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Jmsmithy wrote:
….we NEED to be behind a project like this, to tell the story, the real story…
X 2.
In the predawn murkiness I hear the engine, coming my way. I step off the trail and immediately blend in as the ATV whizzes by. I hear it fade up the hill, and resume walking quietly. Within 10 minutes of that gawdawful cacophony passing, the bull bugles, a mere 50ft. away. No doubt he thinks that the danger has past. But a semi-competent hunter, who may only amount to a threat on a lucky day, still lingers.
I crouch in the bushes and give a little cow call. He bellows again, and I hear him moving my way. But then he hangs up, just on the other side of some dense shrubbery from me. I hear him continuing to move around, branches snapping loudly under his girth. But still he won’t come any closer. We continue this standoff for what seems like an hour but was probably only 15 minutes, and then I hear him moving away; melting back into the dense aspens where I have no chance of continuing the chase undetected.
Public land bulls with a trad bow. I don’t need to tell anyone who’s done it what a hard game this is. There are no shortcuts, no substitutes for putting the time in, doing the work and knowing the land like the back of your hand. And despite the guy I see almost every day using 4 wheels to do what his legs are fully capable of, there really is no cheating in this game. As I did this morning, I’ve watched him many times motor right through an area full of elk, completely oblivious and struck deaf by the sound of his machine. I want to tell him that, despite the common assumption, choosing to use an ATV isn’t making the hunting any easier – for him or for others around him. Instead, I avoid him at all costs, opting to slink into the forest – partly because I’m not out here to make small talk (or any talk, for that matter) and partly because my blood boils every time that infernal machine shatters the tranquility, the sacred quiet, of this place. Part of me wishes he would just get his damn elk already and leave this place in peace to those who still value boot leather and working for it. But mostly I hope he finds no reward. Or gives up and go somewhere else.
No, there is no substitute for putting the time in. And so, when the bugling has long dissipated this morning and the elk have found shelter in places where no one can get to them without raising the alarm, I still sit on the edge of a meadow, watching a sharp-shinned hawk send the warblers and robins scattering with fear.
pothunter wrote: Did you go to work today?
Unfortunately, yes. Which is where I’m cruising the Trad Bow forum right now, btw…:wink:
Had another intense experience with a bull last night. Did a couple cow calls at dusk, and he must have been sitting on the ridge top right above me because I could hear him coming in immediately, and silently (not bugling). He hung up on the other side of a tree, just 20 ft. from me, and began raking his rack back and forth across the branches, shaking the whole tree. But I was pinned down, and was afraid he would see any attempt to reposition myself for a shot, and he also wouldn’t move out from behind the tree to reveal himself. After about 10 very intense minutes of that, he walked away, no doubt pissed that the sexy cow wouldn’t come the rest of the way to him.
Kill or no kill, it’s experiences like that that keep me addicted to this game.
And I’m leaving work early today and heading out till dark, with the next two days off, and 5 days on the calendar for the last week of Sept.
David Petersen wrote: Bruce — you actually WORK in Sept.? Foolish man!
Arghh. Tell me about it. I need to figure out a line of work that allows me to take all of Sept. and Oct off. Best of luck to you too, compadre!
It would have been easy to not make the hike up the hill behind the house tonight. I had just gotten home from work, and laziness was whispering in my ear. Next thing I knew I was pulling the bow out of the guest room, grabbing the backpack and jumping in the truck. Plenty of time to be lazy when I’m dead.
I deliberately decided not to hike too far in this evening, and instead stay down low, where I had bumped the herd a few days ago. Got there early, did a little scouting, found no fresh sign, and sat for two hours.
I’d forgotten to eat lunch today, and by 7pm, hunger was driving me to distraction. I almost called it and hiked home to a warm meal, but again, something told me to deny temptation and kept sitting, waiting, listening. And then, right at dusk, it happened- the first bugle of the season, right where I had hoped he would be holed up, on the other side of a thick stand of aspens. I started moving toward him, doing a little cow calling. Stopping, waiting, moving slowly again. Another subtle mew call. Next bugle was closer. The one after that closer still.
It was time to pick a spot with good cover and hole up, let him close the rest of the distance, which he did. I called again. Suddenly his scream exploded just 40ft. away, on the other side of a dense stand of shrubbery. I couldn’t see him, but he was right there. Adrenalin flooded through me and I had to work consciously to get my heart to slow down.
And then the next bugle I heard was farther away. The one after that made it clear he had turned and dropped down into the next drainage. It was too dark now to risk a shot anyway. I simply stood there, savoring the rush that I live for all year long. It’s on. How the hell can I go to work tomorrow?
This morning they were hanging down low – much lower than I was expecting. I busted them on my way up. The bull let out two thundering barks to say “everyone up and out, now!” and they exploded into the dark forest and disappeared. I kicked myself for not expecting this, for being too focused on getting to “my spot” up above and not paying attention to the details along the way. Probably a life lesson in there somewhere.
Silence continues to be the order of the day. There has been no bugling yet, except for the painfully obvious two-legged variety. I’m tempted to go track them down and tell them that they’re not helping anything, that no elk is going to be fooled by what sounds like a fart channeled through a trumpet, that they’re only encouraging the elk to go quiet and move on to more peaceful places. I want to tell them that they have passed right by me on their ATV, in the crepuscular hours, never knowing I was 5 ft. away from them. That I know they have two perfectly good legs and to ask them why they don’t want to use them. Instead, I head the other way and push deeper into places they won’t go.
Yes, nothing is happening yet, but I still love the hours of sitting and waiting, “doing nothing” as some might see it. The birds and ground squirrels come right up to me. A goshawk rips through the understory at lightning speed, coming within a few feet of my head with a rush of air following. We surprise each other, and he lands in a branch a safe distance away to try and figure out just what the hell I might be.
The light on Mt. Taylor fades to orange and then purple and it’s time to start moving.
I’m always amazed at how much sound carries up from the valley below, carried across surprising distances. Dogs barking. Kids playing. Cars commuting home. Tomorrow, I’ll be one of them.
