Paul in Idaho
Well-known member
I don't often share a lot of details or stories, but since that is expected in this community, here's my account of my 2012 Idaho cow elk.
October arrived following a very dry, hot summer. I have always preferred hunting in the snow, and applied for this earlier tag with some doubts. The drought conditions made me more nervous in the weeks leading up to the hunt.
I arrived in camp early in the afternoon of the day before my season opened. The road was dusty, and as I walked around camp I noted that everything on the ground was crispy dry. The wind was howling up the face of the mountain. Even in my secluded spot in the timber, the wind was strong. I set up my camp gear, and went out to the face of the ridge to glass in the last hours of daylight.
The next morning in the pre-dawn darkness, I moved into a large opening filled with sage and grass. Later I worked my way out a ridge and found an excellent spot to sit and glass a large area below me. A huge gnarled tree stood with huge exposed roots that provided a backrest and shelter from the incessant wind.
I inspected the opposite side of the drainage for a while, then moved on. Through the morning, I walked all over the ridge, seeing no recent sign of elk activity. The manure on the ground indicated a lot of elk lived there, but that they had not been there in weeks. I started getting worried, as this was the best area I knew.
Around lunch time, I packed gear into my truck and drove a few miles to check out other areas, but found nothing that seemed as promising as where I was already camped.
I made use of the next morning by driving around parts of my unit I had not been in previously. I drove all the way back to the highway and up the river. The drive did not increase my optimism. I found a private ranch holding many elk, and a lot of barren land with no elk habitat.
I returned to camp and spent the evening probing through the timber behind camp for any sign of life. Everything was so dry. I found a couple of rubbed trees, probably done by a small buck. I finally found a couple elk turds that weren't completely dried out, which gave slight hope that a few elk may still be in the area.
When I was almost back to camp after sunset, I was surprised by the sight of two white spots flashing behind the trees in front of me. I walked a half circle to get the wind in my favor, and came fairly close to a mule deer doe and fawn. After a few chirps on my cow call, they returned to feeding. After a while, they moved and I realized there were twin fawns, not just one. I watched them until almost dark.
Bolstered somewhat by the knowledge that not all animals had abandoned this mountain, I ate dinner and went to bed, planning for a serious hunt the next morning in the bowl that I felt had the most promise of holding elk.
The next morning, the wind was still blasting up and over the mountain. My plan was to walk around the outside of the bowl to the bottom, then zigzag back up inside the bowl against the wind. The ground was as dry here as everywhere else, and it was impossible to move quietly.
Since I knew conditions would be poor, I was prepared for this hunt. Once I arrived at the side of the bowl where I knew elk trails began, I took off my boots and put on an extra pair of thick socks. I was gratified to hear my footsteps were nearly silent even when they fell on an area covered in fallen twigs and conifer needles.
Unfortunately, the wind was not so easily overcome. It changed direction constantly, distributing my scent over a wide area. I carried a mist bottle filled with diluted elk urine, and sprayed it frequently – especially when I felt the wind coming from behind.
I worked across the bowl twice, gaining elevation each pass. As I walked westward, about halfway up, I froze in my socks when I sighted the hind end of an elk about 150 yards off to my right. The rest of the elk was behind a tree, and I couldn't get in a position to see the whole animal. I cautiously and slowly moved forward, hoping to locate a gap through the trees.
Soon, while kneeling down to look under branches, I again saw the color of elk. Laying down in the trail, I got my binoculars up, and saw the folded legs and belly of a bedded elk. Then, I spotted another bedded elk, and another. They were all in very dense timber, with many branches cluttering the narrow aisle of visibility I had.
I laid in the trail watching them for about 20 minutes. They moved around a bit, but always behind branches. I watched and listened to a couple spikes sparring. This was one of the high points of my hunt. A couple cows slowly moved through. There was one little branch-antlered bull, though I couldn't count points or even see all of him due to the trees.
Without warning, the elk started moving. They didn't bolt or panic. The ones standing started walking and the bedded ones got up and followed. I can only assume that either the wind angled my scent further up than I realized, or part of the herd was out of sight below me and caught my scent. In a couple seconds, they were all gone.
The area was all dense timber. There would be no clearing to see them again. I decided my only chance was with my socked feet – to rush up the trail and get as close as I could before they ran. I moved off quickly, and had covered several yards when I looked to my left and saw a cow elk walking to catch up to the rest of the herd.
She caught me out in the open, with nothing to rest my rifle on. She stood just under 50 yards away from me, and several yards behind a fir tree. The tree's lowest branch extended out and completely covered her vitals. I put the crosshairs on the base of her neck and pulled the trigger. She did not react to the shot. Quickly, I worked the bolt to chamber another cartridge and returned the crosshairs to the base of her neck. This time, she fell without a twitch. The Barnes TTSX copper bullet had crushed her spine, punched a hole bigger than a quarter in the far shoulder, then stopped under the skin.
I caught a glimpse of the herd exiting on the other side of the canyon.
For the pack to camp, I was fortunate to find another elk trail leading up to the main ridge I was familiar with. Without that trail, finding a path through the rocks would have been difficult. The old elk trails led me easily along a gentle slope up the ridge, across a creek bottom and right up to camp.
I spend too many hours at a desk job, so no 'beast mode' for me. Working with about 55 pounds per trip, I spent the entire following day packing her out.
I arrived at camp with the last load just before dark.
I spent a relaxing morning on the top of the mountain, satisfied with having procured a year's worth of fine meat. Reluctantly, I then packed up camp and headed out to return to the city.
On the way down the mountain, I was fortunate to find a large herd of bighorns right by the road. They didn't seem to mind my presence, and continued their activity as I watched from less than 50 yards away.
At the bottom, I found another ranch with lots of elk by the river. No wonder there were so few on top. They know where the living is safe and easy.
October arrived following a very dry, hot summer. I have always preferred hunting in the snow, and applied for this earlier tag with some doubts. The drought conditions made me more nervous in the weeks leading up to the hunt.
I arrived in camp early in the afternoon of the day before my season opened. The road was dusty, and as I walked around camp I noted that everything on the ground was crispy dry. The wind was howling up the face of the mountain. Even in my secluded spot in the timber, the wind was strong. I set up my camp gear, and went out to the face of the ridge to glass in the last hours of daylight.
The next morning in the pre-dawn darkness, I moved into a large opening filled with sage and grass. Later I worked my way out a ridge and found an excellent spot to sit and glass a large area below me. A huge gnarled tree stood with huge exposed roots that provided a backrest and shelter from the incessant wind.
I inspected the opposite side of the drainage for a while, then moved on. Through the morning, I walked all over the ridge, seeing no recent sign of elk activity. The manure on the ground indicated a lot of elk lived there, but that they had not been there in weeks. I started getting worried, as this was the best area I knew.
Around lunch time, I packed gear into my truck and drove a few miles to check out other areas, but found nothing that seemed as promising as where I was already camped.
I made use of the next morning by driving around parts of my unit I had not been in previously. I drove all the way back to the highway and up the river. The drive did not increase my optimism. I found a private ranch holding many elk, and a lot of barren land with no elk habitat.
I returned to camp and spent the evening probing through the timber behind camp for any sign of life. Everything was so dry. I found a couple of rubbed trees, probably done by a small buck. I finally found a couple elk turds that weren't completely dried out, which gave slight hope that a few elk may still be in the area.
When I was almost back to camp after sunset, I was surprised by the sight of two white spots flashing behind the trees in front of me. I walked a half circle to get the wind in my favor, and came fairly close to a mule deer doe and fawn. After a few chirps on my cow call, they returned to feeding. After a while, they moved and I realized there were twin fawns, not just one. I watched them until almost dark.
Bolstered somewhat by the knowledge that not all animals had abandoned this mountain, I ate dinner and went to bed, planning for a serious hunt the next morning in the bowl that I felt had the most promise of holding elk.
The next morning, the wind was still blasting up and over the mountain. My plan was to walk around the outside of the bowl to the bottom, then zigzag back up inside the bowl against the wind. The ground was as dry here as everywhere else, and it was impossible to move quietly.
Since I knew conditions would be poor, I was prepared for this hunt. Once I arrived at the side of the bowl where I knew elk trails began, I took off my boots and put on an extra pair of thick socks. I was gratified to hear my footsteps were nearly silent even when they fell on an area covered in fallen twigs and conifer needles.
Unfortunately, the wind was not so easily overcome. It changed direction constantly, distributing my scent over a wide area. I carried a mist bottle filled with diluted elk urine, and sprayed it frequently – especially when I felt the wind coming from behind.
I worked across the bowl twice, gaining elevation each pass. As I walked westward, about halfway up, I froze in my socks when I sighted the hind end of an elk about 150 yards off to my right. The rest of the elk was behind a tree, and I couldn't get in a position to see the whole animal. I cautiously and slowly moved forward, hoping to locate a gap through the trees.
Soon, while kneeling down to look under branches, I again saw the color of elk. Laying down in the trail, I got my binoculars up, and saw the folded legs and belly of a bedded elk. Then, I spotted another bedded elk, and another. They were all in very dense timber, with many branches cluttering the narrow aisle of visibility I had.
I laid in the trail watching them for about 20 minutes. They moved around a bit, but always behind branches. I watched and listened to a couple spikes sparring. This was one of the high points of my hunt. A couple cows slowly moved through. There was one little branch-antlered bull, though I couldn't count points or even see all of him due to the trees.
Without warning, the elk started moving. They didn't bolt or panic. The ones standing started walking and the bedded ones got up and followed. I can only assume that either the wind angled my scent further up than I realized, or part of the herd was out of sight below me and caught my scent. In a couple seconds, they were all gone.
The area was all dense timber. There would be no clearing to see them again. I decided my only chance was with my socked feet – to rush up the trail and get as close as I could before they ran. I moved off quickly, and had covered several yards when I looked to my left and saw a cow elk walking to catch up to the rest of the herd.
She caught me out in the open, with nothing to rest my rifle on. She stood just under 50 yards away from me, and several yards behind a fir tree. The tree's lowest branch extended out and completely covered her vitals. I put the crosshairs on the base of her neck and pulled the trigger. She did not react to the shot. Quickly, I worked the bolt to chamber another cartridge and returned the crosshairs to the base of her neck. This time, she fell without a twitch. The Barnes TTSX copper bullet had crushed her spine, punched a hole bigger than a quarter in the far shoulder, then stopped under the skin.
I caught a glimpse of the herd exiting on the other side of the canyon.
For the pack to camp, I was fortunate to find another elk trail leading up to the main ridge I was familiar with. Without that trail, finding a path through the rocks would have been difficult. The old elk trails led me easily along a gentle slope up the ridge, across a creek bottom and right up to camp.
I spend too many hours at a desk job, so no 'beast mode' for me. Working with about 55 pounds per trip, I spent the entire following day packing her out.
I arrived at camp with the last load just before dark.
I spent a relaxing morning on the top of the mountain, satisfied with having procured a year's worth of fine meat. Reluctantly, I then packed up camp and headed out to return to the city.
On the way down the mountain, I was fortunate to find a large herd of bighorns right by the road. They didn't seem to mind my presence, and continued their activity as I watched from less than 50 yards away.
At the bottom, I found another ranch with lots of elk by the river. No wonder there were so few on top. They know where the living is safe and easy.
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