Aug 30, 2007: Hitting the highway

Drove 11 hours to East Kootenay, stopping only for gas & lunch. We wanted to be in position for evening spotting at 5pm. 3 hours of glassing later, I counted 22 elk including 8 bulls- 4 of which were branch antlered & 4 spike/fork- the rest were cows and calves. Sometimes I think this is the best part of elk hunting , watching undisturbed animals in their summer routine.

I reflected on how important timing can be, I was sitting in this exact spot last year but about 11 days later than today and the area was alive with rut activity. There was a large bull controlling the majority of the cows, his bugles echoeing across the valley every few minutes, several smaller bulls lined the perimeter not wanting to challenge their senior counterpart. A young 5 point with a single cow and calf stood at the other side of the meadow, he wasn’t coming any closer to the 6 point and risk losing his small harem. For the next few weeks the bulls would run themselves ragged. I hadn’t wanted to leave but the dimness of the spotting scope told me my my fun was over and as I walked away last year I could hear bugles into the night. What a difference a few days can make.

Watching the band tonight, everything was right as rain between the bulls as they fed together and bedded together. That would all change very soon as friends turn to combatants. I felt a little sorry for the small spike bulls amongst the cows, their introduction to the rut would be the most difficult for sure.

Aug 31, 2007: Last minute prep

The day before opening was a good time to prepare our equipment and set up a temporary camp. I say a “temporary” camp as this was not our primary hunting location and also subject to the “local” factor. Our elk meadow was known by local hunters and there was a good chance we weren’t the only ones making plans. Just when you think you may get that “easy” bull somebody else may be moving on the same herd and throw a wrench into the mix. After 20 years of hunting the area I’ve learned to always have several areas to hunt just in case. We have always left the tougher more out of the way spots for last, hitting the most accessible first.

Sept 1, 2007: Take a stand for a bull

I took the opening morning off as I felt I had a better chance in the evening as the thermals would be more consistent and the elk more likely using the same trail network to enter the meadow as the night previous. It would still be dark when the elk left their feeding area, but slightly earlier when they moved in and that was the window I had timed. My game plan was simple, I had carefully noted the corridor that the two largest bulls were using each night so I could move in quietly and place a stand some 20 feet up between the two main trails. Eveything looked good and I felt fairly optimistic that I would achieve success in that last 20 minutes or so of daylight.

Well, as things often do, you plan, prepare, calculate the small details and something goes wrong anyway. Budgeting for travel time and stand istallation, I left 3 1/2 hours before dark but was too late already. Two other hunters had beat me into the area - crossbows in hand, blue jackets on, they were moving at a brisk walk through the bedding area. My heart sank with disappointment as the odds of arrowing a nice bull were now greatly turned against me. I decided to play the night out anyway and possibly catch a fleeing bull unaware as it ran from the secluded bedding area of the timber. After about 30 minutes, I could hear the sound of elk hooves pounding a line out of the cover. It was a cow and her calf. My new bowhunters were flushing the thicket for me. Sadly, that would be the only two elk I would see this evening.

Sept 2, 2007: Starting over

We decided not to spend anymore time competeing with other hunters and loaded our gear, gassed up the truck, grabbed a quick lunch and made our way up to high camp. Quiet, cool & loaded with elk were three good reasons we liked our annual trip to “the mountain”. It was always a bit more work to recover your bull up here, as they didn’t usually drop on the road for you. I remembered once being able to drive the ATV right to a spike bull I had shot. That was a much appreciated bonus. Reality says always include a packframe and clean meatbags on my list of hunting equipment when elk are the quarry.

From experience, I knew that early season and pre-rut elk hunting can be tough, especially when you don’t have access to private property and alfalfa fields. The elk up here are non-reliant on man made food sources, preferring to browse upon naturally occuring greens. You have to hunt them on their turf. I generally concentrated on deep, dark draws, north slopes, trails that lead to watering sites, wallows and when the elk permit- calls and decoying.

Tonight, I would hunt what I called “#2″ road. It didn’t go far, it was washed out, grown-in and covered with windfall. Just the kind of place I loved as it meant no vehicle access and undisturbed elk. I walked the old logging road to it’s end and was pleasantly surprised to find a small sapling, freshly stripped of it’s bark to over 6 feet high. A branch antlered bull to be sure I thought. Many times I have seen spike bulls and forkhorns this early and they always have the velvet on, this was something a little bigger.

Leaving the old roadbed, I followed a finger ridge that was very steep on both sides confining movement to one heavy elk trail leading straight down the middle. The trail was freshly used but I couldn’t distinguish any tracks so I carried on to where the ridge began to widen and then decided to set up and call. I slipped about 20 yards off the trail, popped a single reed diaphragm into my mouth, pulled up my face mask and let a sequence of chirps and mews carry up into the timber. After about 10 minutes of straining to hear even the slightest sound with nothing to show for my efforts, I moved up higher and higher again to where the ridge blended into the mountainside at 4800 feet. There was a consistent string of old rubs all the way indicating that this was a place bulls liked to frequent but maybe not today. I felt the elk were close but I would have to return another evening as I could just clearly see the trail on my way back down in the pale dusk light.

Sept 3, 2007: Getting closer

A new day and I was planning on going up to big creek this afternoon, a kind of scout and hunt venture. It was the furthest point on the mountain from camp, and maybe there I would find some action. I drove the quad as far as I could then loaded up my daypack, complete with pepperspray, grabbed my decoy and set out along the trail. Old rubs dotted the landscape as I slowly pushed through the timber above the creek draw below. It made me wonder about all the big bulls that had walked these hills over the years, their calls, fights and struggle to survive after a long hard rut.

I continued on a pretty much dead west direction until a cut line could be seen through a screen of trees ahead, I stepped closer for a look as I didn’t even know this inactive road existed. Suddenly my eye caught movement across the opening in the timber on the opposite side, a large elk body trotting away. I couldn’t tell if there were any antlers on top, the cover was too thick and I was too slow with my binos. A few cow calls and the animal stopped but it was still too thick and eventually the gig was up as I could see the south end of a northbound elk moving clear out of sight. I waited a short time before moving and after a couple of steps another elk streaked across the horizon above me, only the head and shoulders visible. It looked like a cow and I climbed up for a closer look at the spot the second elk bolted from. 100 yards or so further, I topped out on a little bench which had several beds and some very fresh droppings. I was making a mess out of this area so I turned back toward the creek draw in hopes of setting up for some more calls. I didn’t have to go far before I cut a well used trail that pointed up the canyon and angled down toward the creek. It was another good looking setup, the trail followed a steep sidehill and the rocky outcrops above created a reasonable bottleneck. I figured any bull responding to my calling would use this trail and I positioned my decoy in the best vantage point 30 yards to my right. A quick check of the wind and I slid down below the trail and behind a tight screen of cover. To eliminate any untimely noise I cleared out the ground beneath my feet and levelled the sidehill slightly so I could stand and move with absolutely no risk of spooking an animal at close range. It was going to be a repeat of the night before - no bugles, no elk.

Sept 4, 07: Cow calls work

Today I would try the opposite ridge at the top of #2 road. There were good rubs on a small plateau last year and I wanted to probe a little deeper.

I hit the flat as the evening started to cool down and the absence of any rut activity on top made me walk to the far side and up a moderately used game trail that led into a little valley of black soil. Tucked among the big spruce I found a wallow that was dry, no water, just sticky mud, but there were elk tracks in it just the same. Within 50 yards a repeat of the first, another dry wallow. Nothing fresh here but good elk country for sure. Elk usually have considerable trails leading to and from these sites and I found one coming down off the ridge above and to my left. Following the trail back up the hill I moved very slowly and quietly not wanting to spook any unseen elk. The path flattened out and opened up to good shooting lanes and I decided that here I would set up. Placing my decoy downwind, I cut a few small branches, cleared my footing and let out a string of enticing cow mews.

I had a response almost immediately, but not the answer I was expecting. I distinctly heard a chirp, not a bugle. The sound came from my left, higher up on the mountain and fortunately upwind. I repeated my calling and wondered what I could expect to see, a calf or maybe a spike bull. There wasn’t a second answer to my call so I settled in for some careful listening as elk have a tendency to come in quiet. Well, patience is required when trying to lure in any animal to a call and probably 30 minutes passed before I got a glimpse of some long, brown legs slipping along the edge of the clearing , it was a spike with 12″ chocolate bars on his head. I was more than ready for the shot by this time as I could hear twigs snapping and brush moving for several minutes. I wasn’t too keen on shooting the little guy as I wanted a branch antlered bull so I passed him up. Eventually, a forkhorn bull joined our group and I played cat and mouse with this pair for over an hour until one bull closed in to 12 yards and I purposely spooked him away. It had been great fun calling them in and watching them walk away then calling them back but I would try somewhere different the next day.

Sept 5, 07: Close the deal

After last night I felt things were starting to get interesting. The small bulls were on their own instead of with the cows, a sign that the herds were being established. In all, we had seen at least 5 little guys in different locations that were homeless and wandering. There would be larger bulls looking for company as well and that would be my focus.

I really couldn’t make up my mind where I would hunt tonight so I set off toward #2 road but decided at the last minute to take the #3 turnoff , an area I had not spent much time exploring. My trek ended up taking me to the south side of big creek and to the bottom of a very gently sloping saddle between two ridges. My heart leaped when I saw a five inch tree ahead that had been given the “business”, it was absolutely shredded and the torn fragments of bark lay strewn all over the ground. This was my favourite type of elk sign as it meant I had a bull travelling this saddle from time to time and very likely bedding in the heavy cover on the slopes above. Once more I assembled my decoy and placed it in plain sight, but further away this time, some 60 yards downhill/downwind from the drooping spruce I had chosen for concealment. If a bull hung up unsure of what his eyes showed him I would be in a better position. A few cow elk urine wafers placed near the decoy and one close to me and I was ready.

After several call sequences , I was greeted with music to my ears. I had raised a bull, the first bugle of the trip. My lonesome cow routine had been well received and I hit him with more soft mews until I couldn’t get another answer. I needed to determine his position and whether he was moving closer, or not interested enough to drop down from high up in the canyon. Whatever the case, I became even more vigilant in my listening and watching, knowing full well that bulls often came in with only their steps betraying them. Judging by the last bugle I heard, he seemed a little closer but still a good 1000 vertical feet above me. I felt optimistic as years ago, I had called in a big bull from way up on a slide. That had been a very exciting hunt watching through binoculars at 800 yards or so, and eventually a face to face encounter at 30 feet. A long time passed with no more answers from the bull. Then I definitely heard something pushing through the brush followed by dry branches cracking. He was here. Slowly, the sounds became louder and I could tell he was following a little ridge to my right that would take him past me at about 50 yards. When I know a bull is getting close, I stop all calling in an attempt to get him to search for me. It was working and I could finally see glimpses of that distinctive yellow fur through small openings in the cover. There was a narrow clearing on the ridge and after a few more steps the bull was in plain view, the white tips of his antlers shining. A beautiful 5 point. I watched and waited to see his reaction to the decoy but he must not have been able to see it. Elation turned to mild panic as he continued through the opening and past me. I turned my head and directed one soft mew down the draw behind me. He stopped and turned around, now facing slightly down the hill toward me. Then it happened, his eyes must have caught that shapely form of a young cow elk below as he ran not walked to the bottom and did a 180 degree flip of his body, hind feet high in the air. He landed facing the opposite direction of the cow, then calmly turned around and stared intently at the decoy. By this time the bull was maybe 15 yards away and my 25 yard pin was squarely settled behind his shoulder. He was perfectly broadside when the arrow hit him and I heard a distinctive “crack” upon impact. He ran full out from my left to my right then circled down and to the left again and out of view, leaving a wake of broken limbs in his path. A sickening feeling comes over you when you think you’ve made a less than perfect shot, as he went past I noticed penetration was only about 50 percent. I hoped that I missed the near shoulder and still passed through lung.

It was late but not dark as I took up the bloodtrail. There was blood and it was foamy, bright red to be sure but not a lot to follow. If the arrow was still in there, the hole could be partially blocked, I thought. By now I needed a flashlight to see anything, (me and my evening elk hunting). I was getting used to stumbling around in the dark looking for some poor creature with an arrow in it. I replayed the shot in my mind, it looked textbook, halfway up behind the shoulder, he should be laying here. I covered the immediate area as best as I could, then decided to get a message to my partner, who was hunting several miles away in the direction of our camp. We returned with more flashlights and scoured the area for several hours to no avail. It was 5000 feet above sea level and cool up here. Even though I hated to leave I would have to start fresh in the morning.

Sept 06, 07: A race against time

After 4 hours sleep, I came back alone and began a grid type of search on the premise that the blood trail was too poor to even attempt. Several hours of looking had passed in what seemed like the blink of an eye and the sun was starting to shine down on me. Elk are thick skinned and don’t keep well when it’s warm , I was growing concerned. Finally, I said a prayer to the big man upstairs, of what to do? A little voice urged me to get back on the bloodtrail and start over.

I found the torn soil where the bull had exploded from, then a broken piece of arrow. I retraced the bloodtrail to where I had lost it in the dark and noticed the bull had left the trail he was on and and had turned abruptly left. That was my mistake last night. The leaves now showed steady blood and on both sides of the trail. It was much easier to follow and I started to move fairly quickly. I climbed a short but steep section of sidehill and then began to parallel the creek draw below. Another 60 yards and I could see tan hide under a small cluster of spruce ahead. My packframe, tarp and meatbags were on my back and I wasted little time skinning, quartering and de-boning my elk. I layed out each piece of meat in the shade and the flies were little trouble. Three packloads later, bringing shotgun and equipment with the last hind quarter, I tied down the antlers, wrapped a tarp around the cheesecloth, covered front shoulders and backstraps and was off. By 1:30 I was back in camp.

We started the freezer and let it run for many hours, hoping to pull any trapped warmth out of the thick hind quarters and prevent bone sour. While we relaxed, a few steaks were removed for dinner and we were’nt disappointed. Fresh elk, slightly rare, is hard to beat.

After more than 20 years of bowhunting, I still find I need a refresher course in bloodtrailing now and then. An arrow doesn’t have the shocking power of a bullet to anchor game and some trailing work is usually in order. Other than the placement of the arrow, those fleeting few seconds after the shot are of extreme importance. I can’t stress strongly enough the need to watch your animal as it runs and listen for not only the direction of travel but any tell-tale signs of collapse out of eyesight. Sit quietly, think about the quality of the hit and memorize and mark the precise location where the animal stood at impact.

Epilogue

My arrow had squarely punctured both lungs, he probably expired within 20 or 30 seconds. What impeded penetration? The arrow impacted heavy shoulder bone on the opposite side, appearing to be a less than ideal shot. The distance of travel was fairly long as well, I estimated 150 yards into moderately heavy cover. A sparse bloodtrail in the beginning, compounded by the failing light strained my tracking ability and almost spelled disaster. The key clues on this recovery would be; the section of arrow shaft laying on the trail was about 15 inches long, or half the overall length, the leaves showed bright red foamy blood from a lung shot, my initial impression on arrow placement was tight to the shoulder and midway up. These were the reasons I never abandoned the trail, despite the fact it looked like my bull had all but vanished from the area.