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First time WY elk hunter
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<blockquote data-quote="lander_matt" data-source="post: 2933175" data-attributes="member: 122341"><p>Well, I managed to meet all my goals and exceed them. I shot a nice 6x7 on October 13th around 6:30pm. Public land, general tag. In total I put in about 7 days of scouting and another 10 or so days of hunting.</p><p></p><p>I saw a lot of elk the week before the start of the season (including the evening before opening day), and on opening morning I heard a nearby hunter kill a bull about 400 yards away from me that I'd watched several times while scouting the week prior. That near miss would be the closest I got to seeing a live elk for the next 7 days of hunting. It sleeted or snowed about 5 of those early days, but temperatures always warmed back up, and all elk seemed to be hiding deep in the timber and staying quiet.</p><p></p><p>When the forecast showed 48 straight hours of snow with a lot of accumulation starting October 11th, I was optimistic about a possible behavioral change. My gamble paid off, and I started seeing promising tracks midday on the 13th after the fog lifted. The nearest road to the spot I had picked for that evening was an impassable mess, so I tacked on an extra 700 feet of elevation gain to my hike and approached the target area from a different side of the mountain.</p><p></p><p>Around 5:50pm, I saw a decent bull about a mile away and watched him for the next 15 minutes, hoping to see where he'd bed. There was far too much dense timber between us to close the distance that evening, but I figured I might have a chance the next morning. At 6:10pm, that lone bull disappeared into the trees for good.</p><p></p><p>Pleased by the sight of any elk after my drought, I stretched, looked up from my binos, and immediately saw a herd of 4 elk beginning to feed across the bottom of a meadow 90 degrees to the east of my glassing position. Holy crap! How had they snuck up on me?! They were 1100 yards away, the wind was blowing uphill toward me, and I could follow the treeline along the edge of the meadow to get to them. Game on! I humped it down the edge of the meadow, rifle in hand and postholing the whole way. I paused every minute or so to check the wind and watch their reactions.</p><p></p><p>I closed the distance to the shortest possible clear shot. I ranged them around 422 yards and dialed up 1.7 mil. There was minimal wind, but the snow was too deep to shoot prone, so I threw the rifle on my tripod while trying to catch my breath from the sprint. The herd remained unbothered as I lined up on the biggest bull. He was grazing while facing me head-on for what felt like ages (but likely amounted to only a minute or two). I broke the trigger the instant he turned broadside.</p><p></p><p>After the shot, the bull walked behind a tree, mostly obstructing my view. It felt like a good squeeze, but I scrambled to get a clear angle just in case. About 30 seconds later he wobbled back into view and promptly fell over. He seemed down for the count, but there was still some head movement, so I took a quick follow-up shot to the neck to minimize any suffering. I would guess less than 90 seconds total had elapsed since the the first shot.</p><p></p><p>I had been hunting in 12-20 inches of snow that day since 6am. I made it back to the truck around 7:30am the next morning with the first load of meat after 6 hours of walking. Several friends came to my rescue that night to help me finish quartering and each carry a load. One of them, a climbing guide and alpinist, said the hike out through the deadfall and unconsolidated snow was one of the hardest things he's done in the mountains. My knees agreed with the assessment, but sufficient ibuprofen got me back up the mountain 24 hours later. The total effort on the day felt pretty equivalent to climbing something like the Beckey-Chouinard or RNWF of Half Dome.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="lander_matt, post: 2933175, member: 122341"] Well, I managed to meet all my goals and exceed them. I shot a nice 6x7 on October 13th around 6:30pm. Public land, general tag. In total I put in about 7 days of scouting and another 10 or so days of hunting. I saw a lot of elk the week before the start of the season (including the evening before opening day), and on opening morning I heard a nearby hunter kill a bull about 400 yards away from me that I'd watched several times while scouting the week prior. That near miss would be the closest I got to seeing a live elk for the next 7 days of hunting. It sleeted or snowed about 5 of those early days, but temperatures always warmed back up, and all elk seemed to be hiding deep in the timber and staying quiet. When the forecast showed 48 straight hours of snow with a lot of accumulation starting October 11th, I was optimistic about a possible behavioral change. My gamble paid off, and I started seeing promising tracks midday on the 13th after the fog lifted. The nearest road to the spot I had picked for that evening was an impassable mess, so I tacked on an extra 700 feet of elevation gain to my hike and approached the target area from a different side of the mountain. Around 5:50pm, I saw a decent bull about a mile away and watched him for the next 15 minutes, hoping to see where he'd bed. There was far too much dense timber between us to close the distance that evening, but I figured I might have a chance the next morning. At 6:10pm, that lone bull disappeared into the trees for good. Pleased by the sight of any elk after my drought, I stretched, looked up from my binos, and immediately saw a herd of 4 elk beginning to feed across the bottom of a meadow 90 degrees to the east of my glassing position. Holy crap! How had they snuck up on me?! They were 1100 yards away, the wind was blowing uphill toward me, and I could follow the treeline along the edge of the meadow to get to them. Game on! I humped it down the edge of the meadow, rifle in hand and postholing the whole way. I paused every minute or so to check the wind and watch their reactions. I closed the distance to the shortest possible clear shot. I ranged them around 422 yards and dialed up 1.7 mil. There was minimal wind, but the snow was too deep to shoot prone, so I threw the rifle on my tripod while trying to catch my breath from the sprint. The herd remained unbothered as I lined up on the biggest bull. He was grazing while facing me head-on for what felt like ages (but likely amounted to only a minute or two). I broke the trigger the instant he turned broadside. After the shot, the bull walked behind a tree, mostly obstructing my view. It felt like a good squeeze, but I scrambled to get a clear angle just in case. About 30 seconds later he wobbled back into view and promptly fell over. He seemed down for the count, but there was still some head movement, so I took a quick follow-up shot to the neck to minimize any suffering. I would guess less than 90 seconds total had elapsed since the the first shot. I had been hunting in 12-20 inches of snow that day since 6am. I made it back to the truck around 7:30am the next morning with the first load of meat after 6 hours of walking. Several friends came to my rescue that night to help me finish quartering and each carry a load. One of them, a climbing guide and alpinist, said the hike out through the deadfall and unconsolidated snow was one of the hardest things he's done in the mountains. My knees agreed with the assessment, but sufficient ibuprofen got me back up the mountain 24 hours later. The total effort on the day felt pretty equivalent to climbing something like the Beckey-Chouinard or RNWF of Half Dome. [/QUOTE]
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