The Perfect Hunt...Almost

3rd Rifle Season in Colorado, 3rd day

With the heavy snow storm during the second season, we were hoping for plenty of snow up high. My dad and I had set up camp three days before our opener and we were a little dissappointed in the lack of snow. Our camp was sitting around 9500 ft. and the only snow was on the northern slopes or in the pines. Day time temps were in the mid 40's with the nights dipping into the lower 20's.

My brother, Greg, aka zatarain6, and his friend Mel from Baton Rouge showed up Friday morning and Greg's father-in-law, Gary, showed up late on Saturday night. We hunted hard right out of the gate, elk in the morning, deer during midday hunts, elk again in the evening.

On Sunday moring, Greg, Dad and Mel ran into a decent sized herd of elk right off the bat as the stepped out of the truck. I had been dropped off low to try and push something up. They heard bugels and chirps and followed the noises to a high clearing. 400+ yards away, just visible in the dawning light, hidden in the timber were the elk. The elk moved deeper into the timber but at least we were finding them.

Monday morning came much the same as we had planned to hunt an area that usually receives a lot of pressure from the weekend hunters. I had been wanting to hunt this area for some years now, only to find others there already. I was dropped off high to hunt down, my dad and Gary would sit on a clear cut in the middle, Greg and Mel would come in from below.

I was about 30 minutes hiking in, maybe a mile from the dropoff point and just coming out of the heavy timber into an area of quakies that opened into a clearing when I found myself in the middle of a herd.

I say I found myself in the middle of a herd because I never saw an elk. I only heard them as it was still dark. Nothing can beat being in the woods, hearing the bugels and chirps, so close you think you can reach out and touch them.

Well, I guess they finally figured out I wasn't one of the invited guest and took off. I called on my elk call and swear I could hear the "screach" of their hooves as the came to a sudden stop. I prayed light would come quick as we played our stop and go game.

They made it into the heavy timber before I could make out my hand in front of my face but fate looked nicely upon me. They split up, some going high and others going low. I had originally planned on sitting on a little honey hole higher up for a part of the morning and was a bit torn on what to do.

Should I continue to my honey hole, as I was sure that is where the high group was heading or should I try to push the low group down to where Dad and Gary could have a chance?

I chose the latter. I changed course and pushed down the ridge, actually trying to make noise as I went. As soon as I made this decision I called on the radio to Dad and Gary to move up into the timber about 100 yards as long as they could keep an eye on the clearcut. This proved to be very fruitful.

I came down the ridge, not at breakneck speed, but faster than I normally hunt. I would call on the cow call now and then but heard nothing in return. I also lost the trail as the ground was frozen and began to rethink my strategy. Perhaps I should have just went to my honey hole afterall???

I was near the top of the ridge and had passed by Dad and Gary below and decide to head straight down and then work my way back towards the clearcut, hoping to push the elk I had not heard nor seen their way. I came down and slowed to my hunting speed and worked my way slowly toward the the clearcut.

Low and behold, the plan was working! A small group of 6-8 elk were heading downhill in front of me, mostly cows and one small bull that I could see through the trees approximately 75-100 yards dead ahead. I had a cow tag and was very earnest in putting some meat in the freezer. I put the crosshairs on what appeared to be the biggest of the bunch. I pulled the trigger and all heck broke lose. All of the elk dissappeared and all I could hear was a locomotive busting through the timber.

I stoood there wondering what happend to the cow I had shot at. I sighted my rifle in just days before, had full confidence in the my shooting ability and the shot I had taken. I just knew I had hit her and hit her good.

I sat still for a few minutes listening and looking and heard a big crash in the timber a couple hundred yards away. I just knew it was her. Before I could call on the radio I heard three shots from below and to my right, just where Dad and Gary should be.

Dad called in and said he had shot a bull and Gary had dropped a calf. I called back and said I had shot at a cow and thought she had dropped in the timber and was heading that way now. Greg and Mel were still well down below in the draws and said they would hunt their way towards us.

I went to the spot were the cow was standing and found blood. I started to track the blood in the direction of the crash I had heard earlier. While all this was happening it sounded as though a freight train was running lose in the timber.

I arrived at the spot where I thought I had heard the cow drop only to find nothing. I called on the radio to let Dad know I would be down to help him as soon as I found the cow. As I continued to follow the blood trail the freight train came to a halt about 100 yards in front of me. I could see 15-20 elk, nervous as all get out, came to an abrupt halt, turn around, walk a few steps back up, turn around, walk a few steps down, then head back up at break neck speed.

I lost the blood trail and marked it with tape and told my dad I was on my way to help him with his elk. I could always come back with help after we took care of the other elk as this one appearantly was not ready to drop. I headed straight down into the clearcut, marking my path with tape, but not so clear as someone else could follow it without knowing where it might lead.

I came upon my dad and Gary at the upper edge of the clearing, both just kind of standing around as though nothing had happened or was out of the ordinary. When I got up close and asked where the elk were I figured out why. I thought, in my silly little mind, that if there were some delay in my brother or myself arriving after Dad or Gary dropping an animal that the would at least attempt to pretend to start the field dressing.

Like I said, my silly little mind. The two of them were just waiting patentially for one of us to show up to start the work. Sooooooo....by the time I finished field dressing both elk, my brother and Mel show up with the sleds. I let them know I had hit a cow further up in the timber and we would have to come back and find her.

We drag the elk out, all down hill, thank God, get them in the truck and head back to camp. After getting them in the hanging in the trees we get them skinned. Even though we are a bit worn out we eat a quick lunch and head back up into the timber.

Gary had said he saw some elk cross the clearing and he goes to check for sign below. Dad heads out from where he first saw the elk coming his way in the timber. Greg, Mel and I head to where I lost the blood trail. Hey, three sets of eyes are better than one and I've never claimed to be the best tracker.

Greg picks up the trail about 10 yards from the tape and we follow. As we are going along a fellow hunter appears and states he is trying to find a buck that one of his partners had hit earlier in the morning. After a few pleasentries he is on his way. We follow the trail, lose it, find it, follow lose it. This goes on for close to two hours and I'm beginning to worry that my shot wasn't nearly as good as I thought. Two more hunters cross our path, with the same hunter looking for the deer. We agree if we find their deer, we'll give them a holler and they agree to do the same with the cow.

We have been searching for almost two hours now and have completely lost the trail. My brother and I go back to the last sign and find a blood trail heading straight down hill clear as day, only the trail the elk was following showed no sign of going down hill.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. Why not just follow the tracks??? DUH!!! Not so easy when these elk were bouncing around that ridge like a pinball. Tracks all over the place, tracks on top of tracks.

After we had finally found the trail again, we get a call on the radio, "for the elk hunters looking for the cow, we found it in the clearing." How the deer hunters and us wound up on the same frequency is beyond me, but we headed down out of the timber to the clearcut. And right there, plain as day, was my cow. Not more than ten yards from where we dragged the bull and calf out, not more than 20 yards from where we entered the timber to look for her after getting the bull and calf hung and skinned! The only thing we could figure is after we went in to the woods, she got up and headed downhill to get away from us but was to weak to go any further.

As the subject line states, an almost perfect hunt. After skinning the cow we found out that the shot turned out to be a quartering away shot that hit only one lung. The only thing I can figure is the cow had to turn the split second I pulled the trigger. She was broadside to me when I put the scope on her, broadside when I pulled the trigger. I never saw her turn but this is the only thing that makes sense to me.

Below is the picture of my dad with his bull. It's not a trophy by most measures. But to me and my brother, this bull is a true trophy of the highest standards. My dad is 74 years old and get out there every year with us, not hunting from the road, but getting in the hills with us. He may not move around as much as we do but he gets out there. He shot this bull more than a mile from the truck. Every year he says he won't hunt the next year but will only come up and cook. And every year he's out there with us. I only hope I'll be able to do the same if I live as long.

I appologize for the poor quality of the photo. I left my camera in the truck overnight and i think the cold had something to do with the quality.