44hunter45
Well-known member
I've had some misadventures on my early cow hunt this year. But I've found a place that is so magical that I'm going to have to name it. If I were on a high dollar NR tag I would be frustrated by these events, but I'm hunting from home. I'm having a blast. (As you will read about below....)
Day one Monday August 1st. It could have been a 2 hour hunt, but I had forgotten my coolers and it was way too hot on opening day. I quietly backed out from the elk. I watched a whitetail doe nurse her fawn for about ten minutes. Then I had another doe and her fawn walk in to within 4 yards of me from upwind. I was standing still on a skid road out in the open. The doe finally figured something was up and we had a staredown while she stomped at me. They turned and stiff-legged out, but never really blew up.
Next day I got into the elk in almost exactly the same place. I set up on a cow which was a little separated from the rest. I snuck in to less than 100 yards, took off my pack and laid my rifle across it. I'm fond of the neck shot for cows because it's a quick kill. less meat damage, all that. "Quick kill or clean miss", Dad used to say. I dialed up the scope and settled in. When I squeezed off, the cow turned little circle and disappeared. I hurried over to where see where I was sure she would be laying. She was in depression standing there looking at me. As I was shouldering the rifle for a finisher, she and a dozen other elk blew out. I spent until long after dark looking for blood, hair, or signs of hit. Nothing. How could I have missed such a chip shot with a zeroed rifle and a solid rest? I got home really late and was pretty disgusted. MRS was convinced I must have tagged out when I drove in after 10 PM. I guess Dad was right.
Got tied up at work on Wednesday, sat home with MRS on Thursday. I wanted to give my spot a couple of days of rest.
Next evening (Friday) I left the 7mmRM at home and took my never-miss .30-06 out of the safe. No elk that day. Lots of fresh sign. More importantly, no carrion birds, so I did not wound and lose the cow I had shot at.
Saturday, MRS and I went to Costco. That was an entirely different misadventure.
Sunday, after church, I took four elk guns to the range and checked zeroes again. My .'06, 264WM and 7RM, and my buddy's 338WM which I have been trying a make shoot better than 4 MOA for him. All my rifles shot lights out. His 338 still shoots 4 MOA and gave me a scope kiss shooting prone off sandbags from my truck hard tonneau cover. The mystery of how I missed was resolved. The 7RM is the only rifle I do not hand load for. Somehow I had gotten 175 grain Federals in my pack that day and the rifle is dialed for 150 Federals. The 175's group OK, but hit about 4" high and left. Just enough to miss a neck shot at 100 yards. When I got home I ran all those Federal rounds over the scale to separate the bullet weights and labelled each round with a sharpie pen.
Work happened again on Monday, August 8th.
Yesterday. Tuesday August 9th was the greatest misadventure of all. I finished work early, refreshed the ice in my coolers, and headed out. It was pushing 90°F when I got to the trailhead. I went in about 1/2 mile to my golden spot and decided I was too early and it was too hot. The only sensible thing to do was to find some shade and take a power nap until evening. I don't know if it was the chicken I cooked Monday night, but some kind of dysentery hit me right after I laid down. At first I tried to ignore it, but it was getting really urgent. Rather than soil my fancy hunting pants, I grabbed my poop kit and ducked walked into the timber, clenching. I left my pack, trekking poles and rifle where they were. I didn't have time to dig a hole, I dropped trou and set the new world record for distance. I seriously thought for a second I should measure it with a trekking pole. And then, while I am there with elbows on knees, holding my Sitka suspenders out of the line of fire, a cow elk calmly walks past me at 40 yards as if I was not even there. I was utterly helpless and would be for the next ten minutes. When I got to the cleanup phase, I realized I had sprayed the pack of wet wipes I had laid on the log. It was another ten minutes and a whole bottle of hand sanitizer later before I got cleaned up and all the paper buried. I hunted another two hours after that, but that cow was long gone. I was laughing at myself the whole evening. No more explosive events, though.
So what to name this place? "5 Alarm Basin", "Corn Cob Knob"," Blow Out Ridge"?
Day one Monday August 1st. It could have been a 2 hour hunt, but I had forgotten my coolers and it was way too hot on opening day. I quietly backed out from the elk. I watched a whitetail doe nurse her fawn for about ten minutes. Then I had another doe and her fawn walk in to within 4 yards of me from upwind. I was standing still on a skid road out in the open. The doe finally figured something was up and we had a staredown while she stomped at me. They turned and stiff-legged out, but never really blew up.
Next day I got into the elk in almost exactly the same place. I set up on a cow which was a little separated from the rest. I snuck in to less than 100 yards, took off my pack and laid my rifle across it. I'm fond of the neck shot for cows because it's a quick kill. less meat damage, all that. "Quick kill or clean miss", Dad used to say. I dialed up the scope and settled in. When I squeezed off, the cow turned little circle and disappeared. I hurried over to where see where I was sure she would be laying. She was in depression standing there looking at me. As I was shouldering the rifle for a finisher, she and a dozen other elk blew out. I spent until long after dark looking for blood, hair, or signs of hit. Nothing. How could I have missed such a chip shot with a zeroed rifle and a solid rest? I got home really late and was pretty disgusted. MRS was convinced I must have tagged out when I drove in after 10 PM. I guess Dad was right.
Got tied up at work on Wednesday, sat home with MRS on Thursday. I wanted to give my spot a couple of days of rest.
Next evening (Friday) I left the 7mmRM at home and took my never-miss .30-06 out of the safe. No elk that day. Lots of fresh sign. More importantly, no carrion birds, so I did not wound and lose the cow I had shot at.
Saturday, MRS and I went to Costco. That was an entirely different misadventure.
Sunday, after church, I took four elk guns to the range and checked zeroes again. My .'06, 264WM and 7RM, and my buddy's 338WM which I have been trying a make shoot better than 4 MOA for him. All my rifles shot lights out. His 338 still shoots 4 MOA and gave me a scope kiss shooting prone off sandbags from my truck hard tonneau cover. The mystery of how I missed was resolved. The 7RM is the only rifle I do not hand load for. Somehow I had gotten 175 grain Federals in my pack that day and the rifle is dialed for 150 Federals. The 175's group OK, but hit about 4" high and left. Just enough to miss a neck shot at 100 yards. When I got home I ran all those Federal rounds over the scale to separate the bullet weights and labelled each round with a sharpie pen.
Work happened again on Monday, August 8th.
Yesterday. Tuesday August 9th was the greatest misadventure of all. I finished work early, refreshed the ice in my coolers, and headed out. It was pushing 90°F when I got to the trailhead. I went in about 1/2 mile to my golden spot and decided I was too early and it was too hot. The only sensible thing to do was to find some shade and take a power nap until evening. I don't know if it was the chicken I cooked Monday night, but some kind of dysentery hit me right after I laid down. At first I tried to ignore it, but it was getting really urgent. Rather than soil my fancy hunting pants, I grabbed my poop kit and ducked walked into the timber, clenching. I left my pack, trekking poles and rifle where they were. I didn't have time to dig a hole, I dropped trou and set the new world record for distance. I seriously thought for a second I should measure it with a trekking pole. And then, while I am there with elbows on knees, holding my Sitka suspenders out of the line of fire, a cow elk calmly walks past me at 40 yards as if I was not even there. I was utterly helpless and would be for the next ten minutes. When I got to the cleanup phase, I realized I had sprayed the pack of wet wipes I had laid on the log. It was another ten minutes and a whole bottle of hand sanitizer later before I got cleaned up and all the paper buried. I hunted another two hours after that, but that cow was long gone. I was laughing at myself the whole evening. No more explosive events, though.
So what to name this place? "5 Alarm Basin", "Corn Cob Knob"," Blow Out Ridge"?
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