The Elkhorns (A Story)

[MTHeifer]

With my final’s week coming up and the social distancing keeping me inside, I’m getting a bad case of cabin fever. I’ve been reminiscing about better times, especially those spent hunting, so I decided to finally write the story of my 2018 elk hunt.

Growing up in my hometown, there was one hunt that every hunter dreamed of: the 380 elk tag. For those not familiar this is the most sought-after elk tag in Montana. I played football in high school and then rugby in college, so I was only a hunter for a few November weekends with my dad after my team lost out. Fortunately for me, my dad had the foresight to get me started with bonus point when I was 12 and every year, I put in for the Elkhorn tag along with a moose, sheep, and goat hunt. When I was 20, I drew.

Up until this point I had never hunted with a bow and I had never taken a bull elk, so after calling all my friends and family, the first thing I did was sign up for bowhunter ed. That summer I practiced shooting every lunch break, drove my roommates crazy with a diaphragm, and spent every weekend in the Elkhorns scouting. By the end of the summer, I felt confident shooting out to 40 yards, could make some decent bugles, and I knew exactly where some bulls came into a park every evening. My only worry was how I was going to be able to find time to hunt with 16 credits of engineering courses and a rugby schedule where I would be in another state every other weekend for September and October.

Picture from summer scouting:

 

[MTHeifer]

The opener I had rugby practice, but Sunday evening I was sitting on the exact trail where the elk came to the park every night in the summer. The only other hunter was on the complete opposite side of the park and I had a good wind. About an hour before dark I heard a bugle, if that’s what you could call it. It sounded more like the t-rex from Jurassic Park than any bugle I had heard before. I wasn’t even sure it was an elk the first time I heard it, but I knew no other hunter would ever be so bad at bugling to sound like that. Every ten minutes I would hear another bellow, and each time it would be closer. It sounded like he was coming down the trail I was set up on, so I knocked an arrow.

I saw his antlers first, the tips of his royal point barely clearing the saplings. Then the rest of his body entered the meadow… 100 yards away from me. He was an absolute brute. He was main frame 6-point with 55-inch main beams and a nontypical point on his right side 5th tine. There was no cover between us and if he stayed on his trail he would never be in range, so I cow called. He looked in my direction for a few seconds, then he lifted his nose into the air and jogged out into the meadow perpendicular to me. Once he circled downwind, he let out a bark then bolted into the woods where he came from, leaving me wondering what I did wrong.

I never saw that bull again, but I heard him several times. Other hunters in the area also had seen him and started calling him the “Lion Bull” for his deep growling bugles. I don’t think anyone shot him that year.

 

[MTHeifer]

The next weekend I was in Laramie playing in a rugby tournament. Playing in a game against Air Force, I went to make a tackle and I caught the knee of a big forward to side of my head. That was the last tackle I ever made. I had already had three concussions in the last year and I promised myself that if I got one more I would quit. So, my rugby career was over, but at least it opened up my weekends.

The next Saturday I was back in the woods. I got some help from Bill, one of my best friends. We hit it hard for the next three weekends. Every weekend we had close encounters, but somehow each encounter turned into a near miss. I was at full draw twice, I had a stalk blown by pika, and we had too many instances of the elk going silent at the last minute leaving us scratching our heads. Thinking back some of the mistakes were probably caused by the concussion, but at the time it just felt like I was a clumsy idiot. There were plenty of positives too: I passed a shot opportunity on a raghorn, I watched an owl snag a squirrel off of a branch in front of me, and I even had a spooked cow elk jump over the top of me while I was hiding behind a sapling. The rut came and went, and the bulls headed off for their sanctuaries.

The last week of the archery season, Bill had to work so I decided to climb down into one of these hellholes by myself. After descending about 600 feet on a shale slope littered with deadfall I came to a bench. Like a terrace, this bench was a 100-yard wide flat spot in between a steep shale slope from the ridge I climbed down and another 400-foot descent into a creek bottom. The bench itself was a maze of 4-foot-tall buck brush and crisscrossed deadfall from beetle kill. As I still hunted along that bench, I bumped two six points from their beds. Thinking my day was over and I screwed up my only chance, I started the long climb back to the truck. The wind was howling and cutting right through my lightweight archery camo I was hating life. With all the cover sound, I managed to walk into an elk herd without even noticing. As I crested the false top of a ridge climbing out of the bottom, a 6-point was feeding 25 yards in front of me.

I dropped to my stomach and knocked an arrow. I peeked over a sapling and saw that the bull hadn’t seen me. Now in hindsight, this is where the story should end. I should have waited for the bull to take a few steps into a clear lane then shot him. But, in the heat if the moment, I screwed it up. I thought to myself “Just draw back, stand up, and shoot him. He’s right there!” So, I drew back and stood up. A lodgepole pine that I hadn’t noticed perfectly blocked his vitals. I stood there at full draw for about 15 seconds begging him to take another step. Then, I heard a cow bark. His head started swiveling and he saw me. When he finally moved it was at a full sprint. Just another near miss. At least next week I would have my rifle.

 

[MTHeifer]

The next Saturday I climbed down that shale slope in the dark. I set up on what I thought was the main trail and waited for sunrise. The wind was perpendicular to the direction I wanted to still hunt, falling into the creek bottom below me. Conditions were perfect. Once the sun rose, I slowly started to pick my way through the deadfall. After about thirty minutes of this, the bushes in front of me came to life. A 4-point muley jumped from his bed and bounced across the bench in front of me. As I watched him disappear, I thought to myself, “If that would have a bull, there’s no way you would have shot him. You need to SLOW DOWN.” That mule deer was a blessing.

After I jumped the deer, I was moving painfully slow. I walked from tree to tree glassing as I went. About fifteen minutes later, I saw movement: antler tips. There was a small hill on the bench, and I was in a depression on one side of it. There was a bull elk on the other side of it and I could only see the tips of his antlers. I froze and lifted my gun. Over the next few minutes, the bull slowly fed his way in my direction, the slope of the hill was so gradual that for each step he took I could only see another inch of his antlers. I thought about moving up to a tree to get a rest, but I thought he was close enough for an offhand shot. Once his fourth tine came into view, I knew he was big. At this point I had been looking through my scope at this growing set of antlers for about 2 minutes as he gradually fed towards me. Then, he lifted his head and started marching up the hill. His ears came into view and then his face and his neck. At this point he was no more than 40 yards away from me. When he looked right at me and stopped, I put the crosshairs underneath his chin and squeezed the trigger. His body went limp and he dropped on his stomach.

 

[MTHeifer]

Approaching that animal was surreal. Luck finally went my way and I placed my hands on my first bull. He was an old warrior in every sense of the word. His teeth were loose to the touch, his ear was split, his right antler had broken tines, and he had scars all over his face. The rut had left him in tough shape; his hind quarters looked shriveled on his massive body. Later he was aged at 12.5 years old. He was an old monarch in the last years of his life. I managed to take some solo pictures and roll him over to clean him.

My dad was on the ridgetop above me, so I radioed and told him to bring the pack frames. He was able to text me roommates with his SPOT to come help pack. I was expecting just my two roommates, so I took out both front quarters on the first load, nearly killing myself in the process. What I didn’t know was that packing out a bull was a lot more interesting than whatever else was going on that Saturday in Bozeman, so five more of my rugby buddies showed up with my roommates at the trail head. I had more than enough help to take out the rest of it.

Thinking back on this hunt, I feel blessed to have been given this opportunity to chase animals in a hunter’s paradise like this. I’m thankful for friends like Bill and all the packers, and for having a dad that sacrificed his own hunting to take me along as a kid. This hunt got me hooked on elk hunting, and I plan to spend some time every September in the woods with a bow in my hand.

Bonus: I went back the next year and shot the muley!

 

[Huntmt28]

Nice job!!

 

[Magnum Sherpa]

Congratulations and what a great telling of the story. That is a dream tag for me as well.

 

[Nameless Range]

Heck yeah! That’s a pretty good buck from what I’ve seen in the Elkhorns.

The bull is beautiful. What a season to remember. Thank you for sharing.

 

[Big Fin]

Congrats on a great bull. Thanks for sharing the story here.

 

[wseidel]

Thank you for bringing us along on the hunt! What a thrill to work so hard for a dandy bull. As importantly, I pray that you heal completely from your concussions - they can be very serious.

Stay safe and God bless,
Wayne

 

[fishing4sanity]

Great story and a great bull, congratulations!

 

[JLS]

Smart choice to stop playing before you were a vegetable. Heck of a bull.

 

[MTHeifer]

Thank you for bringing us along on the hunt! What a thrill to work so hard for a dandy bull. As importantly, I pray that you heal completely from your concussions - they can be very serious.

Stay safe and God bless,
Wayne

Thanks Wayne!

I'm happy to say that I have recovered completely and as far as I can tell there's no permanent damage. It's scary with all the retired NFL players like the Kuiu founder having CTE issues, but I think four is a lot less than most of them have had. Sometimes I wonder if it will come back later in life, but there's no use worrying abut it now.

 

[PaulRevere]

Good stuff

 

[Tradewind]

Rugger, eh. Know any good songs?

 

[MTHeifer]

Rugger, eh. Know any good songs?

One or two come to mind! Man I miss it

 

[Western Traveler1]

Beautiful Bull and a great story. Nice to have a dad bring you into hunting and friends to help pack.

 

[Jape]

Great first bull. Thanks for sharing.

 

[LLB]

Excellent story, well told.

 

[targetpanic]

Great write up!!! Congrats on the bull!