#2014854 - 08/02/10 10:14 AM
Re: Just for you elk hunters.
[Re: bowriter]
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JohnnyBond
Cat Man
Non-Typical
Registered: 01/16/08
Posts: 35567
Loc:
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#2015059 - 08/02/10 01:38 PM
Re: Just for you elk hunters.
[Re: skynimrod]
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Rowdy
14 Point
Registered: 12/25/07
Posts: 9377
Loc: ky lake
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Dang I envy you guys...great looking places.
One of them things I always dream'd about doin, but never got the opportunity to do so.
_________________________
Gone fish'n....be back for deer season
EARL PITTS is my HERO!
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#2015462 - 08/02/10 08:54 PM
Re: Just for you elk hunters.
[Re: bowriter]
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Swaro
Spike
Registered: 01/01/10
Posts: 26
Loc: TN
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Bowriter, what advice can you give somebody like me who wants to start going out west un-guided and bowhunt mulies or elk?
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#2015655 - 08/03/10 03:43 AM
Re: Just for you elk hunters.
[Re: Beekeeper]
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bowriter
Non-Typical
Registered: 08/31/02
Posts: 40299
Loc: Lebanon,TN USA
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Start by finding a state where you can buy OTC tags or have a good chance of getting drawn. Then call the game department and speak with their elk biologist and ask his advice. Most are quite cooperative. Then take a summer trip and do some scouting, get familiar with the land. Most importantly, get in top shape. I used torun the bleacher steps at the football field three nights a week, 10X per night and I lifted weights three days a week.
Depending on the altitude, you may need a day or so to acclimate. Take it easy, drink plenty of water and eat at least a roll of Rolaids every day.
Good boots are a must and carry a chnage of socks in your day pack. Good optics are a must as is a good pack. Practice shots at longer distances than you would for deer. Be prepared to walk...sometimes run longer distances...and forget everything you know about deer hunting.
_________________________
Constipation has ruined many a good day. Not as many as stupidity, though.
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#2015656 - 08/03/10 04:20 AM
Re: Just for you elk hunters.
[Re: bowriter]
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bowriter
Non-Typical
Registered: 08/31/02
Posts: 40299
Loc: Lebanon,TN USA
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A REMEMBERED MEADOW. Copyright John L. Sloan 2008
Oak Creek-Dead Woman Meadow, CO: The fog hangs over the small meadow, the bottom of it just a few feet above the tops of the strong, damp mountain grasses. Looking up at the fog from the bottom, it looks like a layer of meringue. Up higher the sun is out, slowly burning the fog away. But for right now, as I crouch behind the broken limb of a pine, the fog is cold and damp. It limits my visibility. Dampens my hearing.
Again the bugle floats out in the fog. He isn’t that far. He can’t be too far back in the timber. I think he is actually in the meadow, just at the edge. He must come to me. I can’t go to him, not across the open meadow. A drop of wet falls from the limb above me. It zeroes directly down my collar, causing an involuntary shiver. Despite my concentration on the job at hand, I picture an aspen leaf, shivering in a slight breeze. The leaves are just starting to turn. It will be warm later. Now it is still chilly.
I take another deep breath and peer through the fog. Is this checkmate? In my right hand is a branch the size of my wrist. I whack it sharply on the tree next to me. Once. Twice. I bugle, ending it in a chuckle. The answer is immediate, but no closer.
Again I wait, trying to shred the fog. He bugles again. The wind is perfect for my position. I just need that bull somewhere within 40 yards of me. I slide the bugle to my back and grab my hyper cow call. Time to get dirty. A raven scolds something to my right. I can hear an airplane somewhere way above the fog.
I check to make sure my quiver is at my right hand, a spare arrow leaning against the tree. The nocked arrow is secure. I hit the cow call, wavering the tone up and down and hitting all the plaintive notes. I break a couple small limbs.
The game begins. A bugle comes back. A cow call goes out. I break some small twigs and squeal on the call. The bugle comes again...closer. My breath gets a little more ragged. My left knee starts to twitch. I adjust slightly to get both knees on the ground. I lean my left shoulder against a pine. The bow rests across my thighs, my hand on the grip. I am sure I am invisible, five yards back in the dark, pine timber.
I see two dark legs. Then four. The rest of the elk is lost in the fog. Then the head and antlers appear, swinging from side to side, looking. I do not move. He is just over 30 yards, head on. Close enough but no shot. I can hear my heart hitting like a jackhammer. Hours fly by in the space of seconds. Far to my right, I hear a cow call. I know what is going to happen.
He turns his head. Slowly his front legs follow. I am at full draw now. The bright, green pin slides up the back of the front leg and as it slips in to the fog, my fingers relax. The arrow is gone. There is a thunk. The bull is gone. I hear timber break across the meadow where the aspens join the grass.
The fog is clearing quickly now. I stand and stretch. Now I notice the huge elk trail at my feet. I pull the facemask down and spit my tobacco juice for the first time in many minutes. I smile a little.
In the meadow, the blood trail is plain. In the bright sun, just inside the trees at the far side, between the aspen trunks, I see the tip of an antler. Around me, Colorado is waking up.
I stand again at the edge of the meadow. There are three arrows in my quiver. There had been four. The rack rests across my right shoulder. It is my last trip out. On a convient rach road, I got the four-wheeler within 100 yards of the meadow. The meat went out first. The rack and the bow are the end of it. I stare at the meadow. I want to remember it. It is my last elk hunt. I’ll not be back. I want to remember it all.
###
CUTLINES:
#1-There are three arrows in my quiver. There had been four.
_________________________
Constipation has ruined many a good day. Not as many as stupidity, though.
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