Durfee Hills Diary - MT elk hunt

Big Fin

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Sorry for the delay in putting this together, but it has been rather frantic at the Fin house lately. Decided I would stay up tonight and get this story written.

This hunt is the fifth entry to my hunting journal that takes place in the Durfee Hills, a place now very well known for the controversy, more than fine elk hunting.

Given all that was going on in the Durfee Hills, our trip was filled with a lot of apprehension. “We” being me, and Matt from OnXMaps. We had drawn rifle tags and were scheduled to fly in the Thursday before season opened. Idea being it would give us a day and a half to scout, even though I have hunted this area the four previous seasons. With the new fences and changes the fences could have on elk patterns, it seemed prudent to stick to that schedule.

With that plan, I picked up the camera guy, Nolan, in Billings Thursday morning. Met Matt in Roundup, and from there, we headed to the landing zone. By 3:00PM we were setting up tents and trying to get organized in time to make an evening scouting mission.

We sat on my favorite knob until dark. One elk was spotted on the public-private boundary. All the rest were far into the private, heading to feed. I assured Matt that tomorrow would show more elk and give us the entire day to make a plan for getting one on opening day, Saturday. My confidence came from past hunts here, where seldom did two days go by without spotting a nice herd of elk for the chase.

Well before daylight, the alarm shook me from my dreams. Green lamps provided enough light to find the Granola and Blueberries Mountain House breakfast. By far my favorite thing made by MH. Not that MH meals set the bar real high, but the Blueberries are worth the money and weight to pack them.

Though the breakfast was good, the wind was interfering with my already impaired hearing as I tried to locate a bugle I was confident would not be far away. Try as I may, no bugles could be heard. No worries. We would climb back to my favorite rock, glass up some elk, and then walk the new fence lines to see where the elk were crossing this new hurdle. A good five or six mile hike would do my legs some good.

It’s always fun to sit in the dark and listen for elk. Well, at least when there are elk to listen to. We sat until an hour past sunrise, with nothing heard. We did spot two bulls far off, but actually on public. One was a raghorn. The other was a wide bull with good fronts, crowned out on both back main beams. From the side he looked really short-beamed. When he looked at us, we could see his beams were average, they just grew outward, not back toward his rump.

I sighed as I watched the bulls feed off the public, cross a drainage where a newly blazed cut line was made to accommodate the new fences, then reappear well into the private ground. Those bulls would probably be off limits when season opened tomorrow. But, maybe not.

We dropped off the rock and decided to check out the new fence. From the perch 200 vertical feet above, the new corner post looked way off from what I remembered. Matt and I both ran our GPS and chips to see if there was much variance between the two. Almost no variance.

The fence line was almost dead on, as far as how it ran east-to-west, forming the northern most boundary on this west section of the BLM. That was comforting to see that this east-west boundary was +/- a few feet of what it showed on our map chips. Either the fence crew used the same map chips and GPS technology, or the GIS info was very close to what the true boundary is, or both.

There was one big exception. An exception that happens to be at the best elk crossing in this part of the BLM land. At that point, the private land fence line is way off from the GPS/chips. It encroaches by 400-500’ on the BLM and in the process, looks to divert elk from the normal crossing where elk love to go to the prime bedding on public land. The construction of the fence along the top of a small coulee and its location being way on to BLM, seemed to funnel the elk west. Or, at least that is what the tracks along the fence appeared to show. If the elk were funneled west, rather than their historic southern route, they would have no reason to bed in the thick public timber, rather they could find shade/shelter in the sparse private timber as they moved west and stayed on the north side of the fence.

Oh well, one exception is not going to end the hunt. Time to follow the fence and see what has come of the other four historically beaten down trails the elk use to get to public. And in the process, see just how accurate the fence line and/or our GPS’s are. Things continued to be very close to the GPS/GIS readings. So close, that it makes one wonder how they could be so far off in the area where the elk cross with greatest frequency.

By noon, we had made most of our loop. In an area where two years ago a fence was built and encroached on public by over 500’, that new fence was torn down and reconstructed almost exactly where the GPS showed the boundary. Even though the “No trespassing” signs were left standing on the posts that formed the old incorrect boundary, it was nice to see they had went so far as to remove the two-year old fence back to the real boundary. That made it even more curious as to why/how they could be so far off in the other location where the elk cross.

I showed Matt the deep ruts formed by eons of elk heading into these hills to bed. The trails were deep and wide. Unfortunately, they were covered with fallen pine needles, completely absent any elk tracks. In the time since the fence had been built, not an elk had traveled any of these old trails. And with good reason.

Imagine walking west on a slope that runs downhill to the north. To your left is the south, the high side. To your right is north, sloping away from you. In their fence building, a line was cut from east to west, with the private to the north and the public to the south. One did not have to look long to see what challenge this represents for an elk.

The new fence was built in a manner where a bulldozer made a deep cut in the ground, making a level spot for the fence and carving a steep bank on the uphill side. The cut in the bank varied from 4’ to 10’. About three feet from the cut, to the north, the fence was placed.

So, when an animal is coming from the north, heading south, they encounter this fence. An elk can jump a fence at the right location. But, why would and elk jump a fence when two or three feet on the other side (south) of the fence is this very tall embankment formed by the bulldozer cut? If they do clear the fence, they are now in a pen between the fence behind them and this steep embankment in front of them.

Smart elk will just continue down the fence line and turn south toward bedding cover a few miles later, once the fence ends. The fence ends, because the BLM ends. Maybe it is coincidence that this fence was built this way. If the intent was to alter the eon-old movements of elk heading to their bedding grounds, then it was mission accomplished. Maybe I am too much of a skeptic. And, if it was done on private land, that is the landowner’s prerogative.

We hiked back for lunch and decided we would make another hike in the evening in hopes we could locate where elk were coming on the public, as they had in all other years I have hunted here. Surely a nice afternoon nap would produce an epiphany as to how the elk riddle could be solved. Well, it sure was a nice nap, even if it didn’t provide an insight to the elk riddle.

That evening we say the one raghorn. His crowned out buddy was nowhere to be found. We did see a LOT of aircraft bringing hunters to camps. The service we used brought in six other guys that day. Not sure how many private airplanes landed on the south end, but this 2,700 acres was going to be rather crowded when season opened the following morning. Such is public land hunting.
 
As I lay in my tent, my mind was scrambling for a plan. I felt obligated to Matt, though he just smiled as he always does and said what happens will happen. Matt burned a lot of points. When we applied for these tags in March, it seemed like a slam dunk. Reading the reports of new fencing, disturbances of elk, and other activity of the last two months was not what we were hoping for when we decided to try for rifle tags in this area.

I finally fell asleep, but awoke many times. Pretty much my “night before opener” sleep pattern. I guess if I ever start sleeping well the night before season opens, I may as well quit hunting. The anticipation is always there, no matter how much/little scouting reveals.

I suspect my total sleep for the night was less than four hours. I was laying in my bag, fully awake by 5:00am, checking my watch every few minutes over the next hour, waiting for the alarm to go off. Eventually the alarm rang, allowing me to start shuffling around camp without the worry I was causing others to lose some good winks.

It was warm and calm. Too warm for elk hunting. But, good for comfortable camping. Having already logged more than enough nights in tents this season, I am fine with warm weather for tent camps. Somehow, I’ll figure out the warm weather elk patterns and take the sleeping/camping comfort that comes with these temps.

Breakfast was fast. Nolan and I reviewed the script and the production points as we waited for launch time. Since this was a hunt for RMEF’s Team Elk, I needed to adjust my production perspective to make sure I accommodated what RMEF wanted. Nolan told me that the production book could be summarized with one sentence, “Whatever Randy thinks is good is good.” Nothing like putting all the pressure on me.

It is a short hike from camp to the great glassing rock. Headlamps guided us, though my dozens of trips along this trail probably provide familiarity that could get me there blindfolded. We arrived in plenty of time; like forty minutes before need be. Anyone who hunts with me know that I would rather be an hour early than a minute late.

We all listened, hoping a bull would reveal his location and allow us to get close before the sun camp up. Nope. Not a bugle heard. Matt spotted the raghorn and his crowned out buddy. They were on the private. No use getting too worked up over them. We glassed. We glassed. And we glassed some more. A few elk were scattered on the flats to our north, well into the private. They loafed along, appearing/disappearing as they crossed coulees to their bedding areas. Not of them came within a half mile of the public.

Dang the luck. Not a shot was heard. For this many people to be hunting this small area and not a shot fired, things are starting to look rather bleak; and fast. We continued glassing and listening until the sun was high and the wind had returned to normal Central Montana speeds. All the distant elk had long since bedded. Time to go to camp, grab lunch, and formulate an evening plan. Whatever the evening plan, it wouldn’t be any less productive than my morning plan had been.

The evening plan was to go to the far west property line, hoping the crowned bulled would decide to come back and nibble some public grass. A nice hike to stretch the legs and hopefully give us some elevation to glass then entire north slope of these hills. Strong winds were all that kept this warm-temp hike from being a T-shirt hike.

I wish I could say that a bunch of elk crossed the boundary and strolled past our position. Nope. No elk heard or seen. One set of volleys came from the SE. Evidently someone found an elk here. A long walk by headlamp got us back to camp. Fortunately for me, Matt is a happy guy. Now two and a half days into this gig and no elk seen, it had to be a disappointment from what expectations were built since we drew the tags in April. But, you would not know it from Matt’s continued cheer.

Mountain House is not a good way to extend one’s livelihood. Not sure what is in the stuff, but after a month or so on that diet, the body starts to reject even the smell of it, let alone the taste. I choked down a serving of Teriyaki Chicken. Topped it off with an apple and headed to my tent, fully determined that somehow, someway, I was going to find an elk for Matt.

Morning light found us again at the glassing rock. A mass of elk could be herd to our east, an area of private land. From the sound, it seemed they were coming to bed on these ridges, though they would have to go far south to get to the public land. At least it was a start.

Matt picked up two bulls to the west. It was the crowned bull and his raghorn sidekick. Again, they were on private. Evidently they had an OnXmap chip and knew where the safe zones were. Trying to make something positive of the situation, we concluded they were heading east, taking them closer to our public ridges. Maybe we were just getting desperate.

Matt climbed some big rocks above and came scrambling down with a level of excitement that told me he had seen something. Far to our north, about three miles, is a State section near a County Road. Every morning there were multiple vehicles parked around that section. On this morning, shots were being fired and a swarm of elk were headed south, off the State section and across the County Road. At the pace they were moving, they could get cross the expanse of private and be on the public in short order.

We watched the elk disappear in a big coulee, then reappear on the bench out in front of us. Now in the safe confines of private, they slowed to a pace that some were grazing. Within an hour, some were even bedded. Over a mile to our north was a herd of 150 elk, with some nice bulls. Yet, given their comfort of where they had stopped, they could just as well have been in Canada.

After a few hours, the sun had warmed the hills, putting the elk to sleep. The herd we watched cross off the State section had found some sparse timber to provide shade. Silence was the order of the morning. No sense in sitting here. Our wishes that someone would start hunting this private to our north and move some elk further south went unfulfilled. We decided an early lunch and short nap would be in order. This afternoon, we would hike SW, up the ridges closest to where the two bulls had disappeared this morning. They were within a few hundred yards of the boundary. With any luck, they might find some good grazing on the public, putting them in our reach.

My headache kept me from sleeping. I got up and found Matt looking at the map on his GPS. I shared his same unspoken frustration. We needed to find an elk on this BLM land and get him on camera. The former usually being quite easy in these hills. The latter always being a challenge, not matter where we hunt.

Matt decided he was going to take a hike up a ridge and see if he could find where the elk from the State section were likely to head when they rose from their beds. Sounded like a good idea. I stayed in camp while the generator charged the camera batteries and powered the computer and drives needed to do a media download and free up more media space on the cards.
 
While Matt fought the winds up the ridge he wanted to glass from, Nolan took the time for some extra sleep. He has the tough job. Carrying 35+ pounds of unbalanced camera gear up and down hills, having no free hands to help with his balance. He is young and strong, but whatever he is paid, it is probably not enough. Add in the complications of keeping all this stuff going in a remote camp and life gets even more difficult for him.

Around 12:30 Nolan crawled out of his tent and checked the status of his media download. He looked tired. I wondered if he was sleep walking. I had the excuse of being 28 years his senior, so I made no apologies for my worn and haggard appearance.

A turkey sandwich seemed a much better option than Mountain House. Nolan agreed. We dined on the finest turkey lunch meat I have had this season. Probably filled with more chemicals than a MH. But, it was different, so it was good.

Nolan decided we needed to do some camp pieces. I agreed, feeling somewhat guilty that Matt was out looking while I was trying to sleep off a liver headache. Wind is the enemy of filming. Audio sucks, no matter what you do. Today would be the same.

Even with my hearing being what it is, I was sure I had heard an elk bugle. Nolan looked at me as though my distraction was obvious to him. Yeah, I was distracted. When your hearing is as bad as mine, when you hear elk, they have to be close. And if they are downwind in this zephyr, they have to be even closer.

But, I’ve been known to hear things quite often, so we went back to filming this segment about how much fun it is to hunt with guys who are as upbeat as Matt. As I took a bite of my apple, my eyes started playing tricks on me. From my position on this Yeti cooler, I saw a dozen elk looking down at me from the crest of a ridge. Man, I gotta get my eyes checked.

I looked again. Now, a mass of elk had bunched up in the trees. Maybe my eyes are not that bad. What happened in the next minute is still somewhat hard to recall. It involved me looking for my orange vest, my rifle, my ammo, and my rangefinder, all in some frantic flurry, all the while giving Nolan instructions of where the elk were and how he needed to get on them. So much for the axiom, “You can’t kill an elk from camp.”

The elk are cautiously moving our way. I know they can see our camp. They are coming into the wind and we are 9 O’clock to their vector. Yet, they know something is up. No doubt they have been spooked from the private further to our east. I think this is the big herd making all the noise this morning. WTH they are doing here at 1:15 in the afternoon is beyond me, but I now have located my GPS and I can see they only have about 200 yards to go and they will be on public.

I toss my pack across the Yeti. I load a round. I range the group with the lead cow – 490 yards. She is cautiously moving our way. A really nice bull moves down to cut her off, completely oblivious to the danger he is putting himself in. I tell Nolan that if the group continues on the trail that comes 75 yards from our tents, I will dump that bull as soon as he is 150 yards onto the public. The private here is a strange shaped piece that juts into the public. It is not yet fenced, so the only property marker I have are the marks on my GPS from the times I have climbed around this disruptive private chunk.

Come to Daddy, big boy. Keep coming. I’m your huckleberry.

I glass behind this group of cows and see a mass of elk that is huddled and looking down into the private drainage below them. This is a BIG group of elk. In that ball of elk I can see six bulls that are mature six points, or better. What a time for Matt to go on a hike.

Nolan and I are confirming the sequence and the bull I plan to shoot. All we need is a couple hundred yards and they are on public. I am waiting. The crosshairs follow the bull as he trots around this group of cows. I wonder if he knows how foolish he looks acting so rutty on this sparsely timbered ridge, at high sun.

Before the question can be answered, a volley comes from the private to our east. I see dust and rocks fly above a bull in the group lagging further behind. WTF? Either someone has permission to hunt that private, or some guys are trespassing. This lagging group of elk is a quarter mile from the public. The shots sound far from the elk, making them even further onto private.

The bull I am keeping in my crosshairs and the cows of his affections now turn ninety degrees, taking them north, away from the property line. Damn it.

Now being scared, the bigger mass of elk behind them have done a one-eighty and are now headed back east from where they emerged, even further into the private. Another shot rings out, sending this large part of the herd in full retreat, back northeast and further in to the private.

My chosen bull and his cows now disappear to the north, crossing the ridge a couple hundred yards from where a small point of public intersects the ridges. As amazing luck as it was for a huge herd of elk to consider coming past our camp at mid-day, it was equally amazing bad luck to have someone else start lobbing long range volleys on/from private in a 35 mph crosswind.
 
I start giving Nolan instructions of how we might be able to intercept these elk if they turned back west once they got over the ridge to our north. It is a mad scramble. Matt comes trotting into camp about the time I have regained my wits. I explain to him what unfolded and what we need to do in order to try salvage an opportunity from this fiasco.

Matt grabs his rifle and is ready to run about the time Nolan has his pack loaded. So much for a media download. We’ve got elk to chase. We're off, running up and down the slopes, hoping the elk will cross where the fence corner is encroaching on the BLM. That is their natural crossing area and if these elk are not too scared, they might continue that westerly path. But, we’ve got to get ahead of them, and get there fast.

It takes a half hour, but we find ourselves in the scattered pines in this section of BLM. Three years prior, I had spent a night sleeping in a brush pile here, hoping to ambush elk crossing in the morning. Now, we can hear the chirps and bugles of elk slowly moving our way. They are using the thick timber on the north-facing slope to our east as cover for their travels. This could get real good.

Even in the wind, we can hear the noise. Cows are making the most noise, hoping to reform their ranks. They are six hundred yards from our position and moving our way. If not for a 400’ encroachment on the BLM by the new fence, we would be even closer. Matt and I ask what we will do if the elk appear on the BLM, though on the wrong side of this misplaced fence. Conclusion is that we will worry about that when the time comes.

Matt points to two hunters coming around the ridge across from us. They have the wind directly at their backs. The elk are below them. We both talk about the likelihood these hunters will blow the elk out, and if so, they will head north, onto private, stopping their western course the will land right in our ambush.

We no more than start the discussion and our concerns become reality. The entire herd bolts from the timber and heads out to a big bench. They are now 800 yards away and going the wrong direction. Some expletives are provided, but do not seem to help. We hear the hunters standing on the ridge whining their cow calls. Good luck calling back a herd of 80 elk that have jumped a fence after smelling you. Ain’t gonna happen.

After a half hour, the elk are now moving further north. The four bulls in this group are nice bulls, but not of the caliber that was in the bigger part of the herd that was lingering further back; the group the hunters had fired into. The hunters now climb over the ridge, cutting across another swath of private. Evidently they have permission, or they think forgiveness is easy to come by.

As we sit and contemplate our now-dwindling options, the elk herd takes off in a fast charge to the northwest. In about two minutes we see what has scared them. Two ATVs are smoking down an old two track on the private. They turn and head further east, out of our view. Maybe they saw the hunters on that private and are going to investigate. Good luck with that, once they get into the timber further south, it would be hard to find them.

I’m still somewhat in a state of disbelief over the events of the last hour. One other season while camped further south, a massive herd of elk came down the same trail near our camp. I never expected them to pop up there while camped so close to the trail. Wish I knew who was doing the shooting on private. I’ve had public land setups go south due to other hunters on public land, but I think this is the first time I’ve had it get boogered by a what I think was someone trespassing and shooting elk on land they did not have permission.

I tell Matt we should probably head back west in hopes one of these herds change their path and comes south on to the BLM. Not much for other options being the BLM to our east and south is heavily posted by guys in orange. Off we go.
 
The wind is making the afternoon heat tolerable. We find shade and protection behind some rocks that are scattered among the pines. A perfect place to glass, other than the setting sun will be directly behind the area most likely to funnel the two bulls we had been seeing over on private. But, it was too comfortable to change places, so we set up shop in these cozy confines.

I’m always convinced something is happening in places I cannot see. As a result, I am seldom glassing while sitting, rather walking around a small area looking in all directions. In this instance I told Matt I would step over the ridge behind us and watch the elk out on the private to our north. From his post, he had the southern part of the drainage covered.

I had barely got my binos up when I heard whistling. I turned to see Nolan looking for me and waving that I needed to get over there, quick. When I got there, Matt was pointing to a far hillside where a herd of elk had somehow popped up out of a drainage. They were mixed up on both sides of the boundary fence, some on and some off, the public.

We watched to see what direction they headed. Seems they were splitting up and the biggest group was heading SW, taking them away from the public. Yet, some had cut NW and dropped into a deep coulee that if they followed that west in their effort to get to the private, we would have a mile sprint to get in front of them. We had nothing to lose.

It was fast down into the canyon to their north. Maybe seven or eight minutes to cover that half mile. Now, it would be a scramble to climb out of this mess and get in front of the elk. The next half mile took us fifteen minutes. Yeah, it’s that steep to take this route.

Upon gaining back our elevation, we could hear elk in the far distance. They were getting closer to the private. We were NE of them. I suspected they were headed NW, up a grassy slope that would eventually dump back down on to private. The wind was a strong west wind, probably 20+ mph. Given we could gain the elevation on them and have them graze right across in front of us, I was comfortable with a continued approach from the NE.

As we got closer, the elk noises were more obvious. I peaked over the first series of jagged rocks, only to see one elk. I had guessed wrong. We needed to drop down behind the ridge, stay north of the crest and mover further west to the next point in the spine. This ridge has rocks protruding like plates on the spine of a Stegosaurus, with a few pines mixed in.

Moving west another 150 yards, the noise was now pretty crazy. I told Nolan to get rolling and be ready. Matt and I moved forward to take positions that allowed us to slowly glance over the ledge and down to the grassy meadow below. With Matt more to my right, trees were partially blocking his view. I was offered an unobstructed vista of 70-80 elk grazing from 120 to 275 yards out, mostly below. I could see three nice bulls, two of which had broken thirds, and/or fourths, and/or fifths.

Nolan cussed the setting sun as completely destroying his shooting lane. I cheated over and looked at his view finder. Crap, this is the worst possible angle for this sun position. Matt is having no better luck. I have a tree to my right that is shading the sun and giving me opportunity to inspect each elk in the group. They have no idea we are there.

Matt continues to scour each elk. I tell him where the bulls are and his inspects them. Nolan is now adjusted a few feet and finds similar shade from a tree. Matt tells me that none of them seem to look like what he is hoping for on the second afternoon of a five week season.

Nolan looks at me like, “Is he serious?”

I give a look back to Nolan that says, “Yeah, he’s serious. It’s his tag and he gets to do what he wants. We’ll ride this out and see what happens.”

Matt moves over to my left. He tells me that he is not going to shoot one of the three bulls. If the two bigger ones were intact, maybe. Being they are broken, he is comfortable passing. Matt suggests I shoot one of the bulls and he will fill his extra cow tag if a chance allows. I explain that is not the goal. My focus is to find a bull that Matt finds worth his long wait to get a limited entry bull tag in Montana.

Matt smiles and explains that he understands the goal. He pleads that I shoot one of the bulls before they feed out of this meadow and on to private. I tell him I will do it, so long as he promises to hunt tomorrow and leave the meat loads to me. Given we only have four and a half days in here, I don’t want to waste one of his days hauling loads of meat back to camp. He agrees.

Nolan has the tripod locked down on the feeding elk, but is looking at us like we have lost our mind. Seeing we have concluded to shoot a bull, he swallows the words he is about to blurt out; something I am sure could be paraphrased as, “If one of you guys don’t kill a bull out of this herd, I’m going to beat you over the head with your rifles.”

I ease forward, using Matt’s FHF bino harness to raise my rifle enough that I now clear the rocks and grass in front. A couple cows are now looking our way. Only took them five minutes to become suspicious. I am searching for the bull that was not broken. I can’t find him. Nolan directs me to the bigger of the two broken bulls. I’m on him. With the sun so bright in my scope, he is merely an outline. I really don't care to shoot a broken bull. He will be that much bigger and even more of a trophy for someone next season. I start looking for the bull that is still intact.

I take my eye from the scope in time to see the unbroken bull walk out from behind one of the few trees in this meadow. He is walking toward the bigger broken bull, calling his notes of love to all the ladies in the meadow. He stands down the hill about twenty yards from the broken bull, allowing me a reprieve from the direct sun. I range him. It bounces from 258 to 264. I realize I am shaking pretty bad. Excitement is starting to amplify.

I get back on the scope. The bull is facing straight away. I tell Nolan that as soon as he turns, either left of right, I’m shooting. Matt is ready, to my left, hoping some cows will linger once I shoot.

It doesn’t take long and the bull turns right. In quick order, he is almost broadside, looking uphill toward the broken bull. The last conscious thought I remember is that in a similar situation last year in Arizona, I failed to hold 12” upwind. Don’t make the same mistake this time Randy. I focus the crosshairs upwind, holding just above the passenger side front shoulder joint.

I’m dead solid when the trigger breaks. As I clear and chamber another round, the elk are all running to a tight huddle, right in the middle of the meadow. I ask Matt if the shot was good. He assures me it looked perfect. I follow the mob of elk in the scope. The bull is now stumbling and falling against his herd members. He does a face plant and the herd runs away from his resting place.

Matt gives a quick congratulations, then gets on his scope and is following two cows that are lingering and looking back at the bull. They are giving quartering shots. Matt waits for complete broadside. He gets it for a nano-second as the cows whirl and start trotting up the trail the herd used to make their exit. Matt pulls away and empties his chamber.

Whew. Finally. A bull is down and we have something to show for the last four days of hunting and scouting. Just what we have, we’re not sure, thanks to a sun that made it hard to get really good views prior to the shot.

As we get close, we see six long tines on one side; five on the other. A nice bull, for sure. Not huge and a good bit younger than the one I had in the crosshairs above camp, but for what we are up against, I’m ecstatic.

I instinctively start apologizing to Matt, hoping I did not pressure him to make a decision before he was ready. He is smiling and congratulating me, putting to ease my worries; allowing me to enjoy the thrill of taking this fine public land bull. And just like that, we have a bull on the ground.

Matt and I have taken care of our share of elk. In less than an hour our combined efforts have the bull in the basic pieces, all useable meat in Caribou game bags, and our heavily laden packs on our shoulders, pointed back east toward camp. As the darkness comes, I give a prayer of thanks for all this day has provided; A chase that resulted in another great supply of meat, fine friendship getting stronger by the investment in this effort, and a story that focuses precisely on why I am so passionate about these public lands and the opportunity they provide.

We are now rolling. Tomorrow I will pack the rest of this meat and the bull’s antlers, while Matt and Nolan go and hang a tag on another bull. We’ve broken the ice. Now it’s time to get Matt a bull worth the ten years of points he spent to get this tag.

All the field photos of this hunt belong to RMEF, since we are doing this episode for Team Elk. I will be getting copies of the photos this week and will post them here at that time. Until then, the only photo I have is this phone photo of this lucky new hat I've been wearing.

IMG_20141027_141015584 (1).jpg

I'll try to write the story of the last two and a half days and get that posted soon.
 
That's awesome, Congratulations. I am glad there are still some elk that make it to public land. I hope in the long run the elk lay waste to the fence and continue to use their historic routes
 
You do make it so the reader shares in the pace and frustrations of the adventure! Congratulations on a challenging hunt and good luck to Matt on the remaining days.
 
Thanks for the detailed story. Looking forward to the rest of it
So did Matt drop one of the cows?
 

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