elk was standing, along with a small tuft of dark hair. I ranged the tree… 56 yards.

“I blew it,” I thought. “How did I not even notice? Why didn’t I get another range? Why do I suck at this?”

I picked up my arrow to find only one blade appeared to have made contact with the animal. There was a couple small spots of blood on the egress path. I’d be back in the morning to confirm my suspicions. It did not look good.
 
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Day 4 - New plan… close the book on this hunt.

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I was at the scene of the crime before sunrise. I didn’t find any blood after the first 10 yards, so I took up the track of the herd. The hard rain the day before and the cold dry night made tracking very easy. Additionally, it’s pretty easy to follow a single file line of 15+ elk who are moving with a purpose. I followed them roughly a mile and a half before they finally started feeding and meandering around again. I found one spot of blood in a meadow and identified the track it belonged to. I followed that specific track another half mile without any sign of blood or injury.

That was my Oregon “redemption” moment… and I failed. There’s a lot of woulda coulda shoulda, but ultimately what happened happened.

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After my NM elk hunt, I’ll debrief myself and write up an After Action Report to summarize my actions of course, and more importantly the training and preparations I did or didn’t do. I’ll also dig into the thoughts running through my head at those times, and what I can do to improve for next time. I have lots of notes from this hunt.

Even though the hunt didn’t go the way I’d prefer, I still found what I sought out to find. I really needed a mental break from life. I think most of the reason I wasn’t able to capitalize on the opportunities I had on this hunt was because my mind wasn’t really in it. I was physically in Oregon, but mentally I just hadn’t arrived. I didn’t even really have time to mentally prepare for it. Sure, I shot my bow a bunch of times, but I definitely didn’t have as many reps with my bow as what I’m accustomed to. I also never ran through ranging with my range finder or range guesstimations like I do every other year. There’s a lot of excuses, and I can improve on each of them.

After the long drive and spending a few days alone, I feel much more centered and back to normal. I’m sure you noticed that I kept using “I thought?” I did that on purpose because honestly, I don’t think I spoke a single word while I was out there. I spent A LOT of time thinking, and it was great. The weather was bad, but I enjoy that kind of suck. It makes me harder. I’m sure it increased my ch’i or mitochondria count or whatever the kids these days are saying makes you live longer. I’m ready for life, and more importantly… I’m ready to find and kill a giant bull in NM.
 
Fascinating to hear about the mental part of hunting not getting into gear yet, even though you were on the hunt. It sorta sounds like time zone jet lag. Physically present, brain not switched on yet to your location/purpose.

Glad you had some thinking time, and feel like you have switched modes to USA hunting tags (and not the other kind of hunting).
 
Fascinating to hear about the mental part of hunting not getting into gear yet, even though you were on the hunt. It sorta sounds like time zone jet lag. Physically present, brain not switched on yet to your location/purpose.

Glad you had some thinking time, and feel like you have switched modes to USA hunting tags (and not the other kind of hunting).

Since I figured the topic would come up, I want to clear some things up. My job is extremely far removed from any kind of combat. I work in offices and spend the majority of my time talking to people, either on the phone or in person. The stress of my work has nothing to do with my life being in danger. The only thing in constant danger is my career, and how well I can maneuver the nonsensical political environment of headquarters life determines whether or not I keep my job. It was unnecessarily stressful for me.

As far as the mental gears, only time will tell if I've actually made the shift or not. We'll find out soon.
 
Made it to an absolutely hideous place in NM. There's no way an elk would live here.

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Just kidding... The first thing I heard when I opened the truck door was bugles. To say that I'm excited is an understatement. Oh... And there's 4G here too! Life is great when you're living the dream.
 
Enjoyed the hunt recap. Illustrates the realities of bow hunting with everything needing to work together to make it work and also how there are so many decisions to make that seem like a 50-50 gamble at the time. Good luck on your next hunt.
 
My morning scouting hike was more successful than I thought it would be. Maybe walked half a mile and bumped into a small herd of elk. There were at least 4 bulls bugling and I got about 75 yards away from a nice Pope and Young 6pt. I tried to get some pics with my phone but decided to back out of there before spooking the entire herd. I should have brought my nice camera.

On the walk back I saw 2 really nice mule deer. Both 4x4's. The bigger one was probably around 170" and the smaller one might be 140". Here's a pic of the smaller one. I'd shoot either of them if I had a tag.

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Tomorrow can't come soon enough!
 
Everything has been all fine and dandy out here.

The country is beautiful, the food is good, and tomorrow is elk opener!


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I was able to fill my first tag!
A quick stalk, 20 yard shot, and this mountain chicken was done for!

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He was sure tasty too!
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Yesterday I finally found a mule deer buck too.... a very, very mature one....

I got within 30 yards (on accident) and he blew out. However I plan to give his area two or three days or rest and then I’ll go back after him. He was big...

So I’m all packed up and organized to hit tomorrow running. Those elk better watch out!


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I thought this was cool and eerie. Very suiting for yesterday being Friday the 13th. This was from that water hole the 6x6 walked up to me at 4 yards.


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Anyways, I shot my bow, cleaned camp, did laundry... and now it’s go time!


I probably won’t sleep tonight from excitement :)
 
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