bridger
03-01-2009, 10:37 PM
GO SILENT FOR ELK
“There’s a big bull down by the creek,” Wanda said pointing down the hill toward the bottom of the basin. The bull had been down to the creek for water and was now slowly working his way up through an old burn, occasionally stopping for a mouthful of grass. The bull, big a 5x6 with streams of tattered velvet hanging from his antlers, was heading for the on top of the ridge to our left and slightly below us.
http://www.huntingbc.ca/photos/data/500/medium/rich3.JPG (http://www.huntingbc.ca/photos/showphoto.php?photo=13107&size=big&cat=500&ppuser=10914)
It was mid-August and we were in the Tuchodi River Country hunting early bulls on their summer range up high, away from the river. Soon, the onset of the rut would start the bulls migrating towards the cow calf groups in the lower hills, but for now, they were up high in small bachelor groups, or, as was this bull, alone.
Several days earlier we had left the Alaska Highway with our good friends Jon Johnson, Dave and Deb Kellestine and Guy Lahaye. With a pack string of 15 horses we had a great time trailing in the two and half days to the river where we would rendezvous with another good friend Tye Hoover. Tye had graciously agreed to bring us more supplies with his jet boat and return in 10 days to take out any elk we were lucky enough to bag. We spent the night camped along the river. The next morning we said goodbye to Tye packed up and headed another day south away from the river to where we now were hunting.
Jon., Wanda, and I had left early that morning and set up on a hillside just below tree line a couple of miles from camp where we could glass several old burns and some timberline meadows.
Hunting early bulls is much like sheep hunting. Instead of bugling or cow calling to rutting bulls this is spot and stalk hunting. While to some it may not be as exciting as bugling, it is, never the less, a lot of fun and challenging in its own right.
We watched as the bull continued up the hill towards the top of the ridge. I had been on that ridge a few days before and knew it was heavily used by elk. Barely 75 feet wide across the top and a half mile long, with open side hills, the top was covered with a thick mixture of pine and spruce, the back side a jungle of willows and devils club. The point was grassy with a smattering of large spruce. The end of the ridge fell sharply a thousand feet to the creek bottom. Covered with old elk beds, it was a perfect place for a big bull to spend the day.
“I bet that bull is going to bed down on the end of that ridge over there,” I said. “If he does we may have a chance at him.” We watched as he continued up through the burn easily visible from our viewpoint a mile away. Nearing the top, he turned and walked towards the point, disappearing into a stand of spruce. We watched for awhile longer; wanting to make certain he had bedded down for the day. Satisfied that he had, we discussed plans for a stalk. It was decided Wanda would stay where we were. She would have a commanding view of the burn and ridge. If the bull spooked and came back she would be well positioned for a shot. Jon and I would cross the canyon and climb to the head of the ridge. He would stay up high and parallel the left side. I would try and sneak down the ridge top, hoping to find the bull in his bed without spooking him.
Everything was set as I started down the spine of the ridge. It was soon apparent that trying to stay on the top was not going to work. The trees were too thick and noisy for a quiet stalk. I dropped down the side staying close to the tree line along the burn. The bull had entered the trees to the right of a big pine tree about 700 yards below me. I walked slowly, using the tree line as cover, watching carefully for other elk that may be lying in the trees. Presently I was about two hundred yards from the pine tree. I sat down and carefully glassed what I could see of the point. Not seeing the bull, I continued down the hill, walking a few steps at a time and glassing constantly. The wind was in my favour blowing up the ridge from the bull to me, but I was running out of cover.
Spot and stalk hunting demands patience. When I first started seriously hunting in the mountains I had little patience and little success. I still feel the heart stopping excitement of slipping up on a ram or bull, but have learned over the years that patience is vital to success. Keeping the pine tree between me and where I hoped the bull was lying I proceeded very slowly, glassing into the trees and shadows as I moved slowly down the hill. I spent 45 minutes covering the last two hundred yards to the pine tree. I knew that if the bull was there I was very close. The tension was increasing. I took a moment to calm down and quietly stepped from behind the pine tree. A sudden gust of wind hit me in face. I could smell elk! Whether it was the bull or scent from the many beds on the point I couldn’t tell, but I knew I was close. There was a slight curve to the side hill. I continued one step at a time trying to see around it. The shadows made seeing into the trees difficult. Close now I was moving at a snails placing carefully watching where I stepped. Through the shadows and tree branches I could see something that looked out of place. Was that a tip of an antler sticking up in the shadows? I very carefully took a couple more steps up the hill and there was the bull lying about 50 feet from me with his head stretched out on the ground sound asleep. I had done it! I had gotten to within 14 paces of that bull and caught him in his bed sound asleep. A quick shot and my elk season was over. Was it as exciting as bugling a bull? I have done both and both methods provide their own brand of excitement. For me this stalk was one of the great thrills of a long hunting career.
http://www.huntingbc.ca/photos/data/500/medium/dave_and_deb.JPG (http://www.huntingbc.ca/photos/showphoto.php?photo=13109&size=big&cat=500&ppuser=10914)
“There’s a big bull down by the creek,” Wanda said pointing down the hill toward the bottom of the basin. The bull had been down to the creek for water and was now slowly working his way up through an old burn, occasionally stopping for a mouthful of grass. The bull, big a 5x6 with streams of tattered velvet hanging from his antlers, was heading for the on top of the ridge to our left and slightly below us.
http://www.huntingbc.ca/photos/data/500/medium/rich3.JPG (http://www.huntingbc.ca/photos/showphoto.php?photo=13107&size=big&cat=500&ppuser=10914)
It was mid-August and we were in the Tuchodi River Country hunting early bulls on their summer range up high, away from the river. Soon, the onset of the rut would start the bulls migrating towards the cow calf groups in the lower hills, but for now, they were up high in small bachelor groups, or, as was this bull, alone.
Several days earlier we had left the Alaska Highway with our good friends Jon Johnson, Dave and Deb Kellestine and Guy Lahaye. With a pack string of 15 horses we had a great time trailing in the two and half days to the river where we would rendezvous with another good friend Tye Hoover. Tye had graciously agreed to bring us more supplies with his jet boat and return in 10 days to take out any elk we were lucky enough to bag. We spent the night camped along the river. The next morning we said goodbye to Tye packed up and headed another day south away from the river to where we now were hunting.
Jon., Wanda, and I had left early that morning and set up on a hillside just below tree line a couple of miles from camp where we could glass several old burns and some timberline meadows.
Hunting early bulls is much like sheep hunting. Instead of bugling or cow calling to rutting bulls this is spot and stalk hunting. While to some it may not be as exciting as bugling, it is, never the less, a lot of fun and challenging in its own right.
We watched as the bull continued up the hill towards the top of the ridge. I had been on that ridge a few days before and knew it was heavily used by elk. Barely 75 feet wide across the top and a half mile long, with open side hills, the top was covered with a thick mixture of pine and spruce, the back side a jungle of willows and devils club. The point was grassy with a smattering of large spruce. The end of the ridge fell sharply a thousand feet to the creek bottom. Covered with old elk beds, it was a perfect place for a big bull to spend the day.
“I bet that bull is going to bed down on the end of that ridge over there,” I said. “If he does we may have a chance at him.” We watched as he continued up through the burn easily visible from our viewpoint a mile away. Nearing the top, he turned and walked towards the point, disappearing into a stand of spruce. We watched for awhile longer; wanting to make certain he had bedded down for the day. Satisfied that he had, we discussed plans for a stalk. It was decided Wanda would stay where we were. She would have a commanding view of the burn and ridge. If the bull spooked and came back she would be well positioned for a shot. Jon and I would cross the canyon and climb to the head of the ridge. He would stay up high and parallel the left side. I would try and sneak down the ridge top, hoping to find the bull in his bed without spooking him.
Everything was set as I started down the spine of the ridge. It was soon apparent that trying to stay on the top was not going to work. The trees were too thick and noisy for a quiet stalk. I dropped down the side staying close to the tree line along the burn. The bull had entered the trees to the right of a big pine tree about 700 yards below me. I walked slowly, using the tree line as cover, watching carefully for other elk that may be lying in the trees. Presently I was about two hundred yards from the pine tree. I sat down and carefully glassed what I could see of the point. Not seeing the bull, I continued down the hill, walking a few steps at a time and glassing constantly. The wind was in my favour blowing up the ridge from the bull to me, but I was running out of cover.
Spot and stalk hunting demands patience. When I first started seriously hunting in the mountains I had little patience and little success. I still feel the heart stopping excitement of slipping up on a ram or bull, but have learned over the years that patience is vital to success. Keeping the pine tree between me and where I hoped the bull was lying I proceeded very slowly, glassing into the trees and shadows as I moved slowly down the hill. I spent 45 minutes covering the last two hundred yards to the pine tree. I knew that if the bull was there I was very close. The tension was increasing. I took a moment to calm down and quietly stepped from behind the pine tree. A sudden gust of wind hit me in face. I could smell elk! Whether it was the bull or scent from the many beds on the point I couldn’t tell, but I knew I was close. There was a slight curve to the side hill. I continued one step at a time trying to see around it. The shadows made seeing into the trees difficult. Close now I was moving at a snails placing carefully watching where I stepped. Through the shadows and tree branches I could see something that looked out of place. Was that a tip of an antler sticking up in the shadows? I very carefully took a couple more steps up the hill and there was the bull lying about 50 feet from me with his head stretched out on the ground sound asleep. I had done it! I had gotten to within 14 paces of that bull and caught him in his bed sound asleep. A quick shot and my elk season was over. Was it as exciting as bugling a bull? I have done both and both methods provide their own brand of excitement. For me this stalk was one of the great thrills of a long hunting career.
http://www.huntingbc.ca/photos/data/500/medium/dave_and_deb.JPG (http://www.huntingbc.ca/photos/showphoto.php?photo=13109&size=big&cat=500&ppuser=10914)