Opening morning of the 2015 elk bow season — 4 a.m., the alarm goes off, and I am up anyway since I cannot sleep with all the excitement of what might happen today. Start the routine: Get coffee going, spray on no-scent and get dressed, grab my gear and I am on the trail up the mountain. My trek into my hunting area is about three-quarters of a mile in and is located on the steep side of the mountain. I’ve traveled this path for nearly 20 years, but today I’ve got that little spring in my step as I dream of that trophy elk that is going to visit me.
Flashback, Oct. 1, 2014. Last season done! No elk in my freezer! Next year I am going to make some changes. First and foremost, get into better shape before next year’s hunt. This year I stepped into the prime time age of 60, so health and fitness will now control my enjoyment, or not, of the hunt. Sore muscles to begin a season take their toll. I will begin my exercise program in December and continue through May.
Opening day, late morning. I have now sat in my tree stand for about four hours and the only excitement is the early morning scent — a smell of the forest that attack my olfactory senses, a smell of bitterroot and elderberry. A pileated woodpecker plays a tune on the hollow of a dead fir tree. The scene in front of me looks like an enchanted forest of red flame — ponderosa pines and evenly spaced tamaracks and Douglas firs spread overhead a carpet of green. It’s elk heaven. I have not seen or heard an elk yet.
Flashback, May through July 2014. Practice time, get out the shoot card and see which one I can or cannot participate in. Daily practice on my home target fine tunes all my bow gear. Check in with Bob at Windyriver Bow Shop, new target tips, new release, and anything else I cannot live without. Thinking of the hunt more and more with each day. Chalk off one more day closer to the hunting season.
Opening day, afternoon. My blood begins to percolate as I pick up the faint call of a cow elk calling for junior — elk are in the area. As I stand to get ready my heart is running a race of its own. Which way are they coming? Bow ready, arrow on the string, which way is the wind, all these thoughts race through my mind. One, two, three cows and some youngsters. Where is the bull? I am searching for bone on the hoof, but I am not seeing it happen.
Flashback, mid-August 2014. The hunt is only weeks away. I get out my list and begin checking things off: Repairs of the canvas tent, restocking of the camp kitchen, clean coolers, start packing! Elk hunting now consumes my waking hours. I would rather talk elk then eat or sleep. Big bull dreams taunt me during the night.
Opening day, evening. Even though there was not a bull in this bunch, this is the joy of elk hunting — being up close and personal to this majestic animal. It is always a special treat. It is just the beginning of the season and I am at least hoping for one good shot this year. If only I could hear the sound of a bull bugling pierce the evening silence, but that usually happens later in the season.
This is the cycle of the dedicated elk hunter, one season I hope never to miss until my dying day. I may not have railed an animal last year but that is not the only measurement of a successful hunt. In the 2013 season, I had the privilege to take this 300 plus bull somewhere in the state of Oregon. Therefore, my time and effort were my reward of this great prize! I hope everyone who hits the hills in search of this animal will someday shoot a trophy of your own.
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