Dawn, and I thought I was the only one...

OK. My migraine has subsided this morning so I can write.

First, here's some background: Every year, except for last year, when I went to Africa instead, I hunt on the same ranch near Craig, Colorado. It is a foothills ranch that fills up with elk when they stream out of the mountains due to snow and high country hunting pressure. They also have an excellent mule deer population with some huge trophies.

When I say "fills up", I mean it. At times there will be 10,000 elk on the ranch's 16,000 acres. Under these conditions, killing an elk is not difficult. We hunt them just like we were hunting pronghorn. In fact, there are times when the elk and antelope are mixed together in the same winter wheat field.

However, my very first year there, the elk were not down yet. We were there in early October and were primarily after antelope for my three sons (twin fourteen-year-olds, and a twelve-year-old). I had bought an elk tag, even though the ranch owner had warned me the elk hunting would be spotty, at best.

The kids killed out on the first day, leaving only dad's elk tag to fill. One the second day, we drove up on a lone bull standing in an alfalfa field, but he was gone before I could get the rifle out and loaded. At least we knew there were a few, or at least one, elk down.

On day three, we had driven to a lookout to glass a few thousand acres of sagebrush, when we spotted a heard of elk not three hundred yards below. They were bedded in the bottom and started getting up one at a time. Cow, cow, cow, cow, spike! The ranch owner looked at me and said, �You better shoot that spike. There�s not many elk down and this may be your only chance at a bull.�

At that, I pulled the trigger and we heard the �whop� as the 180-grain Nosler Partition found its home. One-tenth of a second after the �whop� a 6x6 bull stood up in the brush, ran over to where the spike had collapsed and stood there broadside.
�Oh no,� the ranch owner said.

�Oh shit,� I said.

�Screw you all.� The big elk seemed to say, as it just stood begging me to shoot it illegally (which I, of course, did not).

That was SCREW UP # 1

The very next year, I was on the same ranch, this time with a mule deer tag. The deer were in full rut and we had spotted a big 4x4 with about a 28-inch spread a day earlier. We were glassing this same area when, suddenly, there he was with a doe on a hill about 500 yards away.

We decided to let him follow the doe over the hill. Then, we would climb the hill and have an easy shot from the top. Ah, the best laid plans�.!

We climbed the hill, peeked over, and sure nuff , there was a buck mounting a doe about 100 yards below us. Don (one of the two brothers who own the ranch) said to shoot it as soon as it dismounted. I looked at it through my scope and said to Don, �I don�t think it�s the same buck.�

Don didn�t answer right away, but the third member of our party, a tag-a-long chiropractor from Florida who had already killed out, said emphatically �yes it is the same deer � shoot it!�

So I shot it � a scrubby 3x4 with a 17-inch spread. I�ve got Georgia Whitetails that are much bigger. The big buck had followed the doe over another rise and this little fellow had snuck in behind him get in on the action. Don felt bad, but I pulled the trigger.

That�s SCREW UP # 2

The very next year, I was back, elk tag in hand, at the height of the migration. Thousands of elk occupied every corner of the ranch. The only problem was getting into position to shoot a good one with thousands of eyes watching every move. Curtis (the other brother and ranch owner) and I spotted a heard of about 700 elk bedded down on a hilltop. All approaches were in the open, so there was no way we were going to be able to sneak up on them. Curtis decided that instead of sneaking, we would just amble diagonally up the hill in plain view. His theory is that sneaking humans alarm elk much more than folks that look like they�re just �passing through�.

Just as he predicted, the elk spotted us and waited until we were about 400 yards away before standing up and slowly slipping over the hill. As soon as they were out of sight, we made a beeline for the top of the hill. Even before we topped the ridge, I could hear the mewing and whistling elk. They sounded like they were just on the other side. And they were. When Curtis and I got to the top, we found ourselves overlooking 700 elk within 100 yards.

Curtis quickly glassed the heard and spotted a nice 6x6. �He�s about 100 yards down the hill on the left and he�s stepping clear of the group. You better hurry before they bunch up.�

I looked where Curtis was pointing and all I could see were elk, elk and more elk. Then I spotted horns that were just clearing the heard, as Curtis described. I put the cross hairs on the shoulder, pulled the trigger and listened as Curtis yelled, �Why did you shoot the little one!� It turned out to be a rag-horned 5x5. The big one ran off with the heard.

That was SCREW UP #3

Now we�re down to this year�s hunt. All I could think about was redemption for screw-ups one, two and three. I brought two of my closest friends who both killed out on the first day of the hunt (a big 5x5 and a 5x7). The next day, with my two friends in tow, Don and I spotted a heard of 42 elk on a hill. In it, were TWO 6x6s. Leaving my buddies in the truck to watch the whole event unfold, Don and I started our stalk. I was being a smart ass this year and had brought my .375 H&H to hunt elk with. Unfortunately, it has an unusual safety catch, which figures into the story.

The elk were in a perfect location for a stalk, and we got within a hundred yards easily. Don glassed the heard and whispered, �the biggest 6x6 is the third one from the back. You�ve got plenty of time, so set up and take your shot.�

I set up my shooting sticks, calmly looked through the scope and found the big one. I put the cross hairs on his shoulder and started to squeeze the trigger. Nothing! The safety was still on. When I had clicked it off, I had left it I the middle position, instead of the �off� position. I quickly realized what had happened and felt for the safety, but could not find it with feel alone (like I said, it has an unusual safety lever).

So, like any red blooded Southerner, I yelled �Shit!� Which sent the elk heard running as I looked at the gun and finished taking off the safety.

Don, the cool-headed one, cow called and stopped the heard in their tracks. �The big one is still the third one from the back,� he whispered. So I looked through the Kahles scope, found the antlers, moved to the shoulder and �BOOM� went the .375. The elk all disappeared over a rise and I looked at Don, who had this funny look on his face.

�Leon,� he said. �When you shot, I saw the little bull behind the big one buck like he was hit. I don�t know for sure, but I think you did it again!� (Later I found out that my buddies in the truck were watching the whole hunt and at the shot looked at each other and simultaneously screamed, �HE DID IT AGAIN!�)

Yes, I had done it again. When we topped the hill, there laid the littlest, rag-horned 4x5 ever to grace the foothills of Colorado. To and insult to injury, we called another group of hunters in and directed them to the heard, and one of them killed the beautiful 6x6 I had my sights on. So there it is��..

SCREW UP # 4

The problem is, now I have to wait a whole year to redeem myself. But I�m starting to wonder if redemption is in the cards at all. This time next year, I might be telling you all about screw up # 5.

Oh well. I guess I�ll just laugh about it and enjoy the meat. It could be worse; I could not have gotten to go hunting at all. Now that would be a REAL tragedy.