Chasing a dream - Stone's SHEEP and Roosevelt ELK - PICTURE HEAVY
- Thread starter bigbore14
- Start date
Pathfinder
CGN Ultra frequent flyer
- Location
- Northeast Ontario
so what about the Goat ?
Then from the corner of my eye I caught movement at 30 yards. A black tail doe had come out of thin air and had me pegged. Five seconds later the doe caught my wind and bolted. The herd wasn’t one second behind her. Then they stopped with noses in the air at 140 yards looking for the cause of this problem. I froze, and for 2 minutes I did nothing. Then one by one they filed out, trotting slowly away from me, along with my hopes and dreams.
The hard part about this hunt isn’t finding elk. It’s finding big elk! I had 4 trail cams set up from the month before, and had caught on it all kinds of cool things; from grey and jet black wolves, to cougars, black tail deer, and black bears with cubs. The one thing that gave me hope though was a nice 5x7 dark horned bull. Many a morning I didn’t feel like getting out of the warm bed and into the wet wilds of Vancouver Island, but I did. I did end up sleeping in a couple mornings just to break up a hunt of this length. Day after day can make it hard to keep motivated sometimes. Being in that kind of cold sleety wet rain is pretty brutal. Walking in the thick second growth timber, peeling ferns and salal from around you to keep quiet is a whole different puddle of H2O. It’s no wonder they call it a rain forest. That’s the perfect way to describe it. It was relentless, with plenty of snow storms, and sleet to make sure you were uncomfortable. But that big 5x7 bull kept me motivated.
I did have a few people tell me I was crazy for not taking a smaller bull when I could have. I replied that I would be crazy to not hold out in the situation I was in. This wasn’t a weekend hunt. This was a once in a lifetime draw, and I had everything right there at my disposal for the full pull. I had to give it my best.
I was encouraged to meet and talk with the other hunters with the draw, a father helping his son. They also saw lots of elk and even turned some down at the beginning of their 9 day hunt. Al who had the draw was a very serious hunter like myself. It was good to see someone win it that would really put a good effort in. He had also won a sheep permit this year and had come very close to completing that. He had taken a couple elk in the past and so he really knew what he was doing. I would meet up with them every few days and we would encourage each other with what we had seen, and what we were learning from the hunt.
About day ten I was nearing the top of the mountains on my quad. It was snowing heavily and I couldn’t see 100 yards ahead of me. I figured I knew where the herds were down low, but a friend of mine who I had been corresponding with during the hunt had told me to look higher up in the hills. The big bulls would be separate now, and would be way up top forming bachelor groups.
With no goggles I was moving slowly on the quad. I looked up by pure chance and there at 70 yards was a nice lone bull. Surprised, I shut down the quad and grabbed my bow. He didn’t even wait for two seconds before he disappeared into the second growth timber. I would have to track him down. That I did. It took two hours. I don’t know how I out walked an elk, but he hadn’t even stopped once. I caught sight of him going up the side opposite of the creek I was dropping into...
But there were too many trees in the way and he wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t even get a great look at the antlers. However he was big, and this had been my first real chance. I soon gave up as it was getting dark, as he was dropping elevation like mad. I pointed my iphone to the place I had left the quad and my two hour walk in, was a straight line thirty minute walk out in the almost dark. On the way back down the mountain I cut his track crossing the road and noted the block he was going into. I would have to try for him in the morning.
That next morning I woke up to….you guessed it….rain! It would be snow farther up the mountain, I had to get back onto his track and check that block. Six kilometers away I cut a frozen track of a lone bull from the night before heading down hill. Not even really thinking this would be the bull I followed that track three quarters of the way up the mountain before deciding this WAS likely the same bull. Back down I raced. I found his last direction and turned onto a road that he should have crossed.
Going up the mountain his tracks got fresh. But then I noticed a tire track that was also REAL fresh. There was some logging going on up this hill so I just hoped that’s who it might be. Turning a bend about 3 kilometers up the road I saw the other hunters truck pulled over with one head in the passenger seat. He rolled down the window and told me his son (Al) was stalking a good bull they had just tracked down and found bedded. The only thing I could do was turn around. So I headed back to the area he had been the night before and set up on his trail thinking that he might head back that way, if this hunter didn’t connect. Sitting there in the cold for 2 hours I soon gave up.
That afternoon I went way back and way up high. I found another group of 10 or so with a few medium bulls in it. At this point my trigger finger was getting rather itchy. The wetness really takes its toll on you mentally. I almost made a play on these bulls, but settled on giving it a couple more days.
I also ran into a group of hunters as I was doing some spotting. "What you lookin' at through that spotter?"
"A black wolf." I replied. To which I showed them the wolf through my spotting scope at about 900 yards.
After talking to these other (deer) hunters for about half an hour, I got a kick out of hearing one of them say, "See Doug, I told you we should have brought binoculars, thats SUCH a good idea!"
Sunday morning I slept in, just to give myself some refreshment and rejuvenation. The 9 days had come and gone and the father and son team were leaving empty handed. I had grown to like them and even had them by for dinner one night. When they weren’t sure if they would be able to make it back to hunt again, I asked them for the last direction that big bull had headed. We parted ways and I headed up to the last place he was known to be. With about six inches of snow I thought maybe I would cut his track and find him bedded or out feeding in a cut block. Needle in a haystack I just kept thinking to myself. This is BIG country.
I got to a high position to look over many kilometers of cut blocks and do some glassing. I hadn’t cut his track on the way up. He was probably long gone. About 30 minutes of glassing later, I lowered my binoculars. As I lowered them I just happened to glass through some thick second growth timber. Through the trees there was a small rock bluff, and bedded just below it was a massive bull elk.
I worked quickly, grabbing out my spotting scope and centering it on him. He looked alone, and he had big horns. That was all I needed to know. He must be a good one. Now how to get to him? He was in the middle of the timber, on a sort of ridge, just bedded below a mound of rock, with a cliff on his far side. If I could get to that cliff and get up it I would have a shot on him at no more than 40 yards and the wind was blowing steadily in the right direction.
I slowly made my way into the timber, trying to be as quiet as possible. The salal was covered in 2 inches of fresh wet snow, that slopped off with each step I took. Lifting twigs and branches out of the way I made my way down and behind where I thought he would be. The forest was alive with the sound of wet snow dropping from branches all around me. After close to an hour stalk I looked over the first knob, I was unsure if this was the right spot. Which it turned out not to be. Then I saw what I thought might be the cliff just up the ridge from me. The rock face was about seven feet high and straight up. I put my bow up on it and used a tree branch as a foot hold. I ever so quietly dug my fingers into the snow and climbed up.
As I peeked over the edge my heart almost exploded as I saw what I had hunted so hard for. There, not 25 yards away was a gorgeous set of deep maroon and ivory tipped antlers. I eased up and very slowly crept five yards to the next rock in front of me to where I thought I would have a good shot at the bedded bull. Each knee step forward I took in the six inches of snow seemed to make the noisiest compacting sound I had ever heard. There I was, kneeling, with my arrow knocked; wind in my face, bull bedded facing away a mere twenty yards away. This was one of, if not the most challenging stalks of my life. I could see his heavy antlers heaving with each breath he took. His ears were pinned straight back in my direction. I rested my bow lifting arm and breathed deeply, calming myself. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably closer to a minute I saw the falling snow swirl ever so slightly towards the bull. On command he rose to his feet...
Stay tuned for the exciting conclusions to both stories tonight...
The hard part about this hunt isn’t finding elk. It’s finding big elk! I had 4 trail cams set up from the month before, and had caught on it all kinds of cool things; from grey and jet black wolves, to cougars, black tail deer, and black bears with cubs. The one thing that gave me hope though was a nice 5x7 dark horned bull. Many a morning I didn’t feel like getting out of the warm bed and into the wet wilds of Vancouver Island, but I did. I did end up sleeping in a couple mornings just to break up a hunt of this length. Day after day can make it hard to keep motivated sometimes. Being in that kind of cold sleety wet rain is pretty brutal. Walking in the thick second growth timber, peeling ferns and salal from around you to keep quiet is a whole different puddle of H2O. It’s no wonder they call it a rain forest. That’s the perfect way to describe it. It was relentless, with plenty of snow storms, and sleet to make sure you were uncomfortable. But that big 5x7 bull kept me motivated.
I did have a few people tell me I was crazy for not taking a smaller bull when I could have. I replied that I would be crazy to not hold out in the situation I was in. This wasn’t a weekend hunt. This was a once in a lifetime draw, and I had everything right there at my disposal for the full pull. I had to give it my best.
I was encouraged to meet and talk with the other hunters with the draw, a father helping his son. They also saw lots of elk and even turned some down at the beginning of their 9 day hunt. Al who had the draw was a very serious hunter like myself. It was good to see someone win it that would really put a good effort in. He had also won a sheep permit this year and had come very close to completing that. He had taken a couple elk in the past and so he really knew what he was doing. I would meet up with them every few days and we would encourage each other with what we had seen, and what we were learning from the hunt.
About day ten I was nearing the top of the mountains on my quad. It was snowing heavily and I couldn’t see 100 yards ahead of me. I figured I knew where the herds were down low, but a friend of mine who I had been corresponding with during the hunt had told me to look higher up in the hills. The big bulls would be separate now, and would be way up top forming bachelor groups.
With no goggles I was moving slowly on the quad. I looked up by pure chance and there at 70 yards was a nice lone bull. Surprised, I shut down the quad and grabbed my bow. He didn’t even wait for two seconds before he disappeared into the second growth timber. I would have to track him down. That I did. It took two hours. I don’t know how I out walked an elk, but he hadn’t even stopped once. I caught sight of him going up the side opposite of the creek I was dropping into...
But there were too many trees in the way and he wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t even get a great look at the antlers. However he was big, and this had been my first real chance. I soon gave up as it was getting dark, as he was dropping elevation like mad. I pointed my iphone to the place I had left the quad and my two hour walk in, was a straight line thirty minute walk out in the almost dark. On the way back down the mountain I cut his track crossing the road and noted the block he was going into. I would have to try for him in the morning.
That next morning I woke up to….you guessed it….rain! It would be snow farther up the mountain, I had to get back onto his track and check that block. Six kilometers away I cut a frozen track of a lone bull from the night before heading down hill. Not even really thinking this would be the bull I followed that track three quarters of the way up the mountain before deciding this WAS likely the same bull. Back down I raced. I found his last direction and turned onto a road that he should have crossed.
Going up the mountain his tracks got fresh. But then I noticed a tire track that was also REAL fresh. There was some logging going on up this hill so I just hoped that’s who it might be. Turning a bend about 3 kilometers up the road I saw the other hunters truck pulled over with one head in the passenger seat. He rolled down the window and told me his son (Al) was stalking a good bull they had just tracked down and found bedded. The only thing I could do was turn around. So I headed back to the area he had been the night before and set up on his trail thinking that he might head back that way, if this hunter didn’t connect. Sitting there in the cold for 2 hours I soon gave up.
That afternoon I went way back and way up high. I found another group of 10 or so with a few medium bulls in it. At this point my trigger finger was getting rather itchy. The wetness really takes its toll on you mentally. I almost made a play on these bulls, but settled on giving it a couple more days.
I also ran into a group of hunters as I was doing some spotting. "What you lookin' at through that spotter?"
"A black wolf." I replied. To which I showed them the wolf through my spotting scope at about 900 yards.
After talking to these other (deer) hunters for about half an hour, I got a kick out of hearing one of them say, "See Doug, I told you we should have brought binoculars, thats SUCH a good idea!"
Sunday morning I slept in, just to give myself some refreshment and rejuvenation. The 9 days had come and gone and the father and son team were leaving empty handed. I had grown to like them and even had them by for dinner one night. When they weren’t sure if they would be able to make it back to hunt again, I asked them for the last direction that big bull had headed. We parted ways and I headed up to the last place he was known to be. With about six inches of snow I thought maybe I would cut his track and find him bedded or out feeding in a cut block. Needle in a haystack I just kept thinking to myself. This is BIG country.
I got to a high position to look over many kilometers of cut blocks and do some glassing. I hadn’t cut his track on the way up. He was probably long gone. About 30 minutes of glassing later, I lowered my binoculars. As I lowered them I just happened to glass through some thick second growth timber. Through the trees there was a small rock bluff, and bedded just below it was a massive bull elk.
I worked quickly, grabbing out my spotting scope and centering it on him. He looked alone, and he had big horns. That was all I needed to know. He must be a good one. Now how to get to him? He was in the middle of the timber, on a sort of ridge, just bedded below a mound of rock, with a cliff on his far side. If I could get to that cliff and get up it I would have a shot on him at no more than 40 yards and the wind was blowing steadily in the right direction.
I slowly made my way into the timber, trying to be as quiet as possible. The salal was covered in 2 inches of fresh wet snow, that slopped off with each step I took. Lifting twigs and branches out of the way I made my way down and behind where I thought he would be. The forest was alive with the sound of wet snow dropping from branches all around me. After close to an hour stalk I looked over the first knob, I was unsure if this was the right spot. Which it turned out not to be. Then I saw what I thought might be the cliff just up the ridge from me. The rock face was about seven feet high and straight up. I put my bow up on it and used a tree branch as a foot hold. I ever so quietly dug my fingers into the snow and climbed up.
As I peeked over the edge my heart almost exploded as I saw what I had hunted so hard for. There, not 25 yards away was a gorgeous set of deep maroon and ivory tipped antlers. I eased up and very slowly crept five yards to the next rock in front of me to where I thought I would have a good shot at the bedded bull. Each knee step forward I took in the six inches of snow seemed to make the noisiest compacting sound I had ever heard. There I was, kneeling, with my arrow knocked; wind in my face, bull bedded facing away a mere twenty yards away. This was one of, if not the most challenging stalks of my life. I could see his heavy antlers heaving with each breath he took. His ears were pinned straight back in my direction. I rested my bow lifting arm and breathed deeply, calming myself. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably closer to a minute I saw the falling snow swirl ever so slightly towards the bull. On command he rose to his feet...
Stay tuned for the exciting conclusions to both stories tonight...
My first draw for a Roosevelt occurred in 1986 on the first attempt. The first morning the fog was so thick we could not move. The fog cleared at one point and there was a cow and calf. Waitng did not produce a bull but later we saw a doe and fawn.
The next morning I went from a cut through timber and came across a wallow. I saw a clearing, walked towards it and came to a road. Resting on the road, a cow and calf appeared followed by a bull. He stoped with a log quartering from his flank across his shoulder and neck. On command he took one step and I hit him with a 165 grain Nosler partition from my .30-06. He walked 10 yards and I him him again. Another 10 yards and I him him again. He moved forward to a log that was about four feet high. One the last shot he toppled over. That was the only shot that went through him. It paced off at about 275 yards. The first three were in a four inch group and only the last one went through. Final score was 320 4/8's. 534 pounds to the locker.
The story for 1987 will follow the next chapter from bigbore.
The next morning I went from a cut through timber and came across a wallow. I saw a clearing, walked towards it and came to a road. Resting on the road, a cow and calf appeared followed by a bull. He stoped with a log quartering from his flank across his shoulder and neck. On command he took one step and I hit him with a 165 grain Nosler partition from my .30-06. He walked 10 yards and I him him again. Another 10 yards and I him him again. He moved forward to a log that was about four feet high. One the last shot he toppled over. That was the only shot that went through him. It paced off at about 275 yards. The first three were in a four inch group and only the last one went through. Final score was 320 4/8's. 534 pounds to the locker.
The story for 1987 will follow the next chapter from bigbore.
Kneeling I drew my bow and put my 20 pin on his chest. He looked me in the eye and I squeezed the trigger on my release sending 400 grains of displeasure charging into and through his chest.
Like a heroin junky as the needle plunges I felt a rush of adrenalin that really can’t be put into words. I was more than excited. I was breathless and shuddering, frozen in a moment of absolute achievement. I had just shot a giant bull elk with my bow. The shot felt perfect, I picked my spot, I hit my spot, I felt like I was on top of the world. And for a minute I was. That all came to a screeching halt as I found my arrow 25 yards away. Caked in blood I lifted it to my nose to smell the unmistakable smell of gut. My heart plummeted like a skydiver without a parachute. `When in doubt back out’ rang through my mind. And I did just that. It would be dark in 2 hours, so why not just give it 4 hours, I thought to myself. There was good blood covering the arrow. But I didn’t need to make any mistakes at this point. So I headed out and back to camp for dinner dragging my feet in the snow so I would be able to find my way back in as it was snowing pretty good.
Dinner was great. The caretakers of the place we were camping at had made us a feast of salmon that night, but I could barely eat. I was so worried about my elk, and getting it out in the dark. I even phoned a good friend back home as he said he would be willing to come and help me out if I thought I needed it. He canceled his appointments and headed towards the ferry. That is a good hunting partner right there. He re assured me it would be dead and we would have no trouble packing it out that night or early in the morning. Thirty minutes later I called him back to tell him not to come. It was my mess and a long long way for him to come. He turned his truck around near Burnaby after receiving my phone call and headed back home.
We finished dinner and our incredibly generous host volunteered to help me go find my bull in the dark. Back we went 5 hours after the shot. We found my tracks which were already snowed in, and followed them up to the site of the shot. Instantly we were on good blood. We followed his tracks slowly shouting “Hey bear!” on the way in as there is an incredibly large population of black bears in the area. At 70 yards of easy tracking with lots of blood we found his bed. There was no snow in it but it hadn’t hit me yet. We followed on further until we came to a white strip of snow. Shining my light ahead I saw the snow covered road and the tire tracks our quad had just made. Then I connected the dots. We weren’t following a dead bull….
We once again backed out till first light. In a situation like this, you sleep about as good as a first time mother with a sick baby.
I don’t know how I managed to sleep, but at dark again I was on the quad with my incredibly helpful caretaker friend and my wife in the truck. There was some snow in the camp site. As we climbed the mountain the night’s snow got deeper and deeper. At the top where the bull was, there was over a foot of wet heavy snow. The quad with the dif locked in, barely made it up the hills. At times my friend had to sit on the front rack to give it enough traction.
The Elk tracks would be gone due to the heavy snow. So we made our way up and above the cut block that he had last headed into. Maybe his tracks would be on the road above, just faint or something. Hopefully we could glass down and see him lying dead in the cut block below. But an hour later we had nothing. I guessed he was heading for a small thicket with twenty foot tall cedars about 100 yards into the cut block.
The cut blocks are so deceivingly hard to walk through. One minute you’re on top of the snow, the next you are nipples deep in snow, with your feet wet in a creek. You just can’t tell where to step and where not to step. We searched for 3 long hours. It was tough going. But I wasn’t one to give up that easily. I finally decided we should head back to where he walked into the cut block and see what the easiest line for him to go would be.
About 5 steps into the block, my wife Cory trailing me saw that I had kicked up some blood almost a foot under the surface of the snow. Keep kicking and digging I told them. “Here’s more! Over here, found some more!” With my heart racing I pushed on, kicking down in the snow and digging with my hands! I couldn’t believe this was actually working. He had originally headed for the small stand of trees but then had veered off. Seventy yards later I came around a bushy cedar and let out one of the loudest Rick Flair “Woooooooooo!” you could have ever heard. The other two lit up in yells as well! Then out of the corner of my eye I saw its head turn to look at me….
Back to the quad I raced, motioning and whispering to the other two to look and listen for movement fifteen yards ahead of where I had been. On the way to grab my bow, I broke through and plunged into the icy waters of the creek with one foot. That boot filled right up. I didn’t care. I just about had my elk at this point.
Coming back to the elk I moved slowly to within seven yards of the dying giant. He could barely move, he was lying there, nearly covered in snow. It was not something I would have ever thought possible. I didn’t think a lying shot would be a good shot so I waited and coaxed the 1000 plus pound monster to its feet. Slowly he rose. Not having the strength to even walk I could not believe he had made it through the night with the amount of blood he had lost. He stood there almost threatening with those ivory tipped daggers pointed right at me. However, I could almost see in his eyes what he was asking me to do. I drew and sunk an arrow deep into his heart and lungs. He stood there for two minutes, as I walked away and let him bed down, one last time.
I learned a lot from this hunt. Coming from a rifle hunting background, I have always aimed just behind the front leg a few inches, so as to not waste any meat on the front quarter. It’s been programmed into my mind to shoot behind the leg. I put the arrow exactly where I would have shot a deer with my rifle. But I only got part of one lung and the liver. The lesson learned is that, it is simply a little too far back for an arrow to do its massive hemorrhaging.
The second arrow ended its life very quickly. Not as instantaneous as with a rifle, but still very effectively. I did feel awful for not making a better first shot. Even at the 3D archery competitions I shoot at, I always program my mind to shoot for the 10 spot, which I believe is not in the correct spot a lot of the time. It’s something that I will have to work on in practice more.
I also have a new respect for the strength of elk. I have heard they are a big tough animal and have stamina to go for miles once being shot, but I had yet to experience it myself. I did do the right thing by backing out both times, and not pushing the animal further. The story is a little disappointing in the end to learn that this magnificent creature was not killed as effectively as possible. That is something every sportsman I know tries hard to do every time. It doesn’t always happen the way things are supposed to happen unfortunately. But I feel the real truth in this story will give people more respect for the power of these animals, and maybe they can learn a thing or two from it as well.
The pictures were taken and the elk was packed out not fifty steps to the road. What a blessing that was. Roosevelt’s are the biggest bodied of all the 4 species of elk. This one was probably close in body size to that of the 48 inch moose I had shot last year. It will definitely top up the freezer and it’s probably a good thing I come from a big family where I’m sure it will be enjoyed.
Sitting here looking at the horns I can’t actually believe I have done what I set out to do. I knew this was probably my best chance at getting a B&C animal and I held out a long time. A massive effort was put in as I hunted hard each day alone. I definitely had a lot of help from a lot of generous people who guided me in the right direction with ideas and suggestions of how to best go about getting my first bull elk. To those people, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how you carried me and inspired me in times of despair, alone on the cold wet west coast.
Now, back to the RAM
I calmed my nerves and lined him up. I waited for him to feed broadside. 5 minutes seemed like forever as I waited. He was heading out of sight right below me again, and then he turned and put his head down for one last meal.
At 320 yards the bowl became a symphony of thunder as the shot smacked into him and he dropped. Flailing on the ground I put one down and into his spine to ensure he wasn’t leaving. It was finally over. I had my first ram down. It was 9:30 and nearing darkness. This was going to be a long night.
With a bounce in my light step I made my way back down to my pack and got my stuff. I left everything there I didn’t need, like spotting scope, binos, gun and bullets. I got to the ram after dark. As I got up into the bowl he was in, the cool mountain air filled my nostrils with the first time of smelling a sheep. I put on my headlight and when I thought I was nearing him I looked all around me. His eyes lit up and I made my way to lay my hands on my first set of BC horns. Somehow unsure of how legal he was I lifted his horns and looked over the bridge of his nose. Wow! He was way over, on both sides, and broomed off really far! What a hog! I then remembered Houdini from before the opener. Could this be him? I am still not sure, but somehow I think it is. You be the judge.
I skinned him for a life size mount, and tied my first set of horns to my pack. Actually, I didn’t skin out the head or hooves just yet. It was near 2 in the morning. I was alone. Without a gun. It was dark. I prayed I would make it out with no problems. Negotiating cliffs at night, and rocks so big they will snap your leg with one wrong move I negotiated the pack slowly back towards camp. I was praying for the strength and well placed footsteps to make this journey home, with well over 100lbs on my back. I had no choice. My inexperience didn’t let me bring even a sil tarp, let alone my sleeping bag.
I got back to camp at 4:40am. I whistled footslogging my way into camp to not spook my friend into thinking I was a grizzly. His words were, “You better have a ram on your back or your grounded mister!” I have never felt so satisfied and so exhausted. It was over. Truly the best hunt of my life.
The End
Like a heroin junky as the needle plunges I felt a rush of adrenalin that really can’t be put into words. I was more than excited. I was breathless and shuddering, frozen in a moment of absolute achievement. I had just shot a giant bull elk with my bow. The shot felt perfect, I picked my spot, I hit my spot, I felt like I was on top of the world. And for a minute I was. That all came to a screeching halt as I found my arrow 25 yards away. Caked in blood I lifted it to my nose to smell the unmistakable smell of gut. My heart plummeted like a skydiver without a parachute. `When in doubt back out’ rang through my mind. And I did just that. It would be dark in 2 hours, so why not just give it 4 hours, I thought to myself. There was good blood covering the arrow. But I didn’t need to make any mistakes at this point. So I headed out and back to camp for dinner dragging my feet in the snow so I would be able to find my way back in as it was snowing pretty good.
Dinner was great. The caretakers of the place we were camping at had made us a feast of salmon that night, but I could barely eat. I was so worried about my elk, and getting it out in the dark. I even phoned a good friend back home as he said he would be willing to come and help me out if I thought I needed it. He canceled his appointments and headed towards the ferry. That is a good hunting partner right there. He re assured me it would be dead and we would have no trouble packing it out that night or early in the morning. Thirty minutes later I called him back to tell him not to come. It was my mess and a long long way for him to come. He turned his truck around near Burnaby after receiving my phone call and headed back home.
We finished dinner and our incredibly generous host volunteered to help me go find my bull in the dark. Back we went 5 hours after the shot. We found my tracks which were already snowed in, and followed them up to the site of the shot. Instantly we were on good blood. We followed his tracks slowly shouting “Hey bear!” on the way in as there is an incredibly large population of black bears in the area. At 70 yards of easy tracking with lots of blood we found his bed. There was no snow in it but it hadn’t hit me yet. We followed on further until we came to a white strip of snow. Shining my light ahead I saw the snow covered road and the tire tracks our quad had just made. Then I connected the dots. We weren’t following a dead bull….
We once again backed out till first light. In a situation like this, you sleep about as good as a first time mother with a sick baby.
I don’t know how I managed to sleep, but at dark again I was on the quad with my incredibly helpful caretaker friend and my wife in the truck. There was some snow in the camp site. As we climbed the mountain the night’s snow got deeper and deeper. At the top where the bull was, there was over a foot of wet heavy snow. The quad with the dif locked in, barely made it up the hills. At times my friend had to sit on the front rack to give it enough traction.
The Elk tracks would be gone due to the heavy snow. So we made our way up and above the cut block that he had last headed into. Maybe his tracks would be on the road above, just faint or something. Hopefully we could glass down and see him lying dead in the cut block below. But an hour later we had nothing. I guessed he was heading for a small thicket with twenty foot tall cedars about 100 yards into the cut block.
The cut blocks are so deceivingly hard to walk through. One minute you’re on top of the snow, the next you are nipples deep in snow, with your feet wet in a creek. You just can’t tell where to step and where not to step. We searched for 3 long hours. It was tough going. But I wasn’t one to give up that easily. I finally decided we should head back to where he walked into the cut block and see what the easiest line for him to go would be.
About 5 steps into the block, my wife Cory trailing me saw that I had kicked up some blood almost a foot under the surface of the snow. Keep kicking and digging I told them. “Here’s more! Over here, found some more!” With my heart racing I pushed on, kicking down in the snow and digging with my hands! I couldn’t believe this was actually working. He had originally headed for the small stand of trees but then had veered off. Seventy yards later I came around a bushy cedar and let out one of the loudest Rick Flair “Woooooooooo!” you could have ever heard. The other two lit up in yells as well! Then out of the corner of my eye I saw its head turn to look at me….
Back to the quad I raced, motioning and whispering to the other two to look and listen for movement fifteen yards ahead of where I had been. On the way to grab my bow, I broke through and plunged into the icy waters of the creek with one foot. That boot filled right up. I didn’t care. I just about had my elk at this point.
Coming back to the elk I moved slowly to within seven yards of the dying giant. He could barely move, he was lying there, nearly covered in snow. It was not something I would have ever thought possible. I didn’t think a lying shot would be a good shot so I waited and coaxed the 1000 plus pound monster to its feet. Slowly he rose. Not having the strength to even walk I could not believe he had made it through the night with the amount of blood he had lost. He stood there almost threatening with those ivory tipped daggers pointed right at me. However, I could almost see in his eyes what he was asking me to do. I drew and sunk an arrow deep into his heart and lungs. He stood there for two minutes, as I walked away and let him bed down, one last time.
I learned a lot from this hunt. Coming from a rifle hunting background, I have always aimed just behind the front leg a few inches, so as to not waste any meat on the front quarter. It’s been programmed into my mind to shoot behind the leg. I put the arrow exactly where I would have shot a deer with my rifle. But I only got part of one lung and the liver. The lesson learned is that, it is simply a little too far back for an arrow to do its massive hemorrhaging.
The second arrow ended its life very quickly. Not as instantaneous as with a rifle, but still very effectively. I did feel awful for not making a better first shot. Even at the 3D archery competitions I shoot at, I always program my mind to shoot for the 10 spot, which I believe is not in the correct spot a lot of the time. It’s something that I will have to work on in practice more.
I also have a new respect for the strength of elk. I have heard they are a big tough animal and have stamina to go for miles once being shot, but I had yet to experience it myself. I did do the right thing by backing out both times, and not pushing the animal further. The story is a little disappointing in the end to learn that this magnificent creature was not killed as effectively as possible. That is something every sportsman I know tries hard to do every time. It doesn’t always happen the way things are supposed to happen unfortunately. But I feel the real truth in this story will give people more respect for the power of these animals, and maybe they can learn a thing or two from it as well.
The pictures were taken and the elk was packed out not fifty steps to the road. What a blessing that was. Roosevelt’s are the biggest bodied of all the 4 species of elk. This one was probably close in body size to that of the 48 inch moose I had shot last year. It will definitely top up the freezer and it’s probably a good thing I come from a big family where I’m sure it will be enjoyed.
Sitting here looking at the horns I can’t actually believe I have done what I set out to do. I knew this was probably my best chance at getting a B&C animal and I held out a long time. A massive effort was put in as I hunted hard each day alone. I definitely had a lot of help from a lot of generous people who guided me in the right direction with ideas and suggestions of how to best go about getting my first bull elk. To those people, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how you carried me and inspired me in times of despair, alone on the cold wet west coast.
Now, back to the RAM
I calmed my nerves and lined him up. I waited for him to feed broadside. 5 minutes seemed like forever as I waited. He was heading out of sight right below me again, and then he turned and put his head down for one last meal.
At 320 yards the bowl became a symphony of thunder as the shot smacked into him and he dropped. Flailing on the ground I put one down and into his spine to ensure he wasn’t leaving. It was finally over. I had my first ram down. It was 9:30 and nearing darkness. This was going to be a long night.
With a bounce in my light step I made my way back down to my pack and got my stuff. I left everything there I didn’t need, like spotting scope, binos, gun and bullets. I got to the ram after dark. As I got up into the bowl he was in, the cool mountain air filled my nostrils with the first time of smelling a sheep. I put on my headlight and when I thought I was nearing him I looked all around me. His eyes lit up and I made my way to lay my hands on my first set of BC horns. Somehow unsure of how legal he was I lifted his horns and looked over the bridge of his nose. Wow! He was way over, on both sides, and broomed off really far! What a hog! I then remembered Houdini from before the opener. Could this be him? I am still not sure, but somehow I think it is. You be the judge.
I skinned him for a life size mount, and tied my first set of horns to my pack. Actually, I didn’t skin out the head or hooves just yet. It was near 2 in the morning. I was alone. Without a gun. It was dark. I prayed I would make it out with no problems. Negotiating cliffs at night, and rocks so big they will snap your leg with one wrong move I negotiated the pack slowly back towards camp. I was praying for the strength and well placed footsteps to make this journey home, with well over 100lbs on my back. I had no choice. My inexperience didn’t let me bring even a sil tarp, let alone my sleeping bag.
I got back to camp at 4:40am. I whistled footslogging my way into camp to not spook my friend into thinking I was a grizzly. His words were, “You better have a ram on your back or your grounded mister!” I have never felt so satisfied and so exhausted. It was over. Truly the best hunt of my life.
The End
- Location
- AB foothills
Truly awesome ram!
arcticcathonda
CGN frequent flyer
- Location
- Southern Alberta
This was awesome!! If you aren't already ad outdoor wrtter, YOU SHOULD BE!
Well hunted and well told. What did the animals score?
Unfortunately you've really backed yourself into a corner because you don't want to be the guy at 70 still talking about that one hunting season when you were 20something... so now you've set the bar really high and you're going to have to be creative to top this at least a few more times in your hunting career, good luck
(P.S. Can I come? )
Unfortunately you've really backed yourself into a corner because you don't want to be the guy at 70 still talking about that one hunting season when you were 20something... so now you've set the bar really high and you're going to have to be creative to top this at least a few more times in your hunting career, good luck
(P.S. Can I come?
)
Jwirecom109
CGN Ultra frequent flyer
- Location
- Rural Alberta
fantastic pictures thank you for sharing
