Bowen Hunting 2009
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I had stayed up too late the night before visiting with one of my best friends who is moving a couple states away. So it came as no surprise when my alarm went off at 5am that my body fought with my will to leave the warmth of the covers. My desire to fill my freezer won out and I started the process to get out the door and off to the area where I hunt. Thankfully my brain was finally up and reminded me of the cow hunt today that might push hundreds of elk off the bar and onto the public land where I would be waiting.
Hustling up the draw I arrive at my spot in time, sweat soaking my t-shirt under where my pack rests against me. Sloughing my load to the ground I am just enjoying the relief from the burden and evaporative cooling effect when I hear the din of gunfire from the top of the ridge behind me, signaling the game is afoot. Turning my focus I see elk descending the tops of the rocky slopes a half mile away. Working my way back and forth across the slope I’m on for about 10 minutes in an attempt to estimate the path the game will take, I'm suddenly forced to quickly choose a spot and sit down as the lead cow crests the closest ridge across from me and leads the herd over the rim in my direction from my left..
At first 10 then 50 and now hundreds of elk are bustling along across the hillside opposite from me single file and sky-lined just over 400 yards away (440 yds according to the range finder). Farther than I'd like to shoot but if one stops and present me the opportunity I think I can make the shot. It's painfully obvious as I scan them with my binos that they are all cows with a few big bulls mixed in, yet I still hold on to the fading dream that suddenly there will be a legal bull that appears as if by magic. My heart begins to slow to its normal rhythm as hope slowly ebbs away as I glass each cow over and over for the 1 1/2 year old bull I know should be mixed in there somewhere. With the new "True-Spike" rule in effect this season I figured this year was going to be a wash, yet here I was trying just the same.
My efforts are soon rewarded and hope springs alive once again as I notice another group of about 30 rounding the knob lower than the first ones, only 250 yards away and headed the same direction. Again I scan for those tell-tale 1x1 antlers and see only cows and a big bull. Hope begins to fade once again.
I catch new movement as a third group comes around the bend, this time closer still to my blind. Watching them walk toward me I'm caught up in the moment as elk sounds fill the calm fall air: the mewing of the calves, the chirps of the cows, and the half bugles of the bulls. The sun is warm, the sky calm, clear and blue. As I enjoy the rays from our closest star I start to console myself that even with no spike to harvest, at least I am witness to a great show this morning and will have a good story to tell the rest of my family and friends around the burn barrel tonight.
Suddenly he is there, just over 200 yards away and closing, the 4th from the last elk in the last group. He's one of the tallest spikes I've ever seen and I'm almost euphoric with excitement as I check him again and again to be sure he’s legal. Finding no extra points on his rack that would preclude him from my attempts to harvest him I stare almost in shock. It was then that my brain shared the news with my heart and they both overindulged on adrenaline, sending my pulse to the moon. "Great." I think as my crosshairs start to dance wildly all over the target.
Forcing myself to take a deep breath I regain my composure and the wires settle down for the task at hand. He's approaching closer now, 175 yards away, 150..., 140.... he's plenty close enough to shoot but still I hold. Although he's well within range of my 7mm Remington Mag handloads, he's quartering almost straight downhill right toward me, covering his vitals with his front right shoulder. He's also walking with no intention on stopping it seems. I've shot moving game before but not one walking toward me and knowing it will sacrifice some meat I'm not eager to shoot...yet.
Now there are other considerations to take, straining my patience for a better shot angle. The lead cow that brought all these animals my direction is still closing the gap between us. She is now below me less than 50 yards away and staring at me, my face highlighted by the sun’s rays I was enjoying just a few moments ago. My thoughts imagine her busting me and starting a stampede of Wapati that would make a Texan fear for his life. Knowing my time was short (there are other hunters within 600 yards that could start volleying rounds at any time as well) I peered through the scope at my quarry and started to take the slack out of the trigger, putting all my faith in the 160 grain bonded-core Accubond I'm loaded with....
BOOM!
In slow motion I see he's hit and hit hard. Quickly I reload while watching him take his last steps. Dropping his head, arching his back and kicking out his rear legs I know he's hit in the heart from the signs. He hops once like a wild horse being broke by a greenhorn cowboy, then hops again. Now he's down, rolling over once, then twice, then he finally rolls to a stop....
The elk he's with scatter about 30 yards back the way they came, confused and staring at their fallen comrade unsure what to do next. The cows below me turn and start running off to my right headed toward the safety of the mountains in the distance. The spike is still, no movement at all, the calm and silence returning to the draw where this scene has played out. I quietly remain in my spot, watching the dead spike to be sure he's down, watching the other elk as they try to comprehend what has just occurred, finally making up their minds and bolting around him to join up with the others. With the realization of what has just happened slowly sinking into my consciousness I slowly rise and say a quiet "Thank You" to Nature and the Elk Spirits for giving me this gift.
Shane was the only other one in the family to tag his spike this year. Here's his bull (on the left) next to mine. Good meat for us both!
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