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The Waves of Hunting

10/14/2014

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I wanted to give an update on my recent hunting adventures. I didn’t draw any tags for deer this year, so I focused all my efforts on elk. I had a cow elk tag for the muzzleloader season, and then an over-the-counter bull tag. The cow tag I drew was for the same region I hunted and killed the bull elk last year. Due to the recent addition to the family, and the fact that I already knew the area, I didn’t go scouting this year. I figured the cow hunt would act as scouting for the bull hunt which would occur two weeks later.

My buddy and I arrived to the camp site early enough this year to get in an evening hunt, so we loaded up and headed straight back to the same spot I harvested the bull last year. We set up, hunkered down, and waited. From each direction we could hear bull elk bugling challenge calls. We even heard the occasional bark from a cow elk nearby. It gave us hope, but alas, nothing came out. We hiked up to the spot where we field dressed the bull from last year and founds pieces of bone, but I thought we would have found a lot more than just little pieces. After a little searching, we found the spine about 30 yards off.

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The next morning, we got up early and drove out to the spot again hoping to catch a cow moving through the area. As we turned the corner to the open glade we like to hunt, my headlamps caught a couple cow skirting through the trees. Unfortunately, it was still too dark to shoot, plus they were gone pretty quickly. We didn’t have any more luck that morning, but we made a plan to head back that evening, set up in the trees, and see if the cow would come back. It was a sound plan, and there were a lot of elk sign in the area; however, there were just too many people out there. There were a lot of other hunters roaming around, driving back and forth along the roads on their ATVs. I think the increased activity spooked the elk and they decided to stay put.

We came back the next morning to see if we could catch them on the move again, but same story, nothing. I decided to hike back to our camp site by following a creek. I thought perhaps I could get lucky and catch a cow having a drink of water. Plus, we had heard more bugling in that direction. It was a good plan, but there were a couple of flaws and warning flags that should have stopped me. The first was the presence of a storm. There were heavy clouds in the distance, and it had already sprinkled a little water on us that morning. The second was the fact that I had never hiked that region before, and didn’t know what to expect. The third was the fact that I didn’t have everything I needed to stay dry in my daypack. The combination of these things should have warned me to try again another time, but I was stubborn and took off anyway. While I was rewarded by some awesome scenery, the error of my choice was about to become apparent.

After an hour and a half of hiking, it started to rain. It was light rain, but it doesn’t take much to get cold. Even more dangerous than the rain, was the thunder and lightning that was danger close. I kept plugging along hoping I would pop out at the camp site, but I had no real clue on how far away it was. I also didn’t know if I could hike the whole way back, if there would be impassable terrain, or what to expect. All rookie mistakes that I knew I was making, but still decided to go forward and hike. Stupid.

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I searched my pack for a poncho once the rain intensified, but found that it wasn’t in my pack. I realized then that it must be in one of my other survival packs, and that I had forgotten to transfer it. My wife had even told me to pack my rain coat before I left, and I forgot to get that as well. I was paying for it then, because the rain started to pour down in droves. I was at a crossroads, and needed to decide quickly whether or not I would make a shelter and wait it out, or keep moving along. There was a bend in the creek up ahead, and I gave it up until that point to see if I could see the camper, or not. Luckily, when I rounded the bend, I saw the camper. I made it back to the camp soaked, but alive. This just goes to show, that if you think something is stupid, maybe you should listen to your instinct.

The rain kept up, and we made a decision to come down off the mountain before the dirt roads got ugly. It was a good choice because it continued to storm all day.

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 Fast forward to the bull hunt two weeks later. I was optimistic because we had heard the bulls calling all during the cow hunt and I knew they were still up there. Another bonus was the fact that due to state regulations, I could still fill my cow tag during my bull hunt, so it was game on. Just like last time, we arrived early enough to get an evening hunt in, so my brother and I headed back up to the spot. We set up in some cover and started with the cow calls and spraying cow estrus in the air. Nothing came to check us out, so after a while, we got up and moved. As we came out of the trees, I saw a cow elk no more than 20 yards away moving the same direction as we were. I stopped and shouldered my rifle, but by then it had disappeared into the trees.
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The next morning, we came out to the same spot and hoped to find it again. We heard shots in the distance, so hopefully someone got lucky, but we didn’t see anything. That afternoon, we went for a hike to look for a new area, but didn’t see much sign, so when evening hit, I went to the same area. The place I like to hunt is full of sign, and I’ve seen elk every time I’ve gone up there. It’s an area nestled between two dirt roads, so I think a lot of hunters don’t give it much thought and overlook it. The real trouble started when I got back to camp.

Apparently, the batteries in the camper I rented refused to charge on the generator. We ran the generator for hours, and nothing. By the time I got back from hunting that evening, my camping compatriots were scrambling to fix the damn thing. The batteries had run so low that nothing would turn on, and when we tried the generator, the LP gas detector would fault and alarm every 30 seconds with an annoying beep. We checked the breakers, the fuse box, everything we could think of, but no joy. After a trip to town for some tools, trying to charge the batteries with my truck (which worked, but not well enough), and looking into every possible scenario we could think of, we called it quits. While I had packed for warmth, I could tell that my camping compatriots had not and were cold. The thought of sleeping in a camper in the high Uintah Mountains in October wasn’t sitting well with them. So we packed up and came home early.

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No meat this year. I think it’s the hunting gods balancing things out. Last year I had a successful hunt, so this year was my bad year. Perhaps it goes in waves. The question is how big are the waves? I can only hope and wait for next year. Regardless of actually harvesting meat, it was still a success in the fact that I was able to spend time outdoors in the mountains with friends and family. That kind of success is priceless and always worth it.
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    C.R. Langille writes horror, fantasy, urban-fantasy, dark fantasy, and is considering stepping into the sci-fi realm. He has a grasp of survival techniques, and has been a table-top gamer for over 16 years.

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