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Elk Hunting - First Weekend Out
By PK | September 1, 2008
This is my first experience elk hunting, my last big game hunting was 32 years ago, and that was deer hunting in Pa. Quite a bit of time has evolved since then, and I’ve found my body isn’t as spry as it once was to handle all the hiking involved. I hiked quite a bit this summer to prepare and I also went scouting a handful of times. But it seems I didn’t do enough to equip me climbing to the top of mountains looking for elk.
Our first day began at 4am on Saturday, and excitement of my first elk hunt drove me out of bed. We had packed everything we’d need the day before and all I needed was coffee…lots of coffee and my camo clothes of course, which I had already gotten used to wearing.
We arrived up at Gore Mountain Pass by 5:30am, pumped up, mine on caffeine, Dalton on adrenaline alone, ready to hunt for elk. Gerry, a friend from Longmont who camped at the site, was just finishing up tending to Pete, his faithful equine companion who would eventually pack out the elk.
We were surprised we didn’t see many hunter’s out for archery season, but that would be to our advantage. So, we set out the long, gruelling hike to a place pre-selected by Dalton and Gerry. I promised not to disclose the whereabouts, but the actual events I was allowed to write about.
It was a bright, sunny day which proved to be too hot for hunting. It didn’t take long and we were shedding most of our outer wear trying to keep cool. Where would elk be on such a hot day? Most definitely on the tops of mountains, probably lying in some cool spot undisclosed to us, and we would most definitely do a lot of sweating to get there.
The mountains were quiet, just barely a rustle of wind blowing through the trees. We found several good fresh elk droppings, and knew elk was not only in the area, but quite recently. Several times we split up, Dalton and I in one area, Gerry in another…waiting….waiting…and waiting. Still no elk.
Hours went by and still no elk. Not even a glimpse of one. We heard several bugles, but it could have possibly have been other hunters calling. We called (bugled)….but no response. I found myself getting discouraged on my first day, knew the weather was too hot, the sun too bright, for these big game animals to be wandering around during the day.
We decided to pack it in on our first day around 5:00pm and head back to elk camp. We suppered courtesy of Pizza Hut that Dalton and I had brought with us, wishing and savoring what could have been elk.
(Gerry bugling)
Gerry and Dalton are both experienced big game hunters, especially elk. I was quite amazed when I visited Gerry for the first time. His house is filled with trophies of various kinds, bear, antelope, elk, and even a mountain lion that had tried to attack him.
Dalton also has his share of trophies throughout the years, some from Colorado but most from Pa, his native state. I couldn’t even begin to count the many deer heads and antlers he has collected over the years. He has traveled to Canada to hunt bear and caribou and is quite successful at hunting.
I knew I was in good hands not only for my own safety, but for a successful hunt as well.
(Dalton, listening for elk to bugle in return)
Our second day started much like the first, up at 4am, in the field by 6am, just at the start of daylight. I thought at first it would be a repeat of our previous day, as the sun was beginning to shine just as brightly. But right after noon, clouds began to move in. This would be lucky for us. Elk love bad weather and a good steady drizzle would be ideal to bring them out.
We donned our rain gear, and quickly prepared a hunting blind. We separated once again, Gerry going off about 100 yards or so to bugle, Dalton and I hunched down in the hunting blind. Dalton kept telling me, ‘when it happens, it happens fast. Just do as I say, call when I tell you to, and you’ll be okay’.
I think back now, just a day after, and realize the full meaning of ‘when it happens, it happens fast’. That much was very true. Before I knew it, a cow elk had come down over the ridge in answer to the bugling. She was about as tall as Pete, Gerry’s horse, full and mature. I immediately thought of the promise that he wouldn’t shoot a cow, but this one didn’t have a calf with her. She was all alone, and slowly trotting, looking for the source of the call. Gerry had stopped calling and was unaware that an elk had come into view, as she was quite a distance from him in a heavy treed area blocked from his view.
But we had seen her, and now she didn’t know where to go, the bugling that brought her over the ridge had stopped. Dalton told me to call to her as she turned to trot off.
I bugled my Hoochie Momma. Once, twice, three times, mewing (elk talking) to her.
She stopped, looked, trying to locate where the mewing was coming from. We were well hidden in our hunting blind of pine boughs, half underneath the pine tree itself. She trotted from my right, around to directly in front of me, about 40 yards away. Dalton was crouched right behind me, poised with an arrow ready.
She trotted towards the left, but still directly in front of me, standing behind trees as she went. We waited, hoping for her to get closer, and to step out from behind a tree.
Only seconds went by, then she quickly turned and started to trot farther away.
Dalton gave the signal for me to call her again.
I bugled three more times.
She turned and trotted back up to us, this time only 25-30 yards away. A perfect distance for a shot. She stood behind a tree, her head sticking out and looking towards us, her body hidden behind the tree. We waited….one more step, just one more step, and we’d have her.
In the next second, she was gone, running down through trees and out of sight.
What a thrill…I don’t think I moved a muscle the whole time she was within view. Our adrenalin was full speed. Gerry returned, and as we were relating the events to him, two more cows with calves came over the same ridge and headed in the opposite direction. We let them go. The guys would have heard a fuss from me if they would have furthered tried to call to them.
The clouds broke soon afterwards and the sun returned. Our hunting experience for the day was over and we headed back to elk camp. Gerry made us baked beans and pork chops. I was too tired to move….and I seriously mean that. We had hiked further on the second day and after the tolls of the first day, I don’t think a single muscle anywhere on my body didn’t ache, not to mention my feet were screaming at me.
I listened to them, with a smile on my face, razzing me about my female weaknesses. I was too tired to care, just as long as they handed me a plate of food already prepared.
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Topics: "Post Cards From the West", Colorado, Routt National Forest, Wildlife and Hunting |
One Response to “Elk Hunting - First Weekend Out”
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September 2nd, 2008 at 1:21 am
Hey PK…that adrenalin rush can wear a person out all on its own! Seems to zap the deepest muscles like being/getting into/or out of… shape don’t even touch! Nice the guys cooked for you!