Thanks for the encouragement and good wishes, friends. 😀 But alas, it’s over as of yesterday and the elk won hands down. Bravo for the elk! Although I haven’t heard from T Downing (my third regular hunting buddy, not shown in photo as he shoots Black Widows :P) and have reason to believe he and his father got into them yesterday morning. But otherwise I don’t know a single trad bowhunter who connected around here this year, and only one training-wheeler. Strange year with an on/off abundance of bugling and visible elk, then days of silence. As the forest recovers from a major wildfire 8 years ago, they stick loyally to the almost impenetrable aspen sapling jungles in daylight hours, making stalking nearly impossible (compounded by dry loud woods), and how do you call a bull to an invisible “cow” when he already has a bunch with him? But these are merely conditions, not excuses. Truth is the elk won, fair and square. Alex had a shot op at a broadside 5×5 very close but didn’t take it for fear the bull would see him and jump the string like a whitetail. I think it could be done with a very slow draw (prey key on fast movement) but admire him for having the character to err on the ethical side. He had only 5 days to hunt. Doc Dave had about the same, scattered through the month and could have killed a 5×5 bull his first morning out if he’d had a bull tag. As a confirmed meat hunter and a family who have convinced themselves that cows taste better … well there you go. 😕 I had a great monthlong hunt, missing only two days and never drew on an animal though I had a couple of iffy chances. But my gosh did I have fun, cover some ground and get in top shape for an old fart. Today I am deeply sad and isoriented, suffering “elk season withdrawals.” It has nothing to do with having “failed,” as I did not fail myself or the elk: no mistakes, no regrets. It has to do with — it’s over, damn. No more early wake-ups, climbing a steep mountain by moonlight fast as I can to reach two screaming bulls on top. No more sitting for long quiet hours in a wild place watching and listening to nature play out another day. No more bedding down for hours close enough to a bedded bull to hear him belch. No more evening “tells” of the days events with fellow hunters over gin-tonics, no more … until next year. I can’t wait! If it were as easy as going out and killing an elk every year, what would be the point? That’s why we’re traditional. Long live the elk! An immeasurable blessing in my life. Now I can start dreaming of Arizon whitetails in December. 😀 dave
:D:D
