When my dad and uncle were younger, they were able to put an occasional cow in the freezer, but it wasn’t until that day, a day I’ll never forget, that dad and I were able to wrap our hands around the antlers of a bull. It wasn’t my first elk hunt, nor my first elk season, but it was my first Colorado Archery Elk.
In the Begining
What better place to start a blog than the beginning. My first few years of elk hunting were marked with a great deal of trial and error. My dad had learned to archery hunt, along with his brother, largely on their own, in their high school years into their early 30's. Their dad (My Grandfather) would occasionally take the two chasing mule deer in the foothills of Nevada, but Grandpa just didn’t have the fever like my dad did. Dad didn’t get the advantage I did of being raised in the hunting woods. Despite and edge in the mentoring department, I was still young and had to earn my stripes.
Stories of old like running through a brand new bundle of a dozen XX75 arrows, running to town to get more, and heading back to the hills were common while rattling around the mountains in my dads old single cab copper ford. Mule deer was always his jam while elk had kind of been his achilleas heel. It wasn’t for lack of effort, just lack of mentorship that kept the mighty wapiti so elusive. The determination to do it with the ol’ stick and string didn’t make things any easier. None the else, every fall, dad and uncle randy gave it all they had.
Despite being born and raised it the middle of Southern Colorado’s Rocky Mountains myself, I wasn’t able to harvest an elk on Colorado’s archery elk hunt until just before my 18th birthday. It was my senior year, my high school sweet heart had moved away to college just the week before, and I had three days of archery season before my senior year began.
The Tree
Dad and my uncle had a secret spot they had dubbed ‘the tree’. It was an enormous ponderosa pine that seemed to scratch the bellies of planes as they flew overhead. Its branches on the bottom didn’t fork out from the trunk until I could barely touch them, making it an almost impossible tree to climb. The huge sweeping branches bowed down towards the ground 360 degrees around under the weight of decades of pine bows and branches. This made for the perfect fortress.
What made the tree so special was over the years of stick flinging and running to town for more arrows, dad and uncle randy had slowly honed in on the elk's escape route in this particular area. “The Tree” overlooked a rolling aspen gulley, to small and narrow to be called valley but to wide to shoot an arrow from one end to the other. The elk would often sneak through to their bedding areas skiritng the aspens and evergreens. It seemed that pressure from other hunters caused the elk to use this corridor as a back door route to their shady day time refuge and opening day was always the best hunt under “the tree”. Over the decades, dad and randy had moved spots up and down the valley, shifting here and there, until they’d found the most central location along the hidden route, the giant old ponderosa.
Opening Day
That’s where we found ourselves waiting as the sun came up that opening morning. It was common when I was young to fall asleep, giving way to the early mornings, only to be woken by a gentle shove and whisper of “elk”. Dad joked that one time I went from snoring to full draw in 1.3 seconds. That lead cow, a behemoth of an elk, escaped by the saving grace of a 3” young aspen that kept my arrow from making it the final yard to the ancient cow. That was only one of a few trees I killed sitting under 'the tree', but not this day.
As the morning coolness and dark gave way to the bronco orange sky shining through the aspen tops, leaves yet to turn from their summer green, elk were already making their way through the secret corridor. Four wheelers and trucks hummed in the distance among the excitement of opening morning, but right there, right then, the only sound I remember was the rustling of the forest floor as a small herd of elk ambled through.
I could only see glimpses of them as they moved down and to my right through the edge of the pine trees, much to far for me to shoot. As we whispered to each other “what’s the move? Should be make play or try to call?” a rag horn following the group came over the small ridge. He was a couple hundred yards behind the herd, no doubt keeping his distance from the larger bull that had claimed the cows. As he came over the small rise, he was already in range and getting closer quick. I’d already had my bow in the ready position as we were discussing what to do with the other group of elk. I clipped the release onto the D-loop as the bull grazed closer, to close. Facing straight towards us, we both froze knowing if he caught a glimpse of movement the jig would be up.
At four yards, he realized something under that giant ponderosa didn’t belong, though he couldn’t decide exactly what through the long morning shadows and our mismatched camo. The main herd was feeding away off of my back shoulder and the young bull was also concerned about them slipping away. After what felt like the worlds longest game of don’t blink, he started to peer back towards the other group. I slowly, very slowly, at a snails pace, tried to raise my bow and put tension on the string. He immediately snapped back to attention. We played this game of peek-a-boo a few more times until he decided whatever that misshapen form was under that tree was not good for his health and he started to make a half hearted escape.
I immediately came to full draw and let out the most pathetic, alien of a cow call that has ever been whispered in the elk woods. He’d caught us so off guard I hadn’t had time to slip a reed call in mouth despite it being laid out and at the ready. At the sound of the alien cow elk, he immediately flipped and stopped perfectly broadside. Years of misses and close calls had taught me a lot, the arrow was on its way before his fourth hove even settled. It buried true.
Before the bull could make it back over the hill, less than half a football field away, dad had already given my shoulder a thorough beating in excitement. I’d say a pat on the shoulder, but that’s an under statement if there ever was one. As a father myself these days, I now understand the excitement of watching your son send a well placed shot after lots of hard work and dedication. I’m not sure who was more excited but I’m sure if asked, dad would say it was him.
There wasn’t much trailing to do, the bull had barely topped out of sight when he expired. We waited a half an hour as is always a good idea, but we wouldn’t have had too. The bull expired in seconds. A small five point framed bull that had forgotten to grow his 2nd brow tines was the perfect four by four for a fellas first elk. He was incredibly delicious and to this day, despite having been able harvest many more bulls, is still my most cherished set of antlers.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Everyone has visions of bugling elk charging in with eyes rolled back and slobber dripping out of their mouth. Now doubt, calling elk is an amazing experience and my favorite way to hunt them. However, some days the elk just don’t bugle, especially in earlier parts of the season like this story was set in the latter parts of August. If you’ve been able to pattern some elk, perhaps seen them in the same draw or meadow or hill side several days in a row, an ambush hunt might just be the ticket. Make sure you setup so the wind is in your favor because one whiff of your scent and hasta la vista baby, they gone.
In this case the early morning cool air most typically moves down hill in the mountain setting. We had set up in such a way that we anticipated the elk to cross on our uphill side which kept the wind blowing in our favor and allowed that bull to remain so close for so long without smelling us. Had he smelled us, even my alien cow call would have had no chance of slowing him down.
I had ranged a few landmarks prior to the elk coming in which allowed me to make a key timed shot when he stopped for a split moment. No doubt the bull would not have given me the time or put up with the movement to range him in that moment. Knowing the distance to a few trees or bushes in your setup can make your hunt. You may range a thousand bushes over the course of a season of setups, but it only takes one time to make it all come together.
Despite our confidence in the shot, we still waited a bit of time. Animals move, arrows and bullets deflect, things happen quick. Jumping an animal out of a bed wounded can make finding that animal incredibly hard. Give them time and approach each and every one at the ready, just in case.
If you're looking to get started on your own hunt, check out our blog 6 Pieces of Essential Gear You Need to Hunt Western Big Game.
Ryan Johnson has spent his entire life in the Colorado Rockies. He’s hunted elk, mule deer, pronghorn and many other critters with bow and rifle from the very beginning is now sharing his experiences, success’ and failures for new and experienced hunters alike to enjoy and learn from.
Commentaires