There is a part of me that would want to start this story out the day I arrived in elk camp this year here in Arizona. However, it just doesn’t start there. The area that I drew my tag in has become one of the most special places to me. I frequent it year round and have had many firsts come to life right in those very hills. The first time I ever saw an elk bugle happened right there. I remember him trotting and bugling at the same time. Like he was trying to assert his dominance over the herd. The first deer I ever took the life from happened 300 yards away from that. It was a coues spike that meant the world to me. Not a mile away from that, I wrapped my tag around my first bear. An experience that lit a fire under me that still burns bright today. Now, it was my turn to try my hand at elk hunting in these hills that I’ve called a second home.
My brother and I decided to drive up the Tuesday before the opener(Friday), in order to get our camping spot. When we arrived in camp, it felt like any other hunt. It wasn’t until we got camp all set up and settled in that we realized we were actually getting to hunt elk here. We sat there and reminisced about past hunts where we saw big bulls and rutting activity. I couldn’t believe that it was my turn to chase these big animals around this area. Arizona elk tags are not a dime a dozen. We had 10 full days to hunt and I wanted to soak up every drop of it.
The next day, my wife and one of our dogs would come up to spend the night with us. This was awesome. A great send off before embarking on what became the toughest hunt I have ever done. My wife Amber and dog Stormy would accompany us on our glassing trips Wednesday evening and Thursday morning. Stormy did way better than I thought! I figured she would be loud and obnoxious. She was quite the opposite, which was surprising to us. On top of having Amber and Stormy there, we were seeing bulls, and good ones to boot! It just added to the anticipation of the whole thing.
After returning from glassing Thursday morning, we were greeted by my Dad in camp. Before this point, he had never been on an early season archery elk hunt before. It was totally new waters for him. My brother and I couldn’t wait to show him what he was in for. Wifey and the dog packed up and we said our goodbyes. I have a love/hate relationship with leaving home. Being out in the mountains bowhunting is what I absolutely love to do, but I will admit, I do get homesick from time to time. Especially when things get tough.
We sat in the dark on opening morning drinking coffee and going over our plan for the day. My stomach was turning I was so excited. What the next 10 days would hold, I had no idea. All I knew, was that I wanted to be a part of it. No bugles echoed through the darkness that morning. This had me slightly worried, but you couldn’t tame my eagerness to start this hunt. It had been stewing for 5 years.
My plan was to hit various bedding areas that I knew about in hopes of bugling or cow calling up a bull that was already in his bed or coming to it. We set off through the darkness slowly with our headlamps turned off. Just as we were skirting the rim of a small basin, we heard a lazy sounding bugle come from right below us. I remember thinking that it sounded fake. Like it was another hunter. After hearing branches starting to break though, I knew it was in fact a real elk. We set up about 45 yards away from where I guessed the elk would pop out of. 3 cow calls left my mouth. Before I knew it, the bull was running towards us to investigate. A small raghorn bull stepped out at 45 yards right where I thought he would. With this being the first 5 minutes and the first day of my 10 day elk hunt, I let him walk. What a cool way to start the hunt. “Let’s go find another one,” I said.
After that close encounter, we chased bugles all morning. Nothing panned out, but it was definitely starting to hit me that I was actually chasing elk in Arizona. What a dream. After waiting for the wind to shift directions, we made our way towards another bedding area that I knew of. As we did that, I spotted an AWESOME bull across the canyon from us trailing a cow. They were about 500 yards away from us. We set up and watched what they were going to do. The bull moved into a juniper thicket and didn’t show himself again until 5:30 p.m. that evening. When he did, I grabbed my stuff and got over there as quickly as I could. The wind was good, as well as my timing. I wanted to get onto the same level as the bull and then start cow calling.
As I crept my way closer to this giant bull, it soon became apparent that there were 2 other bulls around me as well. One came into 45 yards with no shot. Another was trailing me, but never gave me a visual. The giant ended up slipping away and out of my life. What an incredible first day of elk hunting that was. My cooler might not have been full of meat, but my memory was filled with some great times. Onto the next day.
The next day, we ended up hiking deep into a wilderness area that I had been dreaming about elk hunting in for years. Our plan was to locate bugle every hundred yards or so in hopes of getting a bull to respond. It was pretty quiet until about 10 a.m. Out of nowhere a bull bugled at me almost immediately after I stopped my call. He was close and ready to play. So were we. We closed the distance to what we thought was about 100 yards or so. After getting set up, we realized that we in fact had 2 bulls around us, not 1. This had me worried, because the wind was not favorable for the more chatty bull sounding off. We screamed and raked back and forth to no avail. Looking back on this, I should have crept in on the bull while my brother kept him talking. You live and learn though right? There were no more bugles that day, 10 miles later.
This morning was different than all of the rest. I woke up at about 1:30 a.m. to the sound of bulls sounding off all around us. Once 2:30 a.m. arrived, it was apparent that I wasn’t falling back asleep. So, I decided to get up and stand in the darkness taking note of where all of the bulls were bugling. I counted 5 bulls around us as I stood there with a cup of coffee. So far, this was the most excited I was on the hunt. The rut seemed to be starting up and I was there to witness it unfold before me. What a treat.
The rest of camp was filled with enthusiasm when I told them I had been up for the past hour and a half listening to bugles. After chugging down some coffee and breakfast, we started our blind like walk through the hills. If I can walk through the darkness without a headlamp, I always will. I don’t like letting the critters know where I am. My bugle tube let out an echoing scream through the night sky. 3 bulls answered me. Game on.
We made a plan as to how we were going to approach one of the bulls and started making our way to him. On the way, I got a hair up my rear end and decided to cow call into the small like basin from the first day. Immediately, a bull bugled at me. The wind was good and he was close. We decided to set up on this bull first. Right as the sun started to show what was before us, I started to cow call. In about 5 minutes, I had 4 bulls closing in on us. Shortly after that, I saw legs moving down into the thicket we were set up in. It was a 5×5 bull accompanied by a spike. The range was 55 yards. When the bull got to 45, he turned broadside, a bit unsure of the situation. I came to full draw, settled my pin, and let it rip. The all familiar “Thwack” sound was not present though. My arrow ended up deflecting a branch and the bull ran away unscathed. We got on a handful of other bulls that day, but nothing panned out.
The next 4 days would be filled with close encounters, but no arrows left my rest. While we were getting opportunity, we definitely noticed how much the heat was making an impact on the bulls talking on their own. Where we were, the bulls would actually stop bugling at about 6:30 a.m. After that, it was pretty quiet. No bugles in the evening at all. Dad ended up leaving on Day 5. My brother and I were impressed with how he kept up with us on the hunt. He is no spring chicken anymore, but he can still hike the mountains with his boys. With that being said, he was feeling the past 5 days of grinding and was being called home by his recliner. I didn’t blame him.
My brother and I came to the conclusion that we would chase bugles in the morning and glass in the evening. On the morning of Day 7 we got on an awesome herd bull. He was fired up! Instead of calling, we crept down a ridge to get a closer look at where he was going. Our jaws dropped when we actually saw the bull. Dark antlers with white tips. A magnificent 6×6 bull demanding respect from every other elk in that basin. We decided to work our way down into the bedding area that we knew he was pushing his cows to. I cow called to the bull and he answered me immediately. Not 10 minutes later, I could hear him breaking branches moving towards us. I am surprised that my chest didn’t get bruised from how hard my heart was beating. In that thick cover though, we never got a visual of the bull.
From there, we decided to try and move closer to him. On the way, I jumped another bull out of his bed. At the time, I didn’t have a shot. I saw though that if I moved to my right, it might be possible. My bow came to full draw and I slowly stepped to my right. The bull was broadside at 50 yards………….with a scrub oak patch right in front of his vitals. No shot. The bull trotted up to 60 yards, quartering away. No shot. Pine trees were in the way. Then the bull left when the wind hit him.
After the encounter above, I decided that any bull was in trouble now. I couldn’t believe how fast the days had gone. Truth be told, I had my sights set on a big bull. Every day that went by though, I realized that this wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought. While I knew the area intimately, I am still a novice elk hunter. So, this evening we would glass for elk and I would go after the first bull that I saw. Crunch time was in full effect.
At about 6:00 p.m. that evening, I spotted a lone bull working his way out of a canyon bottom towards a natural pool of water. I didn’t even look hard at his antlers. In no time at all, my pack was on my back, bow in my hand, and I was making my way down into the bottom with him. My brother told me that he was heading towards that water down there, so my plan was to intercept him there. As I crept my way to the edge of the hill, where the water lay beneath, I head him bust out of the bottom. I could see where he was going to pop out of and ranged it at 67 yards. The bull stepped out broadside, I cow called at full draw, and the arrow was off. The arrow hit the bull higher than I would have liked. Getting another arrow into the bull was something that I wanted to do, but never got the opportunity. After finding blood right before dark, I decided to back out, knowing that I didn’t make a perfect shot on the bull. We would track in the morning and hopefully the bull would be down for good.
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