Bluffgruff
Well-known member
I can see the dust kicking up underfoot and crunch of the occasional dry grass bunch in those pictures.
Make Bison Hunting Great Again
- Thread starter YoungGun
- Start date
EYJONAS!
Well-known member
- Joined
- Mar 17, 2017
- Messages
- 6,710
Like always your stories are top notch amigo!
Sorry to hear of the unfortunate salami incident. It's a real day wrecker some times! Glad he was able to stick it out!
Sorry to hear of the unfortunate salami incident. It's a real day wrecker some times! Glad he was able to stick it out!
In an effort to give the area a little more context, I'm sharing some of the information I had come across in my summer of online sleuthing to help form my hunting plans. The below snippet outlines the release of Bison onto Ute Tribal land in 1986, and how a few of these bison naturally made their way into what is now the hunt unit, mainly in the West Willow Creek, Willow Creek, Steer Ridge etc. areas. Supplemental Bison were subsequently released in the area of Steer Ridge.
Epic Outdoors had the following information for the hunt:
Huntin' Fool focused their Utah Bison article on the wild horse population making a pretty significant impact on the grazing conditions, as well as UDWR increasing hunt pressure in recent years on the Bison to ensure the feed that is in the unit is able to sustain the game animals. They also pointed out that in 2020, the division implemented an OTC bison hunt west of the Green River- 123 Bison were killed that year of the 248 tags sold, but much fewer bison have been shot on this hunt in recent years.
I reached out to an acquaintance at Huntin' Fool the day I drew the tag to ask about recommendations for local guys with stock for packing. He gave me Coby Hunt's phone number, and said that I should start with him. Coby is with Utah Big Game Outfitters, and is based out of Green River, UT.
I gave Coby a call, and we discussed the hunting options. He thought that later could be better, but with this being the first year with season dates this late, no one was really sure what the best game plan would be. He said he could more than likely pack for me, but to touch base later in the year before the hunt.
I checked back in with Coby in October, and much to my relief, he said he would make himself available during my hunt dates, and to inReach him if I got a bison down. It was helpful chatting with him, and he gave me a few more areas to add to my list to check, including Floy Canyon, Cottonwood Canyon, Diamond Canyon, and Nash Wash.
As you can see from UDWR's huntplanner for my hunt, the Unit is bordered by the Green River to the west, the Colorado State line to the East, I-70 to the south, and Winter Ridge Road to the north. I made a rough line around the roadless with red. The Roadless butts up the Ute reservation to the west.
A more detailed map- The red line shows the approximate road route we took getting in to the unit from I-70. The green dot is the approximate area we camped, and also a small parking lot for using the stock trail that comes off the north end into E. Willow Creek. The blue line shows the route to the south access from Thompson Springs, which seems to be the more popular option to access the roadless, likely due to it being a much shorter drive, even if you're coming from Colorado. The pink dot there represents the approximate parking lot and start of the stock trail into the roadless from the south. The roadless is made up of the central area that borders the Ute reservation, Steer Ridge, and the yellow line I put on the map. Although we are hunting the roadless, we can hunt anything within the purple unit boundary, which extends out of frame.
In preparing for the hunt, I got the hunter roster for past tag holders and started sending emails. A few very helpful folks got back to me, and the consensus was that I should plan on putting on some long miles in the roadless, and many suggested mules or horses. A few of the guys mentioned riding 20-50 miles over the course of their hunt to find animals. Hoping to shorten the potential hike that was laying in store for myself, my dad, and my friends, I spoke with the unit biologist. He had recommended that I check out E. Willow Creek, Diamond Ridge, Boulevard Ridge, McCook Ridge, and Seep Ridge. As the season moved into the late season, he thought the flats outside of Hay Canyon and near Campbell Sheep Ranch would also be a good place to check, as last year a herd of 85 or so had made their way out there.
With several different opinions, past experiences, and biological data pointing at a few overlapping areas, I was feeling pretty good when we had gotten to the north access country for where to start looking.
The first night of glassing we had checked Diamond Ridge and East Willow Creek- horses and cows, no bison.
An elk hunter I had spoken with in August told me that W. Willow Creek was where a good portion of the bison had been a few weeks back. One of the Huntin' Fool hunt roster guys who had postponed his 2022 Late Cow hunt to 2023 due to Jury duty and had wrapped his hunt up a week before I had left for Utah had ridden 25 miles and killed his cow bison in what sounded to be W. Willow Creek. And a few other folks I talked to had mentioned bison being hazed this fall onto the reservation country, which would be over by W. Willow Creek.
With all of this info, Isaac and I were now probing in to the roadless toward the west in hopes of running in to a Bison for National Bison day.
Epic Outdoors had the following information for the hunt:
Huntin' Fool focused their Utah Bison article on the wild horse population making a pretty significant impact on the grazing conditions, as well as UDWR increasing hunt pressure in recent years on the Bison to ensure the feed that is in the unit is able to sustain the game animals. They also pointed out that in 2020, the division implemented an OTC bison hunt west of the Green River- 123 Bison were killed that year of the 248 tags sold, but much fewer bison have been shot on this hunt in recent years.
I reached out to an acquaintance at Huntin' Fool the day I drew the tag to ask about recommendations for local guys with stock for packing. He gave me Coby Hunt's phone number, and said that I should start with him. Coby is with Utah Big Game Outfitters, and is based out of Green River, UT.
I gave Coby a call, and we discussed the hunting options. He thought that later could be better, but with this being the first year with season dates this late, no one was really sure what the best game plan would be. He said he could more than likely pack for me, but to touch base later in the year before the hunt.
I checked back in with Coby in October, and much to my relief, he said he would make himself available during my hunt dates, and to inReach him if I got a bison down. It was helpful chatting with him, and he gave me a few more areas to add to my list to check, including Floy Canyon, Cottonwood Canyon, Diamond Canyon, and Nash Wash.
As you can see from UDWR's huntplanner for my hunt, the Unit is bordered by the Green River to the west, the Colorado State line to the East, I-70 to the south, and Winter Ridge Road to the north. I made a rough line around the roadless with red. The Roadless butts up the Ute reservation to the west.
A more detailed map- The red line shows the approximate road route we took getting in to the unit from I-70. The green dot is the approximate area we camped, and also a small parking lot for using the stock trail that comes off the north end into E. Willow Creek. The blue line shows the route to the south access from Thompson Springs, which seems to be the more popular option to access the roadless, likely due to it being a much shorter drive, even if you're coming from Colorado. The pink dot there represents the approximate parking lot and start of the stock trail into the roadless from the south. The roadless is made up of the central area that borders the Ute reservation, Steer Ridge, and the yellow line I put on the map. Although we are hunting the roadless, we can hunt anything within the purple unit boundary, which extends out of frame.
In preparing for the hunt, I got the hunter roster for past tag holders and started sending emails. A few very helpful folks got back to me, and the consensus was that I should plan on putting on some long miles in the roadless, and many suggested mules or horses. A few of the guys mentioned riding 20-50 miles over the course of their hunt to find animals. Hoping to shorten the potential hike that was laying in store for myself, my dad, and my friends, I spoke with the unit biologist. He had recommended that I check out E. Willow Creek, Diamond Ridge, Boulevard Ridge, McCook Ridge, and Seep Ridge. As the season moved into the late season, he thought the flats outside of Hay Canyon and near Campbell Sheep Ranch would also be a good place to check, as last year a herd of 85 or so had made their way out there.
With several different opinions, past experiences, and biological data pointing at a few overlapping areas, I was feeling pretty good when we had gotten to the north access country for where to start looking.
The first night of glassing we had checked Diamond Ridge and East Willow Creek- horses and cows, no bison.
An elk hunter I had spoken with in August told me that W. Willow Creek was where a good portion of the bison had been a few weeks back. One of the Huntin' Fool hunt roster guys who had postponed his 2022 Late Cow hunt to 2023 due to Jury duty and had wrapped his hunt up a week before I had left for Utah had ridden 25 miles and killed his cow bison in what sounded to be W. Willow Creek. And a few other folks I talked to had mentioned bison being hazed this fall onto the reservation country, which would be over by W. Willow Creek.
With all of this info, Isaac and I were now probing in to the roadless toward the west in hopes of running in to a Bison for National Bison day.
About a mile in to our stroll through the canyon- there they were. One giant shaggy bull staring from behind a cedar, maybe 20 yards to the left. Behind him, 3 more, all tucked into cedar and up against the sandstone along the east side of the canyon in the still freezing shade.
They didn't wait long, and took off running south. After a half mile, they were around the next bend in the canyon and out of sight. All 4 of them bulls, a couple that looked pretty nice and the other two that looked younger relative to the larger two.
It was mid-morning and still cool out- the creeks had ice along the banks, the grass was still icy and white, and the boggy ground hadn't yet thawed for the day, and was as solid as a cement sidewalk, albeit with frozen grass sticking through. On the west side of the canyon though, the sun was beating onto the ground. The forecast had called for highs in the 60's for Thompson Springs, and in the sun, I didn't doubt we'd be in similar temps even at our elevated position relative to the desert. I figured the bulls would slow and eventually start feeding, or better yet, bed down, right around the corner. They looked pretty wooly, and with their dark coats, I didn't imagine they'd want to be in the sun for long.
I slipped the Henry off of my pack- it had been strapped to the side for the hike down from the glassing point- and took it out of the silicone imbedded gun sock I had been keeping it in. There were four bullets in the tube- Hornady Leverevolution 325gr FTXs- and I left all 4 there, figuring it wouldn't take much to work the lever and make the rifle "hot" when the time was right. I didn't want the hammer getting caught on a willow during a creek crossing and discharging a round unintentionally. I had two more bullets in my pockets, one on each side, as well as a handful more in the lid of my pack.
We started south toward the bend, picking up the round hoof prints the size of small dinner plates in the fine moondust of the trail. Fresh pies lined the trail- the bison probably experiencing a bit of a literal adrenaline "dump" at having had their only local predator such a short distance from them.
They didn't wait long, and took off running south. After a half mile, they were around the next bend in the canyon and out of sight. All 4 of them bulls, a couple that looked pretty nice and the other two that looked younger relative to the larger two.
It was mid-morning and still cool out- the creeks had ice along the banks, the grass was still icy and white, and the boggy ground hadn't yet thawed for the day, and was as solid as a cement sidewalk, albeit with frozen grass sticking through. On the west side of the canyon though, the sun was beating onto the ground. The forecast had called for highs in the 60's for Thompson Springs, and in the sun, I didn't doubt we'd be in similar temps even at our elevated position relative to the desert. I figured the bulls would slow and eventually start feeding, or better yet, bed down, right around the corner. They looked pretty wooly, and with their dark coats, I didn't imagine they'd want to be in the sun for long.
I slipped the Henry off of my pack- it had been strapped to the side for the hike down from the glassing point- and took it out of the silicone imbedded gun sock I had been keeping it in. There were four bullets in the tube- Hornady Leverevolution 325gr FTXs- and I left all 4 there, figuring it wouldn't take much to work the lever and make the rifle "hot" when the time was right. I didn't want the hammer getting caught on a willow during a creek crossing and discharging a round unintentionally. I had two more bullets in my pockets, one on each side, as well as a handful more in the lid of my pack.
We started south toward the bend, picking up the round hoof prints the size of small dinner plates in the fine moondust of the trail. Fresh pies lined the trail- the bison probably experiencing a bit of a literal adrenaline "dump" at having had their only local predator such a short distance from them.
With hushed tones, we approached the corner, scheming our game plan. Our morning nature hike had turned into a stalk, and our pace reflected as much. When the bulls had rounded the corner out of sight, they had been swinging their heads toward each other and seemingly slowing their pace. I thought beyond a doubt they would be inside 200 yards when we rounded the corner.
Slowly, we continued forward, and the view opened. No bison. I looked to the shaded Ponderosa's to my left and down the canyon, peering into the shadows for any movement or rough outline that didn't belong. All was quiet here.
We continued down the trail, still following the saucer tracks in the dust, and the less frequent droppings. There was another bend in the canyon just shy of a mile ahead. We could see most of what lay in front of us, minus some areas with the thick 7' tall bunch grass as well as into the thick willow choked stream. We stayed on the tracks and continued on. I thought about how exciting things could get if they had holed up in the creek bottom that was cut into the canyon and wound lazily back and forth, sun to shade and back again. They could pop out at a mere 10 yards! The wind was right- blowing into our faces, but still ever so light as to barely move the white powder puffed into the air or the steam off the thawing grass.
We reached the next bend in the canyon, and again slowed our walk as we rounded the corner. No bison. We now had a few small side canyons, and we took care to look into each one, right, left, left, as we passed. The trail still had tracks, but now there were other tracks intermingled going different directions. The prominent tracks continued south, however, so we did, too.
Slowly, we continued forward, and the view opened. No bison. I looked to the shaded Ponderosa's to my left and down the canyon, peering into the shadows for any movement or rough outline that didn't belong. All was quiet here.
We continued down the trail, still following the saucer tracks in the dust, and the less frequent droppings. There was another bend in the canyon just shy of a mile ahead. We could see most of what lay in front of us, minus some areas with the thick 7' tall bunch grass as well as into the thick willow choked stream. We stayed on the tracks and continued on. I thought about how exciting things could get if they had holed up in the creek bottom that was cut into the canyon and wound lazily back and forth, sun to shade and back again. They could pop out at a mere 10 yards! The wind was right- blowing into our faces, but still ever so light as to barely move the white powder puffed into the air or the steam off the thawing grass.
We reached the next bend in the canyon, and again slowed our walk as we rounded the corner. No bison. We now had a few small side canyons, and we took care to look into each one, right, left, left, as we passed. The trail still had tracks, but now there were other tracks intermingled going different directions. The prominent tracks continued south, however, so we did, too.
We crossed the stream several times at beaver dams, and looped up a few hundred feet onto the side of the canyon to get around a particularly deep section- one where we couldn't see the bottom below the cut bank in the otherwise crystal clear, icy water.
Working up canyon, the adrenaline from the initial stalk began to fade some, and we picked up our pace a little in hopes of catching up sooner than later.
Two hours after the bulls jumped, we were examining the map, and saw that our canyon Y'ed before long, about 3 miles from where we had jumped the bulls, and about 5 miles from the truck and my dad. I thought how I hadn't packed for an overnight, and began wondering how much further we wanted to chase these bulls. The hope of having a bull down relatively close to where we started had obviously been very appealing.
We rounded a corner and into the next meadow.
Movement!
False Alarm- wild cattle in the back corner of the meadow feeding. Still no bulls. A few steps later, ones the cows decided they didn't like, and my heart dropped as the dozen or so wild cows took off in a dusty stampede, hooves thundering against the dry ground, up canyon, and somewhere toward where our bulls must surely be.
We rounded the next bend and saw the cattle heading west up a side canyon where our canyon had y'ed.
With the words of several folks in my head about how hard the bison can be to come by at time, we continued on. A little further up the main canyon, I came back on the tracks of the bison, or at least was 90% sure they were.
We continued south, relieved that the cattle had chose to go a different route than the bison.
Working up canyon, the adrenaline from the initial stalk began to fade some, and we picked up our pace a little in hopes of catching up sooner than later.
Two hours after the bulls jumped, we were examining the map, and saw that our canyon Y'ed before long, about 3 miles from where we had jumped the bulls, and about 5 miles from the truck and my dad. I thought how I hadn't packed for an overnight, and began wondering how much further we wanted to chase these bulls. The hope of having a bull down relatively close to where we started had obviously been very appealing.
We rounded a corner and into the next meadow.
Movement!
False Alarm- wild cattle in the back corner of the meadow feeding. Still no bulls. A few steps later, ones the cows decided they didn't like, and my heart dropped as the dozen or so wild cows took off in a dusty stampede, hooves thundering against the dry ground, up canyon, and somewhere toward where our bulls must surely be.
We rounded the next bend and saw the cattle heading west up a side canyon where our canyon had y'ed.
With the words of several folks in my head about how hard the bison can be to come by at time, we continued on. A little further up the main canyon, I came back on the tracks of the bison, or at least was 90% sure they were.
We continued south, relieved that the cattle had chose to go a different route than the bison.
cgasner1
Well-known member
- Joined
- Apr 24, 2016
- Messages
- 2,938
Ow yaaa
Prior to the hunt, I had mapped out approximate routes and camp sites that felt they were appropriate for moving through the roadless each day. They started at the south trailhead, and worked north, generally stopping near an intersection of two longer canyons. My thought was that I could share these with my dad and Isaac for whenever we started the backpack portion of the hunt, and then if we decided to split off into side canyons or up to ridges to glass, we would have a common area to meet in the evening and share a camp. I had made 5 such points, figuring we wouldn't be rushing through the country if we did it in 5 days. The routes ranged from 5 miles to just over 8 miles, with the assumption that we would be going a few miles up and back each side canyon we could.
I looked at my OnX and realized we were just now walking past the "day 2" camp site and end of that day's route. We were in here. And we still hadn't found the bulls- I was beginning to wish we had a truck at the south trailhead as well!
I looked at my OnX and realized we were just now walking past the "day 2" camp site and end of that day's route. We were in here. And we still hadn't found the bulls- I was beginning to wish we had a truck at the south trailhead as well!
We rounded the next corner- my attention fixated on the tracks in the dust in front of us, doubt creeping in. Had they really scaled one of the canyon walls and looped back on us?
Isaac grabbed me- there they were! Ahead in the canyon some 600 yards I could see them lined out, walking casually to the south. The cellphone photo doesn't do it justice, but you can make out the dark blobs at the point of the left side of the canyon in the meadow:
We waited until they cleared the corner, then took off on a run to close the gap. Coming around the point, we could again see them. They were now 300 yards away and working along the left side of the canyon. There were a few conifers between us and and them, so we continued straight at them while they walked the side of the bottom, relying on their alleged poor vision and the trees to keep closing the gap. They didn't look like they were in any rush, but they certainly weren't stopping to bed or feed either. As they rounded the next corner to the left, we made one last sprint up to where they had been. I picked up the tracks, racked the lever on the rifle to load a round, then let the hammer down, and double checked the scope wasn't dusty or obscured.
Isaac grabbed me- there they were! Ahead in the canyon some 600 yards I could see them lined out, walking casually to the south. The cellphone photo doesn't do it justice, but you can make out the dark blobs at the point of the left side of the canyon in the meadow:
We waited until they cleared the corner, then took off on a run to close the gap. Coming around the point, we could again see them. They were now 300 yards away and working along the left side of the canyon. There were a few conifers between us and and them, so we continued straight at them while they walked the side of the bottom, relying on their alleged poor vision and the trees to keep closing the gap. They didn't look like they were in any rush, but they certainly weren't stopping to bed or feed either. As they rounded the next corner to the left, we made one last sprint up to where they had been. I picked up the tracks, racked the lever on the rifle to load a round, then let the hammer down, and double checked the scope wasn't dusty or obscured.
KipCarson
Well-known member
This is getting better by the second!!
BAKPAKR
Well-known member
I was about to go to bed. Guess not.
We continued around the corner, and the tracks worked down into a dry wash with sand and smooth river rocks. The tracks paralleled the dry streambed, so we did too. I thought I caught a whiff of them, but wasn't sure. I turned to Isaac and asked what his thoughts were for getting up out of the wash into the flat above it in case they popped out sooner than later, as well as to give us an uphill advantage while we trailed them at what now had to be less than 100 yards. He liked the idea, and so we scrambled up the lose dirt and rock out of the wash. I was focused further up the side canyon where the tracks were headed, but Isaac excitedly pointed out 4 bison in the main canyon further south. They were now 8-900 yards away. What in the world? Oh well, we hurried over to the right side of the main canyon and began stalking in. We got a giant old spruce between us and them, and made our way to 200 yards, setting up in the shade.
I pulled my binos up and started glassing each of them- two were in the wide open, and the other two had moved off to the right into some shade.
At least one was a cow. This was weird. I pulled out my spotter and set it on my tripod- I had to justify carrying them all day somehow.
A look to the right confirmed that this was a herd of 15 to 20 bison, not our original 4 we had just been chasing. A couple bulls worked down from the left, and we looked at them in the spotter. They looked nice! My adrenaline and the rookie move of leaving the "daily driver" phone case on my phone meant that you will only get blurred photos of what we saw in high def.
I pulled my binos up and started glassing each of them- two were in the wide open, and the other two had moved off to the right into some shade.
At least one was a cow. This was weird. I pulled out my spotter and set it on my tripod- I had to justify carrying them all day somehow.
A look to the right confirmed that this was a herd of 15 to 20 bison, not our original 4 we had just been chasing. A couple bulls worked down from the left, and we looked at them in the spotter. They looked nice! My adrenaline and the rookie move of leaving the "daily driver" phone case on my phone meant that you will only get blurred photos of what we saw in high def.
The biggest bull, at least on initial inspection, was hanging with a cow and a calf, which didn't help in judging him, as he looked pretty hulking standing near them. He was sniffing a little, then decided now was as good as ever for a dust bath. With only his flailing legs for us to see, I wasn't able to compare him to another good looking bull that was coming down off the hill. They were all in range, it was just a matter of finding one that stood out. I was judging them almost solely off of body size- I wanted one that just looked like a big old gorilla, like when you see a big haired out Billy. The problem is, as many a goat hunter has likely experienced, is that alone, they can all look big. And with with the woman and children, they can look even bigger.
In the back of my mind, any one of these bulls looked pretty good, but I couldn't shake the feeling that with the rut being over a few months back, we were looking at the younger bulls that were still in the herd with the cows. I wasn't sure if my elk logic applied to bison, but I didn't want to always wonder if the bulls in the bachelor group were bigger. The herd looked entirely content, and didn't seem to be going anywhere. We knew no one was hiking in from our direction to spook them further from camp, and so if one of the other 4 tag holders was out and about today, in the middle of the roadless, they would likely be spooking them toward our truck and camp. With a low risk of blowing up in our faces, I made the call to back out off of this herd, head back the half mile to the side canyon where the tracks had gone, and see if we could turn up our bachelor bulls.
In the back of my mind, any one of these bulls looked pretty good, but I couldn't shake the feeling that with the rut being over a few months back, we were looking at the younger bulls that were still in the herd with the cows. I wasn't sure if my elk logic applied to bison, but I didn't want to always wonder if the bulls in the bachelor group were bigger. The herd looked entirely content, and didn't seem to be going anywhere. We knew no one was hiking in from our direction to spook them further from camp, and so if one of the other 4 tag holders was out and about today, in the middle of the roadless, they would likely be spooking them toward our truck and camp. With a low risk of blowing up in our faces, I made the call to back out off of this herd, head back the half mile to the side canyon where the tracks had gone, and see if we could turn up our bachelor bulls.
Sheltowee
Well-known member
We worked back to the dry wash, and started up it. I walked the edge of it, looking down and ahead in case the bulls had bedded in the cool shade of the north facing side. About a half mile up, the dry wash now had water running in it. Looking at the map, the wash was maybe a couple miles deep before it really started gaining elevation. The creek was lined with young aspens, and further up the slope to the south, there was the remnants of an old burn. The north side was encased with 20-30 foot sandstone cliffs, with dry, burned trees above that, and more cliff bands. We dropped down and across the creek, and on to a trail where there were what looked to be the same tracks that we had now been following for going on 5.5-6 miles.
I came up out of the creek and looked up to see a giant dark head facing my way. I dropped to my knee and indicated for Isaac to freeze. He was bedded in the aspens, and didn't seem spooked, so I wasn't sure he had seen me.
I ranged him at just over 70 yards, and could see another dark body off to the right of him, but couldn't make out much of either of them.
I tried snapping a photo through the rangefinder, which shows you basically nothing, but it's what I have:
I came up out of the creek and looked up to see a giant dark head facing my way. I dropped to my knee and indicated for Isaac to freeze. He was bedded in the aspens, and didn't seem spooked, so I wasn't sure he had seen me.
I ranged him at just over 70 yards, and could see another dark body off to the right of him, but couldn't make out much of either of them.
I tried snapping a photo through the rangefinder, which shows you basically nothing, but it's what I have:
Bryerific
Well-known member
I’m supposed to be packing for a deer hunt and all I am doing is refreshing this page!
To the right and back across the creek, the canyon rose sharply and was fairly open due to the burn that had swept through. Isaac had the idea to work up that side, as the sun, off to the south of us, would be right in their eyes if they were trying to look at us. I slid backward back into the creek bottom and we crept up the ridge as quietly as we could. The wind wasn't bad, but it felt like it could swirl any second. I slunk over the finger ridge and looked down on the bulls- one, two, three, and four. They were all bedded. The one that I had initially seen looked pretty nice, but it was hard to tell which of the 4 he was. Isaac and I tried picking them apart, but with the aspen tops in the way, we really couldn't know. Plus, with them bedded, body size was hard to discern.
My rangefinder showed them at 80 yards- good distance for the 45-70, and a very comfortable range for the accuracy the Henry had shown. I figured if they spooked, they would head back down the canyon, right underneath us and maybe only 40 yards away. A puff of wind on the neck, and the initial bull staggered to his feet. The one furthest in the back did the same. Finally, the last two stood. They appeared confused, likely not entirely sure where our scent was originating at in relation to them. Here we go! They're going to line out and head down canyon.
My rangefinder showed them at 80 yards- good distance for the 45-70, and a very comfortable range for the accuracy the Henry had shown. I figured if they spooked, they would head back down the canyon, right underneath us and maybe only 40 yards away. A puff of wind on the neck, and the initial bull staggered to his feet. The one furthest in the back did the same. Finally, the last two stood. They appeared confused, likely not entirely sure where our scent was originating at in relation to them. Here we go! They're going to line out and head down canyon.
After surprising us by spooking for several miles earlier in the day, now 4 hours ago, they gave me my second surprise: they lined out and started clobbering up the sandstone cliffs. What in the world! Sounding like the horse drawn tourist carriages on the cobblestone of a European city center, they climbed out of the bottom. My whispering was gone now. "Which one, Isaac? Which one is the biggest?"
He's looking through his 12x binos, and I'm looking through my 4x scope. The first two are definitely the smallest- we'll call them teenagers or young adults in the realm of bison bulls. The last two though, their bodies are bigger, their gait has more swagger, and their heads look enormous. Thinking my elk logic from earlier about bulls has maybe worked, I start applying ram logic- the oldest rams seem to take up the rear whenever a band of them is heading out. The one in the back looks big enough- his horns are certainly longer than the 3rd one, and his body is equally as big. He also has the misfortune of being at the rear- hopefully clearing up any confusion that might set in on the boom of the rifle.
He's looking through his 12x binos, and I'm looking through my 4x scope. The first two are definitely the smallest- we'll call them teenagers or young adults in the realm of bison bulls. The last two though, their bodies are bigger, their gait has more swagger, and their heads look enormous. Thinking my elk logic from earlier about bulls has maybe worked, I start applying ram logic- the oldest rams seem to take up the rear whenever a band of them is heading out. The one in the back looks big enough- his horns are certainly longer than the 3rd one, and his body is equally as big. He also has the misfortune of being at the rear- hopefully clearing up any confusion that might set in on the boom of the rifle.
He's working up the far side now, hooves on rock. Man I don't want him to get above the cliff. I set the hammer, and am standing. Huge target to hit, but I'm hoping to put him down quick. The shot breaks clean and it felt good. The bison doesn't so much as react, neither do his compadres. Did I miss? The shot rings around the rocky canyon, echoing in all directions. The gig is up now, and I work the lever. He's on the first bench of the sandstone now and quartering hard to the right. The next shot feels equally as good as the first, but elicits the same non-reaction. The bulls have turned to the left and are continuing up. Clean broadside presentation. Third shot breaks. His back feet jump forward in a stumble, but he continues up. 4th shot is about the same, just with him 3 yards further along. I see him coughing blood, and know he's hit well, but he's still headed up. The lever swung open, I dig in my pocket and pull a 5th bullet out, throwing it into the gun. The bulls are continuing along, and I take up a seated position. I recall just how low in their bodies their heart sits, and send a 5th shot what feels very low, but it has the desired effect. The bull breaks off from the other 3, and starts turning in circles. He falls down, feet uphill, and despite some kicking, doesn't get back up.
The other 3 bulls continue across the cliff face single file, seemingly a little lost.
The bulls had been bedded down by the aspens, and had worked right, then up, and switch backed to the left.
The other 3 bulls continue across the cliff face single file, seemingly a little lost.
The bulls had been bedded down by the aspens, and had worked right, then up, and switch backed to the left.
Last edited:
I'm ecstatic, but my celebration is very reserved. My thoughts are "what have we done?".
Perhaps my ambition has gotten the best of me.
It's 2pm.
We're 7.5 miles from the truck.
16 miles from camp via stock trail.
12 miles from the south trailhead.
If you made the roadless area into a target, we would be in the bullseye.
What's done is done- we came to kill a bull bison, and we've accomplished that! We'll get through this- it's just a matter of how sore our bodies will be at the conclusion.
I send an inReach to my Dad, my wife, and Coby. The first two to share the good news, and the last in hoping for good news.
We walk across the canyon and make our way up the slope to the bull. Holy $hit is he big.
With one look, we know we will want to get his feet downhill of him for butchering, as well as a few photos. We set our gear down and each grab some tree trunk sized leg. Deadlifting as best we can, we start to roll him over, using the fairly steep slope to our advantage. As he reaches the apex of his roll, I realize this was a bold move- we're above about a 20-25 foot sandstone cliff, which is down hill of us, and we have no way of stopping him if he keeps rolling.
"Whump!" He goes over once, than completes another roll. He's going. I've never seen an animal of this size fly, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to.
Miraculously, he stops. His back legs have done the splits, and somehow he comes to a stop on the stone, a half roll away from going all the way to the creek.
Relieved, we chuckle at our fortunes, and start snapping a few photos.
The hill and subsequent drop we about lost him off of- also, the amount of blood in an animal this size that comes out of 5 bullet wounds is quite shocking. I shot from the hill to the left.
My once in a lifetime Book Cliffs bull- I could really have not asked for anything more!
Mid photos, my inReach went off- Coby says he'll be here at noon tomorrow with mules. What a relief! The smile only grew at that point.
Perhaps my ambition has gotten the best of me.
It's 2pm.
We're 7.5 miles from the truck.
16 miles from camp via stock trail.
12 miles from the south trailhead.
If you made the roadless area into a target, we would be in the bullseye.
What's done is done- we came to kill a bull bison, and we've accomplished that! We'll get through this- it's just a matter of how sore our bodies will be at the conclusion.
I send an inReach to my Dad, my wife, and Coby. The first two to share the good news, and the last in hoping for good news.
We walk across the canyon and make our way up the slope to the bull. Holy $hit is he big.
With one look, we know we will want to get his feet downhill of him for butchering, as well as a few photos. We set our gear down and each grab some tree trunk sized leg. Deadlifting as best we can, we start to roll him over, using the fairly steep slope to our advantage. As he reaches the apex of his roll, I realize this was a bold move- we're above about a 20-25 foot sandstone cliff, which is down hill of us, and we have no way of stopping him if he keeps rolling.
"Whump!" He goes over once, than completes another roll. He's going. I've never seen an animal of this size fly, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to.
Miraculously, he stops. His back legs have done the splits, and somehow he comes to a stop on the stone, a half roll away from going all the way to the creek.
Relieved, we chuckle at our fortunes, and start snapping a few photos.
The hill and subsequent drop we about lost him off of- also, the amount of blood in an animal this size that comes out of 5 bullet wounds is quite shocking. I shot from the hill to the left.
My once in a lifetime Book Cliffs bull- I could really have not asked for anything more!
Mid photos, my inReach went off- Coby says he'll be here at noon tomorrow with mules. What a relief! The smile only grew at that point.
Last edited:
Similar threads
