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Some time ago, during a discussion I don't now remember, I suggested to Mindy that we should post some pictures of our hunting trips this year. I know many of you will never see the country I have seen, nor will we ever see what Mindy has seen. Y'all are gracious enough to listen to me throughout the year so this is my way to say thank-you. This being a gun and game forum, after all.
None of this is me lording it over anyone or bragging or anything close to that. Just thought some of you'd be interested. So pull up a chair and I'll tell you about last month.
This is home. First order of business every year is to get camp squared away and cut wood. The bush is no fun wet and cold; I have been there. I'm all done roughing it. On the other hand, there are few things in life as comforting and pleasant as a warm wall tent; especially during one of our Rocky Mountain squalls. You don't see it in these picutures, but the rockies are only several ridges to the west. I don't get right into the rockies to hunt elk; they are not goats.
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Our little friends have to eat, too. Never kill a whiskey jack, esp on a hunting trip. Very bad juju.
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Home after the morning hunt, changed clothes and enjoying a cup of coffee.
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Typical mountain river. It rages in the spring. Tried a bit of fishing one day but nobody home.
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Big animals have places where they like to cross rivers. There was a crossing right across the river from camp. I heard an elk or moose cross one night in the dark while sitting outside visiting with my hunting partner. Heard a big animal slosh across the river, then heard it shake like a horse and then hooves on rocks. It was gone by the time we found a flashlight. This was where it crossed though, no doubt about it. (the snowflaky things are falling leaves)
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My partner wondered it it was grizzly. I saw 6 of them this fall. They didn't get the memo about being endangered. Anyway, it wasn't a grizzly; they'd shake more like a dog. A different sound entirely. There's a loaded 3" 12 guage in that tent loaded with 5 rounds of 00 buckshot. It's not me that needs to be worried.
Places like this clearing are always good places to hunt.
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No comment needed for these:
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On around Day #6, I called a big bull down off a mountain and onto an old road where I was set up at the end of the day. It took about ½ hour for him to show up. I was fully camo'd with a veil over my face, looking intently in two directions where I could see 670 yds one way and 530 yds the other way. I had both those long shots doped out. Then, suddenly, there he was....head and neck poking out through a line of willow scrub. Looking at me. About 150 yards away. I don't have to count points to see if he is a legal 3-point bull, there are lots of points. Nobody moves for what seems like a long time. I am thinking: "Do I wait and see if he steps into the clear or try a shot now? If he sees my movement, he'll be out of my sight in the blink of an eye.....better take what I've got." Up goes my custom 300 Win Mag. There's already a 200 gr. Hornady ELD-X handloaded round up the spout so all I have to do is flick off the Butler Creek scope covers (which seem to make an awfull loud "snap" sound), slide off the safety, and then guess about where the boiler room is. My scope is set on 20x because I was expecting to make a long shot. Rookie mistake. I have no time to fiddle with it. Slide the crosshairs back from the front of the neck I can see onto a mix of blurred scrub and elk hair. About there. WHAM. He spins around and is gone. In an instant, I know I have hit him a bit too far back, likely 6" back from ideal. It's one of those instant replay things that happens after you fire a round for keeps. Crap. He won't go far because I clipped the back of the lungs but it's not the heart shot I prefer. I guess I should've shot him in the neck. Thing is, if you miss the neckbone that can be bad, too.
Anyway, it's going to be dark in about 15 minutes so I have to mark the spot where I hit him. I'll be back at first light and need to know exactly where he was. The ground is bare, dry and hard. Tracking will not be easy. I mark where his hooves dug in when he spun around. After what seems like a long time, just before darkness descends, I find a single drop of blood on a stone and I mark that carefully.
Back in camp, I try not to beat myself up for not taking the neck shot. Whatever. I am the best tracker I know and I will find him. Then.........it rains. Off and on through the night. Shit.
Next morning, I find my spot easily. The rock that had a drop of blood on it does not have a drop of blood on it any more. Washed off in the rain. I tell my hunting partner to stay behind me. Don't need him tromping on whatever sign there may be. He is new to big game hunting but at least he listens. I mark last night's blood sign with a square of toilet paper and start quartering the clearing he ran through but the ground is too hard to tell. I take a roll of toilet paper when I am tracking an animal. Put a square up high and it is easy to see when you look back. That helps to tell you the animal's direction of travel. No way you're going to run out of squares. And I don't feel like I have to go back and pick it up; it will disappear soon enough. There is too much surveyor's tape left in the bush by Elmer Fudds, IMO.
Anyway, back to tracking. It's not going well. I know elk will tend to run up for safety and so I assume this bull did the same and work my way up the mountainside from the contact point. A ways into the woods, and after some back-and-forthing, I see some scuffed moss on the ground. Is that him? Could be and probably is but any blood sign went in the rain. I decided to follow whatever animal was making the odd scuff in the moss. I know it was running, at least. About 200 yds up the mountainside, I see horns. He's laying on his side. Dead. Right between two trees. Picked a helluva place to die. The work starts but first, this time, I take a minute for a few pictures. I have not bothered with pictures over most of my hunting career and regret it.
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Hope you enjoyed this little campfire chat and the country where I am fortunate enough to hunt.
God bless.
None of this is me lording it over anyone or bragging or anything close to that. Just thought some of you'd be interested. So pull up a chair and I'll tell you about last month.
This is home. First order of business every year is to get camp squared away and cut wood. The bush is no fun wet and cold; I have been there. I'm all done roughing it. On the other hand, there are few things in life as comforting and pleasant as a warm wall tent; especially during one of our Rocky Mountain squalls. You don't see it in these picutures, but the rockies are only several ridges to the west. I don't get right into the rockies to hunt elk; they are not goats.
Our little friends have to eat, too. Never kill a whiskey jack, esp on a hunting trip. Very bad juju.
Home after the morning hunt, changed clothes and enjoying a cup of coffee.
Typical mountain river. It rages in the spring. Tried a bit of fishing one day but nobody home.
Big animals have places where they like to cross rivers. There was a crossing right across the river from camp. I heard an elk or moose cross one night in the dark while sitting outside visiting with my hunting partner. Heard a big animal slosh across the river, then heard it shake like a horse and then hooves on rocks. It was gone by the time we found a flashlight. This was where it crossed though, no doubt about it. (the snowflaky things are falling leaves)
My partner wondered it it was grizzly. I saw 6 of them this fall. They didn't get the memo about being endangered. Anyway, it wasn't a grizzly; they'd shake more like a dog. A different sound entirely. There's a loaded 3" 12 guage in that tent loaded with 5 rounds of 00 buckshot. It's not me that needs to be worried.
Places like this clearing are always good places to hunt.
No comment needed for these:
On around Day #6, I called a big bull down off a mountain and onto an old road where I was set up at the end of the day. It took about ½ hour for him to show up. I was fully camo'd with a veil over my face, looking intently in two directions where I could see 670 yds one way and 530 yds the other way. I had both those long shots doped out. Then, suddenly, there he was....head and neck poking out through a line of willow scrub. Looking at me. About 150 yards away. I don't have to count points to see if he is a legal 3-point bull, there are lots of points. Nobody moves for what seems like a long time. I am thinking: "Do I wait and see if he steps into the clear or try a shot now? If he sees my movement, he'll be out of my sight in the blink of an eye.....better take what I've got." Up goes my custom 300 Win Mag. There's already a 200 gr. Hornady ELD-X handloaded round up the spout so all I have to do is flick off the Butler Creek scope covers (which seem to make an awfull loud "snap" sound), slide off the safety, and then guess about where the boiler room is. My scope is set on 20x because I was expecting to make a long shot. Rookie mistake. I have no time to fiddle with it. Slide the crosshairs back from the front of the neck I can see onto a mix of blurred scrub and elk hair. About there. WHAM. He spins around and is gone. In an instant, I know I have hit him a bit too far back, likely 6" back from ideal. It's one of those instant replay things that happens after you fire a round for keeps. Crap. He won't go far because I clipped the back of the lungs but it's not the heart shot I prefer. I guess I should've shot him in the neck. Thing is, if you miss the neckbone that can be bad, too.
Anyway, it's going to be dark in about 15 minutes so I have to mark the spot where I hit him. I'll be back at first light and need to know exactly where he was. The ground is bare, dry and hard. Tracking will not be easy. I mark where his hooves dug in when he spun around. After what seems like a long time, just before darkness descends, I find a single drop of blood on a stone and I mark that carefully.
Back in camp, I try not to beat myself up for not taking the neck shot. Whatever. I am the best tracker I know and I will find him. Then.........it rains. Off and on through the night. Shit.
Next morning, I find my spot easily. The rock that had a drop of blood on it does not have a drop of blood on it any more. Washed off in the rain. I tell my hunting partner to stay behind me. Don't need him tromping on whatever sign there may be. He is new to big game hunting but at least he listens. I mark last night's blood sign with a square of toilet paper and start quartering the clearing he ran through but the ground is too hard to tell. I take a roll of toilet paper when I am tracking an animal. Put a square up high and it is easy to see when you look back. That helps to tell you the animal's direction of travel. No way you're going to run out of squares. And I don't feel like I have to go back and pick it up; it will disappear soon enough. There is too much surveyor's tape left in the bush by Elmer Fudds, IMO.
Anyway, back to tracking. It's not going well. I know elk will tend to run up for safety and so I assume this bull did the same and work my way up the mountainside from the contact point. A ways into the woods, and after some back-and-forthing, I see some scuffed moss on the ground. Is that him? Could be and probably is but any blood sign went in the rain. I decided to follow whatever animal was making the odd scuff in the moss. I know it was running, at least. About 200 yds up the mountainside, I see horns. He's laying on his side. Dead. Right between two trees. Picked a helluva place to die. The work starts but first, this time, I take a minute for a few pictures. I have not bothered with pictures over most of my hunting career and regret it.
Hope you enjoyed this little campfire chat and the country where I am fortunate enough to hunt.
God bless.
