Sometimes its better to be lucky than good. Bron certainly had some good fortune this year on his second season rifle hunt in Colorado. We decided to run out there the second weekend of his hunt for a quick three day trip. We took the Chevy Tracker and I rented a hotel room for us in Eagle.
Before we got to Eagle, I pulled into Gypsum for fuel and noticed some locals coming out of the canyon dressed in orange. With an hour left of good light, I decided to drive up the canyon and see what the country looked like before we checked into our hotel room. It climbed up through the cedar covered benches and opened up into some good looking rolling sage with views of aspen pockets higher up.
We had yet to see a deer, nor another hunting vehicle on this dirt road, when all the sudden I caught movement coming off the sage knob to our right. It was a lone buck. He was on the move trolling for does. Bron got out and let him cross the dirt road in front of us at 150 yards. As he was working his way up the other side, Bron let him have it putting him down with his favorite 6.5 CM. We couldn't believe what just happened! It was Bron's best buck to date.
When we met up with Jared at the hotel. He had been out there all week hunting. He couldn't believe we had a dead buck already at the hotel. He thought we were just getting in from the long drive from Utah.
We ate a celebratory dinner at a local diner and hit the hot tub. It was decided we would help glass for Jared the next morning. He woke up at 5:00am and we slept in a little leaving around 7:00. We took the road out of Dotzero that follows the Colorado River. As it was getting light, I spotted a lone bull out in a hay field heading out for the hills. We could see he had a limp on his front left. We watched him work up a hillside onto the BLM. Problem was, Bron didn't an elk tag like he did the previous year on this unit.
We hustled back to town and purchased a valid tag at the local drug store. We raced back and were getting our gear ready to track this bull up. I was throwing on my daypack and while Bron was waiting for me he decided to throw up his binos and glass in the direction where we saw him top the ridge last. I couldn't believe it when Bron said, "Dad I see him bedded under a big juniper tree on the next ridge over." Game on!
We made a perfect stalk using the terrain for cover. Bron got prone on his day pack. We decided to shot him in his bed. The first bullet hit him in the base of the neck. The bull got to his feet jolted from the hit. While standing there, Bron got three more bullets in his front shoulder. The bull kept absorbing them, remaining on his feet. He finally laid back down but had his head up. We hiked over and finished him off in his bed. I think these 6.5 Hornady's at close range on elk kind of come apart. They don't seem to penetrate shoulder bone all that well.
We couldn't believe it, in less than 12 hours we had another animal down. This is Bron's first branch antlered bull. It was fun sitting on the hill quartering this bull with him. It was a great father and son moment for us. While breaking him down we noticed he had taken a bullet to part of his knee cap probably from another hunter opening weekend. Elk are tough!
We got the quarters loaded in the tracker and tied the rack on top and went and glassed for Jared with no luck that night turning up a big buck. He jumped a buck but couldn't get back on him. We got all the meat prepared in the hotel parking lot for travel and headed for home with a pile of antlers and meat in the Tracker the next morning. Fun times with Scrawny!
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Beth has hunted deer her entire life. After all, she is a Bell. She had yet to take a big buck though. So when I heard she drew a coveted Paunsaugunt management buck tag this year, I wanted to be a part of it. She played cat and mouse with this big guy as he was locked on a doe. After many up close encounters in the thick cedars she was finally able to get a bullet in his neck at 70 yards. It took a good hour of all of us circling in the thick underbrush with no blood trail looking for the downed buck, when Dusty finally turned him up. After lots of high fives, Beth finally has a buck of her own going on the wall.
After 25 years of applying and a lifetime of dreaming - I shot a
moose with a bow!!!
In May I received an
email that I successfully drew a North Slope Summit permit in the High Uintas.
That's when I came up with a wild idea. What if me and my 15 yr. old son could
1-2-3 it, me with my bow and Bron with his rifle. Now that would be gnarly! One might
ask if it’s even legally possible. Yes, it is under Utah's Youth Mentor Program.
I got Bron signed up to hunt with me at the DWR office.
Because gasoline was
$4.50 a gallon, I decided to limit my preseason scouting saving more resource
and vacation time once the month-long season began. Three days before the
opener, I set foot on my unit for the first time. My strategy was simple,
to try to find a big bull and camp on him until the opener. With the hunt
starting Sept.20th, the bulls wouldn't be rutting much yet. So, if I could find
a shooter the chances of him being in the same area until I got him killed were
high.
My very first hour
scouting and my very first moose sighting just happened to be a good first day shooter.
I called him the Sulphur bull because he was hanging near the Sulfur Campground.
He had matching split brows and ten points a side. I wanted this bull bad! I
camped on him all day for the next two days. My brother Dusty brought Bron up
to camp Friday after school. It was a restless night for all of us. Opening
morning couldn't come fast enough.
With great
anticipation we rolled out of our sleeping bags an hour before shooting light
on the opener. I was counting my eggs before they’d hatched. This hunt could be
over in a couple of hours, I thought. I tried to eat a little breakfast but was
too amped up. We got to our lookout and waited for it to get light. As so often
happens with my hunting luck, our target bull was nowhere to be found. All the
other moose were there, all but him.
Bron and I spent the next three
days trying to relocate him with zero luck. I called in his whacky looking buddy,
the Fire bull, into bow range two different times. We saw other decent bulls in
the area too while expanding our search, but we couldn't turn up the Sulphur bull.
Unfortunately, it was time to get Bron back to school. The long ride back home
was torture knowing we were so close to getting it done and having to put the
hunt on pause.
We decided to hold off a
full week before returning and wait for the rut to kick in. The wait while at
work was agonizing. October couldn't come fast enough. After school got out on
Friday, we were off making the 200-mile trip. We were almost to camp when we
had a near death experience at the wheel. I about hit the very bull we would
later end up shooting. Luckily for us he stopped in the bar pit, or it would
have been a terrible collision. I said to Bron, we need to go back in the
morning and find that bull again.
We found him at first light
tending a cow in a picturesque willow and lodge pole pine meadow standing
beside a small beaver pond. It was a scene out of a calendar. I raised my bow
above my head like a set of antlers and we grunted our way in. It was working.
He wasn't about to give up his cow to a skinny challenger and held his ground.
I knocked an arrow and we had him perfectly broadside at 27 yards. Do we pass
or shoot? It was a tough call.
I heard Bron say
"Nooo Dad!" under his breathe when I took my arrow off the rest. We
backed out. Bron was disappointed, but I felt we could find one bigger before
Wednesday when he had to head back to School. Plus, my friends Kade and Mike
were showing up that night to join us for a few days.
Monday and Tuesday all
four of us tried our darndest to turn up a big bruiser. We covered a bunch of
country on the side by sides and hiked into several river drainages. We also
put the hours behind the glass. We saw a few more new bulls but nothing bigger
than the Beaver Pond bull.
That night back at camp, I
was pretty bummed out. I still had several more days I could hunt but my son
had only one more morning with me. I was conflicted! While I was watching the
flames of the campfire, it hit me. What are you doing Dad! Is it really worth a
few more inches of paddle and points to shoot a bull without him? I told the
guys before we went to bed Let's go try to find the Beaver Pond bull gain and
get an arrow in him.
A big cow with her calf were
on the pond when we got there but no bulls were within sight. It seemed unusual
for her to be alone this time of the year. Just as we were about to back out, I
caught movement across the river from us. Holy Moose Batman! It was our bull,
and he was heading our way! He just stepped out of the pines, as if on cue. I
was so thankful to be seeing him again. He had frost on his back, and you could
see his breathe. Steam was coming off his feet as he crossed the cold stream.
He was on the move, and we need to get off the hill we were on and intercept
him.
Bron chambered a round in
his 6.5 Creedmoor as we ducked off the hill. We used the willows and rolling
terrain to get ourselves into position for an ambush. We could hear his soft
grunts and knew he was close. When he stepped into view, he was well within
archery range. He spotted us standing there and stopped. I had an arrow knocked
and Bron had his gun shouldered. He was quartering towards us though not a shot
I would normally risk taking with my bow, but he was in the open and I knew
Bron had four bullets in his gun.
As I came to full draw, I
was surprised to see all five sight pins covering his chest. They are some big
dudes. I put my second pin between his front right shoulder and the base of his
neck and told Bron to go ahead and shoot too once I let one fly. I sent an
arrow tipped with a 125 grain QAD Exodus broadhead. I buried deep. Just as he
wheeled around from my hit, Bron pulled the trigger on his 6.5 Creedmoor
folding the bull in his tracks. It was a bang-bang play as they say in
baseball.
Heck yeah! We couldn't have
scripted the harvest any better. It’s what Bron and I dreamed of doing together
in sharing this once-in-a-lifetime experience. We exchanged high fives hugs.
It was an amazing bond between a father and his young son.
We cautiously walked up alongside the bull
not 100% sure he was dead yet, but I knew my arrow had buried deep into his
chest and Bron’s shot had knocked him to the ground. He had quit thrashing
after a few seconds. As we made it over to him, I made a rookie mistake assuming
Bron had cycled in a second round after he shot. It wasn’t comical at the time
and could have had a different outcome, but we have a good laugh about it now.
I had my back turned away from the bull and was starting to talk to my friends
who just joined us when the bull got back on his feet. Bron in his panic jammed
his gun. Luckily, the bull didn’t turn our direction and was hurt to bad to go
very far. I quickly fixed Bron’s jam and handed the gun back to him for one
last shot that put the bull down for good.
They are big, tall, and
heavy! However, we couldn't have killed him in a better spot. There was a road
only 150 yards away from where he died. Bron wanted to haul out the entire
moose all by himself. We had no problem letting him do so. After photos, we got
to skinning and quartering him while Bron made six packing trips to the truck
with all the meat and head.
I loved everything about
this hunt! It wasn't easy. It wasn't cheap. I put about 1,200 miles on my truck
and 700 miles on my side by side. I now love the Uintas and can see why so many
other Utahns do too. The vistas were incredible! I love the moose we harvested
and how we got it done. He is wide, heavy and by the looks of worn teeth also a
very old bull.
Notes: Where was Brody during this hunt? He was on his mission in Guatemala. / I was shocked to learn Tory Brock's hunter killed the Sulphur bull the following year. He was alive after-all and a giant grossing 174".
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| Sulphur Bull & Fire Bull Scouting Photos |
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| Sulphur Bull 2023 -174" B&C |
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