Just got back from Idaho, after starting my hunt last Sunday. The hunt got off to a pretty auspicious start, with us seeing 11 total people in the one canyon I was hunting. After a run in with a group of four, and an outfitter that were all going to be hunting the same exact area as me, I decided to move over into a new area.
After a few days of constantly looking for elk sign and moving camp, we finally found a few elk to hunt on Wednesday morning. The elk had been very quiet all week, only bugling briefly before dark, and right at sunrise. But, we finally had some really fresh sign, so that was good.
Thursday evening, we were still hunting through the timber, when I saw a bull in front of us about 75 yards, destroying a tree. I cow called to him, and much to my surprise, he decided to come right in. As he got closer, I realized he was actually a pretty nice 6 point, and that he was getting a little too close for comfort. He continued to walk straight at me and I had yet to draw my bow. Finally, at 15 feet (seriously, 15 feet), I decided the gig was up, and just drew back my bow as fast as possible. He jumped back, and stood broadside, with a pine in between me and his vitals. I leaned to the right, no shot. I leaned to the left, saw vitals, and the started to bring the pins down to shoot.
Then, I don't know what happened. Don't know if I pulled the trigger early, or he moved, or if I just plain suck, but I shot him right in the shoulder. The arrow hit the shoulder, and went up, getting about 3 inches of penetration. He raced off, with the arrow dangling down around his leg. We tracked him for 100 yards, no blood. Found the arrow. Tracked for 300-400 more yards, no blood, finally lost the trail. My only comfort was knowing that he was not mortally wounded.
After being down in the dumps for a few days, and nearly punching my tag and quitting, I drove into Jackson to drop off my buddy that had been with me, and picked up another friend that was to join me for my second week. We made it back to camp on Sunday morning, and heard a bull bugling close to camp that evening. That bull ended up bugling all night long, getting as close as about 300 yards from camp. We went after him in the morning, cutting him off on the ridge line that he'd been walking back and forth all night. I cow called, and he came racing in. I made a perfect shot, and he was down within about 75 yards.
This is my first elk, on my third elk hunt, and the first animal that I've shot in probably 15 years that I didn't think about score before I killed him. To me, this animal represents more than a score, he represents several years of planning and dedication, and I am proud of him. More so than I am of any of the big whitetails I've killed, or anything else hunting related. To kill him with my best friend right there, who has put the same effort into this as I have, meant a good deal to me.



After a few days of constantly looking for elk sign and moving camp, we finally found a few elk to hunt on Wednesday morning. The elk had been very quiet all week, only bugling briefly before dark, and right at sunrise. But, we finally had some really fresh sign, so that was good.
Thursday evening, we were still hunting through the timber, when I saw a bull in front of us about 75 yards, destroying a tree. I cow called to him, and much to my surprise, he decided to come right in. As he got closer, I realized he was actually a pretty nice 6 point, and that he was getting a little too close for comfort. He continued to walk straight at me and I had yet to draw my bow. Finally, at 15 feet (seriously, 15 feet), I decided the gig was up, and just drew back my bow as fast as possible. He jumped back, and stood broadside, with a pine in between me and his vitals. I leaned to the right, no shot. I leaned to the left, saw vitals, and the started to bring the pins down to shoot.
Then, I don't know what happened. Don't know if I pulled the trigger early, or he moved, or if I just plain suck, but I shot him right in the shoulder. The arrow hit the shoulder, and went up, getting about 3 inches of penetration. He raced off, with the arrow dangling down around his leg. We tracked him for 100 yards, no blood. Found the arrow. Tracked for 300-400 more yards, no blood, finally lost the trail. My only comfort was knowing that he was not mortally wounded.
After being down in the dumps for a few days, and nearly punching my tag and quitting, I drove into Jackson to drop off my buddy that had been with me, and picked up another friend that was to join me for my second week. We made it back to camp on Sunday morning, and heard a bull bugling close to camp that evening. That bull ended up bugling all night long, getting as close as about 300 yards from camp. We went after him in the morning, cutting him off on the ridge line that he'd been walking back and forth all night. I cow called, and he came racing in. I made a perfect shot, and he was down within about 75 yards.
This is my first elk, on my third elk hunt, and the first animal that I've shot in probably 15 years that I didn't think about score before I killed him. To me, this animal represents more than a score, he represents several years of planning and dedication, and I am proud of him. More so than I am of any of the big whitetails I've killed, or anything else hunting related. To kill him with my best friend right there, who has put the same effort into this as I have, meant a good deal to me.


