the pleasure of elk hunting
 

It's my first elk season in which I've decided not to go mental and push myself to the limit, burn mega gas and spend every spare second in the bush scouting. I am getting a little too old and broken down to do this the way I traditionally do.
Thirty years, that's how long I've suffered my "september breakdown" The only complaint I have is my physical condition is such that I now have to consider that pain now trumps pleasure. My arthritis is so bad in my hands and shoulders that I can no longer shoot my bow, so I now use a crossbow (which I hate) the damned thing is like dragging a boat anchor through the bush!
But after thinking about what I really enjoy about elk hunting is the hunt itself now I go into the familiar places that I know very well and enjoy what the day gives me.
After taking 13 of these beautiful creatures over the years I believe I've had my share and any future success will be extra gravy.
I've been out a couple times so far and this new attitude is making for a great season.

that's a great way to view it. hopefully you'll get your gravy.

well, so far nobody is willing to strike up a conversation with me. I have found that when they are quiet they are very quiet. Then all of a sudden they go nuts, the trick is to be there when this happens. I'm sure there are some young buckaroos that are hunting the area that may be a bit more delegent than your's truly and good on them! I'll keep at it and who knows maybe the planets will align and it will be me.
By the way I did call in a spiker to a short 20 yards he was true to form, dumb as a bag of sticks but not legal. They tend to accompany other elk from afar so I'm confidant there is good things to come.

Best of luck
 

I have to say not running around crazy is the best way to go. I managed to get meat in the freezer opening day and now I am just listening to the woods like I never have. It is so nice.
Thanks for the post!

Keep at it. Good things happen to those who are patient.

I've been chasing them now for 21 days from 5 am till dark I haven't hunted elk this hard ever I now regret passing on a few small bulls early on now I'd be happy filling freezer lol

Chasing elk has changed the way I look at hunting. I though waiting around for whitetail was hard from a stand. Pushing lots of Kms through the bush takes a lot of work but in the end if you connect makes for the most joyable experiences ever. Love it!

Spikers are the sentry of the herd....check out every sound and bark at the first sign of danger.

LC

This is my first year archery hunting. For the first time ever, Today I was lucky enough to be very near a small heard of elk.

Later in the Moring about 960am.. I heard a few faint sounded of breaking twigs across a revine. Wasn't long before out stepped a very nice 6x6 and atleast 10 cows. At first I didnt hear them make a peep. Aside from an occasional broken branch or the like otherwise they were near silent. When they were about 100 yards away I did somthing dumb and tried to close the distance a bit, but they either smelled or saw me, And retreated back Into the timber.

I swung quite aways wide around south to get the wind in my favor. Having no idea where they went. Then I heard that magestic sound.. A deep bugle NE of my position.. But not far off. I slowly crept that direction and could start to hear cow mews north and east of me. So I settled in and gave the hoochie mama I few blurts. Whuch was quickly Met with another bugle and a few more mews. I couldn't see them but knew they were close by.

As I turned to look to my left, out of the corner of my eye I see an elk turn the corner of a spruce tree, maybe 20 yards from me. I froze solid as it was staring right at me. As my luck would have it, it was a small spiker and not the beauty I had seen previously. A few mins past then he turned and tucked tail disappeaing into the thick aspen. Then it sounded like the whole heard was hightail ingredient it way away from me.

Unfortunately not a peep since.. I feel they are a hundred miles away now.

The pounding in my chest and head was like a kick drum. Not sure my adrenaline has ever been so high.

No Elk for the table today... But I am now a junkie.

Perseverance.

I hear yha El.

Just being out there is what our crew does now.
The youngers are all gung hoe, us middle age folks are kinda in the loop,,, and the elders are just there for a good time and pitch in were they can.

I'm worn down, so I've taken on different ways to do things. Harvesting is sight seeing, tracking, preping the area, and many other things related to the harvest.

If we luck out, then good,,, if not, no big deal.
Some head out in groups, some of us go lone wolf, and some just fit in at what ever comes along.

Deer, Elk, bear, Moose and what ever. This year I started off guiding only, didn't take long to get the first Elk on the ground, so Old-Timer wants me to fill my tag as well. "If it works out this way that is."

Many of the folks in our camp have challanges, me included, so we do what we can and that's all that matters.

The youngers are all wound up tighter than fiddle strings as us middle age are kind of there but not as much.
The old timers could care less, but at least they are here for support. LOL.

Its all about sharing and good times in our camp of "Hard Knocks" that was named after Camp Fort Koxx in the state of Main just south of the Canadian boarder.
I'm a world traveler and history buff. Ha.
Not very good at it either.

Any-who El. Sounds like you and I along with many here have our challanges in life,,, we weren't expecting some of them, but we slug forward 4@!! or high water,,, just happens to be that the water in front of me today is frozen with a blanket of snow,,, lucky I made it to 1 of our 4 bush pods last night.

I got hammered for 2 days out west trekking those Kow Elk'ers in thick timbers.
Ghosts of the forests is so true,,, It is up to them to slip up,,, maybe they will get lucky when I drop the ball at my end as it allows them to live another day.

Awesome thread El. I'll keep you up dated on the happenings as I class our Americas under 1 season,,, "Winntummer". That's Winter and Summer combined as 1.

Reporting from the Alberta Eastern Slopes of snow,,, pal Don

This long weekend I have the honor of turning 61 while I'm out for one of this year's october hunting trip. The big difference is the wife will be looking for a whitetail with her new .243! And I get to be her big buana guide!
we are going in 330 the wmu that gets pounded by road hunters, this works out well because she likes to find a nice spot and sit and wait. Sure is easy on your's truly, and she get's real excited when a buck strolls by...I can't wait.

The Screamer


The screamer really existed. He isn’t one of those creatures of lore that the local boys talk about over a cold one at the corner bar. I have been in the presence of the screamer.
Early in my Elk hunting career I stumbled onto a spot I have since claimed as my own. This area has done well by me, and I’ve come to know just about every inch of it. Over the years I have probably called in ten or more bulls there. I remember some of them better than others, but the screamer, well; he will always be a special memory.
It seems I only came across him on the seasons when everything was going right. Every time you go out you’d get at least one bull going, and sometimes two or three at once.
What that translates to is most of the Elk in the surrounding area had concentrated in my spot. The screamer was probably a dominant herd bull, and although I have never actually seen all of him, I have seen parts of him. Once I got a good twenty yard look at the top thirds of his antlers. He was big that’s for sure, and although his antlers weren’t all that long the mass was incredible, they looked to be as big around as baseball bats, and that’s the top half! He also had a neat feature on that rack; the tips on each side branched out into a matched crown of three points. I know this is a feature that a sub species of Elk known as Roosevelt Elk typically have, and there is talk that some of these animals were released in our area years ago, so maybe he’s a crossbreed.
But it’s not his size or his elusiveness that makes him stick so vividly in my memory, it is his call. The screamer never bugled, he screamed. And when he screamed, he really screamed! Swear you could hear him from a mile away.
But more impressive than that unearthly mad bull call was his strange knack for timing. You see the screamer seemed to always catch me off guard.
I remember one morning I had walked in well before daylight and all was quiet in the two or three miles I had covered, so I figured I’d have to instigate the calling myself. After getting set up, checking the wind etc., I prepared to let loose a call. Just as I inhaled, the screamer let her rip just thirty yards beside me.
After throwing my bow straight up into the air, peeing my pants and sucking my call into my lungs I prepared to go after the screamer, but by this time he had gotten down wind of me and I could hear him crashing through the bush as he beggared off to parts unknown. The screamer never gave a second chance.
I know of one other hunter who had a crack at the old boy, and he almost got him too! One glorious September day my old pal and brother-in-law Daniel called him in, he suckered him with his famous horny cow call.
The screamer was in love and as I recall the story, he answered Daniel’s cow talk in his usual manner, one mighty bellow and a low rumbling chuckle and he was done with the foreplay and was ready to do the nasty. There he came, forty yards, still moving, thirty yards, behind some brush, twenty yards, picking a target, CRASH! See you later sucker. Hey! He falls out of love fast too!
One bad thing about an encounter with the screamer was he wasn’t all that hard to entice with a call, but he didn’t get that big by making many mistakes and he would figure you out pretty quick. When he caught on that you weren’t who you were supposed to be he was gonzo; the trouble is he’d take all the other Elk with him. I never got to meet the ladies he hung out with but he must have had lots of them. Bulls tend to gather quite a harem, and younger bulls zip in and out of the herd trying to steal a cow or two if they can.
This causes the herd bull a lot of grief and when the rut is in full swing most of his time is spent guarding his cows.
Most of the times I’d get the screamer going I’d also have answers from other bulls at the same time. That old bugger screwed up more hunts for me than I’d care to remember.
I’d have a bull bugling off to my left at about eighty yards and way off to my right still another would join in just to make it interesting, then, out straight in front of me, maybe two hundred yards or so I’d hear that God awful call. Then the bulls I was calling would go quiet, after ten or fifteen minutes I’d hear the screamer way to hell in the next valley squawking his fool head off, and guess who were answering him? The bulls I was calling, of course.
I haven’t seen or heard the screamer for the past three or four seasons, and these memories of him go back about eight years, so I imagine he is dead and gone by now. But when I roam those familiar foothills I still expect to hear that gut wrenching call at any moment. I always needed the screamer a lot more than he needed me, because without creatures like him out there hunting is just hunting.
You may think the story of the screamer should end right about now, but I’m not so sure. You see, last season I called in a spiker and he gave me a chance to get a good look at his headgear before he spooked and ran off to parts unknown.
He was just your typical one-year-old with three-foot spikes, but on the left side there was a nice little cluster of three points at the very top. After he ran off and all was quiet. I swear, over some distant hill I heard the scream. And one way or another I’m sure I always will.

Just thought I'd share a memory...

Enjoyed that. Thanks for sharing.