Less than a mile of easing down the dirt and mud road we reached the first group. Quietly and quickly we stopped the vehicle and eased out, glasses in hand to ID them, now only 200 yards above us, just above a small collection of brush. After a minute or two we could see it was yet another smaller buck and does, when they all started dancing around, playing. Soon the young male was chasing the does and skittering about on the hillside, oblivious to our presence. The does kept an eye on us but it was clear their minds were more on the young "boy" doing his tricks closeby. Little did we know they had someone else nearby.

Now frustration is rearing it's ugly head as all the deer are bedded behind the bushes out of sight. With no way to approach them and no easy, timely way to sneak around them we sit....and wait...and wait some more...while the child and lab grow more and more noisy and annoying. Our tempers are slipping, and the fun is ebbing out of this adventure. Picking apart every trig and branch I finally seperate the buck from his cover and realize I can see him through the brush. Bringing my wife to my side of the vehicle I detail where he is and she sees him too. Moving to the side of the road and finding a good rest, I begin to coach her on taking the shot, explaining the range and preparring myself for the report of her 270. Warning the occupents of the car to cover their ears I give her the Thumbs-Up to fire. A few seconds pass and then her Browning belows.

The deer all stand, some start to panic and then the bruiser is up and loaded, ready to jump. I hiss at my partner to shoot him again, even though her first shot landed in his body, just to be sure. She shoots again and he drops at the shot. The rest of the deer scatter and my spouse is looking hard for any signs he might be escaping. Not seeing the buck leave with the others I suggest she go up there carefully with her rifle at port-arms just in case, not sure where she's hit him. Off she goes, trudging up after him while I try to watch and coach her from below. After long minutes she reaches the brushy area where the deer were bedded and after a short search finds the buck, dead in his bed!

By now the dog and daughter are fit to be tied so I release them both, the lab clamoring up the hill first and myself and our oldest reaching the spot last. Sure enough, Nissa is smiling ear to ear while looking at her prize.

Lots of high-fives, 2-thumbs-up from Jayme, and plenty of pictures we feel relief knowing it's a short distance downhill to the road. Nissa being rather macho tells me she's going to drag it out, show me and the girl how a "real woman" hunts. You go girl!

Now Erik is on the radio, telling us there is another bull near him that is wounded but still alive. Someone should come finish him off before he's found by a hunter not of our clan. Knowing there is nothing I can do for my spouse, and with the opportunity to put meat in our very empty freezer, I race to the bottom of my draw and up the grassy hill. It's warm for elk season and soon I'm stopped, striping off layers as I wipe the sweat from my brow. 15 minutes later I manage to crest the ridge and see the elk lying near where Erik is with his bull. The elk is hurt, shot through the right front shoulder bone but still with his head up. Working my way up the ridge line opposite the bull, I finally get across the canyon from him and set up for the shot. It's times like this the practice of shooting my 7mm Rem Mag pays off. As I range the bull, my rangefinder flashes BATT, and refuses to read. Talk about bad timing. Thankfully the bull is lying there unaware so there is no hurry. I dig around in my pack for my spare battery and finally get a reading on him, 322 yards.

Close enough. Figuring drop to be around 8 inches I line up the shot, after warning Erik I was about to commence firing. "Boom!".."Whop!", hit. The bull is looking around now and he felt that one, but he still has his head up. Squeezing the trigger slowly and carefully, I send another round, "Boom!"..."Whop!" hit again, and that's the one through the heart as he rears up and starts rolling down the hill.

A feeling of extreme satisfaction seeps through me knowing my family will have plenty of meat this year, and elk meat, the best meat on Earth at that. As I watch to make sure the bull isn't moving, I come back down from my hunter's high and realize there are other hunters around that would love to tag my bull so I quickly make my way down to the bottom then back up the rocky hillside to where my bull lies dead. While tagging my bull, Erik comes over for handshakes and to admire the elk, then we work our way back across the knoll to admire his elk.

Sorry for the loss of my wife's bull but grateful for the chance to harvest this bull that was left by a lazy hunter, my season came to a close. Now, where's that Ibuprofen, my knees are starting to ache again...