Brandenbowhunter
Well-known member
good luck...go get one! The kid will be stoked if they see the show and you use it
Over The Counter Elk - Colorado style
- Thread starter Big Fin
- Start date
This was the best post on this thread so far.
Randy49er
New member
Must agree w/Randy11,unless you are under contract or threat of losing sponsorship to put a kill shot on film. OYOA would not lose any viewers over a 3 second film clip.
Getting weather right now North of you guys. Don't know which way it's moving but if I does hit you...you guys will get pounded. It's making me decide between watching football tomorrow and going and trying to fill my cow tag! Good luck Randy and Dirk!
idnative1948
Well-known member
Fin, beyond class!
For your post. You know what it is about, but knowing you still have to make a living and pay your employees. Nuf said.
For your post. You know what it is about, but knowing you still have to make a living and pay your employees. Nuf said.
This one will take at least two posts, as it will exceed the 10,000 character limit, so bear with me.
When I walked to the truck after the family had left, I had to laugh. The kids found my stash. They did not take them all, only taking one each. And what made me laugh was this. On the dirt and grime of my topper window, they had written, "Thank You."
We headed back to the spotting area after doing some more TV stuff. Did not want to do that from the spotting location, as the TV stuff is always noisy. So, here goes the rest of the story.
My four day Colorado OTC elk hunt is over. It is so much a summary of how this season has unfolded. Great fun, lots of close encounters, and great people.
The morning was slow and by late morning, the wind and snow showed up as forecasted. Fortunately, visibility returned around 2:00pm, giving me a hope that we might see something this afternoon.
Hunters to the north, on private, started an elk stampede as they shot. About a mile away, a mass of elk crossed onto the public. Amazingly, they disappeared in short order. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never beleived that many elk could vanish in so quickly. Still cannot believe it.
Realizing how well those oaks hid that big herd of elk, told me that the jungle was worse than exepcted. I have dove into these oak messes before and now avoid doing such at all costs. The elk were safe and out of sight.
I decided it best to maintain our position and wait them out. See where they were headed and hope that we could swim through the oaks to a small opening that might provide a shot. A slim hope, but hope nonetheless.
Around 3:00 pm, a few elk bodies could be seen in the oaks, closer to us. A southwest course had brought them to a half mile of our position. They looked to be content and mostly milling amongst the brush, looking for food.
I conferred with Dirk. We both agreed we need to move now and move fast. I left the spotter at our location and placed an orange stocking cap on top. The elk were in a straight line between our positon and the biggest mountain on the horizon.
Off we go. It is worse than it looked. Always is in these oak tangles. When we do hit a higher spot, I glass back to our location and line us up with withe big mountain. It keeps us on course as we auger our way toward the elk.
This is ridiculous. How elk move through this stuff still has me stumped. I doubt I could maintain one mile per hour for more than an hour. Yet, the elk seem unphased by it.
We decided to take this ridge that slopes southwest, right toward the position the elk were last spotted and putting the wind directly in our face. It sucks to try film toward the sun, but at this point, we have no choice.
Dirk taps me. Through a small, very small, window, he sees and elk in the oaks across the way. Great eyes. I range it through a small opening. 274 yards. Makable. I move forward to find a small gap through which I could poke my barrel. I am set and using and oak limb for rifle support.
I look around for a place that will accomodate the camera atop this five foot tripod. Nothing. I start to push down the oaks in hopes Dirk can move forward to my forward position. All is for naught. In the time I am pushing down oaks, the bull has taken a couple steps and is now completely obscured by brush. Only the rack and the outline of the bull are visible. Not a shot I am willing to take.
The herd is chattering further to our southwest. So much cow calling I would swear it was the rut. This is fun. I can hear them very well. The wind is in our face, and they have no idea we are here. We still have forty minutes of filming light.
We have to retreat and give up some ground. Moving forward is impossible. Too thick to penetrate. We drop back forty yards then crawl to our right in the small openings that provide a wide enough birth for rifle and hunters wearing a pack.
Finally, I see a small opening in the canopy a mere twenty yards ahead. The squawking of cows tells me we are very close. Upon getting there, I start glassing through the mess. I see the outline of elk on a narrow trail.
I motion to Dirk. We move forward. An opening of 20" square accomodates both barrel and lens. Tight quarters, but all we have.
He is set and rolling. I range the elk. 185 yards where the trail comes straight out direction. It is as if elk are popping up out of the ground. Really, they are coming out of the small depression behind this ridge and the trail, all of five feet wide, crests right in front of us, taking the elk directly toward us. They are not visible until they crest the small ridge and disappear within three steps down the trail that takes them right under our feet.
I wait for an opening. I need a lone bull to stand, clear of other elk both rear and fore. One bull stands to the right of the trail. He is broadside, but all vitals are obscured by brush. I have a high neck shot, but those are not for me. Too much room for error. I don't need a mess on my hands at this time.
We wait and watch as elk after elk stream over the crest and disappear in the drainage right below us. The elk are single and double file. Wherever the lead cow is going, the herd follows blindly. They are immune to our presence. All that I could ask for is now less than two hundred yards in front of me.
I count over a dozen legal bulls. Two are far beyond what I would expect in an OTC unit. Yet, not one shot is presented, for fear of wounding other elk. I cannot believe this. All the elk have filtered through and I still have all my bullets in the rifle.
(Continued on the next post)
When I walked to the truck after the family had left, I had to laugh. The kids found my stash. They did not take them all, only taking one each. And what made me laugh was this. On the dirt and grime of my topper window, they had written, "Thank You."
We headed back to the spotting area after doing some more TV stuff. Did not want to do that from the spotting location, as the TV stuff is always noisy. So, here goes the rest of the story.
My four day Colorado OTC elk hunt is over. It is so much a summary of how this season has unfolded. Great fun, lots of close encounters, and great people.
The morning was slow and by late morning, the wind and snow showed up as forecasted. Fortunately, visibility returned around 2:00pm, giving me a hope that we might see something this afternoon.
Hunters to the north, on private, started an elk stampede as they shot. About a mile away, a mass of elk crossed onto the public. Amazingly, they disappeared in short order. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never beleived that many elk could vanish in so quickly. Still cannot believe it.
Realizing how well those oaks hid that big herd of elk, told me that the jungle was worse than exepcted. I have dove into these oak messes before and now avoid doing such at all costs. The elk were safe and out of sight.
I decided it best to maintain our position and wait them out. See where they were headed and hope that we could swim through the oaks to a small opening that might provide a shot. A slim hope, but hope nonetheless.
Around 3:00 pm, a few elk bodies could be seen in the oaks, closer to us. A southwest course had brought them to a half mile of our position. They looked to be content and mostly milling amongst the brush, looking for food.
I conferred with Dirk. We both agreed we need to move now and move fast. I left the spotter at our location and placed an orange stocking cap on top. The elk were in a straight line between our positon and the biggest mountain on the horizon.
Off we go. It is worse than it looked. Always is in these oak tangles. When we do hit a higher spot, I glass back to our location and line us up with withe big mountain. It keeps us on course as we auger our way toward the elk.
This is ridiculous. How elk move through this stuff still has me stumped. I doubt I could maintain one mile per hour for more than an hour. Yet, the elk seem unphased by it.
We decided to take this ridge that slopes southwest, right toward the position the elk were last spotted and putting the wind directly in our face. It sucks to try film toward the sun, but at this point, we have no choice.
Dirk taps me. Through a small, very small, window, he sees and elk in the oaks across the way. Great eyes. I range it through a small opening. 274 yards. Makable. I move forward to find a small gap through which I could poke my barrel. I am set and using and oak limb for rifle support.
I look around for a place that will accomodate the camera atop this five foot tripod. Nothing. I start to push down the oaks in hopes Dirk can move forward to my forward position. All is for naught. In the time I am pushing down oaks, the bull has taken a couple steps and is now completely obscured by brush. Only the rack and the outline of the bull are visible. Not a shot I am willing to take.
The herd is chattering further to our southwest. So much cow calling I would swear it was the rut. This is fun. I can hear them very well. The wind is in our face, and they have no idea we are here. We still have forty minutes of filming light.
We have to retreat and give up some ground. Moving forward is impossible. Too thick to penetrate. We drop back forty yards then crawl to our right in the small openings that provide a wide enough birth for rifle and hunters wearing a pack.
Finally, I see a small opening in the canopy a mere twenty yards ahead. The squawking of cows tells me we are very close. Upon getting there, I start glassing through the mess. I see the outline of elk on a narrow trail.
I motion to Dirk. We move forward. An opening of 20" square accomodates both barrel and lens. Tight quarters, but all we have.
He is set and rolling. I range the elk. 185 yards where the trail comes straight out direction. It is as if elk are popping up out of the ground. Really, they are coming out of the small depression behind this ridge and the trail, all of five feet wide, crests right in front of us, taking the elk directly toward us. They are not visible until they crest the small ridge and disappear within three steps down the trail that takes them right under our feet.
I wait for an opening. I need a lone bull to stand, clear of other elk both rear and fore. One bull stands to the right of the trail. He is broadside, but all vitals are obscured by brush. I have a high neck shot, but those are not for me. Too much room for error. I don't need a mess on my hands at this time.
We wait and watch as elk after elk stream over the crest and disappear in the drainage right below us. The elk are single and double file. Wherever the lead cow is going, the herd follows blindly. They are immune to our presence. All that I could ask for is now less than two hundred yards in front of me.
I count over a dozen legal bulls. Two are far beyond what I would expect in an OTC unit. Yet, not one shot is presented, for fear of wounding other elk. I cannot believe this. All the elk have filtered through and I still have all my bullets in the rifle.
(Continued on the next post)
I decide to sit and listen for a couple minutes, wanting to know exactly where the lead cow is taking them. The sounds move slowly to our right and forward. Perfect. Directly upwind of our position.
I motion to Dirk where we need to move. I am doing my best to get through this stuff with all gear intact. The oaks have claimed most all of my belongings, requiring that I reach back to reclaim them as my own.
It is times like this that I hate being mic'd up. No matter how well I hide my mic cables, the brush finds them and tries to strangle me with such. Yet, I have it made compared to Dirk.
Dirk carries a big camera, atop a five foot tripod. And even more frustrating is the two mic receivers that are attached to the side of the camera. From each reciever runs an XLR cable taking the audio from the receiver to the camera. He would be better off trying to carry a landing net through this mess.
Eventually, we make it the hundred or so yards where the elk noise is now so close that I have to stop. Though we cannot see them, it is apparent we are very close. Cow calls sound that loud only when within archery range.
I nod to Dirk that I am going to move to the small opening formed by the gap in the two larger oaks to my left. I drag myself there and step one leg between the trees. Instantly, it sounds like thunder. I look and see elk legs moving away a mere twenty yards from my position.
I step back and tell Dirk to follow me. If we are where I think we are, a small opening is to our right, exactly where the elk are headed. I tell him to follow me.
I fight as hard as I can to get through the oaks. I can hear the smashing of hooves and brush making an escape ahead of us. Though many are still coming out of the bottom below us. The noise is crazy. Most of these elk are coming through the oaks at fifty yards from us.
It takes me about three minutes to reach the edge of the opening I anticipated. Standing on the other side is a big herd of elk. I see four nice bulls standing mid-hill. I move forward, wanting to be ready as soon as Dirk can rescue his equipment from the brush I have just drug him through.
I have the crosshairs on a nice bull. He is clear of other elk, though the brush in front of me causes some concern. The sight picture is clear. I am ready to squeeze as soon as Dirk gives me the command. I can make this shot. No more than one hundred yards.
I turn to see Dirk in a wrestling match with a bush that is tangled in his gear. He gives one big jerk and launches himself and his gear right to my shoulder. He is getting his shot set when the herd moves in front of the bull I am on.
Now I see a big mass of fur and antlers. They are filing straight away, up the small opening and being swallowed by the oaks that start at the top of this very small opening. I have the cross hairs on a bull. He finds shelter in the brush. Then another bull takes his place. A string of four nice bulls move across my sight picture, with none of them offering a clean shot, only shots from the rear. Not an option.
Though I have lost that chance, I can hear more elk coming from the brush. Two spikes stop at my cow call. If only a legal bull would comply. The splinter herd quickly covers the left side of the gap and is into the oaks before a shot can be made. No bull with that group.
Dirk and I grab our packs and gear and are darting across this opening, only to have our advance deflected by the wall of brush these elk have disappeared into. How the elk made it through here, so quickly, without trampling a wide path, is one of natures mysteries.
It is easy to follow where they went. Even where the snow has melted it is easy to follow the mud and broken brush. We continue as fast as possible, which given these conditions, is not as fast as I would like.
We finally break into some more open ground. We are making good time, but so are the elk. We come to a new fence. I grab the GPS. We hit a forty-acre piece of well posted private. The elk paid no attention and trespassed. Not chancing such, we dodge south along the property line, then turn west upon reaching the corner post. We trot along the fence line until we clear the boundary. Then we must go back north to find where the elk exited the private.
Easy to regain the trail, but much valuable time has been lost. Time that means a lot of distance on traveling elk. And time the represents filming light. We run as fast as bodies and terrain allow.
We get to the deep ledge of the canyon. I glass to the north, the direction the tracks were going when they left the top of the mesa. Nothing. I pan to the west and south. Bingo.
There are four bulls sidehilling across and away from me. The largest part of the herd is already over six hundred yards off. The bulls are not moving at the same clip.
As the sun is dropping behind the western mountains, one bulls stops, slightly quartering uphill. I range him. 420 yards. I drop the bipod and point Dirk to the bull's position. Dirk is trying to get the focus and ready for a shot. Before I can get the dials set and bring the crosshairs to the bull, he turns and follows his three friends.
I watch in laughter as the last of my opportunities walks away with the sun setting on my face and setting on my chance to fill my elk tag. All I can do is laugh. I have hunted so damn hard, for so many weeks, I am at a loss of what it is going to take before I actually fill a tag.
Dirk shrugs and nods, as if to comfort me. He knows we gave it everything we could. That we did not catch a single break. That somehow the elk guardians had guided this large band of wapiti through the dangers of an almost "dead ringer" situation.
With that I thanked Dirk for his time and effort. How he kept up while lugging that pile of gear, is very impressive. He was Johnny On The Spot. Nothing more he could have done.
I looked at the sunset and thought about many things. How lucky I am to get to travel the west, trying to tell the story of how hunting occurs for the average guy - the guy who decides to hunt public land, on his own, for the sake of the chase. I think about how many people are going to bust my chops about not filling this tag, and the fact that I really don't care.
I thought about how I can't wait to come back next year, hang out with cool people, and immerse myself in another part of the country where hunting is celebrated. How the story we will tell about our time in Colorado is measured by much more than a tag and a set of antlers. It is measured by the "Charlies" of the world; by the smiles provided by a family that spends their time hunting.
So, with that, another adventure is in the vault. New friends made, more hunting skills acquired, and memories that cannot be replaced. When I come back next year, I will bring a friend. The Colorado OTC elk experience is special and worth sharing. It is hard hunting. Yet, it is unique. And most importantly, is as much fun as you can have in four days.
Thanks for all your support and for following along on our journey.
I motion to Dirk where we need to move. I am doing my best to get through this stuff with all gear intact. The oaks have claimed most all of my belongings, requiring that I reach back to reclaim them as my own.
It is times like this that I hate being mic'd up. No matter how well I hide my mic cables, the brush finds them and tries to strangle me with such. Yet, I have it made compared to Dirk.
Dirk carries a big camera, atop a five foot tripod. And even more frustrating is the two mic receivers that are attached to the side of the camera. From each reciever runs an XLR cable taking the audio from the receiver to the camera. He would be better off trying to carry a landing net through this mess.
Eventually, we make it the hundred or so yards where the elk noise is now so close that I have to stop. Though we cannot see them, it is apparent we are very close. Cow calls sound that loud only when within archery range.
I nod to Dirk that I am going to move to the small opening formed by the gap in the two larger oaks to my left. I drag myself there and step one leg between the trees. Instantly, it sounds like thunder. I look and see elk legs moving away a mere twenty yards from my position.
I step back and tell Dirk to follow me. If we are where I think we are, a small opening is to our right, exactly where the elk are headed. I tell him to follow me.
I fight as hard as I can to get through the oaks. I can hear the smashing of hooves and brush making an escape ahead of us. Though many are still coming out of the bottom below us. The noise is crazy. Most of these elk are coming through the oaks at fifty yards from us.
It takes me about three minutes to reach the edge of the opening I anticipated. Standing on the other side is a big herd of elk. I see four nice bulls standing mid-hill. I move forward, wanting to be ready as soon as Dirk can rescue his equipment from the brush I have just drug him through.
I have the crosshairs on a nice bull. He is clear of other elk, though the brush in front of me causes some concern. The sight picture is clear. I am ready to squeeze as soon as Dirk gives me the command. I can make this shot. No more than one hundred yards.
I turn to see Dirk in a wrestling match with a bush that is tangled in his gear. He gives one big jerk and launches himself and his gear right to my shoulder. He is getting his shot set when the herd moves in front of the bull I am on.
Now I see a big mass of fur and antlers. They are filing straight away, up the small opening and being swallowed by the oaks that start at the top of this very small opening. I have the cross hairs on a bull. He finds shelter in the brush. Then another bull takes his place. A string of four nice bulls move across my sight picture, with none of them offering a clean shot, only shots from the rear. Not an option.
Though I have lost that chance, I can hear more elk coming from the brush. Two spikes stop at my cow call. If only a legal bull would comply. The splinter herd quickly covers the left side of the gap and is into the oaks before a shot can be made. No bull with that group.
Dirk and I grab our packs and gear and are darting across this opening, only to have our advance deflected by the wall of brush these elk have disappeared into. How the elk made it through here, so quickly, without trampling a wide path, is one of natures mysteries.
It is easy to follow where they went. Even where the snow has melted it is easy to follow the mud and broken brush. We continue as fast as possible, which given these conditions, is not as fast as I would like.
We finally break into some more open ground. We are making good time, but so are the elk. We come to a new fence. I grab the GPS. We hit a forty-acre piece of well posted private. The elk paid no attention and trespassed. Not chancing such, we dodge south along the property line, then turn west upon reaching the corner post. We trot along the fence line until we clear the boundary. Then we must go back north to find where the elk exited the private.
Easy to regain the trail, but much valuable time has been lost. Time that means a lot of distance on traveling elk. And time the represents filming light. We run as fast as bodies and terrain allow.
We get to the deep ledge of the canyon. I glass to the north, the direction the tracks were going when they left the top of the mesa. Nothing. I pan to the west and south. Bingo.
There are four bulls sidehilling across and away from me. The largest part of the herd is already over six hundred yards off. The bulls are not moving at the same clip.
As the sun is dropping behind the western mountains, one bulls stops, slightly quartering uphill. I range him. 420 yards. I drop the bipod and point Dirk to the bull's position. Dirk is trying to get the focus and ready for a shot. Before I can get the dials set and bring the crosshairs to the bull, he turns and follows his three friends.
I watch in laughter as the last of my opportunities walks away with the sun setting on my face and setting on my chance to fill my elk tag. All I can do is laugh. I have hunted so damn hard, for so many weeks, I am at a loss of what it is going to take before I actually fill a tag.
Dirk shrugs and nods, as if to comfort me. He knows we gave it everything we could. That we did not catch a single break. That somehow the elk guardians had guided this large band of wapiti through the dangers of an almost "dead ringer" situation.
With that I thanked Dirk for his time and effort. How he kept up while lugging that pile of gear, is very impressive. He was Johnny On The Spot. Nothing more he could have done.
I looked at the sunset and thought about many things. How lucky I am to get to travel the west, trying to tell the story of how hunting occurs for the average guy - the guy who decides to hunt public land, on his own, for the sake of the chase. I think about how many people are going to bust my chops about not filling this tag, and the fact that I really don't care.
I thought about how I can't wait to come back next year, hang out with cool people, and immerse myself in another part of the country where hunting is celebrated. How the story we will tell about our time in Colorado is measured by much more than a tag and a set of antlers. It is measured by the "Charlies" of the world; by the smiles provided by a family that spends their time hunting.
So, with that, another adventure is in the vault. New friends made, more hunting skills acquired, and memories that cannot be replaced. When I come back next year, I will bring a friend. The Colorado OTC elk experience is special and worth sharing. It is hard hunting. Yet, it is unique. And most importantly, is as much fun as you can have in four days.
Thanks for all your support and for following along on our journey.
jore07
New member
Sounds like a pretty amazing day to me. Congrats on the hunt and thanks for the stories. Been very fun to follow along in your adventures this year.
jones39
Member
Great story Fin! Sorry that you didn't fill the tag but it sounds like it was a great experience!
Outdooraddict
Active member
Well Fin,
You saw way more elk than my neighbor did, and he was hunting just below you. If I'd known it would end like this, I would have left a 12 pack on your vehicle- you deserve it. Sounds like an outstanding hunt.
If I have learned anything, it is that we all measure the quality of a hunt in different ways. No one will bust your chops if you have accomplished what you set out to do. Enjoying your time outdoors, experiencing the opportunity to hunt elk in CO, and seeing plenty of game- you had a great trip.
Good luck in your next adventure!
You saw way more elk than my neighbor did, and he was hunting just below you. If I'd known it would end like this, I would have left a 12 pack on your vehicle- you deserve it. Sounds like an outstanding hunt.
If I have learned anything, it is that we all measure the quality of a hunt in different ways. No one will bust your chops if you have accomplished what you set out to do. Enjoying your time outdoors, experiencing the opportunity to hunt elk in CO, and seeing plenty of game- you had a great trip.
Good luck in your next adventure!
gman82001
Member
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2011
- Messages
- 357
Very good story randy and it just shows what a good hunter you really are most guys dont have a close encounter in their own backyard let alone multiple in numerous states. Great write up thanks for keeping me going now that my seasons are all done
Summitthunting
Well-known member
Great read, was fun tagging along as usual. What's next on the menu?
NVLongbow
Active member
Great job Randy and Dirk. The reward is in the effort and experience of the hunt.
T Bone
Well-known member
Success has been found. Great hunt Randy.
BirdDogWebb
Member
Congratulations to you and Dirk on a great hunt. You both experienced more in this season than a lot of people will in their lifetime.
Thanks for sharing your journeys.
Have a safe trip while going home.
Thanks for sharing your journeys.
Have a safe trip while going home.
shoots-straight
Well-known member
Very good story Fin. Isn't that what this hunt really was about?
Great read, makes me think I was along for the ride, although I've been in that oak, and I'm glad I wasn't. I'd call that hunt, and this elk season a success, you've had great adventures, good company for the journey, and gotten to do what most of us dream about, go someplace you've never been with a tag in your pocket, your gear, and see what happens. A great hunt is not measured by the antlers on the wall, but by the memories, and in your case the video we take home with us.
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