And a bit of story:
Monday was the last day of bow hunting. I had a terrible time locating any elk. It was hot, for one thing, and the heat waves off the desert made it impossible to tell whether animals seen through binoculars were elk, wild horses, or cattle. Monday evening I spotted a herd in the distance, two or three miles away. I usually use my truck to get within a mile or so, then stalk from there. Long story short, some antelope hunters came along and blew my chances at calling in an elk, but I didn't think they spooked the herd too much.
So Tuesday morning, I was on them at first light. I spent about two hours crawling through the sagebrush trying to get within rifle range, using every tiny fold of land to stay out of sight, only to have another hunter shoot the bull when I was still about 500 yards away. I walked over to say hi and see this bull. The hunter was a young guy on his first elk hunt, with his wife, baby, and dad along. I couldn't get too ticked off: They were friendly, and he was super happy, and I must admit he did make a heck of a shot. They were locals, which is always a nice surprise. And it was a really cool bull, with several tines broken off while fighting for his cows. Cool to see. But...DANG. Desert elk bed down and disappear by about 8 a.m., and I had wasted the best part of the day.
I grumbled my way back to the truck. Decided to move away from Cyclone Rim, the big landmark in the area where both elk and hunters tend to hang out. Headed out north on an extremely sketchy two-track through the hills, glassing distant sagebrush flats for little black heads sticking up. Before long, I saw antlers. I couldn't see the animal that was presumably connected to them, and my first thought was that it was a really big mule deer. But on further inspection, the tips were pretty far apart...if this was a muley, it was trophy book material. Or it might be a small elk.
I pulled the truck a little further down the road, out of sight of the mystery critter. I grabbed my rifle and my shooting sticks, just in case, scooted over the rim as sneakily as possible, and lifted my binos. First thing I saw was a whole bunch of little black ears sticking out of the sage, with a big set of antlers right in the middle of them. Yippee! I set my sticks and got the bull in my sights, then waited. I could only see the top of his head, no chance for a shot. The elk weren't looking my direction; they really seemed pretty satisfied to continue lounging around. I ranged them at 209 yards, a very comfortable range for my .270. After a few minutes of waiting, I remembered that I had an elk call in my pocket, so I blew a few cow calls. The cows--about five of them--jumped up and stared at me, but the bulls stayed bedded. Eventually the cows got nervous and started milling around, and the herd bull stood up. I waited until he turned broadside, and squeezed off a round. I knew I had hit him in the lungs, but bull elk are outrageously tough critters, and the elk hunters' maxim is "keep shooting until he's down." I took a couple more shots at him as he trotted up the hill; one hit him in the neck and the second apparently missed. Within probably 30 seconds of my first shot, he was down for the count.
So, yeah, I didn't score with the longbow, once again. But I'm pretty happy.
A few more pictures. Took about 3 hours to get this guy skinned and quartered out. I had pondered saving the 100 or so feet of small intestine to make bow strings and sewing thread. But elk with make you rethink such choices, and I decided three hours of crouching and bending was enough; besides, I needed to get the meat home and in the cooler.
A herd of wild horses moseyed by, and I took a break to watch them for a while. They are beautiful animals. I just wish there weren't so many of them. They have no predators, and the big city, arm-chair environmentalists have decided that they shouldn't be culled, so they are really tough on the country. It's cool to see them, though.
Now the meat is safely in my buddy's walk-in cooler, where it will age for a week or so while I wait for the results of the CWD test. CWD doesn't tend to affect desert elk too bad, and this guy was robust and healthy (he ran almost 200 yards with a .270 bullet through his lungs), so it should be fine. Should get around 250 pounds of meat to feed my family--and probably several friends--this coming year. The aging will tender it up a bit and make it taste even better. Tonight I'll get to work on the head, which I plan on making into a European-style skull mount. I also kept the hide, but I haven't decided whether I'll make buckskin or veg tan leather. Either one should be really nice. Elk leather is extremely beautiful and useful stuff. But wow, what a mess. This guy was right at the end of the rut, when they wallow in water holes, and his fur is all caked with mud. Gonna be a lot of fun de-hairing this one!
I'll head back out in a week or two and try to find an antelope. Pronghorns are diurnal, which means you don't have to be out at dawn and dusk to find one, and they are extremely plentiful and easy to find. So I can just take the Badgerling out some afternoon and have a better than even chance of coming home with one. The antelope will get made into jerky and sausage (and maybe a nice buck skin), and we'll be going into winter with a bursting freezer. Ain't life great?
