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No Bull
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10-15-01

 The third morning, Dad informed everyone that he wasn’t climbing that mountain for anything.  My Uncles agreed that one day of hunting low would give us all of the rest that we needed.  Then we could hit the mountain again on the next day.  Dad and I headed to our spot, overlooking the creek where we had scouted for sure one herd and possibly two, before season.  My Uncles were heading farther down the creek, where they could see the other end as well as the large valley that my Uncle Brad had got his bull in.  Dad and I were in our spot just as it started to get light.   Dad no sooner looked up and said, “There is our elk.”   Quickly we headed down along the creek, hoping to get to them before my Uncles spotted them.  We were just about to the elk when the shots from my Uncle Dan’s .375 rang out.  One hit, one miss, then two more hits.  The monster bull had taken three direct hits from my Uncle’s gun and was still on his feet.  Remembering what my Dad told me, never let a wounded Bull Run, I put my crosshairs on the bull.  Realizing that the Bull was about to slip into the steep terrain where he might be lost Dad said “shoot”  I squeezed off a round and so did my Uncle.  The bull went down and I quickly looked for the second bull that was in the herd.  I couldn’t find it and the entire herd moved into the mountains.  My Uncle Brad, who just stood there watching because he was already tagged out, was screaming, “You got him Dan.  You got him.”  I know when I shot that the bull was already hit good, but Dad had pointed out earlier that the ground was hard and there was no snow down low, so tracking a wounded animal would be extremely tough.  His orders to me were if we ever get into a herd and once hit an animal, we all had to focus on that animal until it is down.  We will sort out later who made the killing shot.  The biggest waste in my Dad’s eyes is an animal that runs off, dies and is not found.  I have seen him track animals before for other people all night or for miles until he is sure that the animal is not going to die, he finds the animal, or he finds that someone else has found the animal and claimed it.  He never minds if another hunter finishes off and claims the animal he is tracking, as long as it doesn’t go to waste. 

 With this in mind, I had shot at the same bull my Uncle did even though I knew it was hit.  The attention to the big bull allowed the smaller one to get away, but we had one down clean and did not have to trail it.  In order to get to the downed bull, we had to cross a river so I unloaded and handed my rifle to my Uncle and climbed on my Dad’s back.  We walked right through the river, and knowing how cold that water was, I was glad I was the guy with dry feet.  Just as he always did, dad went back and forth until the gear was all with us.  When we got to the bull, it was a massive 5 x 6 with heavy beams bigger than anything ever taken by the guys in our group.  My Dad rolled the bull over and looked at the shots and the size of the holes.  Since I shoot a 7-mm and my Uncle a .375, the difference in the entry hole was much different.  My dad showed us where all of our bullets had hit and mine had hit in the high leg, just below the shoulder helping to bring the bull to the ground before it got off the pasture.  I had hit the bull.  I was victorious even though I had not killed it.  Now I wouldn’t be upset if I didn’t get my elk this year.  Just to prove how important our strategy was my Dad and two Uncles backtracked the bull to the point where Uncle Dan’s first shot had hit it.  They searched for over an hour and except for where the bull had fallen, they could not find a single drop of blood.  I then realized how easily an animal could be lost, even though it was fatally wounded.  We dressed the bull and took it back to the camp where we skinned and quartered it.  We took a short nap until people started showing up to stare at Uncle Dan’s trophy, wall-hanging bull.  They couldn’t believe the mass and spread of the tines.  It was the biggest bull in the camp.  Even the owners of the cabins told us that this bull is one of the few that are as big as that in that area anymore.  After all of the work was done, we went and sat on our valleys that night. Dad and I didn’t see anything but my uncles did.  They told us where they had seen them so we could go there in the morning.  We then went back to camp, ate dinner and retired for the night. 

 10-16-01

 Today we got up a little later than usual because we already decided that we were going to sit on our low valleys.  When we got to the valley that my Uncles sent us to there were six elk grazing in the pasture about ¾ of a mile out.  There were two spike bulls, which you can’t shoot and four cows.  We laid down by a log and watched them with our scopes, hoping that they would work toward us as it got later in the morning.  Since Dad had a cow tag, we were determined to get one of these elk.  At this time, I felt very excited and was almost sure that we were going to get one of these elk.  We watched the elk as they began to work the opposite direction, towards the mountains.  My Uncles showed up about that time to see how we were doing.  My Dad asked them to drive all the way to the end of the logging road and walk out to the valley.  We hoped that the elk would see my Uncles standing there on the other end of the valley and walk the opposite way, toward us.  Dad and I then walked off the hill, down to the valley, into the marsh grass, with the wind in our face.  Now I felt very nervous because I was very sure that I was going to get an elk now!  There was a slight ridge that ran through the middle of that valley and we tried to stay on the opposite side of the ridge than the elk were on.  We got very close to the elk and Dad knew that we had to be just about even with them even though we could not see them.  There was a very thick stretch of redbrush between the elk and us.  Unknown to us at this time, four of the elk had come into the redbrush and were getting ready to lay down.  They  sensed us and spooked.  All six of the elk took off toward the mountains.  We were now about one mile into the valley and could see my Uncle Dan signaling to us which way the elk had run.  My Dad couldn’t see over the marsh grass, where the elk were.  I saw only glimpses of them as they moved through the grass.  When the elk got to the mountain, they stopped on a side hill.  We noticed that there were only four standing on the side of the mountain and two were missing.  We continued to work toward them, looking for the other cow and calf that were still in the marsh.  Suddenly we saw them and my Dad made me get up on a bog so that I could see.  Dad shot at the cow a couple of times and she went behind some brush.  He could only see her neck and was trying to make a good shot, but she kept moving.  The Cow elk came out form behind the brush and Dad Shot her.  She ran up onto a ridge and was just about to disappear into the brush when he shot and hit her again.  She started to fall but then caught herself and took off into the brush.  By now I was very excited and I kept chanting that I was going to find her.  We circled around about 75 yards into the woods looking for blood.  I kept praying that we would find her and that she wouldn’t go to waste.  Now we had worked our way back to the area where Dad last hit the cow.  We took about 10 steps toward the red brush and we heard a loud crashing noise in the middle of the patch of brush, working its way out.  Just then we saw an elk, my Dad said that it was the calf, and wherever the calf is, mama is.  My blood was now very hot due to the excitement of the calf coming out, only when we about stepped on her.  To top it all off, my Dad asked me to circle around the brush to see if the cow would come out.  I hesitated, but went, afraid that if she wasn’t dead yet, she would attack me.  I thought this because on elk videos that I watch, they say that elk are very mean and aggressive when they are wounded.  I decided not to go outside the brush, but just inside because of a wide trail that had broken branches, like something big had gone through there.  I didn’t bother to check for fur because I could smell elk.  I had my gun off my shoulder and was ready, not knowing what I might find.  I came to a creek about two feet wide.  There was a tan rock  in the stream for me to step on to cross.  After I checked the 10-yard clearing that I was in I started to step on that rock.  I O.K.’d the area and put my foot on the rock and jumped back and screamed when my foot sank into it.  I stepped back to look and I saw that it was our cow elk.  I couldn’t see the head because it was under water.  I yelled out to my Dad to tell him that I had found the elk, but I could not find my voice until I stuttered a few times.  “Dad….sh-sh-she’s, right here!”   My Dad called in to me, “Brandon, is she dead?”  I called back to him, “If she’s not, she’s drowning herself!”  My Dad actually thought that she was laying there looking at me.   He came in there with a big smile on his face and gave me a high-five.   I told my Dad that I almost had a heart attack when I found her.  We drug her wet body out of the creek and cleaned her out.  I had to help him, just to drag her about 10 to 15 feet to clean her.  When she was dressed out, Dad and I took her out into the open, sat down and leaned against her.  We called over to my Uncles to go get the four-wheeler to drag her across the one and a half-mile wide marsh.  The body of the elk was so soft that I decided during our two hour wait that I wanted to tan the hide and turn it into a rug.  It only took us about 40 minutes to drag her out and get her loaded into the truck.  Skinning and quartering it took about an hour and a half total.  Then we laid down and took a nap because my Dad had to get rid of his headache.  When we woke up, our cabin was surrounded by other hunters in the camp just wanting to know where, and how my Uncle Dan got his big bull.  So for the rest of the day we talked with other people from the camp.  When everyone was gone, we ate dinner and went to bed a little late. 

 10-17-01

 We got up this morning to go out and give it one last look for a bull.  As far as I was concerned the hunt was a great success and I was ready to go.  I got to help my Uncle Dan with is bull.  I actually got to put a bullet into that bull which brought it to the ground.  I got to be with my Dad and help him with his cow elk.  What more could I want.  This was the greatest hunt ever.  Even though I didn’t get my bull.

 When my Uncles woke up, we started cutting up and processing meat, and that is what we did all day.  I helped them with all of the cutting and processing just as if it were part of the hunt, which it is.  My Dad and Uncles were proud of me and thankful for my help.  They told me that now I am becoming a true hunter.  After cutting up meat, I hauled all of the bones to a pit where all of the hunters take their elk bones.  After that, I helped everyone clean up the cabin and pack up all of our gear, so that we were ready to just jump in the trucks and leave the next morning.  I kept getting thanked for helping them and working so hard.   It really made me feel like one of the guys and I felt grown up.

 10-18-01

 This morning we got up very early and headed back east.  On the way up the Continental Divide, we almost hit about seven elk that were standing in the middle of the road.  On the way down the Divide, we saw two elk standing beside the road.  On the way through Buena Vista, we saw about 100 mule deer right in the yards of the people in town.  We could drive right up to them and touch them with our bumper and they would just walk off.  I think they were mad at us because we were in their way of getting across the road.

 It only took us 19 ½ hours to get home.  I stayed awake with the guys the whole way, talking about the hunt.  At midnight we got home and we were all happy to be back!  I had no regrets about not getting my own bull.  I wish all kids could go out and have times like this with their fathers. 

 NO BULL .  .  .  NO REGRETS!

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