As much as my husband and I wish we could hunt for a living, we aren't one of the lucky ones. This being our situation, we can only hunt during the two weekends that fall within our 15 day season. Weekend one ended up being a bust, but it may have been one of the most fun hunts I have been on.
Day 1, Friday:
Jason and I headed out on Friday morning after dropping the dogs off at the boarding kennel (this mama was a bit nervous, but turns out they were fine!) around 8:30 am. Three hours later, we were setting up camp. While Jason started with the tent, I decided to glass from the awesome vantage point that was our spot. This, of course, was not the same spot as before, you know, the one with the bathrooms...but it was a pretty great spot nonetheless. So, after looking around the flat areas, as in, not the hills that surrounded us, I go back and say I didn't see anything. Jason must not have believed me because he took the binoculars and started looking all around, including the hills. All of a sudden, he got very excited and, laughing, said, "You may want to look around more before you tell me there are no elk!" Turns out, there was a herd with two cows and three yearlings close by, then a little further out there was a herd with 3-4 bulls and the rest were cows. Hurriedly, we set up camp, the bare essentials that we knew we wouldn't want to set up after a long hike. In my excitement, I dropped my rifle right on the scope, and somehow, couldn't remember the whole time we were out there that I needed to sight it in again...ruined a few things for me over the weekend!
As these things usually go, the big herd of elk who were maybe a mile away, ended up laying down on a plateau that came off of a larger plateau about two miles away (this place is full of plateaus, which is awful because I HATE being on rock ledges or really anything that is high and I can see way down from). On the way to the big herd, we had to skirt around the smaller herd. This was a hilarious situation, because we really had no way to go completely around them. One point on this stalk, we had to walk straight towards them, and they stood there and watched us! It was like we were walking toward mule deer. So odd. The lead cow kept barking at us, which I had never heard and my husband decided it sounded like our lab's bark. After that, I couldn't help but giggle every time the cow barked at us!
Finally, we got past the small herd, who miraculously, didn't run towards the big herd and scare them off. We stopped on the plateau across from the larger herd, which was probably 600 yards away, to look at them through our binoculars (I definitely need a good pair for the next hunt, using one pair got to be very tiresome!), and decided that they probably weren't big enough for what we wanted. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a trophy hunter. I really just want at least one elk in our freezer, especially with the way groceries are going up right now! However, in this situation, we have been told repeatedly that a 300 class elk should be no problem, so we decided that since it was the first day and this herd's location would be awful to pack out from, we probably wouldn't shoot one from this herd. Always looking for a challenge, though, we decided to see how close we could sneak up on them.
Dropping down from our plateau, we walked across the flat between them, and climbed up a slope closer to the big plateau (the one with all the branches coming off). The wind was blowing right in our faces, so we knew they wouldn't smell us. We reached the top and stayed behind a small hill, still mystified that they hadn't heard us and spooked. Leaving our packs behind the hill, we started crawling on our hands and knees, holding our rifles, just in case we decided one of them was worth the work that would follow. Soon, even crawling on our hands and knees wasn't going to work, so we dropped to our bellies and slithered up the hill. When we were within 25 yards of the closest elk, one cow noticed us and stood up. Gradually, the rest of the herd followed suit and stared at us for a longer period of time than would have been necessary to shoot. Jason, being the gentleman that he is, looked at me and I shook my head no. We stood up, face to face with the biggest bull (he was a 4x5) and they took off in the other direction. My heart was pounding, so full of adrenaline from being so close to these amazing animals.
Needless to say, the walk back seemed to take way longer than the stalk to the elk. By the time we got back to camp, the sun was setting and it was time for some chicken soup! At 8:30, we drove down to the rest stop (about a mile out, and yes, I did request to be driven out there a few times!) to meet Jason's dad who wanted to be there for Jason's first elk. He followed us back to camp and set up his cot-tent.
Day 2, Saturday:
Jason's dad, Clyde, brought the two 4-wheelers he has with him for this hunt. Area 100 is a huge area, the biggest elk unit in Wyoming, and we knew that we would be driving more than walking, since elk could be anywhere. Although Jason and I had the two person 4-wheeler, I was sore and over it about 2 hours into this ordeal. After riding around for quite some time, we finally saw one herd consisting of six elk. We couldn't see horns (the horns in this area are lighter than normal because of the area itself, we read it is because there is only sagebrush to rub their antlers on and pine sap makes them brown?), but from the way it was walking, we were pretty sure the back elk was a bull. Jason tried to find a road that would cut them off, as they were already on the move. The road he chose did not go in front of the elk, instead it went behind another plateau. What did the guys decide we needed to do? Go for a "little walk" and see if we could cut them off. Well, after the previous days' journey I was about over "little walks" and wasn't too thrilled with this plan, but being the good hunting wife I am, I followed along. About a hundred yards into this walk, we noticed that two other hunters were following these elk and pushing them faster and farther away from us. Did we turn back to the 4-wheelers to see if we could get there first? Nope, we kept walking. I kept my mouth shut, but I was fuming. I may be "just a girl" and haven't had the opportunity to be a hard core hunter, but even I knew that this walk was now pointless. When the boys finally decided it was a lost cause, we were about a mile and a half from the 4-wheelers, the wind was blowing in our face all the way back, and we hadn't eaten since breakfast. I know that I don't do well when I push my body to extremes, but I did it anyways and had to stop more than I normally would have on the way back. Not being able to breathe and blacking out (low blood sugar, perhaps?) are not good on a long walk up and down hills!
Finally, we made it back to the 4-wheelers, and tried to see if we could find this herd again, or a different one all together. No such luck, though. Four hours of my rifle slamming on my back, bumpy roads, and straddling a 4-wheeler later, I was ready to be done. By the time we got back to the truck and loaded the 4-wheelers, it was 5:30 and I wanted to be in a warm tent with a nice bowl of chili in my lap!
I made them stop at the rest stop on the way back, and the face that looked back at me from the mirror could have passed for a Halloween costume! My face was red and wind burnt, my nose was dirty and peeling, my hair was trying to form dreadlocks (although I did all I could to keep it tight and together!), and my eyeballs were bright red, even though I wore sunglasses the whole time. What a day!
Day 3, Sunday:
On this day, we opted for the truck. Taking Clyde's diesel pick up had its benefits, but there was a point that the 4-wheelers would have been ideal. We had been driving around for two hours and saw nothing. Jason was looking out his window and saw a herd of something (there are a lot of wild horses here, too, and they look very similar to elk from a ways away). Clyde slammed on his brakes and Jason, looking through the binoculars, decided they were elk. We found the nearest road, and the elk took off. We tried to cut them off, and ended up on a road behind them, but Jason and I ran out of the truck, sat down, and got a shot off. We aimed above the shoulder because we thought they were about 300 yards away. Turns out, they were probably about 500 because both of us missed. Not that my miss was a huge surprise, since I still hadn't remembered to sight my gun in again. With no hits, the elk took off again and we pursued them in the truck, trying to cut them off again. We kept ending up behind them, and no matter what we did, they did not stop for us. They crossed a creek, and were lost to us, since we were in the truck, and not on the 4-wheelers. By then, it was nearing noon, and Clyde needed to get back on the road to Bozeman, MT. We drove back to camp, got him packed up and on his way, and Jason and I jumped in our truck and took off again.
Fifteen minutes into our drive, we found a herd of elk. Jason said he saw one bull, and the chase was on. We followed a dry creek bed that wound around until we were behind them. There was indeed one bull, and although he wasn't a monster, I knew it would be the last chance that weekend. We climbed out of the creek bed and into a spread of sagebrush, thorn bushes, and small cactus. The elk were about 300 yards away, so we knew we had to get closer. They weren't alarmed, and were all laying down. Jason and I got on our bellies and army crawled for what seemed like a long ways, but he swears was only about 50 yards, I still don't believe him. Crawling through dirt, animal poo, sagebrush, thorns, and cactus plants, we finally got to the edge of the grass. There were two bulls, so I claimed the one in front of me, and Jason was going to go for the one in front of him. We laid there for maybe fifteen minutes, and finally, the one in front of me stood up. We waited a few minutes to see what Jason's would do. When his got up, it wandered back into the cows, naturally, and we are pretty sure it fell asleep standing up. Not wanting to miss another chance at filling our freezer, Jason told me to shoot. Of course, after banging my scope the first two days, (one drop, the other all day on the 4-wheeler) I missed. The herd went wild, all the while, the bull Jason was watching stayed within the safety of his harem. They stopped on a small hill, so I tried again, just to try. Still missed, of course. This time, they took off in the opposite direction and were lost to us.
Defeated, we headed on the long trek to the truck, drove up to camp, packed up, and drove home. One more try this weekend. I'm hoping to have better news afterwards!
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