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2012 Elk Hunt

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hedgeapple:
gotta see how this story ends

Gordon:
In an instant my draw arm is back and the arrow is away. The wood shaft buries itself into the bull’s body, but the hit is further back than I like. The bull’s charge comes to a crashing halt and it spins around and runs back from where it came. Unaware of what just happened, Chuck begins bugling again. The bull stops 80 yards in some timber, turns around and watches us. I’m not happy with the hit and I regret having taken such a risky shot. But recriminations come easy in hindsight. Actions taken in the heat of the moment come as much from instinct as from reason and one is never totally in control - that is the nature of hunting. I’m certain that the wound will prove fatal, but I know recovering the bull is going to be difficult. I am committed to this now – however it turns out.

After several minutes the bull is still watching us and does not seem alarmed. I am hopeful that if I can maintain contact with the bull I will have an easier time of tracking it to its death bed. Chuck’s calling is becoming increasingly frantic and I have no way to signal him to back off. Suddenly Chuck bursts from cover and he is racing forward to close the gap. Chuck has no idea that I have put an arrow into the bull and he doesn’t see me waving my arms at him trying to get him to stop until it’s too late; the bull has finally had enough and vanishes into the timber.

Gordon:
It is early afternoon and we decide to wait several hours before attempting to track the bull. We back away a couple of hundred yards and lay up in nice grassy area near some water and take a long nap. After 4 hours we return to the spot where I last saw the bull. We search the area thoroughly and don’t find any blood or my arrow – not a good sign. There are only a couple of hours of light remaining so we concentrate on searching areas where we think a mortally wounded elk might hunker down.  Darkness finally forces us to regroup. Camp is a long way off through rough country and none of us is keen on being out here long after dark.   We decide to call off the search and head grimly back toward camp.

Losing an animal is probably the hardest thing that a bow hunter has to deal with. And when coupled with a questionable shot it can drive you to despair. I make dinner and we eat in silence. Later by the campfire I quietly ask Chuck what he thinks our chances are of recovering the bull. Chuck is an experienced hunter with several elk to his name and he gamely responds he thinks our chances are okay. But Chuck’s eyes give him away and I can see that the optimism that he had earlier has drained away.

Gordon:
The night is long and sleep comes in fits and starts when it comes at all. The temperature drops below freezing. I’m certain that the bull is by now lying dead somewhere and I am grateful that the cold air will help cool the carcass; if only I can find it. I’m up at 4 am unable to wait any longer. I wake the others and fix breakfast. Chuck and Max wolf down the oatmeal and coffee but I can barely touch it – I feel sick.

We head off in darkness and arrive in Coral basin just after light. I suggest that we perform a systematic grid search with a radius of 300 yards from the last known position of the elk. Chuck looks at me like I’m an alien from another planet. He says that Max and I are welcome to do that, but that he is going to find the bull by using his gut. I don’t argue with him. Chuck is an amazing hunter. He never uses a map, gps, or compass and he seems to have a sixth sense about animals. If anyone can find my bull, he can. I bid him good luck and he is off like a blood hound on a trail.

Max and I go about our grid search. It is slow going because the terrain is so rough and uneven. Partway through the search we take a break and Max calls in his first elk while practicing his calling technique; a small branch bull. When I see the bull coming in I slide behind some cover and attempt to bring him in closer with a couple of cow calls. Something is wrong with the reed and the call sounds like a dying cat and the bull leaves. Max looks at me and calmly says “Dad, next time don’t help”. Pricless…

Gordon:
About two hours into the search, we hear a faint bugle coming from above. I tell Max that it could be a bull or Chuck trying to get our attention. Either way, I figure we best investigate. When we get closer I pull out my tube and rip off a bugle. A bugle from above is immediately returned and then I think I hear the sound of a human voice faintly in the distance. We follow the bugles until we can hear Chuck yelling in a very excited manner. Max looks at me and says I think he found something. I’m thinking there is no way…

I bugle once to let Chuck know where we are and he is on us immediately. He is excited and the words are tumbling out of his mouth. I ask him if he found the bull and he tells me he has something to show us – just follow him.  And he leads us to a sight that I could have scarcely imagined only an hour before – my beautiful bull!

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