one of us
|
GeorgeS,
Thank you for posting that pic for me!
Be careful, this is a novel!!!!!
Patience is a virtue for which all men must strive.
This line pretty much summed up my whole hunting season. As some of you know, I go to school at MSU-Bozeman, and work two jobs as well. One of my jobs is Catering for MSU, and the other is at Yellowstone Gateway Sports. This does not leave me with a lot of time to go hunting. I had a total of two weekends off this hunting season, since it was football season and I had to cater the football games. It was a pretty posh job, but very frustrating when I would check my messages and hear "Hey, Ben, this is so and so, I just saw 3 or 4 big bulls" or "Hey, Ben, so and so got their elk today, I watched it from the Interstate." Very VERY frustrating when I was stuck in Bozeman, and not able to go home to hunt for these things. As I have mentioned to Brad, over the past few years, I have become haunted more and more by the elusive Wapiti, and have thirsted for a chance at a Herd Bull ever since I started to hunt. Well, I thought my chance had come, when I was able to go home for my first weekend off (about the 3rd week of season), and on that Saturday morning, we saw this monster with two smaller bulls and 5 cows and calves. I had about 5 seconds to bail out of the truck and attempt a 400yd shot, and took about 4.5 of those 5 seconds to do it....had I taken that .5 seconds more to squeeze the trigger, I wouldn't have had to watch him disappear into the thick drainage. After walking the area where he was at, and being satisfied that I didn't hit him and it was a clean miss, I could start mulling it over in my head, and analyzing it until I wanted to puke. We hunted the rest of that weekend without seeing anything. What made it more frustrating is the fact that we were hunting with a guy that would hunt a different area of the land than us in hopes that either of us would push elk to the other(he has a cow tag). While he was working the ridges that same day I missed, he ran into an older smaller bull and a big spike. That was the story of his hunting season...having a cow tag, he only saw bulls, every time he came out, while I, having a bull tag just didn't see squat. The next weekend was the famous rivalry Cat/Griz football game which I had to work, and got the message that another bull had been killed while I was stuck in Bozeman. Can you imagine how I'm freaking out by now? Finally the next week rolls around, (Thanksgiving Break) and I am able to hunt Wednesday through Sunday. I have some high hopes on Wednesday, as me and my dad go out and see a spike bull. We waited and waited to see if anything else comes out, and nothing does....I just don't have it in my heart to shoot this spike. I drew a tag in an area where there are big bulls, and by golly, that's what I want. "Go big or go home" was my motto. We go home for the day, and I decided to hunt deer on Thursday morning. I take my sister out and we chase deer around the hills, which turns out to be a nice break from this stressful elk situation. However, I start to get sick with a cough, and eventually that cough would turn nasty. Friday morning me and my dad go out to a different area. I was still not sick enough to stay home, so I was going to give it my all. We hunted and saw fresh sign of a cow and a calf, but no elk sighting. Once again, we go home, somewhat dejected for the day. Saturday morning, I started feeling REALLY crappy, but Dang it, I was on a mission. Me and dad go out again, in the same area we saw the spike, but different area than we usually go, and after about 2 hours of hiking, I'm absolutely spent...coughing, hacking, and dizzy. I just want to go home and go to bed!!!!! We leave the area and head for the barn. As soon as we get home, my mom says..."did so and so get ahold of you?" (So and so is a friend of mine from high school) "well, he called and said that they saw two bull elk out where you guys usually hunt." My dad just looks at me and drops the "F-bomb"...he's been the patient and objective one out of the two of us all season long, saying things like, "Well, Ben, that's elk hunting" and the like. Many times I wanted to tell him to shove it, but I kept my calm and took it to heart. Now he's the one that's upset when we hear the news, and I'm the one that's still somewhat hopeful. THERE'S STILL ELK OUT THERE! Yay!!!! My dad looks at me and asks if I want to go back out...I shrug my shoulders, cough a little bit, and say, "might as well." I was going to go down swingin'! We get back out there (only about a 20min drive) and wait for our friends to meet up with us. He tells us where he saw the elk, and made sure to let me know he coulda shot either one about 15,000 times...the elk just didn't care that they were there. They trotted off nonchalantly only when my friend's dad's truck passed them within 100yds. My friend tells me that there were, two...a big 4 point, and a large fork horn...no brow-tines, but rather a big spike that forked at the end...actually bigger than the 4 point. It is the second to the last day of the season, and either one of those elk filling my scope would've been an awesome sight. My friend tells me where they went, and suggests that we go to the end of this very, very large coulee and wait, while him, his dad, and his brother-in-law walk the ridges, hoping to push any elk to me. We agree, and me and my dad set up on a long finger that juts out into the coulee, and it is a great vantage point...we can see the entire area. We see my friend's dad start working the top of the coulee, and my friend was working the side on which me and my dad were sitting. The brother-in-law was on the far side. My friend gets to us first as his dad is still working the top of the coulee. We see his dad, and then all of a sudden, out of the bottom comes a big bull elk, running full speed. The sun hit his body and his rack which was laid back parallel to his body. Never have I seen anything so glorious in my scope. This is neither the 4 point or the fork horn!!!! He is about a 1/2 mile away and heading our direction. (like I said, this was a very big coulee). He began to climb the other side of the coulee in search of timber, but ran into the brother-in-law and stopped climbing. He continued to run towards us on the face of the ridge, eye level with us. At this point, I'm freaking out, trying to find a rest with my bipod, but to no avail...finally I tuck my legs up as close to me as possible, and have a pretty solid rest. He gets directly across from us, about 375yds and I start shooting. First shot, seemed high...thought I hit him, but saw dust fly above him. Second and third shot...one of them misses, the other passes through his flank. I'm out of ammo by now, and absolutely in a sheer panic. He disappears behind a little curvature on the face of the ridge, and I start fumbling for more shells. I finally get loaded up, 3 in the magazine, one in the chamber, ready to start shooting again. I was not pleased with my performance and began to chide myself out loud for poor shooting. My dad reassured me that the bull seemed hit pretty hard, and we should just wait. We had waited for about 2 minutes (which seemed like 2 hours) between the time I reloaded and when he came back out...HE CAME BACK OUT!!!!! I send one more shell over to him, he humps up, takes one step, and I send another one into his neck. I can still remember the sight picture, with my crosshairs on his neck as I pulled the trigger. He drops like a rock and it is over. 5 minutes of the most suspense I've ever encountered in my 10 years of hunting. I give a shout, start coughing and hacking again, run down our side of the coulee and up the other to get to my prize. I have to stop on the way to catch my breath and try not to fall over. Pictures were taken, congratulations were issued, and we started gutting it. My dad was able to back the pickup to within 30yds (downhill) and we were able to put it in the bed of the pickup whole. Once back in town, I started trembling and becoming delerious with fever, exhausted from the hunt, and telling and retelling the story. We have to go to the emergency room, because that's the only medical facility open, and I get some medicine. I ended up with a fever of 103 and not being able to make it back to Bozeman until that next Tuesday. It was a bad bug. In total, I shot five times at this bull, hit him four times. First shot creased his back, preventing him from running away, second shot or third shot, I don't know which, hit him through the flank, fourth shot hit him through the lungs, and fifth shot was in the neck. Not stellar shooting on my behalf, and I have yet to know whether my barnes XLC's were being finicky in a clean barrel for the first two or three shots, or whether my nerves were just too much to shoot accurately. All in all, this hunt couldn't have been more ordained, to have everyone in the right place at the right time, and to have him COME BACK OUT to give me two more shots at him. I was meant to have this elk...I remember praying fervently after I missed him those two weeks ago..."Oh, God, he's so big...please give me another chance at him." Well, my prayer was answered, and this Bull was delivered to me the second to the last day of season, after I had all but given up.
Fred,
I shot him with my .308 Warbird, using 168gr XLC's...I recovered one, the one that hit his flank. It penetrated about two feet worth of intestines and came to rest under the hide after shedding the front petals. I'm guessing about 70-75% weight retention. I've been considering switching to the 200gr Accubond for a little more punch. I don't know if I'm quite sold on the lighter weight bullets for elk.
I hope you guys enjoyed my "novel", and I hope your seasons went as well as mine.
|
