Devil Diver Down
Well-known member
Drew my first bull tag in my home state since 2012 in a unit where I killed my first mule deer buck when I was a kid. I hadn't hunted it for anything than taking youth hunters for Spring gobblers since, but my buddy Lv2hnt said I had to trust him. He wanted me to target a 320+ bull. My hunting partner Doc (he had a cow tag) and I had cameras in the unit from the first week of June and we saw some decent growth happening on what were pretty young bulls (3 1/2 some 4 1/2). Not many cows at all. Nothing approaching 330 on the cameras. Once the monsoon rains filled up drinkers literally every half mile, the elk started spreading out. Busted my knee up in May and rehabbed until the hunt began. Busted my right wrist 6 weeks before the hunt by being stupid and it didn't really enjoy me flinging a hundred arrows every couple days.
Opening afternoon I played a hunch and worked some hills off a tank. Lv2hnt called a young 6 with several cows within about 80 yards, but I couldn't close the distance with so many eyes in the mix. Finally the cows started toward me, but the bull quickly pushed them wide and even though he crossed at 35 yards, I didn't have a clean shot with brush and branches between us. Then the wind came. And it stayed for a week. Steady at 20 mph plus and swirling gusts going way faster. For a whole week. The elk went quiet. I didn't hear an afternoon bugle for 4 straight days. Of course, you'd hardly hear them even if they were on top of you with the wind noise. Can't say how many times I was close on bulls and had a late second swirl get me busted. It was frustrating.
Lv2hnt runs the Hunts for Heroes program of the AZ Elk Society - a great program that gets donated tags to allow injured vets to get in the field - and had to get back to town to organize hunts. Before he left, he put me in touch with a helluva guy who had already tagged out in the unit and was offering help. Not only did this guy, David, share the series of drainages where the bulls were responding, he drove Doc and I there in his side-by-side and called for us.
After a whole bunch of really close calls, including this bull stopping 2 steps before I had a clear shot to get an arrow in him (pic was taken a different day from 22 yards) only to have his cow walk within 6 yards on the other side of me and then she spooked the whole deal.
Tons of calling in the early morning and late afternoon. Several set ups, several almost chances. After the 10th day, I started ratcheting down my expectations on size of bull. Even a spike would be putting himself in danger by coming close.
The 11th day I was again by myself. My buddy, Doc, wanted to take the morning off and we were hunting 35 miles from camp. David took his girlfriend fishing, so I headed into the bowl in the dark. Bulls were lighting up before daybreak in several directions. I settled on a ridge and waited for light to creep in before cow calling. Several bugles rang out in answer. Two close (~300 yards) but I held my ground and called as soft as I could with the loud Carlton call. A cow appeared under 12 yards to my right. I was sure she'd get my wind and I'd be left with thundering hooves again. She fed on past me and I could see her bull 100 yards up ridge, but he wasn't following. I could hear another bull to my left abusing a small juniper. I mewed, he answered. Again. More raking, scream of a bugle. I mewed. I had ranged just about everything in sight, but figured he'd follow the seam up the draw and I'd have him at 40 yards. I saw movement and stowed my call, clipped my release to the D loop. First came a calf and cow and I drew my bow, but they were so low in the seam I knew I might have trouble seeing the bull's vitals if he followed. He did follow, slightly quartering to me, and I could not see below his shoulders. I held draw and the calf and cow continued up the seam. Once the bull cleared 2 pines I was already holding behind his shoulder. Breathe. Release.
I could see the arrow didn't pass through completely but I could also see it was a "10 ring shot" in both lungs, right behind the shoulder. He bolted uphill, then spun and went back down. He crossed the side opposite where I was standing. About 30 seconds (or was it the hour it felt like) I heard him stumble in the rocks and go down. I wanted to give it some time so I looked for blood at the spot he was when the arrow struck. None. 30 yards along his path, none. Panic. And then drops and finally big patches of foamy blood. I was busy following more blood but if I'd looked up I could've seen my bull laying on the hill just about 40 yards from me.
Relief.
Gratitude.
I climbed to where I could get cell reception and called the boss, I mean wife, and Doc to scramble over to my location. And then I got to work on him with the gutless method. Couldn't get the smile off my face. It's great work if you can get it.
Kudos to Doc for helping me carry the 6 loads up and down and up again to the truck. He moves pretty dang good for 68.
Even though the last load came as afternoon was starting to creep past morning, I couldn't have been happier.
I saw several bigger bulls on the hunt. In the days following, I called some within 20 yards of me (while trying to help Doc tag a cow) but I wouldn't trade him for anything. In 7 years of bowhunting, he's definitely my greatest trophy. Surely means more to me than any other animal I've harvested. Always bittersweet to leave elk camp after 2 weeks that can be a grind, mentally and physically. Nice to be back in the land of hot showers and family, but those 2 weeks a year are never enough time to spend pursuing the king of the forest with a bow. Being in the woods and watching bull elk bugle is it's own reward, but I was fortunate to get some help from some solid individuals. And fortunate I filled my tag with what I consider an extremely challenging trophy. Every month should be September.
Opening afternoon I played a hunch and worked some hills off a tank. Lv2hnt called a young 6 with several cows within about 80 yards, but I couldn't close the distance with so many eyes in the mix. Finally the cows started toward me, but the bull quickly pushed them wide and even though he crossed at 35 yards, I didn't have a clean shot with brush and branches between us. Then the wind came. And it stayed for a week. Steady at 20 mph plus and swirling gusts going way faster. For a whole week. The elk went quiet. I didn't hear an afternoon bugle for 4 straight days. Of course, you'd hardly hear them even if they were on top of you with the wind noise. Can't say how many times I was close on bulls and had a late second swirl get me busted. It was frustrating.
Lv2hnt runs the Hunts for Heroes program of the AZ Elk Society - a great program that gets donated tags to allow injured vets to get in the field - and had to get back to town to organize hunts. Before he left, he put me in touch with a helluva guy who had already tagged out in the unit and was offering help. Not only did this guy, David, share the series of drainages where the bulls were responding, he drove Doc and I there in his side-by-side and called for us.
After a whole bunch of really close calls, including this bull stopping 2 steps before I had a clear shot to get an arrow in him (pic was taken a different day from 22 yards) only to have his cow walk within 6 yards on the other side of me and then she spooked the whole deal.
Tons of calling in the early morning and late afternoon. Several set ups, several almost chances. After the 10th day, I started ratcheting down my expectations on size of bull. Even a spike would be putting himself in danger by coming close.
The 11th day I was again by myself. My buddy, Doc, wanted to take the morning off and we were hunting 35 miles from camp. David took his girlfriend fishing, so I headed into the bowl in the dark. Bulls were lighting up before daybreak in several directions. I settled on a ridge and waited for light to creep in before cow calling. Several bugles rang out in answer. Two close (~300 yards) but I held my ground and called as soft as I could with the loud Carlton call. A cow appeared under 12 yards to my right. I was sure she'd get my wind and I'd be left with thundering hooves again. She fed on past me and I could see her bull 100 yards up ridge, but he wasn't following. I could hear another bull to my left abusing a small juniper. I mewed, he answered. Again. More raking, scream of a bugle. I mewed. I had ranged just about everything in sight, but figured he'd follow the seam up the draw and I'd have him at 40 yards. I saw movement and stowed my call, clipped my release to the D loop. First came a calf and cow and I drew my bow, but they were so low in the seam I knew I might have trouble seeing the bull's vitals if he followed. He did follow, slightly quartering to me, and I could not see below his shoulders. I held draw and the calf and cow continued up the seam. Once the bull cleared 2 pines I was already holding behind his shoulder. Breathe. Release.
I could see the arrow didn't pass through completely but I could also see it was a "10 ring shot" in both lungs, right behind the shoulder. He bolted uphill, then spun and went back down. He crossed the side opposite where I was standing. About 30 seconds (or was it the hour it felt like) I heard him stumble in the rocks and go down. I wanted to give it some time so I looked for blood at the spot he was when the arrow struck. None. 30 yards along his path, none. Panic. And then drops and finally big patches of foamy blood. I was busy following more blood but if I'd looked up I could've seen my bull laying on the hill just about 40 yards from me.
Relief.
Gratitude.
I climbed to where I could get cell reception and called the boss, I mean wife, and Doc to scramble over to my location. And then I got to work on him with the gutless method. Couldn't get the smile off my face. It's great work if you can get it.
Kudos to Doc for helping me carry the 6 loads up and down and up again to the truck. He moves pretty dang good for 68.
Even though the last load came as afternoon was starting to creep past morning, I couldn't have been happier.
I saw several bigger bulls on the hunt. In the days following, I called some within 20 yards of me (while trying to help Doc tag a cow) but I wouldn't trade him for anything. In 7 years of bowhunting, he's definitely my greatest trophy. Surely means more to me than any other animal I've harvested. Always bittersweet to leave elk camp after 2 weeks that can be a grind, mentally and physically. Nice to be back in the land of hot showers and family, but those 2 weeks a year are never enough time to spend pursuing the king of the forest with a bow. Being in the woods and watching bull elk bugle is it's own reward, but I was fortunate to get some help from some solid individuals. And fortunate I filled my tag with what I consider an extremely challenging trophy. Every month should be September.
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