Well, guys (and gals), I made it back from my week-long elk excursion in Idaho…My first hunting trip out west and it was incredible. The weather was unseasonably warm (temps reached the mid 70’s each day, but dipped down into the 30’s at night). There was ample bugling activity right away in the AM, and sparse bugling just prior to sunset. Didn’t see a cloud for a week. Rare. And here I spent all summer pondering over my raingear situation…
On the second day, we had a bull answer our bugle at first light and we were in hot pursuit to close the distance. We caught a glance of the herd cresting a pine-covered peak about 300 yards away. We eased in as close as we dared, I took the point position, found a spot to nestle into and my two hunting partners set up well behind me and started calling. Within a minute or so I could hear thundering hooves…It was a satelite bull (a smallish 3×4) that came tearing down the trail. He stopped broadside to me at 18 yards. I was at full draw and ready to send the my Muzzy on the way, but – alas – there was a 3″ high lodgepole pine tree completely covering it’s lungs. He hung there for about 15 seconds, then bolted.
Wow.
An hour or so later we caught up with the rest of the herd – we each had glimpses of elk – I was w/n 30 yards of a few cows, and my one buddy ranged the herd bull (a really nice 6×6) at 55 yards. The bull was pretty worked up about our calling, but wasn’t about to leave his herem to pick a fight. The wind finally busted us.
The next AM, myself and one other guy were picking our way down a trail when we stopped to offer a few cow calls. Again, the thunder of hooves. (I couldn’t get over how loud those things were – or how ginormously huge they were. And the smell. You could litterly smell them before you could see them if the wind was really in your favor.)
Anyways. Here comes a bull. Not a herd bull, another satelite, but bigger – a very symetrical 4×4. He came crashing down the hill at us, offering a weak bugle at about 35 yards – and he just kept comming. At 20 yards, he stopped quartered slightly toward me. I’m at full draw – as is my buddy. He has no shot as the bull is facing directly at him – wondering what he is squatting down in the trail.
Fearful that he was going to bolt, I took the shot. In hindsight, I should have waited for a better angle. I’m not going to lie…I got rattled – again, the SIZE of those things. Wow.
I lost track of my arrow as it got to the bull and I thought that I’d missed him. As he bounded back up the hill and jumped over a large log I saw my arrow flip up over the animal. Hmph, musta got him.
He stopped broadside at 48 yards. As I was fumbling to knock a second arrow, I whispered to by buddy to take the shot (he was still at full draw). He released and as the arrow arrived (which appeared to track a little low) the bull hunched up and departed.
We heard him crash away for about 50 yards – then nothing. No crash down. Nothing. Without saying a word, we quietly backtracked up the trail we came in on to offer more of a cushion between us and the bull. We waited for a little over an hour before we started to track.
Now, I know that text-book tracking would call for more time than that…but, again, the temps were approaching 80 degrees by mid day. If we waited for 4 to 6 hours, the only thing we would have to look for would be a bloated critter. So, after an hour, we very quietly took the trail.
My arrow was busted off with about 10 inches of it left inside him. The Muzzy could still be doing some harm in there. His arrow was found right where it was standing when he shot – the broadhead (a Shuttle-something or other?) was blood covered, and the arrow was bent at about 45 degrees right at the broadhead. No penetration at all. We assumed that this meant he slammed it into the shoulder blade and got no penetration at all.
There was blood everywhere though. Very easy trail for the first 100 yards or so. Then we heard him get out of his bed (about 75 yards further down the hill and out of sight). The bed was filled with blood, yet the trail exiting it was almost bloodless. We paused for another 30 minutes or so, then continued on. (Again, the heat – and the wind favored us as we were tracking him.) It was encouraging that he continued to travel exclusively downhill.
100 yards or so later – the brush became very, very thick – and the thicket in front of me exploded with the thundering sound of the bull trying to take to his feet. He really was struggling – though I couldn’t even see movement due to the thick brush. Finally, he managed to get back up and slowly depart. It was beyond frustrating to not even get a glimpse of him despite being so very close.
Now there was blood everywhere. Pushing him proved to keep the wounds open and the blood flowing.
With an arrow nocked, I proceeded very, very quietly down the slope, picking my way through the pine saplings. Easy to follow now, I noted that he’d eased around the thicket of saplings directly infront of me and must have gone around this huge bolder directly below me…Suddenly, the boulder picked up its head and looked back at me. It was the bull – not more than 3 yards in front of me! Due to the steep pitch of the slope, he was actually directly below me – I drew back and burried an arrow deep into his lungs, entering his body just to the right of his spine. He crashed down the slope and piled up next to a small creek 50 yards away.
Never in my life have I had such an adrenaline rush. Never.
Now the work began…It was a solid 3 miles back to the truck – what a labor of love that proved to be.
I will now make efforts to figure out how to post photos to this thing…Stay tuned.
My brother in-law lives in Idaho and is hunting elk for his first time this year. I hope he has the same success as you. CONGRATS!! 
Been there done that.
It sounds like you guys had a great hunt!