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Hunting/Shooting

SAVORING THE MOMENTS OF THE HUNT – PART TWO

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I woke at 4 AM feeling refreshed after a great night’s sleep in Gardiner, Montana and met my guide for breakfast. Rock was already eating when I joined him. Cold cereal, several pieces of toast, bacon, fruit cocktail and some black coffee would fuel me for what I hoped would be a successful morning of elk hunting. The French hunter that was supposed to hunt with Rock and I didn’t show up for breakfast by the time that Rock and I were done eating.

Today’s plan was for the three of us to leave about 6 AM and go a short distance down the road from the lodge and hunt for a few hours from a blind in an elevated position. We would return for an early lunch and take the horses up the mountain for an afternoon hunt if the morning hunting adventure was unsuccessful. It sounded like a good plan to me if our French companion would just get out of bed.

All four of us from our Pennsylvania hunting group referred to the Frenchman who hunted with Rock and I un-affectionately and with much disdain as “Pierre”. His real name was Jacques, but we called him Pierre because he was such a crass and loathsome jasper. In addition to his poor behavior and miserable attitude, he made no secret of his contempt of Americans. The poor manners of Pierre and the rest of his French comrades only made things worse. One of their disgusting habits included them going to the large buffet smorgasbord that the host put out for us and picking up and handling all of the food with their dirty, bare hands and putting down what they weren’t going to eat.

We complained to our outfitter about the Frenchmen’s table manners and their other bad habits, but he did nothing about it, so we had to tell them ourselves. The outfitter also didn’t help us when we said we wanted to hunt with our own group as that was what we had paid a considerable sum of money for. We went as a group of four and we were to be hunting as two pairs of hunters each with one guide. The outfitter decided to split us up and put each of us with a French hunter because the Frenchmen didn’t speak English and the outfitter thought it would be easier for his guides. That wasn’t our problem.

All of the guides at the ranch did a great job despite what their boss threw at them. The outfitter overbooked this week’s hunt. There were four of us, another hunter from Pennsylvania and 10 to 15 hunters from France. That was too many hunters for this ranch and the guides couldn’t do their job effectively because of the language barrier. The outfitter bit off more than he could chew because of the dollar signs in his eyes and ruined several people’s hunts with a sub-par vacation. His poor decisions would cost him much repeat business. We learned a tough lesson.

Always check several references before booking a hunt like this. An outfitter and his guides will do everything for you on a hunt and take care of you. It’s customary to not do anything on your own without talking to them about it first. Men and women who are professional guides and outfitters take pride in their work and would be offended if you did some of their work for them or otherwise insinuated that they couldn’t handle part of their job. That’s why we told our guides about our problems we encountered with the others hunters in camp instead of talking to them ourselves as you will see in the rest of this story.

Rock and I knocked on “Pierre’s” door at 5:45 to wake him up and tell him we were leaving in 15 minutes. I couldn’t believe he was still in bed! Rock went back again at 6 and gave him five extra minutes. We left without him at 6:05. Riding down the road in an early 70’s Suburban was quite interesting as I watched the road below me through a dinner plate sized hole in the floor. We arrived at our hunting location a few minutes later.

Rock and I walked a horse trail through a meadow sparsely lined with aspens about a quarter of a mile and came to a peculiar hill that just seemed to jut up out of the earth in front of us. It was about 100 feet long and 50 feet tall. We climbed the path to the top past an interesting tree growing on a rock and came to a blind that was set up on the other side. I could see about 200 hundred yards in front of me to a patch of woods. There was a fence about 50 yards to my left. Rock said the elk normally jump the fence and meander through the meadow below us. I couldn’t shoot past the fence as Rock informed me that the land on the other side of the fence was private property. Wow, I felt like I was back in Pennsylvania and not able to shoot in certain directions because of houses.

Watching over the neighbor’s horse pasture for elk to come through.

Thousands of acres to hunt from and I was sitting on the edge of private property where I couldn’t shoot. I relayed my discontent to Rock, but he assured me this was a great hunting spot. I sure hoped so. I brought a Winchester Model 70 with me that was chambered in .300 Winchester Magnum and capable of a several hundred yard shot. I didn’t want to be handicapped by a private property border.

We sat for several hours and saw several dozen cow elk and a few dozen horses over on the private property where we couldn’t shoot. It was nearly time to call it quits for the morning hunt, so we packed up our gear and headed back to the truck. I wondered what was going on with Pierre as we drove back to the ranch for an early lunch. We arrived at the ranch to find out that Pierre was mad at us for leaving without him and had spent the entire morning drinking while he was waiting for Rock and I to return. Rock told him what time we were going to go back out and then we went inside and had lunch.

The three of us drove over to the barn after lunch and saddled up a few horses and packed our gear on board. I loaded my rifle and bolted a round into the chamber, then slid it down in the scabbard on my horse. I saw the Frenchman pulling his rifle out of the case and I went over and had a word about it with Rock. I told him that since Pierre had been drinking all morning he shouldn’t be loading his rifle on his horse and if Rock was going to allow it, I wouldn’t be going along. I didn’t want to be in the company of a drunk with a loaded rifle. Rock agreed with me and went over and told him not to load his rifle. I could see the Frenchman pointing at me unhappily about my loaded rifle and arguing with Rock.

We rode a good distance up the mountain and tied up our horses. We proceeded to climb up a steep mountainside covered with loose rocks. It took us about 30 minutes.

Dave heading out on the mountain for an afternoon hunt

Rock pointed to a big Douglas Fir tree where he said I could sit until dark. It was in a small clearing in a grove of Fir trees on a flat section at the top of a mountain. There were some signs of elk here so it looked like a good spot to sit and watch. The temperature had been dropping all afternoon and it was starting to get cold now. Rock took Pierre several hundred yards or more over the top of the mountain and down over the other side somewhere so I wasn’t in his line of fire as I had asked. I didn’t want to be shot accidentally by Pierre.

I kicked all of the little twigs and debris away from the base of the tree where I was going to sit so it wouldn’t make any noise and I sat down and got comfortable. I wish I had taken my coat off on the hike up the mountain. I got sweaty and now with the temperature dropping, I was starting to get cold.

I sat thinking about the events of the day and dreaming about a monster elk as I watched the area in front of me for game. I saw a few mule deer does feed through between the trees without noticing me. There was no sign of a buck in the lot. Snow was falling and laying on the ground as the temperature continued to drop and the last few minutes of daylight were burning away. I was really cold now and couldn’t wait for darkness to come so we could call it a day. The temperature must have dropped 30 degrees and my stomach was growling for a meal as I checked my watch. Ten minutes until the end of legal shooting time and now there was about an inch of snow on the ground. I was shivering like crazy as I waited out the last few minutes and for Rock to come back so we could go back to the ranch for dinner. I looked at my watch one more time as it was almost dark and saw that it was the last minute of legal shooting time – finally!

Bang! I heard a shot ring out over the top of the mountain. Pierre must have shot a deer or an elk! I couldn’t believe it. Now I’d have to wait for them to dress out the animal and make their way back to me so we could head back to the ranch.

I knew it was going to take them a while to get back to me. I needed to get a fire going and get warm fast. I looked around for dry wood, but everything was covered with an inch of wet snow. What was I going to do? I felt like I was going to freeze if I couldn’t get a fire started. I looked above me in the branches of the large Douglas Fir tree I was sitting under and saw a lot of dead branches. I broke off a small pile of twigs and a handful of small one to two inch diameter branches and made a pile to burn. I grabbed the lighter from my pack and a roll of toilet paper. Several sheets of toilet paper tucked in among the twigs was just what I needed to start a nice fire. Within a few minutes, I had a small fire going and tossed in some more branches. I was so glad to have that toilet paper with me! Thank God for toilet paper!

A few minutes of warming my hands and face in the fire made me feel like a new man, but it didn’t help with my hunger. An attempt to bite my chocolate chip granola bar found it to be frozen. I thawed it out over the fire and sat back to relax and enjoy it as I pondered how lucky I was to have this fire and a granola bar.

A little while later, Rock showed up with a caped out deer head on his pack with Pierre following behind. It was one of the ugliest deer I’ve ever seen. Rock was happy to warm his hands in the fire. I was shown the Frenchman’s deer head and listened to the story of how he shot the deer. Rock said that when he and Pierre walked up to the deer, the Frenchman made a face at it and told Rock to just leave it there. He didn’t want to tag it because it was just a 4-pointer. Rock said, “No Way! You shot it, you tag it!”.

Finding out that Pierre wanted to leave the deer lay there after he shot it combined with one of his buddies wanting to do the same the day before and the fact that Pierre was drinking all morning before going hunting really didn’t sit well with me. On top of that, I had to listen to Pierre say on the first day of the hunt that most Americans were slob hunters. The day after he called Americans slob hunters, he wanted to leave all of his trash from lunch on the ground up on the mountain! That takes the cake!

We put out the fire and headed down the mountain toward our horses. The steep mountain was covered with loose gravel and rocks. I always thought walking downhill was a lot easier than going uphill, but I found out that a fast pace downhill in the dark was really hard on my feet after about a half hour. I kept looking at Pierre’s feet as we made our way down the steep mountainside and thinking about how much I wanted to trip him and see him fall on his face. I fought hard and managed to resist the temptation.

We reached our horses and rode a few miles back to the barn through the dark, then finally got back to the ranch for dinner. It must have been after nine. I was starving, and I could barely stay awake while eating my dinner. I sure slept like a log this night! I didn’t even set my alarm for the next day’s hunt before I fell asleep. It’s a good think Rock woke me up the next morning.

Our pal, Ed tagged a nice buck!

The most important thing I learned on this hunt was to check references very carefully before booking a hunt and to check more than one or two. It pays off. Remember, outfitters are probably only going to provide you with their best references. They’re not going to give you bad references, so check as many as you can and ask questions. It’s also a good idea to ask for some references from hunters that didn’t fill their tags. They will give you a different point of view than that of the hunters that tagged out.
One of my hunting spots where I looked down over the Yellowstone River.

Despite our outfitter’s poorly run operation, my guide, Rock did an amazing job. He shared with me a few wilderness tidbits I didn’t know about like finding a dry place to sit in wet weather and how to cape out a deer head. I had some great adventures on this beautiful Montana ranch and saw some amazing sights. We still had a few more days to hunt, so there were more adventures to follow.

Hunting/Shooting

Savoring the Moments of the Hunt – Part One

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A Western hunt for elk is something that a lot of sportsmen dream of doing. It’s a once in a lifetime trip for many, but there’s more to a successful hunt than just filling your tag and harvesting a big game animal. My first trip to Montana on one of my excursions out west for an elk hunt left me with many fond memories that I’ll never forget.

We had applied for an elk tag earlier in the year in the area west of Cody, Wyoming, our favorite place, and failed to get our nonresident license for the second or third time. We decided to give Montana a try for an elk as they had a guaranteed combination nonresident license which included deer, at a cost of about $900.00 if my memory is correct. We received our pricey licenses and made our way to the ranch in Gardiner, Montana.

It was an absolutely beautiful day in “Big Sky Country”. It started out cold, but as the day progressed and the sun climbed high into the Montana sky, it warmed quickly. It seemed milder than normal for a fall day, but the warm rays of the sun were greatly appreciated. I took in a deep breath of fresh mountain air and glassed the far hillside with my binoculars for any signs of an elk.

The day started early as we woke about 4am and headed for breakfast. Eggs and toast washed down with some black coffee was just what I needed. We grabbed our gear as I gulped down the last bit of my coffee and we headed out to get some horses. We arrived at the barn a few minutes later and saddled up our horses and loaded our rifles and packs. I put my left foot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn and climbed up into the saddle. I sat in the saddle for a few minutes thinking about how lucky I was to be in Montana right now. I was hunting elk from a horse in some of the most beautiful, wild and remote country in the world. We had acquired deer tags also, so I would take a nice buck if the opportunity arose.

I rode several miles of back country with my guide. The smell of fall leaves was in the air and the season’s colors brought the mountains to life with their vivid display. The intense blue sky and bright, white, puffy clouds seemed to stretch on forever. My guide, Rock, stopped and got down from his horse. He tied it up and said, “We’ll go on foot from here.”, so I jumped down and tied up my ride. It was nice to stretch my legs after the horseback trip up the mountain.

Enjoying the view!

Rock told me that we were going to climb over the hill to our left and hike up to a spot where he had a few ground blinds built overlooking a grassy field. Deer and elk spent a lot of time feeding there and it might be a good spot to sit for a while. The climb up the hill was a bit steep, so I took off my coat and lashed it on the back of my pack. We had to stop several times so I could catch my breath. The weight of my pack and rifle combined with the higher elevation was tiring me out. We got to the top of the hill and walked a few hundred yards across the top of a grassy ridge to our destination.

Rock’s blind was built between two small shrubs with a few bucket sized rocks in between, supporting a couple of small logs. It looked inconspicuous enough and had a nice rock in the back that I could lean against when I sat down. The log on top was just right to rest my rifle on for a shot down the hill. We were at the top of a long, narrow, grassy slope with small groves of trees on either side. It reminded me of a ski slope. Rock said the deer and elk would normally come out of the trees at the bottom and feed across to the other side of the grassy slope, but they could walk across anywhere along the hill. It would be about a 250 yard shot to the bottom. That should be an easy shot as I was using a 300 Win. Mag. Winchester Model 70 and I had it sighted in at 200 yards.

Rock and I sat for several hours looking down the hill for a nice deer or elk, but all we had an opportunity to see were five or six mule deer does. Not one buck. They did come out just where Rock said they would. The weather was nice for this time of year, so I didn’t mind sitting out in the sun. It was a great day to be outside enjoying the weather. Rock suggested another spot to go after lunch to still hunt, so we decided to eat lunch and go check it out.

We made our way back toward the horses without seeing any game that we were after. Rock said he wanted to take me on the other side of the trail from where we left the horses. He said there was a game trail on the other side of the ridge that was pretty active with deer and that elk came up that side of the mountain regularly into a large stand of Aspen trees that was there. We checked on our horses and had a drink of water before heading out for the afternoon’s hunt. I couldn’t wait to see what was over the next hill.

We walked toward the ridge through some open terrain. Walking as quietly as I could and scanning the surrounding area for game I was surprised to see a couple of sage grouse without spooking them. We skirted around them so as not to startle any game that was nearby. The ridge had a sparse scattering of assorted sizes of Douglas Fir along the edge, so we tucked ourselves in between a few of them to hide our silhouettes. We sat here for a few minutes and glassed down the side with our binoculars to study the area. Rock made a series of calls with his elk call, but none responded. We decided to hunt one more spot after sitting here for a bit. Rock had another good spot nearby that we could get to on foot.

I headed north along the ridge with Rock. We still hunted slowly and quietly as we moved using the tree trunks of the Douglas Fir growing along the ridge as cover. We followed the ridge about a half of a mile, and then turned off to our right toward a large hill that looked as though it was made up entirely of large boulders. The mighty Douglas Fir trees disappeared as we walked through a rocky meadow sparsely covered with grasses and sage. We arrived at “Boulder Hill” and hunted our way to the top following a heavily used game trail with lots of fresh sign. We reached the top of the hill and what I saw on the other side was magnificent. It was a brand new landscape painting waiting for me to explore.

A large stand of Quaking Aspens spread out before me in all of their glory. They were tall majestic beauties with spectacular golden yellow leaves. Most had already lost their leaves to the impending winter weather, but some of them still retained their leaves to give us a terrific show. The bold color of their leaves was highlighted by the unique, contrasting white color of their bark. Wow, what a sight to behold! I wish I could have seen them a week or two before when they still had all of their bright leaves.

This would be a great spot to hunt as wildlife love Aspen trees for foraging all year long. The bark on these trees is special as it carries on photosynthesis, which is normally done by the leaves on other trees. Aspens are able to continue to produce sugar during the winter when most other trees are dormant. This provides energy to game and wildlife which feed on the branches and bark. The thought of animals feeding in the Aspens combined with the heavily used game trail leading into them gave me a surge of energy. I couldn’t wait to get in there!

Scanning the ground for sign, I spotted a smooth, ivory colored tip, as well as the rest of the outline of a beautiful treasure protruding from the leaves. Rock simultaneously said, “Hey, look at that!” as I was bending down to pick it up. It was a magnificent five-point elk antler. The smooth and shiny ivory colored antler glistened in the sun. There were no rodent chew marks on it either like I’ve found on deer antler sheds in the East. I got to it before the rodents did! This was going to make a great display. That was a great way to end a day’s hunt. With a little luck, I would be able to get it into my checked duffel bag on the airplane on the way home.

The following day’s hunt was a completely different story. That’s part of the adventure. It was a whole new day with different weather and different circumstances. I wondered what the next day would bring as I went to bed that night after a long, fun day of hunting. I couldn’t wait. I think I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

 

Hunting/Shooting

Make Mine a .30-06

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“What did you call it?” the man asked as I was showing him a rifle for sale at my gun shop.

I told him, “It’s a 30 aught six.”

“Oh, I always thought it was called a 30 ‘o’ six” he responded.

The .30-06 Springfield is a cartridge with a .30 caliber bullet developed for the US Army by the Springfield Armory in 1906. Some older Winchester rifles from the period were marked .30 Gov’t 06. Called a 30 ‘o’ six by new hunters, it’s affectionately referred to as an “aught six” by seasoned deer chasers around the country. A term picked up sooner or later from one’s grandfather or one of the hunting camp elders. Despite the vast number of calibers available to choose from and the immense popularity of some of them, the .30-06 Springfield remains one of the most popularly chambered rifles around the world after more than 100 years.

I was probably in the fourth or fifth grade when I had my first encounter with the beloved .30-06. I was walking to school one day with one of the neighborhood boys named Eddie, when he reached in his pocket and pulled something out. He opened up his hand and said, “Hey Dave, check these out! They’re my dad’s.” That was the first time I ever saw live ammo before except for maybe BB’s or .22’s.

He had about five or six rifle cartridges in his hand – big, shiny .30-06 cartridges. I said, “What are those, what are you doing with them? You’re going to get into trouble, you shouldn’t have those.” I put some distance between us as fast as possible. I knew he’d be in trouble with his dad as soon as he found out he had those.

Looking at the cartridge gives you a feeling that’s similar to when a teenage boy gets his first close up look at a ’73 Corvette Stingray. They’re long and lean and they glisten in the sun. The shoulders taper down in the front giving a fast, sleek, aerodynamic profile. The horsepower packed inside adds to the intrigue.

Take a look at some of the features of the .30-06. Factory ammunition is available in a large selection of bullet weights ranging from 125 grains to 220 grains which is suitable for most game. Power levels run from approximately 2700 pounds of muzzle energy up to 3300 pounds for average factory loads. Corresponding muzzle velocities run from 2600 feet per second for heavier bullets up to and beyond 3100 feet per second for lighter weight bullets. The bullet energy of standard, off the shelf, 150 grain loads at 300 yards is approximately 1450 pounds. The “maximum point-blank range” for this load is 290 yards. This means the bullet’s path is never more than 3” above or below the line of sight in 290 yards. That’s pretty impressive. The fact that this cartridge is the most popular in the world means that you can find ammo anywhere. If you run out or it gets lost while traveling or hunting, any local gun shop such as Pachella Arms,http://www.pachellaarms.com/ will have a box of ammo. In a pinch, you can also go to your local “Cheapo Mart”.

Compare the performance of the .30-06 to some other great choices. Another one of the most popular choices of caliber is the .308 Winchester. For a common 150 grain bullet load, it has a “maximum point-blank range” of 275 yards and retains a bullet energy of approximately 1340 pounds. The larger .300 Winchester Magnum has a “maximum point-blank range” of 315 yards with a standard 150 grain bullet load and it retains just over 1800 pounds of energy at 300 yards. Looking at these numbers doesn’t show too much difference between the .308 and the .30-06, but the aught six has the advantage none the less. The .300 Win Mag excels when you compare these numbers to the 308 and the 30-06, but loses out in shooter comfort compared to the other two when you consider the heavier recoil of the 300 Win Mag. The higher cost of .300 Win Mag ammo is a consideration by some people as well.

My first buck taken with the .30-06. By the looks of all of the broken points, he must have been a real fighter.

The cartridge performance information above isn’t all inclusive of what one can find on a ballistics chart, but it’s some of the most important information I look at when comparing cartridges and what I first look at before delving further into research. I’ve discussed the .308 and .300 Mag to give you an idea of what the .30-06 is like compared to two other .30 caliber cartridges with loads using the same bullet weight. Look at some ballistics charts and also compare these to other popular calibers like the .243 Winchester, .270 Winchester and the 7mm Remington Magnum. These all may excel at a specific task above the performance of the .30-06, but when you consider its versatility, the “aught six” comes out on top. With its selection of bullet weights and loads, relative felt shooting recoil, “on the shelf” purchase availability, ammunition purchase price and overall shooting performance, it would be hard to pick a better all-around caliber. Reloading for the .30-06 enhances its versatility even more. It can and has been used for every game animal around the globe. I dub the .30-06 “King of the woods and field”.

It’s true that the .30-06 may not be the best choice for any one thing, but it just may be the perfect choice for everything.

General Interest, Hunting/Shooting

Sometimes it’s not the Coffee – Sometimes it’s the Experience

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We were sitting around the table in the kitchen tent talking about where and how we would be hunting after breakfast while George, our outfitter for this hunt, was making coffee. We were in a large canvas hunting tent about 14 foot wide and about 20 foot long. It had a little wood stove in one corner for heat and a larger, wood cooking stove in the corner of the other end. A long table with lots of chairs around it gave all of the hunters and guides a place to eat and talk about hunting. There was still plenty of room in the tent for washing dishes. There was also plenty of room in the tent for the three camp dogs to lick pots and pans and to lie around soaking up the heat from the wood stoves. The dogs weren’t just there for companionship; they were also there to keep the grizzly bears away.

wyoming-2005-077

We were in Wyoming to hunt elk with our bows in some of the most beautiful and most remote country you could imagine. 15 miles from the road, this was our home for seven days. A long horseback ride in to our camp and several days of hunting in the Shoshone Wilderness Area was an incredible way to spend a week. The breathtaking views, comradery and the wild game viewing were just some of the things that made this an extraordinary hunting trip.

It was the morning of the first day’s hunt and we were all sitting around the table while George’s cook was whipping something up for breakfast and George was making coffee. He had an old, blue, enamel coffee pot sitting on the stove cooking water. This coffee pot must have been about three gallons! I don’t think I ever saw one this big before. I was standing with George discussing his coffee pot and his wood cook stove and wondering how he got this huge stove out into the wilderness. George was a big, ol’, 6’2’’ tall cowboy with a friendly demeanor who always seemed to have a smile on his face and kind word for everyone. I proceeded to watch George stand there with a two pound can of coffee under one arm, haphazardly tossing scoops of coffee into a three gallon pot of boiling water. I asked him how many scoops of coffee he put in that giant coffee pot. He said, “Well,  I just put a bunch in there until it looks right and it always seems to turn out good.”  Who was I to question George’s coffee making skills? He was previously an owner of a few restaurants.

cowboy coffee pot

A hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs all washed down with several cups of George’s coffee spiked with a generous helping of sugar really hit the spot. I was all ready to head out on horseback on my first day of hunting an elk with my bow. The excitement was really building to go out after an elk as I thought about George’s coffee. Wow, he really did know how to make great coffee. I headed out of camp on my horse with my first Wyoming elk camp breakfast under my belt ready to take on the day.

I arrived back home in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania after my hunt and couldn’t stop thinking about the great trip I was on. There were many great times shared with old friends and stories told with new friends. Special memories were made that will last a lifetime.  There was also that mystically delicious coffee experience. I couldn’t get the thought of George’s terrific coffee out of my mind.

I wanted to buy my own enamel coffee pot and make my own cowboy coffee.  As luck would have it, I received one as a Christmas gift. I set it up without the percolator and proceeded to toss scoops of coffee into the boiling water until I thought it looked good. When it was all finished, I poured myself a cup of that sweet, black brew. I blew off some of the steam and took a nice sip. Yuck! It was terrible! It didn’t taste at all like George’s coffee! Maybe George’s coffee wasn’t quite as good as I remembered it had been.

Sometimes it’s not the coffee. Sometimes it’s the experience.

Hunting/Shooting

A Grizzly Encounter

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My buddy stopped in at the shop one day with an interesting invitation. “Hey!” He said, “We’re going to Wyoming next Fall to hunt elk with our bows. You in?”

I hesitated for a minute and asked, “Are we going to stay at the lodge and hunt from horseback?”

He kind of chuckled and replied, “Nah, we’re riding in on horseback along the border of Yellowstone Park and staying in a tent. We’re going to be about 15 miles from the road. It’s grizzly country.”

He could already tell what my answer would be from the look on my face as I replied, “Heck yeah, count me in, that’s gonna be awesome!”

I began shooting my bow every day in preparation for the hunt, while I was working long hours at my business and trying to get all of my gear ready for the trip. I didn’t realize how fast the next several months had passed, and before I knew it, it was September 21st and I was standing on the top of a mountain holding my bow and listening to my guide calling for an elk.

My guide and I had just tied our horses near this old tree that looked like it had been struck by lightning. It was so big that you couldn’t wrap your arms around it. It was leaning over on a peculiar angle on the side of the hill where Mother Nature planted it , and the whole tree was supported by a piece of tree trunk that was only a few inches wide. It was hard to believe that it was still standing. It was an ugly looking tree for sure, but one that would become memorable for more than one reason.

It was starting to snow as my hunting guide and I made our way silently over to the edge of the mountain where he wanted to do some calling for me. The temperature was starting to drop and the wind was picking up. Justin said this was a good area to call from because he had some success at this spot before and saw a few big bull elk in the area. That sounded like a good plan to me.

I stood on the edge of the mountain and looked across the timber covered valley below at the other mountains in front of me and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was the most beautiful view that I’ve ever seen in my life. The mountains looked as though they rose all the way to the clouds. The sky was the brightest, most magnificent blue I could have imagined. The clouds were tremendous. They were the whitest of whites. They looked as though they were floating in the air just above my head and stretched across the sky forever. I almost felt like I could reach up and grab one of them.

Wyoming 2005 176

Justin said in a low voice, “It’s an amazing view isn’t it?”

I said, “It sure is. It’s the most incredible place on Earth!”

He pointed his finger off to the West, “See that mountain over there? That’s Yellowstone.”

I think my mouth was just hanging open in awe. I didn’t answer him.

“OK” Justin whispered, “Nock an arrow and get ready, I’m going to start bugling.”

I nocked a Beman ICS Hunter arrow onto my bow string and as I adjusted my grip on my bow, Justin blew into his elk call and the sound of a screaming bull elk sailed across the valley below us. We stood and listened and I doubt that more than five or ten seconds went by and suddenly we heard a big bull reply back to us. He was way down on the bottom of the other side of the valley. There’s nothing like the sound of a big, old bull elk bugling. The first time you hear it, the loud, eerie, high pitched, guttural scream will send a jolt of spine-tingling electricity through your body and the hair will stand up on the back of your neck. Justin called back and again the bull responded. It’s always exciting to hear one bugle back in response to a call.

We stood and listened for a few minutes, then, Justin made another series of calls. Seconds later, there was an elk bugling. This time it was off to our right, but still down in the bottom of the valley. It was another bull. Justin called again, but this time there was no response from either of the bulls. We waited 10 to 15 minutes to give the bulls time to build up some interest and to see if we could make them try to come find us.

The wind began to let up a bit as we stood and waited for a sign of a bull coming in to us. I looked over my bow again and made sure I was ready for a shot if an opportunity presented itself. My Alpine bow was ready and so was I. Justin was getting ready to start calling again when I noticed the wind had completely stopped and there was complete silence in the air. Not even the birds were singing. A strange feeling started to come over me.

Just as Justin was about to start calling, I heard a twig snap in the small thicket of trees about 30 yards behind us. Justin made some calls and after we waited for a brief moment, I whispered to him, “Justin, did you hear something in the brush behind us? I think something is there.”

Justin just shook his head no and motioned for me to stay ready. He proceeded to make a few very subtle calls, and again, I heard something behind me. He did too. We remained completely still and silent for several minutes, but it seemed like forever.

Justin’s voice broke the silence. “OK, let’s go. It’s getting late and those bulls are too far away to come in before dark. Make sure you stay ready as we work our way back to the horses. Let’s cut through that little thicket of trees.”

Our boots left tracks in the fresh snow as we crept silently toward the little thicket behind where we were calling. We entered through a narrow opening in the thick brush. I held my bow up shoulder high to keep the arrows in my quiver from getting caught up in the branches. We made our way about ten feet into the brush and found that it opened up into a small clearing approximately fifteen feet wide.

Justin stepped into the opening and knelt down as he pointed to something in the snow. I walked over to him and bent down to see what he was looking at. I think I gasped out loud as I saw what he was looking at! It was un-nerving to say the least. It appeared that there was good reason for that strange feeling I had earlier. Now I started to feel uneasy when I saw what was in the snow.

Fresh grizzly tracks painted the snow behind where we were hunting. It appeared that the big bear heard our elk calls and stalked in on us! He stopped about 30 yards behind where we hunted to check us out. The fear of knowing that a grizzly stalked you for the purpose of his next meal is like no other feeling. He walked off in a direction behind where we left our horses tied. Wyoming 2005 178

My heart was still beating at a rapid pace as I reached down and unsnapped the strap on my holster. My hand caressed the grip of my 44 magnum Smith and Wesson model 29 revolver as Justin and I made our way back to our horses. Darkness was approaching as we stowed my bow and saddled our horses. Thoughts of that grizzly weighed heavily on my mind as we headed toward the “old lightning bolt tree”. It was a complete surprise when I looked up past the big tree and there stood a beautiful Bighorn ram. He stood there in a graceful pose as if he purposely allowed me to get a good look and snap a few pictures. I was grateful for the opportunity of the sighting. How many times will someone living on the East Coast encounter that?

Wyoming 2005 191

I kept searching my surroundings for a glimpse of the bear. I looked behind each tree, each bush and every log, but as darkness set in, objects began to appear as bears in the shadows of my imagination. I could almost see the “griz” every place I looked. I was expecting the bear to attack at any moment. Our hour long wilderness ride through the darkness back to camp on our horses was an adventure I wasn’t looking forward to.

The cold steel of my 44 was of little comfort as I heard Justin say, “You ready? Let’s get going”.