Country Bumpkin
Well-Known Member
I had a good Season this year. I decided to put down the bow and hunt strictly with a rifle. I have never done this, since I was 13, I have hunted predominately with a bow.
My Hunting Buddy, Matt, and I started off scouting this summer in mid July and found a new unit to hunt. As with any new area, we weren't sure of what it would be like when the season opened. As it turns out, it's a pretty popular spot for horse hunters. Matt and I do most of our hunting on foot and out of our packs, occasionally we use dirtbikes. This new unit proved promising, lots of deer and elk.
A few weeks before that unit opened up, Matt got some intel. on the area, there would be a lot of competition. To better our odds of success, Matt decided to trade his tag in for a unit that he knew well and was confident that he could pull a bull out of. I kept my tag for the new unit and I'd be the guinea pig.
Matt's season opened up first. He took Wed - Fri off work to try to kill a big 6x7 that he'd found the previous weekend. I told him I'd meet him up there Saturday night to hopefully start packing. Matt badbly broke his collar bone and separated his shoulder in the middle of the summer, so the fresh plate and screws that could be seen through the skin were going to present a "packing challenge" for him on that shoulder. I met Matt at camp that Friday and he'd told me that he didn't kill the 6x7, but since he knew I'd be up there to help pack, he couldn't resist killing a small 5 point. Fine by me, "Let's get some meat in the freezer". What he didn't really tell me was how far away he killed it.
He "figured" it was about 3-1/2 miles in, but mostly off of a closed logging road. Okay, I thought, no biggie, that's pretty easy. We left camp at 5:30 Saturday morning and didn't stop moving all day, finally getting back to camp around 7:30 that night. It was actually 5-1/2 miles each way, so the two trips we did totaled 22 miles. We both had some black and blue toes and a few blisters, some of which stayed with us through most of the season. Photo of Matt's bull and pack-out.
Notice Matt only using his Right Shoulder.
Next, I was up, hunting in our new unit. I hiked in 4 days early and "hunted" for deer, mostly keeping tabs on the elk and figuring out their patterns so that I'd know where to be opening morning. All I saw for deer was does and fawns. I had 3 consecutive canyons figured out for elk, with at least one bull in each canyon. 2 days before Elk season opened up, the Horse hunters showed up. It became glaringly obvious that I was going to be hunting in a highly pressured area and with hunters that could cover more ground than me. Opening day was chaos, guys on horses, guys with mules, guys all over the place, and Elk running straight to the bottom of the canyons I was hunting. I couldn't (responsibly) get a bull out of the bottoms by myself, so I packed up and went home to figure out another plan. Matt and I came back a few days later with the plan to either find a canyon that was too steep for horses or to walk to the bottom and kill a bull at the river. Leaving well before dawn, we'd hiked several miles before sunup. We were successful finding a ridge that horses couldn't get down, we were "bouldering" for a few hundred yards with steep slopes on both sides of the knife ridge. We'd finally found elk that hadn't been touched. About 30 minutes after shooting light, I heard a cow mew below us and we quickly watched about 10 cows and one small bull work their way below us, headed towards the knife ridge. Shooting through the burnt and standing trees, it turned into a Wild West Shooting Gallery (as much as I hate to admit it). The elk were moving quickly and I couldn't find a rest on the steep hillside, I ended up shooting supported off of my knee, while trying not to slide down the hill. The bull was at 350 yards. I managed to pull myself together and killed him in the bottom of a draw. We took two trips to get him to the top and then took the entire bull down to the truck in one load.
Next was deer season. Matt had taken off an entire week to get in and find himself a big buck. He's a very successful hunter and I knew that he'd get it done. As I was driving in to camp Thursday after work, I got a text "Big Buck Down Baby!". I was very anxious to see what he'd found.
The next day, amidst snow and clouds that would rise and fall every 30 minutes or so, we tried to find me a decent buck. I'd promised to Matt this summer that, also for the first time, I wouldn't shoot the first buck I had a chance at . . . that I'd try to hold out for a nice one. We passed up a few small bucks Friday morning and then headed back to camp to dry out. Friday night was more of the same, saw some forky's and tried to stay below the clouds. Eventually, we moved way back down the mountain and could actually see camp when Matt turned up 3 deer about 3/4 mile away. We quickly determined that he was a "decent buck" and made a game plan for a stalk. We ended up hunch walking for a few hundred yards, then on hands and knees and belly crawling for 100 yards. I made a 175 yd shot and split his heart in two.
Matt still has another Elk tag . . . he's out there in the howling wind and rain. Hopefully I get a call today or tomorrow to come help pack meat.
My Hunting Buddy, Matt, and I started off scouting this summer in mid July and found a new unit to hunt. As with any new area, we weren't sure of what it would be like when the season opened. As it turns out, it's a pretty popular spot for horse hunters. Matt and I do most of our hunting on foot and out of our packs, occasionally we use dirtbikes. This new unit proved promising, lots of deer and elk.
A few weeks before that unit opened up, Matt got some intel. on the area, there would be a lot of competition. To better our odds of success, Matt decided to trade his tag in for a unit that he knew well and was confident that he could pull a bull out of. I kept my tag for the new unit and I'd be the guinea pig.
Matt's season opened up first. He took Wed - Fri off work to try to kill a big 6x7 that he'd found the previous weekend. I told him I'd meet him up there Saturday night to hopefully start packing. Matt badbly broke his collar bone and separated his shoulder in the middle of the summer, so the fresh plate and screws that could be seen through the skin were going to present a "packing challenge" for him on that shoulder. I met Matt at camp that Friday and he'd told me that he didn't kill the 6x7, but since he knew I'd be up there to help pack, he couldn't resist killing a small 5 point. Fine by me, "Let's get some meat in the freezer". What he didn't really tell me was how far away he killed it.
He "figured" it was about 3-1/2 miles in, but mostly off of a closed logging road. Okay, I thought, no biggie, that's pretty easy. We left camp at 5:30 Saturday morning and didn't stop moving all day, finally getting back to camp around 7:30 that night. It was actually 5-1/2 miles each way, so the two trips we did totaled 22 miles. We both had some black and blue toes and a few blisters, some of which stayed with us through most of the season. Photo of Matt's bull and pack-out.
Notice Matt only using his Right Shoulder.
Next, I was up, hunting in our new unit. I hiked in 4 days early and "hunted" for deer, mostly keeping tabs on the elk and figuring out their patterns so that I'd know where to be opening morning. All I saw for deer was does and fawns. I had 3 consecutive canyons figured out for elk, with at least one bull in each canyon. 2 days before Elk season opened up, the Horse hunters showed up. It became glaringly obvious that I was going to be hunting in a highly pressured area and with hunters that could cover more ground than me. Opening day was chaos, guys on horses, guys with mules, guys all over the place, and Elk running straight to the bottom of the canyons I was hunting. I couldn't (responsibly) get a bull out of the bottoms by myself, so I packed up and went home to figure out another plan. Matt and I came back a few days later with the plan to either find a canyon that was too steep for horses or to walk to the bottom and kill a bull at the river. Leaving well before dawn, we'd hiked several miles before sunup. We were successful finding a ridge that horses couldn't get down, we were "bouldering" for a few hundred yards with steep slopes on both sides of the knife ridge. We'd finally found elk that hadn't been touched. About 30 minutes after shooting light, I heard a cow mew below us and we quickly watched about 10 cows and one small bull work their way below us, headed towards the knife ridge. Shooting through the burnt and standing trees, it turned into a Wild West Shooting Gallery (as much as I hate to admit it). The elk were moving quickly and I couldn't find a rest on the steep hillside, I ended up shooting supported off of my knee, while trying not to slide down the hill. The bull was at 350 yards. I managed to pull myself together and killed him in the bottom of a draw. We took two trips to get him to the top and then took the entire bull down to the truck in one load.
Next was deer season. Matt had taken off an entire week to get in and find himself a big buck. He's a very successful hunter and I knew that he'd get it done. As I was driving in to camp Thursday after work, I got a text "Big Buck Down Baby!". I was very anxious to see what he'd found.
The next day, amidst snow and clouds that would rise and fall every 30 minutes or so, we tried to find me a decent buck. I'd promised to Matt this summer that, also for the first time, I wouldn't shoot the first buck I had a chance at . . . that I'd try to hold out for a nice one. We passed up a few small bucks Friday morning and then headed back to camp to dry out. Friday night was more of the same, saw some forky's and tried to stay below the clouds. Eventually, we moved way back down the mountain and could actually see camp when Matt turned up 3 deer about 3/4 mile away. We quickly determined that he was a "decent buck" and made a game plan for a stalk. We ended up hunch walking for a few hundred yards, then on hands and knees and belly crawling for 100 yards. I made a 175 yd shot and split his heart in two.
Matt still has another Elk tag . . . he's out there in the howling wind and rain. Hopefully I get a call today or tomorrow to come help pack meat.
