Elk hunt.Hard work pays off .
October 31st, 4:00 am and I'm on the road for what I hope is going to be a rewarding season. Coffee in hand I head west to be in position to glass a patch of land just as the sun rises to start the day. With the dawn breaking, its hard to tell for sure just what those figures are. Dead fall? Deer? or Elk? As good viewing light is no upon me, I see no trace of anything that resembles either three. Its not a long drive to Camp where I will meet the rest of the hunting party, and we can start to compare notes.
Camp has been set up over the course of a couple visits, and excitement is high as storeys of sightings and sign is relayed around camp.A quick un-pack of the truck, and a roll out of the bedding, and all thats left is to make a game plan,and try to get some sleep before sunrise on opening day.
November 1st and 2nd were hunted hard, with different strategies and plans of ambush,always maintaining one or two shooters in " the honey hole". but to our amazement, no Elk have been seen, and maybe ,just maybe, we may have heard the raport of gun fire far off in the distance.
Now back at camp, some of our hunting party had to return to the city, so with whom we had left we all through ideas into the box, and a game plan was put in place for the morning of the third. Being this my last day at camp, it was decided I would be the shooter, and a some others would push bush to a pre determined location. We awoke early that morning and went over the plan of attack. On my way into my position another hunter stopped and asked where I was hunting.I would just like to thank him for changing his plans, once he had found out what we were doing that morning.
Now that I was in place,all I could do was wait, and side step( ever so quietly) as not to make noise or movement. I must have been standing there for almost 2 hours when I heard loud snapping and cracking across from me, maybe 20 yards in the bush. At last the pushers had arrived I thought, but I waited none the less for any of them to appear.Then all was silent again.
It was about another hour later, with good light that the noise in the bush erupted again, this time with more cracking and a good sense from where it was coming from, I thougth at this second that the guys had roused a Moose. With my rifle ready ond my shooting sticks ,I followed the noise along the bush until about 150 yards away, out comes a beautiful Bull Elk.
I place my cross hairs on what I decide is " in the boiler room" and gently squeeze the trigger, sending forth 130 grains of Barnes copper. As the rifle fires, I blink but have time to regain my sight of the animal which has now, made a little side step, then a turn and run back in the direction from which it came.
As we all meet up and re-cap the shot, I tell them I had a great rest, gret target, and nice squeeze off, but did not actually see the bullet hit its mark. Now as I walk up to where I think he came out, I'm dissapointed I can't find blood, and start to question if I was 10 yards this way or that.( I'm going to try to take a better mental note of all these things in the future, but at that particular moment, I was pretty excited and only thinking of getting a shot off before it dissapeared.)
"I've got blood"...rang out from the bush, and I hurried over to find one of our party members standing beside a pie plate sized bunch of drops, bright red, but not frothy. Our Elk was hit.After following the trail for a while, it was decided to go back to camp, get a hot drink, a bite to eat, and for the bush pushers to change into some dry, warm clothes. This would also allow time for the Elk to bed down if it was well hit.
When we returned 45 minutes later and resumed our search, following blood, losing blood, finding it again, it was very rewarding and with some outside intervention that our Elk was found. 80 yards from the place he had been hit. Helping with field dressing and care of the animal, one of the partners was lost for words when he discovered that the bullet had went through both lungs, as well as tearing a silver dollar sie hole in the to of the heart. This beautiful animal had travelled 80 yards with out a windmill or a pump house,with its shear strength and will to survive. I have to thank my bushmen for an awsome push, they did all the hard work, but we all shared in a truly great reward.
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