If ever there was a time I was looking more forward to getting out of town and into the Rocky Mountains for archery elk, this season would have to be it. In my last post, I talked about getting ready for elk season. Since that post, I had gone dark from blogging. It isn’t that I didn’t have things to say but rather nothing to write about that related to hunting, manhood, or some brews. I really didn’t want to add my soapbox to an already overflowing sea of opinions intermittently flavored by actual facts. I have been on this planet since the mid-1970s. I can’t think of another year more memorable for stuff going wrong or polarized feelings than this one and that is saying a lot.
Getting out of town, away from all the craziness, and with a good friend was a needed change of pace or so I thought. Usually, the archery season starts on August 30th. This year it fell on a Sunday. We already knew it was going to be a bit more challenging this year since so many fellow Idahoans had put a lot more time in the woods camping than previous years. Already the elk were changing their travel patterns and bedding areas. With three earthquakes centered 17 miles from Stanley, Idaho we knew to look for changes in underground water and springs. I found several spring-fed streams no longer had water above ground at least not in the same place. This discovery forced us to change up our tactics a bit more.
By Wednesday the 2nd of September had come around the fires in California, Oregon, Washington and Idaho had started to fill the Treasure Valley area with smoke. I started my hunt on Thursday while Kelly came up Saturday. The first few days weren’t too bad smoke wise but one thing was evident. The elk were not making their usual herd noises. I hiked to places I knew held elk. When I got there I could smell them but as soon as I made a small contentment or cow call, the elk in the timber would scatter. Now, I am not a world-class elk caller but I am not a newbie either. At least for the elk who depend on their sense of smell, the smoke was worse than I thought.
The other thing that also became evident, there were a lot of new hunters to the area who didn’t know how to hunt these elk or what thermals do to scent. Many of them would power bugle and hold their bugle too long. A mature bull will only bugle for about 4 to 5 seconds. Their other error was being on the wrong side of the wind and allowing their scent to be carried directly to the elk above or below them. This is the first time I had felt like it was overcrowded in the woods.
Back at camp, I found via social media group posts that many of the archers were experiencing the same issue with the elk being quiet and a greater number of hunters. Some of them had posted success already which helps to keep your spirits up. The two previous years I luckily tagged out within opening weekend prior to that my elks were taken at the end of the season. By the time Saturday morning rolled around I had settled into this being a long haul.
Kelly is a better caller than me and upon his arrival Saturday afternoon, I was hopeful that maybe my calling just wasn’t inviting enough but this wasn’t to be the case. Smoke is a powerful thing and from Kelly’s experience will cause elk and deer to be more cautious because they aren’t able to smell as well. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, how sweet his sounds where, the elk just wouldn’t respond until you were almost on top of them. By that time, you really had no chance of connecting with an arrow through buckbrush, manzanita or quakies. Kelly had started using an App on his phone to track our steps and flights of stairs. By the time we left for home on Labor Day we had put in some impressive numbers. The next weekend was much of the same and we decided to wait till the week of the equinox. Hopefully, the break would also help quell the dry cough I developed from the smoke as well.
On Wednesday night, the 23rd, I made my way up to camp. Kelly had taken that week off. Even though the smoke had been tamped down from some rain, he had no luck yet. We met up with another group of hunters and made a plan for the next morning’s hunt. Kelly and I were paired together while Randy and Jeremiah (father and son) were hunting together. During their evening hunt on Wednesday, Jeremiah and Kelly had gotten near some bulls that had started to finally bugle. We decided to go to the same spot hoping they had settled on the ridge for the evening. The melody from my cellphone at 4:30 in the morning came quicker than I would have liked. I made quick work of breakfast and a shower. Before we knew it, we were driving off into the dark cool morning air toward Jeremiah and Randy’s camp. Once there, we all headed toward our destination. Jeremiah and Randy would stop below us and park while we went to the end of a Forrest Service road.
I had hunted in this area before and we were about to engage in a straight hike uphill. Nothing gets your senses going like a steep hike in the dark. As you climb your lungs give before your legs get to burning from lactic acid. At some point in the hike, your body starts to respond as your breathing settles in but it always seems this happens to me right when we get to where we are going. As if on cue, Kelly turns to me and says spread out while we wait. He moves ahead of me up the trail as I kneel near a pine. In the cool morning air, my heart rate slows. Then like a beacon in the dark we hear a bugle, followed by two more from different parts of the ridgeline. We had a bull above us and to our right and left. Kelly had me head north while he headed west to the top of the ridge.
I made my way through my favorite vegetation, manzanita. This brush has the ability to grab, push, and pull you or your pack. It could make the most pious man want to throw down some four-letter expletives. Luckily my movements were covered by the sounds and carrying on of some bovine mountain cows. As I made my way out of the brush, I could hear the bull still above me. The wind was circling and I held up as it settled back down. Slowly I began to move up the ridge toward the top, sidehilling as I went. Then coming from my left, I caught sight of him heading to the north. I let out a contentment call and he immediately bugled but didn’t change direction. He went behind a tall pine and then down into some brush. He was now at the same elevation as me. I made my way slowly toward where I last saw him and found a game trail after spotting a large wallow.
On the game trail, I saw fresh sign and I continued my slow pace making sure to not make too much noise. I was heading into some quakies when he crossed over the path I was on and downhill. On the wind, I could hear him picking along, feeding, and moaning. Then as if a burglar caught by an alarm the quakies exploded with activity as cow elk moved about. Almost as soon as this started up from the top of the knob came a familiar sound. Kelly started in calling and just as quick as they got excited he had them calmed down though a bit further away from me.
I decided to back out and head straight uphill. I met Kelly around the backside of a rocky knob as he continued to cow call. I sat down on his left and we began talking quietly about what just happened. Kelly had peered over the knob and snapped a twig about the same time I was standing in the middle of the herd. Thankfully, they hadn’t winded me as suspected. As we shared our versions of the story a cow called from below and to the east slightly downhill from us. Kelly once again called back. The cow stepped out with a calf and then came the bull. He stepped out 40 yards from us for a perfect broadside shot. Within a short time, Kelly had a nice bull on the ground. Our luck had changed.
- L. Yarbrough, Bucks & Beers
