I love this bit.
Wyoming Elk with my Old Man Part 2
- Thread starter jlong17
- Start date
Love the story so far. I know I'll never share the same experience with my own father now that he's approaching 80, but your writing conveys your appreciation for it in a way that makes me reflect and enjoy the smaller moments we have together. Looking forward to the conclusion!
D
Deleted member 40728
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Great story so far. Can’t wait for the conclusion. That’s awesome that you got to share the experience with your dad regardless of the outcome.
BackofBeyond
Well-known member
This is awesome. Write faster man!
Scott85
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- Nov 22, 2018
- Messages
- 3,037
Great write up so far!!!
Hunting Wife
Well-known member
Great photo of you and your dad. The smiles say it all. Looking forward to the rest of the story!
2rocky
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- Jul 23, 2010
- Messages
- 5,147
I'm gonna say it..."MISSION ACCOMPLISHED". You gave your dad an experience that few people have ever had. To be in the middle of a herd of elk and see the herd bull bugling in person? Seriously I'll never get tired of it.
I'm also gonna say passing on a cow is not a poor decision. Sometimes you gotta make sure your plan B is not too easy or attractive so you fully commit to plan A...
I'm also gonna say passing on a cow is not a poor decision. Sometimes you gotta make sure your plan B is not too easy or attractive so you fully commit to plan A...
So after a wild morning that'll surely get even more wild and dramatic with each retelling of the story, we head back to the camper. We sit down in the trailer like a couple kids huddled in a blanket fort (remember, our slide doesn't work), and we begin recounting the details from our perspectives. With a renewed confidence, we look at the maps and try our best to guesstimate where this bull beds, feeds, and more importantly where he goes when pressured. We also look for similar areas that match the description and note those as well. We circle a few areas, and formulate a game plan.
The day was still young, and we had several hours to waste before setting off on the evening hunt. We decide to break things up a bit, and pull out the fishing gear. My Dad, brothers, and I grew up fishing every single weekend. We would even set aside a week every August to backpack into the John Muir Wilderness and catch hundreds brookies, browns, and even the occasional golden trout. My first such trip was when I was just 5 years old. Against my Moms wishes, my Dad packed my Ninja Turtles backpack full of trail mix and Poptarts (not too different from what I carry this day on elk hunts), and loaded my brothers and I in the truck for an epic adventure into the Eastern Sierras. It was a trip I have never forgotten. I remember so many details 30 years later. It's what sparked my passion for wild critters and wild places. Anyways, back to the story. We walked down to the nearby lake and stream to see what kind of fish we could turn up. It didn't take long for my Dad to hook into a decent little brook trout. I quickly followed suit. I'm not saying it was a competition between the two of us, but when is fishing not slightly competitive. After all I spent my teenage years tournament bass fishing (whole other story). We spent several hours catching trout when all of the sudden we both doubled up on better fighting fish. After a minute of reeling, we both pull up a couple beautiful Kokanee Salmon. What a treat! We had never seen these before, much less held one. We enjoyed the moment and snapped a few pictures to remember. With our fishing appetite satisfied, we make our way back to the trailer to prep for the evening hunt...
The day was still young, and we had several hours to waste before setting off on the evening hunt. We decide to break things up a bit, and pull out the fishing gear. My Dad, brothers, and I grew up fishing every single weekend. We would even set aside a week every August to backpack into the John Muir Wilderness and catch hundreds brookies, browns, and even the occasional golden trout. My first such trip was when I was just 5 years old. Against my Moms wishes, my Dad packed my Ninja Turtles backpack full of trail mix and Poptarts (not too different from what I carry this day on elk hunts), and loaded my brothers and I in the truck for an epic adventure into the Eastern Sierras. It was a trip I have never forgotten. I remember so many details 30 years later. It's what sparked my passion for wild critters and wild places. Anyways, back to the story. We walked down to the nearby lake and stream to see what kind of fish we could turn up. It didn't take long for my Dad to hook into a decent little brook trout. I quickly followed suit. I'm not saying it was a competition between the two of us, but when is fishing not slightly competitive. After all I spent my teenage years tournament bass fishing (whole other story). We spent several hours catching trout when all of the sudden we both doubled up on better fighting fish. After a minute of reeling, we both pull up a couple beautiful Kokanee Salmon. What a treat! We had never seen these before, much less held one. We enjoyed the moment and snapped a few pictures to remember. With our fishing appetite satisfied, we make our way back to the trailer to prep for the evening hunt...
It's time for the afternoon hunt on the 5th day. I decide it's time to change my socks and base layers for the first time of the hunt. Crazy how many days I could get out of 1 article of clothing with a simple creek wash every few days. I'd go longer prior to changing, but I was starting to feel bad for my Dad who was consistently walking behind me and getting socked in the face by my wild odor. I love how each day into the elk hunt I become a more simple person, with less demands and desires for the every day comforts we have at home. My senses start to sharpen (which would explain my sudden awareness of my terrible odor), and my worries start to dull. It's like I find myself doing what God has called me to do: To recognize the beauty of His creation, to do hard things, to be humbled daily, and to build relationships with those He has put into out lives. I believe elk hunting does all those things consistently.
Anyways, we jump onto the 4-wheeler and take a short drive to an obscure spot. We start making our way down some game trails in an unfamiliar area and quickly find some fresh sign. We looked at each other with satisfaction. We were putting pieces of the elk puzzle together. Albiet we were starting with the easy pieces, the corners, but we were locating elk (a struggle that I have had the last 3 years). Now we just needed to get within bow range undetected, sling an arrow, make a good shot, track the elk, recover the elk, process the elk, pack the elk, and eat the elk. I find myself tasting the elk in my mind before completing all the other task required of us bowhunters to get to that point. We start inching through the elk woods trying to be quiet and scanning every direction for movement or sound. To be honest, I really dislike this style of hunting. I'd rather have the confidence of knowing where the elk are and then stalk in, or call one in, or glass something up. Tip-toeing through the woods only because you see somewhat fresh sign is not something I'm good at. I lose patience and get sloppy. As we were easing our way just past mile number 2 I spot a cow and her calf coming through a 1/2 acre meadow. My wind was perfect, as was my concealment. She had no idea we were there, and she happen to be walking in a direction that would soon offer a 25-30 yard, broadside shot. I could see my Dad was excited, but also worried/concerned that I was going to take a shot on the mother cow. I know we could spend hours discussing the ethics of shooting a cow that obviously has a calf with her. It's not something I have done, but I'm also not entirely opposed to it. I really didn't have a strong opinion either way. In this case, I chose to simply watch her interaction with her calf. My Dad was relieved. He's a softy, and some of that softness is in me too. We sat still as the two walked 15 yards in front of us, from our right to left. Feeding, mewing, fawn learning how to navigate and survive. It was pretty neat. Once they safely past by us and out of sight into the dense forest, we proceeded to hunt the final hour of daylight. We didn't end up seeing any more elk, so we decided to turn around and start heading down the trail as the crickets began chirping. We approached a large meadow during the last beams of light when we heard a very unfamiliar noise. It was a strange popping/slapping noise. It was coming from 70 yards out, behind us and to our left on the opposite side of the meadow. It drew our attention and just like that 5 cows, a calf, and a nice size bull were coming out of the trees. The bull was in the rear, and for the first time I heard what you were talking about @Wallydeuce, glunking!! We both hit the ground in a crouching position, and watched as this rut hungry bull licked the air and pushed his cows toward the very trail we had walked down not 30 seconds earlier. I quickly knocked an arrow. I looked at my pins to see how clear they were. "Dangit!!" I whisper to my dad. "I can't confidently take that shot, it's getting too dark!". I start crawling back on the game trail to see if I could maybe get 20 yards from where I was predicting they'd cross. I only make it a few yards by the time the group of elk get to the edge of the meadow, on my side. I throw out a cow call, and it stops the lead cow. I range her. 50 yards. Meanwhile the bull in the back is still making that strange noise, and his persistence gets the group moving again. I pull up my bow, but I already know the answer. It was too dark to take that shot (write that down as another excuse as to why I ALMOST got him). I put my arrow away with some frustration, and walk back down to my Dad. "That was crazy" he says. "I cannot believe my luck. I had 2 respectable bulls in bow range today, and have nothing to show for it." I respond. I'm not going to lie, I was not being positive. I was frustrated. Don't we tend to feel like effort/desire should automatically equate to success? In that moment, thats what I was choosing to believe. I quickly forgot what my definition of success was. I forgot what I really wanted to accomplish on this trip. We walked back to the 4-wheeler with headlights on but not much discussion. I was thinking about what I could've done differently. Should I have been calling more with a rutting bull so close to where we were working? Should I have walked back more slowly, thus intercepting that bull in a more conducive position? Who knows. If I would've been practicing what I preach I would've been more excited in that moment. We had an amazing day. We started the day in a rut fest, imbedded ourselves in an elk herd. We caught a ton of fish, and we wrapped up the day with a glunking bull. As I type this out, I can clearly see the blessing that day was. One that I'll remember forever, and one my Dad recounts as his favorite day of the trip. We get back to the trailer exhausted, and start planning for the following day.
Anyways, we jump onto the 4-wheeler and take a short drive to an obscure spot. We start making our way down some game trails in an unfamiliar area and quickly find some fresh sign. We looked at each other with satisfaction. We were putting pieces of the elk puzzle together. Albiet we were starting with the easy pieces, the corners, but we were locating elk (a struggle that I have had the last 3 years). Now we just needed to get within bow range undetected, sling an arrow, make a good shot, track the elk, recover the elk, process the elk, pack the elk, and eat the elk. I find myself tasting the elk in my mind before completing all the other task required of us bowhunters to get to that point. We start inching through the elk woods trying to be quiet and scanning every direction for movement or sound. To be honest, I really dislike this style of hunting. I'd rather have the confidence of knowing where the elk are and then stalk in, or call one in, or glass something up. Tip-toeing through the woods only because you see somewhat fresh sign is not something I'm good at. I lose patience and get sloppy. As we were easing our way just past mile number 2 I spot a cow and her calf coming through a 1/2 acre meadow. My wind was perfect, as was my concealment. She had no idea we were there, and she happen to be walking in a direction that would soon offer a 25-30 yard, broadside shot. I could see my Dad was excited, but also worried/concerned that I was going to take a shot on the mother cow. I know we could spend hours discussing the ethics of shooting a cow that obviously has a calf with her. It's not something I have done, but I'm also not entirely opposed to it. I really didn't have a strong opinion either way. In this case, I chose to simply watch her interaction with her calf. My Dad was relieved. He's a softy, and some of that softness is in me too. We sat still as the two walked 15 yards in front of us, from our right to left. Feeding, mewing, fawn learning how to navigate and survive. It was pretty neat. Once they safely past by us and out of sight into the dense forest, we proceeded to hunt the final hour of daylight. We didn't end up seeing any more elk, so we decided to turn around and start heading down the trail as the crickets began chirping. We approached a large meadow during the last beams of light when we heard a very unfamiliar noise. It was a strange popping/slapping noise. It was coming from 70 yards out, behind us and to our left on the opposite side of the meadow. It drew our attention and just like that 5 cows, a calf, and a nice size bull were coming out of the trees. The bull was in the rear, and for the first time I heard what you were talking about @Wallydeuce, glunking!! We both hit the ground in a crouching position, and watched as this rut hungry bull licked the air and pushed his cows toward the very trail we had walked down not 30 seconds earlier. I quickly knocked an arrow. I looked at my pins to see how clear they were. "Dangit!!" I whisper to my dad. "I can't confidently take that shot, it's getting too dark!". I start crawling back on the game trail to see if I could maybe get 20 yards from where I was predicting they'd cross. I only make it a few yards by the time the group of elk get to the edge of the meadow, on my side. I throw out a cow call, and it stops the lead cow. I range her. 50 yards. Meanwhile the bull in the back is still making that strange noise, and his persistence gets the group moving again. I pull up my bow, but I already know the answer. It was too dark to take that shot (write that down as another excuse as to why I ALMOST got him). I put my arrow away with some frustration, and walk back down to my Dad. "That was crazy" he says. "I cannot believe my luck. I had 2 respectable bulls in bow range today, and have nothing to show for it." I respond. I'm not going to lie, I was not being positive. I was frustrated. Don't we tend to feel like effort/desire should automatically equate to success? In that moment, thats what I was choosing to believe. I quickly forgot what my definition of success was. I forgot what I really wanted to accomplish on this trip. We walked back to the 4-wheeler with headlights on but not much discussion. I was thinking about what I could've done differently. Should I have been calling more with a rutting bull so close to where we were working? Should I have walked back more slowly, thus intercepting that bull in a more conducive position? Who knows. If I would've been practicing what I preach I would've been more excited in that moment. We had an amazing day. We started the day in a rut fest, imbedded ourselves in an elk herd. We caught a ton of fish, and we wrapped up the day with a glunking bull. As I type this out, I can clearly see the blessing that day was. One that I'll remember forever, and one my Dad recounts as his favorite day of the trip. We get back to the trailer exhausted, and start planning for the following day.
NEWHunter
Well-known member
Nicely done so far. Waiting . . .
Those of you that are still following along, thanks! I know I'm slow.
So days 6 and 7 were also a bit of blur, much like days 2, 3, and 4. The difference was that first part of the trip lacked action, whereas days 6 and 7 were full of it. We continued getting into elk, not to the extent of that magical day 5, but still had several opportunities. We knew where elk were bedding and feeding, but we were having trouble with formulating a successful plan to capitalize on this known movement. To make things a bit more difficult, my Dads fatigue was starting to set in. He was getting exhausted, and I started to feel that maybe I was pushing him a little too hard. We were doing 6 miles on an easy day, and 8-10 on the harder ones. He finally swallowed some pride and said he needed to take a day off to relax and recover. I agreed. He insisted that I keep hunting and "give it heck!".
While we were out there we met a WY resident named Justin, who was hunting solo. The thing I love about the elk woods are the friendships made in an instant based solely on the love we all share for this stuff. I hesitated asking, but I did anyway. "Hey Justin, you down to hunt together for a day or two while my Dad gets some rest? We could help each other out, and I don't think I'll be a liability out there for ya.". He quickly consented. Turns out he was already a few weeks into a tough hunt. He was chasing older age class bulls. I made sure to have the difficult conversation at the get go. "How do you want to do this? You shooter one day, and myself another? Do you want to hit some of my spots, your spots, or spots we have both been hunting?". He responded "Well, I'm looking for something bigger and it sounds like you're at the point where you're looking for meat. If we come across meat, it's yours. If we come across a wall hanger, he's mine. Sound fair?". I jumped on the opportunity to hunt with him and accepted the terms. After all he said he'd take me to a spot where several bulls had a hot cow the previous day. He had called in several small bulls that he passed on, and said he'd try to replicate the same recipe for me.
We woke up early and caravanned down to his spot. We turned off the 4 wheelers and in an instant had at least 3 bulls bugling not far from our location. We stumbled through the deadfall with headlights off (he doesn't like having them on if not totally necessary). We got into position just as shooting light came. Justin threw out a bugle. Man, it sounded a heck of a lot better than what I had been doing all week. Almost immediately 3 bulls started firing back, followed by another couple 2 or 3 down the drainage. He wasn't kidding, this area had a hot cow. "Perfect. Ok Jake, run up there and find yourself a set up" Justin says. I look ahead kind of puzzled. We were hunting a burn area that didn't exactly lend itself to good setups. I was either completely exposed on the moonscape surface, or unable to penetrate the pile of black Jenga blocks. I did my best. He starts going through a calling sequence, and before you know it we had 2 bulls right on top of us. I could hear what I assumed to be the herd bull bugle several times and move off down the drainage. But we still had one bull closing the distance while bugling, and a third coming in silently, only revealing himself by snapping a few branches during his approach. I see movement through the matchsticks, and get eyes on the bugling bull. A respectable 6x6. I turn to Justin. He sees him too, but gives me the go ahead to try and take him. As he goes from 100 yards, to 90, then 80 the silent bull gets our wind and tears off the hillside. The chaotic scene alerts the approaching bugler. He sat for a minute or two at 80 yards. Even with Justin trying his best to calm him down with some sweet cow calls, the bull wasn't buying it. He slowly turned around a walked down the mountain towards the herd bull. "Darn." says Justin in a calm tone. I got the hint that it takes a lot to get him worked up or frustrated. "That was pretty cool, man." I tell him. "Thanks for giving me a chance at that big ole boy. I would've been more than happy with him." He nods his head and tells me what I already know. "Elk hunting with a bow is hard. Some days it seems downright impossible to get one of these critters, and then the next days one comes running in and practically invites his own death." He says while laughing. We make our way back to the 4-wheelers after exhausting all options, and without blowing out the whole drainage. "You mind if we try this again tomorrow, Justin?" I ask. "Absolutely! We need to get you some meat, my friend." He responds. It's like he was prophesying, because tomorrow there would be meat on the ground...
So days 6 and 7 were also a bit of blur, much like days 2, 3, and 4. The difference was that first part of the trip lacked action, whereas days 6 and 7 were full of it. We continued getting into elk, not to the extent of that magical day 5, but still had several opportunities. We knew where elk were bedding and feeding, but we were having trouble with formulating a successful plan to capitalize on this known movement. To make things a bit more difficult, my Dads fatigue was starting to set in. He was getting exhausted, and I started to feel that maybe I was pushing him a little too hard. We were doing 6 miles on an easy day, and 8-10 on the harder ones. He finally swallowed some pride and said he needed to take a day off to relax and recover. I agreed. He insisted that I keep hunting and "give it heck!".
While we were out there we met a WY resident named Justin, who was hunting solo. The thing I love about the elk woods are the friendships made in an instant based solely on the love we all share for this stuff. I hesitated asking, but I did anyway. "Hey Justin, you down to hunt together for a day or two while my Dad gets some rest? We could help each other out, and I don't think I'll be a liability out there for ya.". He quickly consented. Turns out he was already a few weeks into a tough hunt. He was chasing older age class bulls. I made sure to have the difficult conversation at the get go. "How do you want to do this? You shooter one day, and myself another? Do you want to hit some of my spots, your spots, or spots we have both been hunting?". He responded "Well, I'm looking for something bigger and it sounds like you're at the point where you're looking for meat. If we come across meat, it's yours. If we come across a wall hanger, he's mine. Sound fair?". I jumped on the opportunity to hunt with him and accepted the terms. After all he said he'd take me to a spot where several bulls had a hot cow the previous day. He had called in several small bulls that he passed on, and said he'd try to replicate the same recipe for me.
We woke up early and caravanned down to his spot. We turned off the 4 wheelers and in an instant had at least 3 bulls bugling not far from our location. We stumbled through the deadfall with headlights off (he doesn't like having them on if not totally necessary). We got into position just as shooting light came. Justin threw out a bugle. Man, it sounded a heck of a lot better than what I had been doing all week. Almost immediately 3 bulls started firing back, followed by another couple 2 or 3 down the drainage. He wasn't kidding, this area had a hot cow. "Perfect. Ok Jake, run up there and find yourself a set up" Justin says. I look ahead kind of puzzled. We were hunting a burn area that didn't exactly lend itself to good setups. I was either completely exposed on the moonscape surface, or unable to penetrate the pile of black Jenga blocks. I did my best. He starts going through a calling sequence, and before you know it we had 2 bulls right on top of us. I could hear what I assumed to be the herd bull bugle several times and move off down the drainage. But we still had one bull closing the distance while bugling, and a third coming in silently, only revealing himself by snapping a few branches during his approach. I see movement through the matchsticks, and get eyes on the bugling bull. A respectable 6x6. I turn to Justin. He sees him too, but gives me the go ahead to try and take him. As he goes from 100 yards, to 90, then 80 the silent bull gets our wind and tears off the hillside. The chaotic scene alerts the approaching bugler. He sat for a minute or two at 80 yards. Even with Justin trying his best to calm him down with some sweet cow calls, the bull wasn't buying it. He slowly turned around a walked down the mountain towards the herd bull. "Darn." says Justin in a calm tone. I got the hint that it takes a lot to get him worked up or frustrated. "That was pretty cool, man." I tell him. "Thanks for giving me a chance at that big ole boy. I would've been more than happy with him." He nods his head and tells me what I already know. "Elk hunting with a bow is hard. Some days it seems downright impossible to get one of these critters, and then the next days one comes running in and practically invites his own death." He says while laughing. We make our way back to the 4-wheelers after exhausting all options, and without blowing out the whole drainage. "You mind if we try this again tomorrow, Justin?" I ask. "Absolutely! We need to get you some meat, my friend." He responds. It's like he was prophesying, because tomorrow there would be meat on the ground...
Hopefully by now you guys are rooting for me. After all, I've borrowed quite a bit of your time. I wish the fulfillment of that prophecy had me as it's subject, but it didn't.
I get back to the trailer and tell my Dad about the morning action. I felt bad he wasn't there, but he was happy to hear the we were getting closer to success. I told him I had planned on hunting another day with Justin, and he was relieved that his feet could rest another day. While making plans for the following day, I recall Justin telling me how tomorrow is his birthday. He had never shot a bull on his birthday. I thought about how selfless he was being by trying so hard to get me a bull. He was willing to spend his birthday trying to get me an elk down, and he didn't even know me. I pick up my InReach and send him a text. "Hey Justin, tomorrows the day man. Lets get you a birthday bull down!". He responds "Sounds like a plan buddy!". I contemplate a little longer and with what little bit I know of the man, I decide to give him his space on his birthday. He seemed like the type that would really enjoy the hunt solo, but appreciate the help if he were to get one down. I didn't want to be pushy or intrusive, so I text him "Hey, I'll just hunt by camp and give you some space tomorrow AM. Lets meet up at lunch at your camp, unless of course you knock one down." He repeats the same words, "Sounds like a plan, buddy!". Geez, I hate how you can't convey intent through messages. Was he bummed or relieved? I care about this stuff more than I should. I decided to let it ride.
The following day Justin sets out determined to get his birthday bull, and I push out solo. My morning was off to a slow start when suddenly I get a message from Justin. "Birthday Bull Down!!!". I was so excited for him. I return to my trailer and tell my Dad the news. He was excited as well. I think he was beginning to think that this sport was impossible, and no-one in history has ever really shot a bull with a bow. We load up the pack frames, eager to go help out a fellow hunter. I make my way to his location and find a beautiful 6x6 bull quartered up, and a 33 year old man as happy as a clam. I give Justin a big ole hug. "You did it man!!" I yell. It felt strange yelling in an area we had been whispering in, almost like I was breaking the law. I was so excited to be packing elk again, even if it wasn't mine. I literally train all year long for this. I hike with weight 4 days a week. Every. Single. Week. Some days that weight is sand, but most days it's my 4 year old daughter. I'll either load her in the gear compartment of my Mystery Ranch, or put her on my shoulders. I'd say I am well over 1,000 miles with her on my back these last 4 years. Those hikes are the best. I teach her about deer, bears, coyotes, wild plants, tracks, you name it. I talk to her about hunting, and that death is the requirement for us to eat. Whether it's the plant or the animal, something must give its life. I try my best to be the man that I want her to eventually marry, and during these hikes I am given my platform. I thank my little Ellie for the workout she gives me, and the willingness to listen to me teach. I tell her how excited I am to take her on her first elk hunt some day. So with a hind quarter on my back and some loose meat, I start to make my way out of the drainage and back to camp. Elk pack outs are typically silent. I am usually suffering to be honest, but its a good thing. On this one in particular, I experienced a bit of envy. I had wished it was my bull, but I quickly squashed that thought. I started to pretend my little girl was the weight on my shoulders. After all, I was missing my girls terribly. I pretended it was just another hike out in the woods with her. That there was a lesson to be taught. I found comfort in being able to tell her this story. That sometimes you do incredibly hard things for people you don't really know. That you should always do what's right, always. So Justin, another hunter named Scott (A friend of a friend called out from a nearby town), and I slogged our way up the hill until finally reaching the 4-wheelers. "Thanks Justin." I joke. "I was worried that I had worked out all year for nothing!". "Thank you guys so much!" Justin says with gratitude. Excited to tell my Dad about the pack out, I race back to camp. "Holy smokes!" were the first words out of my dads mouth at the sight of Justins bull. "Holy smokes!!" he says again when I show him the map of where we pulled him out of. We all sat silently for a minute around the rack and meat. Taking it all in. We all had our own thoughts and perspectives, but the one thing in common was the respect we had for such a wild, beautiful animal.
"Now it's you turn!" Justin interrupts the silence. "I'm going to stay out here another day to help you out".
I get back to the trailer and tell my Dad about the morning action. I felt bad he wasn't there, but he was happy to hear the we were getting closer to success. I told him I had planned on hunting another day with Justin, and he was relieved that his feet could rest another day. While making plans for the following day, I recall Justin telling me how tomorrow is his birthday. He had never shot a bull on his birthday. I thought about how selfless he was being by trying so hard to get me a bull. He was willing to spend his birthday trying to get me an elk down, and he didn't even know me. I pick up my InReach and send him a text. "Hey Justin, tomorrows the day man. Lets get you a birthday bull down!". He responds "Sounds like a plan buddy!". I contemplate a little longer and with what little bit I know of the man, I decide to give him his space on his birthday. He seemed like the type that would really enjoy the hunt solo, but appreciate the help if he were to get one down. I didn't want to be pushy or intrusive, so I text him "Hey, I'll just hunt by camp and give you some space tomorrow AM. Lets meet up at lunch at your camp, unless of course you knock one down." He repeats the same words, "Sounds like a plan, buddy!". Geez, I hate how you can't convey intent through messages. Was he bummed or relieved? I care about this stuff more than I should. I decided to let it ride.
The following day Justin sets out determined to get his birthday bull, and I push out solo. My morning was off to a slow start when suddenly I get a message from Justin. "Birthday Bull Down!!!". I was so excited for him. I return to my trailer and tell my Dad the news. He was excited as well. I think he was beginning to think that this sport was impossible, and no-one in history has ever really shot a bull with a bow. We load up the pack frames, eager to go help out a fellow hunter. I make my way to his location and find a beautiful 6x6 bull quartered up, and a 33 year old man as happy as a clam. I give Justin a big ole hug. "You did it man!!" I yell. It felt strange yelling in an area we had been whispering in, almost like I was breaking the law. I was so excited to be packing elk again, even if it wasn't mine. I literally train all year long for this. I hike with weight 4 days a week. Every. Single. Week. Some days that weight is sand, but most days it's my 4 year old daughter. I'll either load her in the gear compartment of my Mystery Ranch, or put her on my shoulders. I'd say I am well over 1,000 miles with her on my back these last 4 years. Those hikes are the best. I teach her about deer, bears, coyotes, wild plants, tracks, you name it. I talk to her about hunting, and that death is the requirement for us to eat. Whether it's the plant or the animal, something must give its life. I try my best to be the man that I want her to eventually marry, and during these hikes I am given my platform. I thank my little Ellie for the workout she gives me, and the willingness to listen to me teach. I tell her how excited I am to take her on her first elk hunt some day. So with a hind quarter on my back and some loose meat, I start to make my way out of the drainage and back to camp. Elk pack outs are typically silent. I am usually suffering to be honest, but its a good thing. On this one in particular, I experienced a bit of envy. I had wished it was my bull, but I quickly squashed that thought. I started to pretend my little girl was the weight on my shoulders. After all, I was missing my girls terribly. I pretended it was just another hike out in the woods with her. That there was a lesson to be taught. I found comfort in being able to tell her this story. That sometimes you do incredibly hard things for people you don't really know. That you should always do what's right, always. So Justin, another hunter named Scott (A friend of a friend called out from a nearby town), and I slogged our way up the hill until finally reaching the 4-wheelers. "Thanks Justin." I joke. "I was worried that I had worked out all year for nothing!". "Thank you guys so much!" Justin says with gratitude. Excited to tell my Dad about the pack out, I race back to camp. "Holy smokes!" were the first words out of my dads mouth at the sight of Justins bull. "Holy smokes!!" he says again when I show him the map of where we pulled him out of. We all sat silently for a minute around the rack and meat. Taking it all in. We all had our own thoughts and perspectives, but the one thing in common was the respect we had for such a wild, beautiful animal.
"Now it's you turn!" Justin interrupts the silence. "I'm going to stay out here another day to help you out".
rtraverdavis
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2016
- Messages
- 4,078
Yes, we are.
NEWHunter
Well-known member
Great so far. This is the elk version of a pronghorn hunt I did with my Dad a couple of years ago.
CPAjeff
Well-known member
Amazing stuff - totally rooting for you!!
2rocky
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- Jul 23, 2010
- Messages
- 5,147
Great so far. Keep it coming.
Firehead117
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- Apr 19, 2022
- Messages
- 75
Enjoying this read! Thanks for sharing.
