Trail cam pics prior to my hunt
Yogi
Lots of snakes...I came "oh so close" to stepping on this guy!
In 1984 my father brought home a Wayne
Carlton grunt tube and diaphragm elk call. Prior to that, some men blew
into copper tubes to mimic an elk. He tried it and it tickled the roof
of his mouth. So at age 14, he gave it to me. I soon got it working
well.
At age 16, I called in my first bull elk with it. It was a 5 point the week before the rifle opener and he came within 20 yards. It was then that I was immediately hooked on calling in elk.
The next weekend my friend Lynn Tuttle
hit a 3x2 in a canyon that we were hunting and we got on his trail
and both of us got bullets in him to finally put him down for good. We were on cloud
nine! Back then the harvest rate was 10% and 80% of bulls taken were
yearlings. If you saw a bull on the hunt it was a success. Actually shooting one was a bonus.
At age 18, I shot my first bull elk
with a bow. It was a 1x1. It could have been a 400” bull and I still
wouldn’t have been any happier. OK, maybe not. lol!
Utah went to a draw system
for branch antlered bulls. So I applied for several years with no luck.
In 2002, I got my first chance to hunt a big bull on Mt. Dutton. I
had helped many others harvest their bulls and called several bulls into
range. It was now my turn. It was a hard hunt that year, harder than
most. It was the year the entire Dutton Range was on fire and
all the good spots that I knew of burnt. Towards
the end of the hunt and to my horror, I did hit and lose a great 6x7
bull that had a 10” kicker. That’s a story for another day. It was a
humbling experience, one that took a decade for the pain to leave.
Several years passed as I helped guide others to their bulls. In 2009, my wife drew a rifle permit and
she harvested a fantastic bull on the Bar J. It was am awesome hunt the both of us will always
remember.
This year, I was finally able to draw a
Fishlake permit. So at age 42… I had high hopes again of hunting my
#1 item on my hunting bucket list.. a mature bull elk taken with archery equipment.
I got myself into shape by running and
hiking. I hunted extremely hard the days I could go out. I put on some
serious up and down miles each day diving into canyons no others were
hunting. My goal was to have a great experience, give it my best, not
be too picky, and for some crazy reason I wanted to kind of “fly solo”….
Just me and the elk a DIY(do it yourself) hunt.
I hunted my butt off! I
bet I have lost 15-20lbs and 2 inches of fat
that I thought was muscle around my biceps from having to carry my bow
because of all the oak brush and hills.
I had encounters with elk almost every
time I went out. It was a blast other than waiting after a morning hunt
for the evening hunts. I let several bulls walk, trying to harvest
a bull over 330”. I made a few mistakes and got caught by bulls before I could line it all up. I knew if I created my own luck by being there and hunting smart it would eventually have to happen.
Tuesday morning, I found one of the
coolest looking arrowhead as I was hiking out of the canyon back to my
wheeler. To think early people were doing just what I was doing. I knew
it had to be a good omen!
With just a few days left, I went back into
the same canyon that I had located a really big 5x5 bull in. I
went after him diving back down into the hole. I chased
what I thought was his bugle and his cows
clear down a canyon that is named Hoodoo (short for who would do that again!). Now almost to the
bottom, closer to the Gooseberry fields than the top of the long canyon, I
caught up to him and it was not the 5x5 but a smaller 6x6 with the bigger bulls cows. Somehow the 5x5 must have
lost them during the night?
I sat on a ledge with the elk 150 yds.
underneath me. It was 10 am. They were bedded from the
sounds of it and now I needed to hike out of this hole. As I
thought.."Man
I’m running out of days”, the 6x6 got up
and left his cows and headed down to drink in the creek 200 yards below his cows. It was
then that I decided I could no longer be 330"+ picky. I really wanted to harvest an elk and my two boys
would love it too if I did get a bull.
I had to climb off a rock cliff
and slide undetected under his bedded cows. The wind was perfect and
soon I was in position. I made one young sounding bugle, not 50-70 yards
from his cows. “Boom!”... the bull bugled right back at me. He thought his cows were being messed
with by another bull. I could tell he was going to be right back. He was on top of me in no time.
The bull popped out in a lane that I was not
expecting. I should have drawn my bow already. He caught me off guard. Now he’s walking right at me, I can’t draw. He's going to bust me. At 45 yards he thankfully turned up towards his cows. I tried to stop him broadside in the middle
of the lane with a soft cow call, but my reed in my mouth was so worn out
it didn’t make the soft sound I wanted. All I did was push some air with the mouth call. I
panicked but followed up with a quick "meow" using my own voice. It stopped him just barley in time with his head and
shoulder already in the trees. I drew back… quickly settled my 40 pin,
not knowing he was actually 45 yards. At the very exact time I hit the release, the bull
took a stride forward which made for a poor
hit. It sunk deep but was too far back…Nooooo!
The bull spun toward the creek with my
arrow in him. I knew immediately it was marginal. This was déjà vu
all over again! I bugled to stop and calm him down. I was actually
calm after the shot. I think it was because I was so physically wore out. I marked his
trail, followed it for 50 yards looking for blood. I saw none. I did come across
my arrow, it had fallen out. It had some red blood on it but it
also smelled like guts. I was sick! I knew this
bull was not going to die soon.
It was the longest hike back up the
mountain to my wheeler. I had to get to it, drive it all the way
around to the bottom of Hoodoo and hike back up the canyon bottom to look for my
bull before night fall. I didn’t want to stay and wait 4 hours, look and then have to walk to the top in
the dark to get out that night.
It about killed me to get back on my elk 4 hours later. To top it off, the clouds were ominous.
It had already poured on me the night before.
I got on his trail
and jumped him 200 yards in the thick juniper and boulders. It
was only because of the threat of rain that I was chasing him the same
day. I tracked him silently, one hoof print at a time, another 500 yards and finally caught up to him 150
yards above me. He went down the creek and up the other side. He stopped and was watching his back trail and I could tell he was sick. He didn't know where I was. I
sat on him for 4 hours. He bedded once, but
got back up and stood for another 2 more hours. Elk are tough and have such a
strong sense of survival. I snuck out in the dark leaving him standing.
It was hard to do, not knowing tomorrow's outcome. I was even more sick now! I thought my chances at recovering this bull were slim to none.
After a heartfelt prayer for help and a
sleepless night, it was back on the mountain after him. This time I had some
company. You see, I called a good friend that evening and told him my
woes.
He paused for a minute knowing he had things he needed to do the next
day but he also had a friend on the phone he knew could use some help. I will always
remember Russell Mason telling me he would meet me at the trail head in the morning. I will
be forever grateful. We hiked up together. I showed Russell where the
bull was last seen and a small hunting miracle happened for me. I pulled up my
binos and could see one side of his antlers above the brush. It was that
quick! "There he is Russell... dead!", I exclaimed. I couldn’t believe
it!
Russell soon found him in his binos and
my passion again for bow hunting did a complete 180. We cow called to make sure
he was dead, my calls brought in a small 5x5 to us, not 5 yards away.
I then climbed up to him, while Russell watched.
He is not the biggest bull on the mountains,
but he sure means the world to me. It was a relief to recover him. I had
hit him back but it must have cut something that caused him to bleed internally. He was full
of blood. You could tell he died not much after I left him there the night
before.
Russell and I broke him down. I took
the head and cape and Russell the front shoulders and back straps in his
pack and off we went. I came back that afternoon with a pack frame and took out both hind quarters of meat in one trip. The next day, I cut him up and
he is in the freezer. I was happy but spent!
It is a great sense of accomplishment and a goal that has taken the better part of a quarter of a century to
finally be able to cross off #1 on that hunting bucket list… A mature
bull
with a bow.! So what is #2 on my list...a bull moose. And guess what?.... I have lots
of Utah moose points! 9/12/2012
