If you follow me at all, you’ll know that hunting is a huge part of my life. In particular, archery elk hunting is my favorite jamberry. I spend a lot of time thinking about hunting elk, preparing to hunt elk, and when the time comes, actually hunting them. It may come as a surprise that I’ve only killed one elk in my entire life, and I started hunting them back in 2012.

This year I changed things up a bit. I used OnX maps to e-scout what looked like a good location. It was about three miles back in the timber and off trail for the last half-a-mile or so. The spot sat about 10,600 feet in elevation and was on a small flat space next to a saddle that provided food, cover, and water. My wife and I hiked up there to scout it out in person, and it was tough to get to. For most of it, it was relatively flat and on a trail. However, as soon as you left the trail, the terrain became rugged and steep with deadfall. In fact, I remember quite distinctly hiking up there and hoping that it wouldn’t pan out because getting an elk off that mountain was going to be difficult, to say the least. Yet, as soon as we got up to the spot, I knew immediately it was a good area. There was sign everywhere. So I dropped a couple trail cameras, and we left.

I kicked my physical training into high gear to get ready because I knew if I got something up there, I would need to be in good shape to get it out. Anxiously I waited for hunting season. Then, finally, the day came.

Day 1:
I left the house alone, hauling the camper, and headed out to the South Slope. The opening day wasn’t until the next morning, but I wanted to get up the mountain, set up base camp, and then hike into the area to spike camp so I would be close and ready to rock on the opener. Generally, my wife would be with me, but she had military training that she couldn’t get out of, so it was just me this time.

I’m always anxious heading out to elk camp. I never know what the conditions are going to be. How many people are going to be out there? Would there be someone in the spot I want to camp, or even worse, would there be hunters already out at my pre-scouted area?

These thoughts rattled through my head as I drove. However, to my surprise, there weren’t many people up on the mountain. I got to my base camp location and found it empty, so I quickly dropped the camper, set things up, changed, and headed out to the trailhead. Strangely enough, there was hardly anyone at all up there. All the spots that are usually filled with campers and hunters were open. I parked at the trailhead, grabbed my gear, and headed out. It was chilly and wet, but I felt like it would be fine, and my gear would be good to go.

The hike there wasn’t difficult at all. I found a spot at the base of the steep mountain to set up spike camp and now realize in retrospect I should have gone all the way up. I chose to set up my camp where I did because it was open and away from any potential widow makers, and I didn’t want to be too close to my hunting area. After I dropped my gear, I hiked up the mountain to retrieve my trail cams so I could take a look at the pics and get an idea of what was moving around up there and what time of day they liked to move.

Going up the steep part is a pain in the butt and scary. It is very steep, and a lot of times, there aren’t very good spots to put your feet. I hate going up and down that thing with a passion. However, I made it up fine and got my cameras. After a stressful hike down to camp, I pulled out my SD card reader to try and see the pics and realized that the card reader worked with my old phone, but not my new one. It wasn’t the end of the world, but I would be going in blind the next day. At that time, it was evening, so I ate a quick meal and then got into my sleeping bag. The temperature continued to drop, and while I didn’t freeze, it was just cold enough to be uncomfortable, and I got very little sleep. As fate would have it, I was just finally dozing off when my alarm sounded.

Day 2:
My first mistake that day was not realizing how long it would take me to get up the mountain in the dark. It took longer than anticipated, and I arrived at the top at the moment I should have already been in place. My second mistake was assuming the winds would do what they were supposed to do. They did the opposite, and now instead of blowing in my face, it was at my back. However, at that point, there wasn’t much I could do, and I wanted to get past the pond to the game trails that lead to the saddle to ambush any elk coming in for morning drink. However, the elk were already at the pond. Just as the meadow came into view through the trees, my scent busted them. I heard, with dismay in my heart, the sound of about 12 elk running away. They didn’t see me. They smelled me. All that hard work had just gone out the window because I wasn’t there earlier, and the winds were not in my favor.

I trudged along to the game trail and picked a good spot hoping that maybe another group would come in later. I was warm from my hike, but as I sat, the chill started to creep in. I was still feeling like an idiot from busting all those elk and wondering what I should do. I was in the process of sending a message back home when I looked up and saw a young cow elk. It wasn’t a calf, but it certainly wasn’t an adult yet, either. It was about 30 yards away. As it moved through the trees, a mature cow elk came in behind it. I saw it was going to step out in one of my shooting lanes, so I drew my bow and waited.

Sure enough, it stepped out exactly where I thought it would. Yet, instead of walking broadside, it came out and turned right toward me and started eating. A front shot with its head down isn’t a good shot. After a while, I let the tension off my bow. I think the younger cow must have seen the movement because shortly after that, it turned tail and ran back up towards the saddle and the older one followed.

Sure, I was disappointed it didn’t pan out, but being there and having a plan come together, and getting to draw on an elk were all huge successes in my book. However, my happiness would soon fade.

It began to rain.

A sprinkle at first, and I got out my poncho and used it as a tarp to make an impromptu shelter. However, as I was tying the ends off, I noticed the dexterity in my fingers was almost non-existent. I knew I was cold but didn’t realize I was that cold. The rain continued to come down, and now that I was paying attention, I realized I was just getting colder and colder. I already had all my layers on. I finally made the decision to leave the area and go back to my spike camp. By the time I got there, I was even colder, and the rain was coming down harder. I knew that even if I got into my tent and put the sleeping bag on, it wouldn’t do much for the chill as everything was quite damp and wet. I made the judgment call to pack up and head back to base camp.

Once I had everything loaded, I made my way back down to the trail. I’m not sure if I packed my bag wrong or if I was fatigued from hardly any sleep, wet, or cold, but each step was tough and drained me. Maybe it was a combination of all of it, but hiking out was way harder than hiking in, and it had only been a day. I had gone through tougher workouts, but for whatever reason, each step out was a chore.

It finally stopped raining, and I pulled my phone out to help me find the trail. As I did, I noticed a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye. I saw something through the trees and could tell it was an animal doing that little shimmy they do when they are trying to see something. I snuck a little closer and saw it was a big cow elk. I quietly shed my pack and checked the wind. It was blowing in my face, which was perfect. Then I moved a little closer.

I pulled out my cow call and let a mew out, and it mewed back! Moments later, another cow mewed back in the trees. For the next few minutes, I talked with the cow using the call. I’d mew, it would respond and get a little closer trying to see me.

I ranged it at 60 yards. For me and my abilities, 60 yards is a no-go. I knew I would have to get closer to seal the deal. So I continued talking with it, and it continued to get a little closer. However, it was moving out diagonally from me. I started to move perpendicular, thinking I could cut the distance and find a good shooting lane. I moved slow, waiting until it was behind trees or had its head down to move at all. Sometimes it would look up and stare right at me, and I’d make my best tree impression.

It was all working, and I knew if things kept up, within a minute or two I’d be close enough and would have a good chance at flinging an arrow downrange. Suddenly the cow turned and ran into the woods.

I was dumbfounded. It ran when we were both behind trees, so I knew it hadn’t seen me. The wind had been good, so it hadn’t smelled me. But, to double-check, I pulled out my wind checker and found the wind had shifted! It had caught my scent, and that was enough to scare it away.

Again, I was disappointed but elated to have not one but two chances to close in on elk in one day. I trudged my way back to the truck, and by the time I got there, I was utterly exhausted. I’ve done more before, so I have no idea why I was so gassed and can only chalk it up the combo of being fatigued and cold.

By the time I got back to base camp, I was feeling a bit better, but as soon as I could I crashed and took a nap. I slept HARD. When I woke, the wind was going nuts, and although I felt a lot better, I decided to take the evening off to recharge and hit it the next morning.

Day 3:
The next day I hit one of my old spots. My setups worked in the fact that I had deer roll through the area less than 30 yards from me. If I had a deer tag, I would have had two good chances to fill it. However, no elk. In the evening, I went out to a different spot I was familiar with. Again, no elk, although I did bump something on my hike out that was quite large, and I think it was an elk, and I had a pack of coyotes howling and yipping probably within 100-200 yards of me. But I didn’t see any timber ghosts. I did, however, find some beautiful new spots. 

Day 4: 
I got up early and headed out to a third spot that I’ve hunted before and been in elk. I hiked out to my spot and set up on this steep incline. I didn’t see or hear any elk; however, at one point, I turn my head and find a doe about 12 feet away from me. The deer can kind of tell something is amiss; however, it couldn’t tell what was up. It poked around for a bit, then took off when it finally walked into my scent. However, once again, if I were hunting doe up here, that would have been another excellent opportunity. Yet, as I sat there not seeing any elk and not seeing much sign, I started to think about the spot I hit in the very beginning. At this point, I have begun to reference it as Mt. Doom, and in the back of my mind, I know there are elk on Mt. Doom. So I decided I would head back to camp, eat a hearty breakfast, recharge my electronics, and then hike out to Mt. Doom for an afternoon/evening hunt with the idea that I would most likely be hiking out in the dark. However, with the knowledge of knowing that there are elk up there, I remembered something I had heard before: Don’t leave elk to find elk. So I did just that, I went back, ate, recharged, and then headed out to the trailhead around 1230 and started to “simply walk into Mordor.” 

I made it up to the top of Mt. Doom and set up. This time, even though it was the middle of the afternoon, I snuck in very aware of the wind direction and made my way to a good ambush spot. I was hopeful and yet a little apprehensive as I started running calculations in my head on how long it would take to haul an elk off that mountain by myself and what time I would get back to camp. Here’s a pro-tip, don’t do that. Just enjoy the moment. 

As I sat up there, it started to rain again. However, this time, I was ready and set up my poncho as a tarp and stayed dry. It rained for a good 30 minutes, then cleared up. However, no elk ever came by. On the one hand, I was bummed. On the other, I was happy that I went back up there and gave it another try, otherwise in the back of my mind, it would always be nagging me, telling me I should have hiked back up there because that’s where all the elk are. I still believe that spot is one of the better spots I’ve ever found, but I’ve also been in elk in other spots too. 
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I timber-stalked my way out of the area, never coming across anything other than some beautiful scenery and a cool paw print. I think it could be a bobcat or young cougar.  

By the time I got back to camp, I was so beat and tired it was ridiculous.

Day 5:
I woke up still very sore and fatigued to the point that I decided to take the morning off. Some may call this dumb and a missed opportunity. Quite frankly, I don’t care what others think. That extra rest really helped and let me go hard that evening. Plus, it wasn’t all for not. I may not have hunted, but I definitely gathered.
Whenever I come up, I always keep an eye out for chokecherries. I know where some bushes are, and this year, they were plentiful and ripe. So I gathered a bunch up to take back to my mother-in-law because she turns it into some amazing chokecherry syrup and jam.

In the afternoon, I headed out to a spot I had e-scouted that looked promising. I hadn’t yet been there in person, so I was going in blind.

This new spot wasn’t nearly as far in the backcountry as Mt. Doom. However, that being said, I found lots of sign. Tons of tracks, scat (it was a little older), and lots of good cover, water, and food for elk. It was a good spot. Yet, I still didn’t come across any of the elusive timber ghosts.
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That concluded the hunt. Some close calls with deer and elk. I mean, other than actually harvesting one, you can’t ask for a better hunt. I’ll be back up on the mountain in mid-September. Hopefully then I can seal the deal and bring home some elk meat. 

This year’s archery elk hunt has been one of the most exciting and frustrating hunts for some time. I came up scouting with the wife in July. We’d picked out a place to go check out that looked awesome on the map. However, driving up to where we would start out hike turned out to be a big pain in the ass due to rough roads. Then hiking up there was even crazier, only to find out that the spot we had picked seemed to be a bastion for fishermen and day hikers, with little to no sign of elk.
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Fast forward to late August. I came up for an early season hunt with my dad and we went up into this area that was full of ponds, wallows, and lush grass. I’d seen elk sign there before and had set up my trail cams in the area. We checked the cams and had cow elk and deer hitting both spots, one even showed a visitation from that morning! So I set my dad up on the pond where my camera had been hoping the elk would come back, and I started my timber stalk. Every now and then I would hit my cow call hoping to get something’s attention, and to hopefully make them think I was a cow elk lumbering through the woods. After about two hours, I get an answer. Another cow elk lets out a mew in response to my call. I see her slinking through the tree line across this meadow I had set up on. We talk back and forth for a moment, and I noticed that she continued to come through the tree line. I guesstimate whereabouts she may cross in front of me and range it out at 20 yards. Couldn’t ask for a more perfect shot. As she goes behind some trees and I draw my bow and wait, and low and behold, she crossed where I thought…well, almost where I thought. She was further back. I couldn’t range again because I was at full draw and I didn’t want to spook her, so I made a quick guess and put my 40-yard pin on her. I let loose and woosh! My arrow sails right over her back. I guessed wrong. She leaves barking up a storm letting everything else area know I’m there. After A LOT of searching (combined two hours over the course of three days) I found my arrow lodged in a tree. I’ve kicked myself in the ass ever since missing that shot because everything was set up perfect. Ah well, live and learn.

The rest of that hunt was uneventful. Fast-forward a couple weeks, and my dad and I are back at it. We set the trail cams up in a couple different spots, both of which show elk coming in, but over a week prior. We begin our hunt. In the mornings and evenings, we hunt certain spots without success. In the afternoons I decide not to take any time off and go scouting new areas. I think over the course of three days I logged over 25 miles hiking around, timber stalking, and scouting. Most of the outings were a bust, finding out that there was very little sign or whatnot, and covering some really rough terrain. However, a couple of the afternoon adventures proved to have results, even if I wasn’t ready.
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In one outing, I went scouting down these canyons and had to crawl back up a mountain. By the time I got to the top, it was about 2 pm and I was dead-dog tired. I found an old road and started walking down that because I figured it would take me back to the vehicle. At one point I look up and lock eyes with a spike elk with a messed-up antler. As soon as we see each other he took off. I don’t know if I even had my bow in timber-stalk mode (arrow nocked, and release hooked) if I would have been able to get a shot off. But, I saw an elk and a bull at that. 

The next day, I decided to hike from one of my usual haunts over the country to the next one. It turns out to be about 3.6 miles total over deadfall city. Early on, I hear a bugle in the distance. So, I bugled back. In the back of my mind, I thought it was probably another hunter because it was late morning (around 1000) and up until this point the elk had been in stealth mode, not a peep. But, I had to see it through on the off chance that it was real. I moved in closer each time it called out and answered with my own bugle a few times. I finally got to where it sounded like it was maybe 500 yards away down this ridge. So I set up my ambush. It bugled, and I would bugle back trying every trick I could to piss it off. It kept coming in closer, and I was starting to think this was really going to go down. However, after about 30 minutes, some movement catches my eye and I spy another hunter. We’d both been duped! I moved out of my spot and waved, and we went on about our day. It’s nice to know that my bugles and cow calls sound authentic enough to fool hunters and a cow.
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During rest of my trek, the only thing I learned, is that all the fresh sign is closer to each of my usual spots and not up in the shit where you would expect it to be. However, one the way back, I spook an elk up from its bed, and when I get back to the place where I’ve seen elk in the trees before, I go back into timber stalking mode, and I hunt, moving very slowly down the mountain. If I had been hunting doe, I could have had a shot at two of them. Anyway, I get to the point where I’m almost back to camp and I put my arrow away and stop my stalk. You see, I’d never seen any sign or anything on that last stretch of trail. Lo and behold, that’s when they came out. I hadn’t traveled 100 yards before six elk come bounding from the timber, three cow and three calves. The lead cow even stops in the trail in front of me for a couple seconds, not 10 yards away. Had I been in timber stalk mode with my bow loaded up and ready to go, I could have made the shot. Just goes to show you, never let your guard down no matter how close to camp you are. It would have been an awesome pack out. Live and learn.

I’m fairly new to elk hunting, as I’ve only been at it for about seven years or so and it’s all self-taught. Lots of Googling, listening to podcasts, talking to other hunters, and reading books. In all this time, I’ve only killed one elk, and that was the second year out. However, I’ve seen more elk this time around than I have all the other trips combined. I was able to get my first shot off with the bow on one, although it was a miss. Sometimes I feel like I have no clue what I’m doing and that I’m doing it all wrong. Other times, things work out just how they should (not counting actually harvesting the elk). I don’t know. I’m sure, like all other hunters out there, the desire for a successful harvest stems from a place of just wanting to show that you are capable of coming out into the wilderness, and out-smarting the timber ghosts. Every year that goes by unsuccessful, that desire grows, as does the frustration. However, it spurs me on to work harder than the year before. Plus, it always comes down to my differing levels of success. The first level is just getting out there. The second level of success is actually seeing the animal you’re after. The third level is getting a shot at it. The final level, of course, is harvesting the animal and filling the freezer with meat. This year, as far as archery elk goes, I hit the third level. We’ll see how my upcoming hunts for pronghorn, deer, and coming back at the elk for rifle go. In the meantime, get out there and do what you love!

​Went out for the first bit of elk scouting a couple weekends ago. I was able to go with my lovely wife which was great because I love spending time with her, plus this I the first year she’ll be able to actually have a chance at harvesting an animal. She finished up her Hunter’s Safety earlier in the year and we just picked her up a general season elk tag for rifle.
 
When we first got up there, it was raining and the temperature had dropped significantly, especially compared to the basin. Down in Vernal, it was almost 100 degrees, but up top with the storm going on, it was a chill 55 degrees. We had to wait for a break in the storm to put up camp, plus we had to fight the mosquitos. I don’t know if it was due to the rain or what, but they were everywhere, and they’d swarm you as soon as you stopped moving. I imagine that is what Alaska is like this time of year.
 
We got the camp set up, collected and processed some wood for the night’s fire (and the wood burning stove), then headed off to go get some scouting in before it got too dark. On the way up it looked like the Forest Service, or some mysterious Good Samaritan had finally cleaned up the trail. A lot of the fallen trees had been cut away and the path had been cleared. So that was nice.
 
We didn’t see much sign headed up that way, but I followed a game trail and found a big open meadow that I had no idea was there. It would be a good spot perhaps for rifle season.

​The next day we went up to a new spot I had found on the map. It looked promising. It was a small lake nestled in the horseshoe of some high cliffs at about 11,000 feet. We hit the road and started driving up there, and oh my god, the road was shite! Took about 45 min to crawl up a few miles to park at the spot that looked like a straight shot up to the lake. We started hiking and for whatever reason, I kept veering uphill and to the left, which eventually took us to a trail I didn’t know was there. At first, I thought the trail was a really crappy ATV road. About halfway there we crossed paths with about half a dozen folks hiking back down, carrying backpacks and fishing poles. I stopped and chatted with one dude and showed him where I was going and he told me they had just come down from there.
 
#sonofabitch
 
Up to that point, I hadn’t really seen much sign of elk at all. However, my wife and I decided to push on and see what the lake looked like anyway. I knew if I didn’t go up there, I’d always be wondering what was up that way. We pressed on and found more sign of people than we did of animals. It was okay though because we came across some beautiful scenery. However, there was one casualty from that jaunt—my wife’s boots. The soles of her boots completely disintegrated during that hike. She’d only wore those boots for about six months while she was deployed overseas and they couldn’t last four hours in the Uintah Mountains. That goes to show you what happens when you go with the lowest bidder for government contracts. 

Later that evening we hit another spot (after my wife changed her shoes of course). It was a spot I hunted the year prior and showed some promise. It wasn’t very far from the road, but we started seeing more elk sign than we had all trip. After a little ways in, I found a few piles of fresh(ish) scat nearby a water source, as well as an area that had about seven tree rubs all within ten yards of each other.
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I don’t know if the hunt will pan out, but at least I have a better idea of what it’s looking like at the moment, and I can create my game plan. Hopefully, some of the sweat equity pays off and I can harvest an elk this year because let me tell you this, my freezer is looking sparse. 

Things have been pretty crazy in the Langille house as of late. For one, my kids picked up a virus at day care, RSV to be exact. I'm pretty sure RSV translates to, really shitty virus. Here's the funny thing too, I don't even need to take my kids to day care. My mom lives with us and helps out tremendously by watching the kiddos while my wife and I work. She's a godsend. That being said, my kids are in the house most of the day and don't get to interact with anyone outside of family, especially other kids. My oldest, who is three years old, LOVES playing with other kids. Whenever we go to the park, or Kangaroo Zoo, or anywhere else another kid could possibly be, she lights up and wants to play. Enter the day care....

I've been wanting to get them to a place where I could have them play with other kids. We found this day care that seemed pretty good and safe, so we took them there for 1.5 hours. Both my children had a blast! Loved every second of it and still talk about wanting to go back to this day. However, they brought back a special friend named RSV. This virus has swept through our house taking us all out one by one. Plus, RSV likes change. It can't just be a simple virus, no it changes into sinus infections and ear infections. Double plus, it doesn't know when to leave. It gets its grubby little talons hooked into you and won't let go. We've been dealing with thing in one form or another for two weeks now.

Coughing, puking, infected eyes, fevers, crying, ER visits, Insta-care visits...the whole shebang. #partofit. #nosleepfortheweary #OMGcanweallstopbeingsicknowplease

Basically what this translates into is, go to work, come home take care of sick kids, rinse and repeat. Progress on much else has come to a halt. I'm hoping there is a bright side, that perhaps they are growing antibodies to this particular strain and won't be affected again. 

Meanwhile, my writing has come to a slow crawl. The time I used to find is fading away and I haven't found a new groove yet. The shitty thing, is that I've got a deadline looming so I need to kick it into new gear and get the words flowing again. Along with that particular deadline (book three of the Dark Tyrant Series by the way), I've got so many other projects I want to start it's insane. I need time. Which brings me to my next point: the future (future, future, future, future....echoes).

I'm less than 18 months away from retiring from my current career. If things work out, the stars align, and Cthulhu wakes from his dreamlike slumber, then I can step away from the grind and focus on raising kids and writing books. I find the future to be exciting and scary as F#&K! I've got no idea how it's going to turn out. I suppose nobody does really. What I'm hoping for, is that with the new time I can really kick my writing in to high-gear and fully embrace that part of me. I know it is going to take discipline to make it happen, but I also know that I can do it if I put my mind to it. Which is why I need to get back into the groove NOW. I can't keep waiting for the proverbial later. I think to keep me honest, I'll post regular updates on my works-in-progress.

Finally, on top of all of this, I found out that I drew out for a Black Bear hunting tag! About three or four years ago I got an itch that I wanted to hunt and eat a bear. I'd done a lot of research and found tons of info saying how tasty they are and how incredibly hard to hunt they are. I started putting in for the draw. Well fast forward to now, three years later, and I finally drew a tag. My reasons for wanting to hunt a bear go deeper than mere curiosity. There's something about it that draws me in. Bears are elusive, and the particular hunt I've drawn means I either have to use dogs or spot-and-stalk. I don't have bear dogs, nor do I know anyone with dogs, so it means I've got to spot-and-stalk which also means that my hunt just got that much more difficult. Bottom line, I'm looking forward at the prospect of getting into some new wilderness, pursuing new game, and putting my hunting skills to the ultimate test. (Given my track record, the bears will probably be very safe around me)

I'll keep you all posted on what happens with this, and it may be the only time I ever go bear hunting. If you don't approve of hunting, I can understand that and respect it. It's definitely not for everyone. I'm not here to argue my point. I'm just here to share my experience. 

Final thoughts...stay healthy, stay active, keep writing, and beware the Really Shitty Virus!

What is it about the outdoors that appeals to you?

When I'm outdoors, I feel the like I am truly free.  I don't have to worry about my job or anything back home.  I also feel like I am able to reconnect with the earth on a level that I'm not able to while in the city.

When did you first start hunting/fishing?
My first hunting trip was with my dad at the tender age of four.  He shot a pretty good four point buck in Idaho and took me along for the hunt.  I don't remember much about the hunt but we have an old family video of my dad and grandpa packing the deer out.  The best part of the video is my grandpa chewing ass on my dad for not going up the 'right' draw and shooting the deer in an area that was hard to pack a deer out of.

What is one of your most memorable outdoor moments?

2016 Utah Strawberry Ridge CWMU Elk Hunt
Outfitter: Western Skies Outfitters
Operator:  Brett Fielding
Dates:  5-9 October
Rifle:  Weatherby Vanguard 300 Wby
Optics: Swarovski 20-60x80 ATS Spotting Scope, Vortex HS-LR 4x16x40 Rifle Scope, Vortex Viper 10x42HD Binoculars

This year I was lucky enough to draw a coveted Utah CWMU elk tag on Strawberry Ridge (15 miles east of Woodruff, UT) after 16 years of waiting.  Not only was I the lucky recipient of a tag but my sister-in-law drew a mule deer tag as well.  I knew when I applied for the hunt this year that I was going to be the high point applicant for the unit, which would guarantee me a tag. 
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The property is composed of 20,000 plus acres ranging from aspen forest to sagebrush flats and elevation ranging from 6,500 to 8,000 feet.  Elk are the main focus of the operation but deer, moose, and antelope are also available.  

​My elk hunt this year actually started last year when I was able to accompany my dad on his last hunt ever.  On the first night of my dad’s hunt last year Brett, who married into our family, told us to sit in a blind overlooking a cattle water trough.  He didn’t disappoint.  We headed to the blind at 3:30 p.m. and within 15 minutes a good 5x6 walked in and spent 10 minutes around the trough.  My dad wanted to shoot the bull right away but I wanted the hunt to last longer than a few minutes so I told him to wait.  The bull eventually walked off.  Later, a small 6x6 and a small 5x5 came into range but neither was good enough to shoot and we headed back to camp.

My dad suffered from muscular dystrophy and over the course of the night the cold air caused his leg muscles to contract and knot making him violently ill.  He only slept a couple hours the first night because of the pain.  I felt horrible.  He could have taken a great bull but I was selfish and wanted the hunt to last more than just a few minutes. 

The next morning he didn’t know if he would be able to hunt but he put on a smile and we went and looked for some bulls.  Right away we found a small 5x5 and he wanted to shoot it to end the hunt but luckily Brett stepped in and told us to give it one more night before we left.  He promised us an elk.

We went back to camp, got some lunch, took a nap and waited for the night hunt.

That night we walked into a cluster of trees after some bulls that we had heard bugling that morning.  For two solid hours we somehow kept ourselves on the edge of the herd as we stalked the elk through the trees.  The elk moved south for a while then back to north when a rival bull started to challenge the herd bull that we were after.  The roar of the bugle was so close and loud in the dense timber that we could hear bull’s snort at the end of his scream. 

Finally, the herd we were chasing walked out of the timber and into a clearing on a side hill but a couple of deer walked in between us and elk.  We didn’t dare move for 10 minutes as the doe and her fawns kept a close eye on us.  If they broke toward the herd of elk, our hunt was over.  We were all grateful when they trotted off the opposite way. 

After more than twenty years of hunting with my dad we went into ‘team mode’.  He knew that I was a few feet behind him like I had been since I was old enough to follow him into the forest.  Twenty years of hunting side-by-side throughout North America built a bond where each of us knew what the other was thinking when the hunt was on.

We silently walked out of the trees keeping a couple of lone pine trees between us and the elk.  My dad slipped his left shoulder out from under his pack, then his right, and I was there to grab the pack without losing a step.  While Brett was trying to finalize a plan of attack on the bull, he glanced our way and whispered that the herd bull we were chasing was a big 5x6.  While Brett was telling us the size of the bull and how to ambush the big 5x6, another 6x6 broke out of the trees 60 yards behind us, hell bent of catching the big 5x6. 
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The bull bearing down on us from behind was quickly disregarded, and as Brett stepped around the side of the pines to line up a shot, my dad quietly took a step to the opposite side of the tree and took the bull with an off-hand shot at 150 yards.  The old bull humped and Dad put another one round into him ending the hunt.  Much to our surprise, the old bull was the same one that we had passed up the night before drinking out of the water trough!

​Emotions were high and few tears might have been shed but it was well worth the battle.
 
Fast forward a year and Wednesday morning I found myself alone, standing around a group of hunters I didn’t know, talking about what and where we were going to hunt on ‘Strawberry’.  Emotionally, it was harder for me than I thought it would be because this was the first big game hunt of my entire life that my dad was not a part of.  One by one, the other hunters laid claim to where they were going to hunt and asked me where I was off to.  I kind of shrugged and Brett stepped in and told the group that he was going to show me around. 

We took a short drive to an area called the ‘Buck Pasture’ and started to glass.  We quickly found a good 6x6 but he had weak fronts and we decided to pass him up.  While Brett was looking at another group of elk and I was glassing the opposite direction I heard a distinct whisper, “Tyler,” in the familiar voice of my dad.  I turned half expecting him to be standing there but I only saw Brett looking at a group of elk.  At that moment I knew that my dad was with me on the hunt. 

The rest of the morning was a bust for elk but we did find a nice deer for my sister-in-law who drew one of the state deer tags.  At the end of the morning hunt Brett told me he wanted to hunt the same patch of trees that we were successful in last year.

On the way back to camp we stopped in and asked the local sheep herder, Zorro, if he had seen any elk.  The quick stop ended up being a 45 minute conversation of Zorro’s broken English and Brett’s broken Spanish.  Zorro told us where a good 6x6 was but the highlight of the conversation was homemade tortillas fresh off Zorro’s sheep camp stove. 

We headed back to camp, ate a couple of cheese burgers, took a nap then geared up to leave in the early afternoon. 

At 2:30 p.m. we left camp on foot and started our quiet descent through the aspen forest.  Brett was dealing with a bad case of gout in his right foot so we took it very slow.  He was worried about my health because of a pacemaker that I had implanted late last year and I was worried that I would have to pack him out because of his gout. 

After a couple of hours methodically sneaking through the trees toward a raspy bugle, we stumbled upon a couple of cow elk.  We inched closer to them in hopes of seeing their bull only to find that we had snuck into the heart of the herd.

We couldn’t see the bull but he would bugle every couple of minutes and we knew he was close.  We spotted a 5x5 eating near a few cows about 50 yards to our left when the bull that was constantly bugling decided to head straight toward us.  He too, was a 5x5 but for some reason was one of the most vocal elk that I’ve ever encountered.  He was constantly bugling and worked himself to within 60 yards when a bigger 6x6 bull came into view.  The 6x6 was not quite what we were looking for but he was looking for a fight.  He pushed the vocal 5x5 our way.  I thought that they were going to run right into us.  Brett said, “Get ready,” but the 5x5 broke to our left at 35 yards. 

At this point it was starting to get late and we were still a long way from camp so we backed out quietly and tried to circle the herd we had just ran into.  Only a few minutes later we ran into another smaller herd with a decent 5x5 and nine cows.  Brett got a little excited which got me a little excited, but we decided to pass on this bull and start our trek back to camp. 

At this point the constant barrage of competing bugles was all around us.  We silently circled north and headed back to camp.  After 30 minutes of creeping through the forest and a couple of bugles coming from the west we broke into a familiar clearing and saw a bunch of elk in the open on the ridge opposite of us.  While we were glassing this herd we heard a close bugle directly behind us.

Brett turned and quickly said, “Shooter bull, get ready.” 

We both knelt down and dropped our packs as we waited for the big 6x6 to clear a few scrub trees.  He pinned us down at 75 yards for a moment but once the bull on the hill behind us bugled, he turned and started to rake some buck brush with his horns.  He then headed into the trees that we just came out of and we knew that he was going to pick up our scent.  Once he hit the trees and picked up our scent, he started on a quick walk down hill. Brett told me to shoot him when he walked through a small opening in the trees. 

A few seconds later the bull was a hundred yards away walking through the opening and I hit him in the left front shoulder.  The bull instantly recoiled from the shock of bullet and headed down the hill at a trot on three legs.  I missed the second shot but put an insurance round into him and he was down but not out.  With darkness quickly descending the last thing we wanted was to leave the bull overnight.  I walked down the hill to finish him off but he jumped up and headed out. 

I was sick.  I thought that I had just lost the bull of my dreams. 
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Lucky for me, he only went a hundred yards before he piled up again and I anchored him with a final shot.  By this time Brett had grabbed our bags and walked down to meet me at the bull.  We laughed, high-fived, and even hugged.  At this point Brett told me that place where I stood and shot my elk was only 20 yards from where my dad shot his elk last year.  My dad shot his elk facing north and I shot mine facing south.  The flood of emotions was too much.  I was glad that it was dark so Brett couldn’t see me shed a tear in memory of the last hunt we shared with my dad.   

What is your favorite animal to hunt?

I love to hunt elk up close in the timber.  

Why do you think hunting/fishing is important in today's modern age?

Hunting and fishing allows us to reconnect with the earth.  Man kind has been hunting for sustenance for millions of years and for the short time that we're out in the wild, we allow our natural predatory instincts to come to the surface and help us harvest game for the dinner table.

What is something you would like to share with non-hunters out there?
A lot of non-hunters view hunting as unethical and cruel.  I believe that it is unethical and cruel to allow animals to be raised in a small pen their whole life.

Any final thoughts you would like to share with our readers?
Thanks for putting this all together and trying to reach a different demographic than most outdoor writers.​

Along with authors, I'm also interviewing gamers and hunters. I'd like to introduce my good friend, Patrick. He's an outdoorsman and a hunter, and I love how he answered some of these questions. 

What is it about the outdoors that appeals to you?

Being in the outdoors makes me be fully present in the situation.  I immediately have to be in a "flow state" where I am fully immersed.  My mind doesn't wander and start worrying about paying the bills, work, etc.  It honestly gives my mind a break from the daily 9-5 grind.  Its challenging, fun, scary, and beautiful. 
 
When did you first start hunting/fishing?

I started fishing really young, I think I have some pictures of me fishing at 4 years old.  I started going deer hunting with my family as an observer pretty much from day one so it was ingrained in me.  I started hunting big game myself at 14 years old.
 
What is one of your most memorable outdoor moments?

Definitely killing my first big game animal which surprisingly was a bull elk.  It was on the 7th day of a very hard hunt.  It was 4.5 miles back in and a very hard pack out.  I had my best friend with me to help.  It was the single most rewarding thing and single most difficult thing I have ever experienced.  To finally accomplish something that I had put years and years of effort into and wanted so bad was a milestone that I will never forget.
 
What is your favorite animal to hunt?

Its still bow hunting for elk.  The ability for such large creatures to completely vanish in a couple steps amazes me.  I affectionately refer to them as "timber ghost".  I get humbled by hunting elk, especially hunting them on the Wasatch Front of Utah.
 
Why do you think hunting/fishing is important in today's modern age?

There is the argument for knowing where your meat comes from and being part of that process.   Its a fact that hunting and fishing accounts for hundreds of millions of dollars from the sales of licenses, tags, waterfowl stamps, excises taxes, etc. Those funds go directly to wildlife conservation and help run local/federal regulatory bodies.  Honestly its important for wildlife management and to attach value to these animals so there is a reason to keep their populations at stable numbers.  I think that hunting/fishing imparts a sense of personal responsibility on the individuals who participate in those activities and I think that trait is severely lacking in today's modern age
 
What is something you would like to share with non-hunters out there?
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See above.
 
Any final thoughts you would like to share with our readers?

If you have never hunted and have any inkling in starting please do.  Seek out people who do hunt and ask to tag along.  Contact your local wildlife management agency in your state, many offer beginner workshops to help get you started. It's one of the most rewarding experiences you can have.  

Seriously, where are they? This year I didn’t draw any of the hunts I put in, which left my only option as over-the-counter elk. After a lot of debating, I finally decided to go with over-the-counter elk archery, mainly because I had a lot of fun last year and I felt like some of the spots would pan out this year.

I didn’t have much time to up and scout before the season, so I decided to go do some light hunting/scouting in late August. I figured I would go up with my wife and dad, check the area out, and maybe put up some trail cameras.

Well, that’s when shit started to go south. For starters, my dad hurt his back somehow and bowed out of the trip. Then, four days before I was supposed to go up, I passed a kidney stone…a bad one. As the days went on, I felt like I could go up the mountain as the pain was starting to subside. That was a bad choice.

My wife and I went up, set up camp and did an evening hunt at a spot that was alive last year, this year, it was completely different. There wasn’t very much sign of elk plus it had a different vibe than last year. No big deal, I had a pocketful of other choices. The next morning we’d get up early and hit a spot that I liked. Well, that night the train carrying the shit toward the fan left the station. I couldn’t sleep a wink and my kidney was killing me.

When morning came, I was feeling a bit better, so we decided to go check out the spot. We were a little late getting going because I couldn’t sleep until 0430, but it was better than nothing. On the way up I saw an elk through the trees but couldn’t range it and get a shot off before it was gone. Then we spooked another one as we were hiking to a spot. Overall, pretty good. On the way back, my kidneys started really hurting me. All the hiking with the pack was taking its toll. When we got back to camp, I laid down, but it was only making it worse. After some thinking, I decided to pack it up, which was a good call because on the way down the mountain the pain was getting worse. We ended up spending the night in Vernal. I think the shower and soft bed worked wonders because, after that day, the pain never came back.

Fast forward a couple weeks and it was time for the proper hunt. It would be me and my friend Page going up. The plan would be to head up Friday, hunt that evening and come back three to five days later depending on how things panned out. The fact that I saw one and spooked another gave me hope that they were up and moving around the area. Oh, how wrong I was.
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Page and I hunted all over, hitting all my good spots and some we had heard about. We saw no elk and very little sign in the area that they were even there. The best we found was a few scat piles that looked like they could be a day or two old. They weren’t responsive to our calls, and we couldn’t ever hear them. This tells me that they just weren’t in the area other than the few rogue elk passing through. It was very frustrating, to say the least. The spots we were hitting were ideal for elk, and old sign said they had been through there before, but they just weren’t there now. 

For one, I think it was still too hot for the elk. The cold snap hadn’t hit yet, and thus, the pre-rut hadn’t hit yet which was why they weren’t vocal. Second, I think they just weren’t in the area. For whatever reason, they hadn’t ranged into the region yet, perhaps they were higher up (although I was camping and hunting at 9200 feet, and the peaks around me weren’t much higher than 10,000 feet.

At one point I think I may have been talking with another cow elk. I’d hit my call and it would answer, but when I tried to move closer, it got quiet and never started up again. Perhaps it was my mind playing tricks or even another hunter.
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Now don’t get me wrong, even though the hunt was a bust, I still had a great time. It was great to come up and spend a night with my wife in the wild for the earlier portion, and it was awesome spending some time up here with Page roaming the mountains. It would have been wonderful to harvest an elk, but Fate deemed it wouldn’t happen this time around. I did find a couple more spots that could be promising for future hunts, especially a rifle hunt. Perhaps next year I’ll do rifle for the elk. We’ll see. In either case, being up in the mountains and the trees has helped relieve a lot of stress and refresh my mind, making it worth it. 

Awhile back I posted a little bit about why I hunt. I went over some general reasons on why I find hunting so enjoyable (if you haven't read it, you can read it here). In this post, I want to go deeper.

First off, let's talk about nature. I love being in nature. I find myself most at peace when I'm hiking around, sitting in the middle of nowhere without the modern distractions of life in a city. I can get lost (hopefully not literally) out there. There is so much going on out in the woods, way up high in the mountains, so much that I'd never see if I didn't go out there. You can call it spiritual, you can call it tranquil, you can call it whatever you want, but for me, it's peace. It's wild. It's natural. The photos in this post are all of various hunts I've been on in the last five years.

But Cody! You can do that without hunting. Why do you have to hunt to get out in nature, you might ask? Well, I suppose I could, and I have. However, there is something inside that awakens when I'm hunting, or scouting. Something primal that I think hearkens back to the early days of man. When I'm out there, I'm always looking. I'm looking for animals. I'm looking for game trails and sign. I'm always evaluating my surroundings and asking myself if that spot would be a good place to set up come hunting season. Where are the animals moving? Where are they eating? What's the nearest source of water? It keeps my mind sharp.

Let's get one thing straight. Hunting isn't easy. There is a lot of work that goes into hunting. Even with the advantage of modern rifles, you still have to find the animal, get within shooting range, and be a good shot. Then, if you are lucky enough to be at the right place, at the right time, and pull off the right shot, you might harvest an animal. The hard work doesn't stop there. There is a lot that has to happen once you harvest an animal, but we won't get into those details now. 

Another thing I want to tackle, is the actual harvesting of an animal. I don't take pleasure in the killing. I don't. You can call bullshit on me all you want, but to be brutally honest, I don't enjoy killing animals. The few times I have harvested big game (or even small game) there was always a deep amount of respect for the sacrifice the animal gave. All the animals I hunt are majestic in their own way, inspiring in what they overcome, and amazing to watch. 

So you might ask, why do I do it? A couple of reasons. First, it's natural. Humans have been hunting pretty much since they figured out how to sharpen a stick or throw a rock. Animals hunt other animals. There is prey and there are predators. To me, hunting feels right. Having to work that hard for food makes having that food even more enjoyable. Which brings me to the second point, it's organic. You can't get any more organic than hunting in my opinion. I don't care how many labels you slap on a package, nothing will replace the natural meat obtained from the harvest of an animal. I've been told before that hunting is cruel, or inhumane, yet the people telling me this still ate meat from the store. You want to talk about cruel or inhumane, watch some videos on how those animals were raised and subsequently slaughtered. 95% of my red meat consumption at home throughout the year comes from harvested game animals and local ranchers I know and trust. You might have seen pictures of me smiling next to a harvested animal. I wasn't smiling because I was the "big, bad hunter" who just killed an elk or a deer. I'm smiling because all the work culminated in the fact that I obtained my goal. I'm smiling because if it were a different world, and my family was depending on me to provide we'd have food to eat. I'm smiling because I've just taken part of a natural process. Every time I cook a meal at home using the meat, I'm reminded of what I went through to get that meat and it makes a deeper experience cooking and eating it.

You can be damn sure that my girls will grow up knowing where their meat comes from. I hope they enjoy hunting and being outdoors as much as I do, but if it's not their thing, I won't force it on them. If I did, it wouldn't be fun for them. They wouldn't get the same connection I do when I'm out there. Hunting isn't for everyone and I respect that. We live in a day and age now that we don't have to hunt for our food. We don't even have to forage for our food anymore. We live in an age of convenience and abundance. I hope that it continues to thrive so my girls can grow up in a comfortable world. However, it's nice to know that I have some skill-sets and know-how to fall-back on in case I need them.

For me, hunting is a way of life. I know way more about the animals I hunt than I would if I had chosen to never go out looking for them. This is why I hunt.

Within the last few years, I've developed a love/hate relationship with general season rifle hunting. For one, I love it, because it has so far been the only method I've ever harvested big game, and well, it's still hunting. On the other hand, I hate it, because for the most part, you can't make a turn without bumping into another set of blaze orange. This last weekend I went out hunting general rifle for buck deer near Scofield, Utah.
 
I went with my dad, two of my cousins, and their friend. Just as I had feared, the mountains were chock full of other hunters. I haven't seen that many hunters in my last few years of hunting combined. Orange and hunting rigs as far as you could see, sometimes lined up on the road like damned parade. Equally confusing to my emotions were the amount of buck deer we saw sitting in hunting camps, in the back of trucks, and/or tied to the back of ATV's. I think by the morning of day two (of my two-day hunt) we'd seen a total of five or six deer harvested by others. While I was happy and excited that people were having luck, each buck harvested limited the potential for my own success by a certain unknown margin (I suck at math so I'm not going to even attempt to figure this out).
 
Due to not having much time off, my dad and I were limited to the weekend of the opener to do our hunting. My cousin was gracious enough to take us out and show us around since he knew the area very well and had been successful many times before. The day before the hunt, my dad and I went to the North Springs Range where my uncle works as the range master and sighted in our guns. If you've never been to the North Springs Range, you're missing out. It's one of the best shooting facilities in the western USA. If you're ever out near Price, Utah, do yourself a favor and check it out. You won't be disappointed.

​The first day was a bust. We saw a lot of deer but only does. The only bucks we saw were the dead ones in the backs of trucks. The next day was much of the same; however, we had the help of my other cousin and his friend.  The early morning yielded the same results as the day before...does but no bucks. During an afternoon push through a wooded draw, I did successfully harvest a pine hen. I've never had pine hen before, so I'm excited to find out what they taste like.
 
Things were starting to look bleak, but as the afternoon wore on, my cousin had an idea to hike through an area that he bow hunted earlier in the ear. He mentioned he saw a lot of activity during the bow hunt and felt fairly confident that we could get close to some bucks. The catch? Well, it would require a lot of hiking. I was game, though, because the further we ventured out, the fewer hunters we would run into, and the chances of seeing something would increase.
 
Our adventure began around 1500 at the top of a mountain. We hiked down to almost the bottom, then skirted around the side of the mountain using a horse trail. At around 1730, we finally saw a small herd of deer. Lo and behold, the last deer in the herd was a small two-point! Everyone in the group knew I was heading out the next day so they let me take the shot. I ranged it at approximately 220 yards across the canyon to the other side, so I set my optics to the best settings I figured I should use, sat down on the ground and set my rifle in against my shoulder and knee. Perhaps it was the adrenaline or something, but my sight picture was all over the place. I tried to focus on my breathing and when the crosshairs finally fell into place over the deer, I squeezed the trigger. BLAM--the rifle went off and the deer hitched letting us know I'd hit it. It tried to run up the hill a bit, but quickly turned and sat down. I'd done it. I'd finally shot a buck after years of unsuccessful harvests. That elation turned to panicked frustration as the rest of the events unfolded. (Warning: pictures after the one below include pictures of the harvested deer. If things like that offend you, please stop here.)

​My cousin, keeping his eye on the buck, stated that it was still up. We had two options. One, we could let it sit there and die, or two, we could try and knock it down so it wouldn't suffer. We determined to go ahead and try and end it. Since I didn't couldn't see where it was, we had my other cousin take a shot at it. Long story short, he missed and it sent the buck running. We couldn't see where it went so we took off down the canyon, across the creek, and up the other side hoping to find it and kill it. All we found was a blood trail.
 
As we tracked the blood trail, my cousin's friend shouted out, saying he saw a two-point and it looked injured. We figured this was probably my lost buck, and told him to shoot it. He knocked it down and we moved in to start processing it. It took a bit to find the deer because it had rolled into a tree stump hole. If the other guy hadn’t been there to walk us into where he had shot it, I don’t think we would have ever found it. 

​We got to work, but it still took a bit to get the deer processed. Since we had to hike out a couple miles, I figured quartering it and taking the backstraps would be the best option. I also wanted the hide and head because I wanted to finally try and brain tan a deer hide. I packed out three quarters and some backstraps, my cousin took the hide/head, their friend took another quarter and the rest of the backstraps, and then my other cousin took extra gear from folks.
 
By the time we started hiking back, it was pitch black. There wasn’t a moon out and there was some slight cloud cover blocking the stars. It made the trek slow going, and coupled with the elevation, it took us a couple hours to finally make it back to the vehicle. I think it was the hardest I ever had to work to harvest a deer.

​Even while I was discouraged to be hunting around so many other hunters, I still enjoyed myself. Where else can you see amazing vistas, hear a pack of coyotes howling in a nearby canyon, see tons of wildlife to include a small herd of elk, and just have fun with friends and family? A bad day of hunting is still better than a great day in the office. Plus, the hunt ended on a high note with a successful harvest. All in all, it was a great time with some amazing memories (although I think I’ll jump back to archery and/or muzzleloader hunting for a few years). 

Another elk hunt has come and gone. This time, things were different (to include a bear encounter…details below). For starters, I stayed in my tent (Cabelas Ultimate Alaknak II) along with the wood burning stove. My dad had taken some time to figure out some different methods of burning the wood and had gone out and bought some hardwood for us to use. Another difference this time around was instead of going it alone or with a small group, I went out with a larger group of friends. In total, there were six of us out there, and I found that hunting with others made the experience a lot more enjoyable. If anything, sitting around the campfire at night and bullshitting was worth it. Finally, this was the first time I had hunted elk with a bow.

Let me disclose right off the bat that I didn’t successfully harvest anything this year (again). However, I have four degrees of hunting success, and I achieved two of them. The first degree of success is just getting out there and hunting. Enjoying nature, being distraction free, and hiking around the wilderness is ALWAYS a win in my book. The second degree of success is seeing the game I’m hunting. I saw elk on two different occasions this time around but wasn’t able to get a shot off…which brings me to my third degree of success: shooting at an animal (notice I say shooting at, not shooting). I feel you’re pretty lucky if you can get close enough to shoot at something. Of course the fourth and final degree of success is harvesting game. It’s been awhile since I’ve hit that fourth degree, but I try to look at the bright side of things and not get discouraged (hence the four degrees of success).
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The first order of business was to set up camp. I think we had it all put together in about an hour which is pretty good in my opinion. I mean check it out, Camp Langille was pretty posh. We had the tent, front vestibule, and then my dad’s 12’x12’ canopy which was a lifesaver. It rained the first four or five days of and on…sometimes coming down in a deafening deluge. 

​The second order of business was to get down to hunting. My dad and I took off to where we had set our trail cameras. It was mid-hunting season, so it was game on, and we stalked out to the camera locations. It always feels a little like opening Christmas presents when it comes to checking trail cameras. There’s a lot of anticipation, and then you’re either filled with joy and awe, or disappointment. This time, there was no disappointment. We had activity on both cameras to include this little raghorn. 

The next morning I stalked out there again and decided to set up for the cow elk (I had tags for both bull and cow, and I wasn’t in a picky sort of mood). The plan worked perfectly. I was in position, ready to go, and they showed up! The only hitch was that I was pointed in the wrong direction. Early in the morning, I heard something moving through the trees, so I got ready. Shortly after, something started to move behind me, so I turned my head to see what it was. Lo and behold, the cow elk…two of them. However, they spotted the movement when I had turned to look. They were still about 50 yards out facing me through some semi-thick cover. Once they spotted me, they turned tail and ran. No shot, game over.
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The next close encounter I had was a couple of days later in elk paradise (more on this location below). I was with two other hunters, and we were stalking through the forest. One of the other hunters let out a cow call and got a response from something nearby. He put the stalk on to move closer. Meanwhile, behind us less than 30 yards something started moving. We could hear it stepping, and I am pretty sure I heard antlers knocking on tree limbs. Every time my friend would hit his cow call, it would move. It paced back and forth in the tree line for about ten minutes before disappearing. I guess it caught on and realized that, in the words of Admiral Ackbar:

Those were the two times during the hunt that I came somewhat close to slaying a wyrm with the black arrow and thus saving the residents of Laketown…er…I mean harvesting an elk. The trip was still great, though. I was able to expand my knowledge of great hunting spots. We even found an elk paradise. Every ten steps in this small quarter-mile area yielded elk sign (read this as elk shit). We could hear them moving around at night and in the morning, they just didn’t want to come out and say hello (rude if you ask me).

However, the most exciting thing was the bear encounter! That’s right…bear encounter. We’re not talking looking at a bear from behind a fence or driving through a bear sanctuary; we’re talking Yogi Bear from Jellystone rifling through our goodies kind of bear. One evening everyone was out hunting, and my dad had decided to rest and relax back at camp. At one point he looked over and saw a large black shape digging through one of my friend’s coolers. He did what we were told to do, which was make a lot of noise and make yourself bigger to scare it off. This bear must have run out of fucks because he didn’t have any to give. At one point my dad even fired a shot over the bear to the try and scare it away—still, no fucks were given. That bear stole some food and ate it all the while staring at my dad, kind of a universal language of, come at me bro and see what happens. It wasn’t until two others had finished their hunt and came back that the bear ran off. It took three adults yelling at it to get it to move away.
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All in all, it was a great trip, and I can’t wait until next year. I feel like I learn more about the area each time I get out there and that my chances of success increase slightly each time. I’ve already got plans to scout out a couple of new areas for next season.