First thing in the morning, I had 2 very good friends show up to help track down the bull elk. I couldn’t have been more grateful for them donating their Saturday to me. When you find good hunting partners, hold on for dear life. They are far and few. We made our way over to the scene of the crime and got on blood right away. After 500 yards of tracking, the blood came fewer and farther between. With hard work though, we kept pushing forward finding a drop here and a drop there. We followed the bull’s tracks for a great deal of the way, which led us to more blood. After almost a mile and 6 hours later though, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t kill that bull. This is the part of bowhunting, and hunting for that matter, that nobody likes. If you do this long enough though, it is bound to happen. I practice shooting my bow all year long and still things happen. What actually happened though wouldn’t hit me until the next morning though.
After licking my wounds from the morning and resting that day, I headed out for the evening. My wife was nice enough to come up and hang out with me during the day. She knew I was hurting from losing that bull. She came out with me that evening to glass. After not being there that long, my brother called me and told me to meet him down the way quick. He had 3 bulls spotted and they were just feeding. So we ran down the ridge to meet up with my brother. He pointed the bulls out to me and I was off running again.
On my way over to these bulls, I kept telling myself “this is it.” A bull elk walked out at 150 yards, unaware of my presence. Slowly, I moved forward, jumping from juniper to juniper. Never once did the bulls look at me. There was two 5 points and a spike. I closed the distance to a yardage that I was comfortable shooting. The biggest bull was broadside. I came to full draw, settled my pin, and squeezed the trigger. Nothing. Again, and nothing. This time the bull ran a tad, but was clearly not hit. Again, nothing. I shot 2 more times and nothing. What was happening was blowing my mind. How was I missing these huge animals? They ran off and I went looking for arrows. My brother text me and said, “Um, you didn’t hit any of those bulls.” I couldn’t believe it. I did find 2 arrows and they were as clean as a whistle. At this point, I was so mentally done with this hunt. I missed my wife, house, and dogs. I missed real food. I missed yet another opportunity.
On this morning my brother decided to stay back in camp and let me have some alone time. Boy I needed it. Never have I been beaten down on a hunt like this one. I had never felt so low as a bowhunter. Struggle makes us stronger though, and I knew that I would come out stronger in the end. A few bulls bugled that morning, but not many. Instead of chasing them all over the place, I decided to go and check for more arrows, now that I had sunlight to do so. Couldn’t turn anything up, so I went back to camp to shoot my bow. How I was missing these animals was something I needed to solve. Sure enough, somewhere along the trip, my sight got bumped. I shot and was 8 inches high across the board. This was the second time that this had happened to me in the field. While I felt some type of closure, knowing that my sight was off, it still made me feel awful. In the end, it is my responsibility to make sure everything is in order. Now, everything was and I was ready to keep hunting. We didn’t get into anymore bulls that day.
When we woke up on Day 10(technically Day 13) of my hunt, the two of us were slightly down. This would be the last morning that we woke up together on this hunt. 13 days went by so quick. It felt like we would be there forever when we first arrived. Bulls were bugling as we sipped our coffee. I would miss this so much. Who knows when one of us would draw another Arizona elk tag in September?
There was one bull in particular that we heard. We heard him almost every morning, but never could catch up with him before he stopped bugling. So, this time, we crept in silent without making calls. For the next hour or so, the bull would scream through the high desert announcing his presence. He demanded respect. Soon we could hear cows mewing and the bull panting. We were close. I saw one cow skirt off to my right. Something was telling me that I needed to go over there, because the rest of the herd would soon follow. But the bull was bugling to my left. I fell victim to his voice and moved left instead of right.
Then I saw the backs of cows moving from left to right, just like I thought. They were followed by the biggest bull I had ever seen in the area. What an amazing creature. I tried to go right from there to cut them off. However, I only got to 95 yards and was spotted by the lead cow. The bull walked out broadside at that distance and soon left. Just like that, we were busted. I looked at that as a great way to end my hunt. In the presence of a true giant. A giant that let me know, he was the one in control. He was the one with the upper hand. That bull set the universe right again.
We made our way back to camp, bugling along the way. No bulls bugled back at us. I was almost happy about this. We were both ready to go home, but knew that after a day or so, this hunt would be missed immensely. Looking back on this hunt now, I have got to say, I had an amazing hunt. A bull didn’t come home with me, but I gained so much more than that. Elk hunting knowledge that I can take with me anywhere. If you spend that amount of time in the field straight, you are going to learn a few things. Memories that we will talk about forever. This hunt was a great reminder to me that persistence goes a long way and to never give up. It also reminded me that there is so much more to this bowhunting thing than filling tags. My brother and I spent just about 2 weeks living in the mountains together. I cannot wait to do it again.
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