On a Platter

The plan had already been drawn up and Collin, Chad, and I were slowly beginning to execute it. We had had a spike elk run up to us earlier in the morning and felt encouraged that no matter what happened the rest of the day, we weren’t going to be skunked.

Coming up on the first saddle I had marked, I suggested we peek over the other side just to see what it looked like. Collin and Chad quickly turned to me, asking if I had heard the bugle. I hadn’t. Curious enough though, we posted up along the spine of the ridge and sat to glass and listen. Shortly after, another bugle erased any mystery of the first, and we began listening to infrequent, seemingly distant bugles. But without seeing any movement, we were left to our best guesses on where the bull was in the midst of the timber.

Collin and I began game-planning an approach on the bull when he stopped and pointed, “There he is.” I turned to see a bull step out of the timber into a small clearing, then quickly turn and begin feeding uphill. We did our best to keep eyes on him as he grazed, hoping to watch him bed, but it wasn’t long before we lost our visual. Going back to the drawing board, we had a much better idea now on what our next move would be. We would make it a classic spot and stalk, planning to go in silently and see if we could get a visual on the bedded bull. To do this, we had to backtrack a fair amount, drop down, and then hike up the backside of the hill the bull was on. Once on the same hill, the plan was to work around at a perpendicular angle until we got to his bed. Keeping this angle would allow us to maintain good wind, with the thermals pulling steadily uphill.

While I felt good about this strategy, I recommended we split up in order to have the best chances at success. It was already decided that Chad would be the one to shoot since this was his first true archery elk hunting experience, and he needed to get back home before Collin and I did. Chad asked if I could stay with him though and talk him through the stalk. I agreed, and said that I thought that Collin should head to the thickest patch of timber that was next to the bench we thought the bull was on. This was a possible exit route that I anticipated the bull would take if Chad and I spooked him, and I didn’t want our hunt to be over if that was the case.

We dropped our packs, fist-bumped, and wished each other good luck. And the stalk was on.

Chad and I began moving at an upward diagonal, working up to the elevation of the waypoint I had marked. While we went, I also continued checking the wind to ensure that the thermals were doing what I expected them to be doing and pulling straight up. So far, everything was going to plan.

The hill had a couple of rolls in it which I was hoping would protect us from the bull being able to get a visual on us until Chad was within range. Around 150 yards from where we figured the bull was, we were on the edge of one of those rolls and I signaled for us to take our boots off. I wanted us to be able to move without making a sound and to only make slow, intentional movements. I looked at Chad and whispered, “We have all day to kill this bull. We don’t need to rush anything.” He nodded, I turned my head, and something immediately caught my eye. Through the trees I could see the partial body of an elk, and one side of it’s antlers, indicating this was a bull. He was lower than we thought he would be, and 100 yards farther over. I turned back to Chad and said, “He’s right here!” But the bull was already locked onto us. He spun to his right and started trotting uphill. Noises crashed below us and a lone cow darted farther into the timber. We had walked right above her without noticing.

“We need to move with some purpose now.” Chad and I began fast-walking at a steeper uphill diagonal since I was expecting the bull to try to get above us to catch our wind. Scanning the trees as we were going, I caught movement down lower again. Another bull. I waved Chad up to me and told him to get ready and wait for me to range this second bull. It was weaving in and out of the burnt timber and it took me a few seconds before I finally got a clear range: “He’s at 32 yards,” I whispered. “The next time his head goes behind a tree, draw.” The bull did exactly that, and Chad followed suit. With Chad now at full draw, I was waiting for the bull to stop, hoping he would be broadside. Instead, he continued coming towards us and he hadn’t slowed down. “He’s going to be within 20, so just hold on your top pin. Take the shot when you’ve got it.”

To my disbelief, the bull just kept coming. Mouth open, tongue out, he was hot on a trail. The angle he was on would lead him just above us with a chance of getting our wind. Before he could do that though, he would have to pass in front of us and present a mostly-broadside shot. Just before he stepped behind some smaller burnt trees, I made a calf sound with my voice that froze the bull for a split second. Just as the bull’s feet stopped, Chad released an arrow that buried to the fletchings, hitting its mark behind the shoulder. The bull spun and ran, and I was confident he would be dead in no time. I looked at Chad and said, “Great shot!” We hugged and could not wipe the smiles off of our faces. I ranged the branches the bull was about to step behind: 8.9 yards. I was baffled. He walked right to us. God served him up on a platter.

Chad’s first true archery elk hunt ended with him harvesting a bull before noon on the first day. One stalk was all he needed. One faint bugle changed our plans and one glimpse helped us make new ones.

The rest of the day didn’t turn out to be that simple. The bull ended up circling back and not expiring as fast as we expected him to. I bumped him out of a creek bed where he was laying down to hide and we pulled back and ate lunch to give him more time.

Once we finished our meals, we got back on the track of where we last saw the bull. Blood was hard to come by, but I asked Collin, “Do you think he’d try to back into the creek bed?” Collin thought there was a good chance the bull would be looking for the cool breeze and the thick cover that the creek bed would offer, so he started walking the edge of it. He quickly turned, got my attention, and pointed.

We then told Chad that we found blood leading back in, wanting him to be the first to get to his bull. After a moment of concern thinking the bull was still alive, we were able to confirm he had taken his last breaths. We celebrated together, took some photos, and then got to work breaking down the bull.

Chad wanted the day to be even more memorable, so we decided to pack the elk out in one trip.

We all struggled our way back to the truck and felt the relief that only those who have done it before know—when you finally get to drop your pack for good.

At the end of the day though, it’s all worth it. The pain is a small sacrifice for the memories made, the food provided, and the opportunity to be immersed into creation on a deeper level than most ever get to experience.

Collin, Chad, and Shane.