New Country

It’s amazing how fast September comes and goes every year. There is no doubt it is the best time to be in the woods, but each year the priorities are stacked against me. Family, school starting, always work and all the little chores that have been neglected over the summer.When does a guy have time to hunt?

2010 would be different though; new job, tons of vacation time and a whole week off just before the peak of the rut. Things were looking good!

I was able to take Labor Day off and take Cooper up to the top of Little Hellgate. We had been in there earlier that summer and seen elk. This trip there were no elk, but the campfire was great! Cooper is quite the hiker, I can barely keep up. This year he received his own grunt tube and cow call. Next year, I’ll have some competition.

The very next Saturday on September 11, 2010 was a busy weekend. Cooper had football that morning and Heather had planned a garage sale with our friends the Christensons. Friday night was spent loading the truck several times in the dark and packing all the crud from our garage to their garage. My job was done, now I can hunt.

The next morning I woke up early and drove to Nunya Creek (2). I had never been there before and I considered this a scouting trip; "I’ll be home this afternoon", I told Heather. The hiking was surprisingly easy and the country looked great, open timbered rolling ridges with northern slopes for all the elk to bed.

I had hiked for about an hour after sunlight when I heard the first bugle. I hurriedly hiked towards him for the next ten minutes before spotting a spike bull. He had spotted me as well, but amazingly after a twenty minute stare down, he gave up and went back to feeding. I was able to creep forward another 200 yards before spotting a cow. I then realized that I had crept up next to the herd, mostly undetected.

One toot on the cow call and I was able to locate the bull, just over the lip of the rolling slope. The rest of the herd started to move closer to me. The little spike bull was back and three cows. There was a slight breeze blowing towards me and one of the cows continued to feed within four yards of me before skidding to a stop and staring me down. She bolted out twenty or thirty yards, but then continued feeding. Amazing!

Her bolting changed the direction of the herd. They were too close for me to move, so I held tight in hopes of getting a shot at the bull. All I saw were the tips of his antlers through the trees. Then without any fanfare they melted into the trees, gone.

I slowly got up and moved another 100 yards mostly in the opposite direction in which they were last traveling. I sat down and began dejectedly writing Heather a text to let her know I was a knuckle head and would be home early. (I know, texting my wife on the top of a mountain while hunting? What is the world coming to?) Nearly half way through the text I looked up and again saw the spike bull 20 yards in front of me. He was watching me punch numbers into the phone! We again had another 20 minute stare down before he lost interest. His head went behind a tree and I knocked another arrow. This time the herd bull was coming. He walked straight at the spike with his head lowered and herded the spike away from his girls. He turned and offered me a shot at what I thought was about 45 yards. I released and watched the arrow travel a straight line towards his boiler, but the arrow never dropped. He was on quite a slope and I should have shot for 35 yards instead and the arrow sailed about an inch above his back.

Aggghhhh! That miss was painful. The herd eventually sounded like buffalo running down the drainage and I did start heading back to the truck.

I had made it about 15 minutes from the painful miss when I hit a saddle where three ridges converged. Out of desperation I gave a bugle. Another bull answered and I saw him within seconds. He ran across the open saddle directly at me. I had time to knock an arrow and grab a tree. He stopped short at about 100 yards and circled to my left and downwind. It was just too open, he knew he should have seen me and when he got my scent he was gone.

Two bulls within 20 minutes of each other what an awesome morning! I continued down the ridge and back to the truck. At this point it was nearly noon and I knew the morning hunt was over. The rain gutters needed fixing all summer. This afternoon would be a good time to get that done.

One more bugle for the road….

I launched a parting bugle down into the dark drainage, wishing that I could stay for the evening hunt. I got out my sandwich and started to eat as I walked. A moment later there was a whistling answer from below in the drainage.

The truck was at the bottom of this drainage where it connected to the forest road. It would be harder hiking than the ridge, but I might as well try for the bull. He was, after all, on the way to the truck.

I dumped off the south facing talice slope down into the bottom. The bull was still farther down the drainage, so I entered the timber of the North slope to come down on him from above. I bugled one more time to locate him and then went in silently, just cow calling now and then. When I reached the small finger ridge in the dark timber of the North slope, I stopped about 30 yards from the crest.

He was close, probably within 100 yards. I cow called, no answer. I bugled and he busted loose just over the small ridge. My arrow was knocked as his antlers appeared over the hill and I drew my bow. He crested the top and stopped his vitals behind a small tree. I held my draw as he bugled and then looked down. I dropped my arm and readjusted my feet so the tree was not in the way.

His head was still down as I drew for the second time. As he lifted his head my pin settled just behind his shoulder. Before I knew it the arrow was gone and so was he, running wildly down the hill.

What had just happened? It was all so fast I didn’t see the arrow hit. I sat down and tried not to let the shakes get the best of me. I looked at my watch, 1:30 PM. After a little wait I went to find the arrow. I didn’t find the arrow, but I eventually found a blood trail that led to a stinky bull elk on the other end.

It was all over, but the packing and storytelling after that. Thanks again to Ryan and Kenny for helping and to their good wives who let them out of the house to help their no good cousin pack out a stinky elk. Without your help it would have made for a long weekend.

Cooper now thinks that he is my good/bad luck charm. I have only hunted elk four days in the last two years. He has been with me twice, neither time did we see elk. The other two times I lucked out and stuck one. Next year he can pack a bow and it will be his turn.

Thanks again to Ryan for this site. It’s fun to check out. Sorry my story was so long. Happy hunting!

Jared

September Bugles

Today I was able to get out and go hunting elk with Dad.  We left early in the morning and went up Little Blackfoot past Kading Campground.  We left the truck and hiked for about an hour up a really steep draw before we got to the good hunting ground.  Once there it didn't take long and we started hearing some bugling.  We worked our way closer to the noise and started making some of our own.  The bottom was 50-75 yards wide and then steep up both sides.  I moved out in front of Dad about 100 yards and he started calling.  We stayed in that set up bugling with the elk for about 15 minutes and despite lots of answers to the cow calls and bugles, nothing seemed to move closer to us.  We both thought it sounded like there were three bulls ahead of us up the draw.  The one that sounded furthest away sounded the most heated up.  We moved forward another 100 yards and tried again.  Again, they kept bugling, but would not move in.  We moved another time and all became silent.  Then, of course, we decided to see what the top of the mountian looked like.  We hiked in a big circle around the area and came back to where we started.  We saw lots of sign, but no more elk.  We found a really well used, stomped out wallow, but it was in a really tough spot to get to, so I doubt a tree stand will be going up any time soon.

We stopped for lunch about 1:00 and Dad remembered that he had dropped his whitetail grunt call (the little can) sometime earlier in the day.  I am pretty sure that we witnessed a miracle, because it could have been anywhere on that timbered, brushy, steep hillside and we were able to find it in the trail without back tracking too far.

Even though we didn't see any elk, it was really a fun morning.  Dad and I were both pretty confident that we could get one of those bulls to come down and check us out.  I guess we don't sound as attractive as we look (ha ha).

I had Dad drop me at home in the afternoon so that Celeste could watch Women's Conference.  Dad went on to Boulder to hunt whitetails.  I talked to him tonight.  He said he had elk bugling all around him for most of the afternoon and evening but nothing would come in to his stand.  He did have 3 little whitetail bucks walk by, but he opted to pass on all three. 

It was a fun day.  Hopefully we'll be able to get out again soon.  Thanks for the fun, Dad.

Fishing

FISHING

Lake, River, Stream, Brook
Obtaining counts not
Only preparing and doing

Excites, calms, refreshes
Nerves, thoughts, worries
Go deep, some temporarily forgotten

Lulled, pacified, erased
Concentration of thought
One object in mind

How big will the next one be?

Author:
David Lay
7/27/1997

We spent the month of June this year vacationing in Alaska. One particular fishing trip was really a lot of fun as we went deep sea fishing out of Seward, Alaska with some good friends of ours that we have known since we lived in Anchorage 40 years ago. We went out in the ocean approximately 30 miles on a calm beautiful day. We found a good spot about 70 or 80 feet deep and started getting a few halibut but when we moved to deeper water (over 200 feet) we really got into them. Sometimes we all had fish on at the same time. None were giants but most ran close to 25 or 30 lbs. each. We took our grandson Randy with us and as you can tell by the picture we all really enjoyed the experience.

According to the way this old man thinks, fishing is fun just like hunting but not as much work.

Dave

Dry Creek '09

It has been a long six months of travel this work season, and not being sure of my schedule, I was ill prepared for the archery season. But, as with all things in life, you must have priorities. Consequently, on September 26, 2009 I found myself on an unfamiliar mountainside with bow in hand and enjoying my first full day of bow season.

Much of the day was spent hiking and learning the territory. I had been in the vicinity before, but five miles away. I had spent most of the day hiking and trying to spot a large muley buck. My permit is for area 390 and it holds some good deer, but my spot and stalk day was cut short, mostly because I had no binoculars, nor my spotting scope. I have since unpacked that box and plan to resume my muley quest, but I digress.

The lack of long range vision caused me to walk farther and bugle more. By the end of the day, I had only seen three black angus cows, they looked tasty and tempting, but I passed. Jayden had a volleyball game later that night, so around 5:30 pm, I started hiking back down the mountain.

I was nearing half way to the vehicle by about 6:15 pm when I heard his first bugle coming from the ridge I was on 45 minutes earlier. I sat and pondered on how much I wanted to shoot a bull; stupidity got the best of me and I started back up to the top.

We quickly met each other about two hundred yards below the top of the ridge and proceeded to cow talk and intermittently bugle at each other. At one point he went quiet and I thought that he had boogied, but he apparently was content just knowing I was there. It was nearing 7:15 and getting close to the end of shooting light. I got as close as I could and tried to figure out the direction that he was headed. This was quickly sumized and I got myself in position for a shot.

He crossed in front of me and I cow called to stop him, this was good because he stopped, but it allowed him to peg my position. I was already at full draw, and when I released he jumped the string and the arrow hit him in a less than perfect spot.

Although he knew my location, he was still confused, and only walked about 50 yards further while I cow called to him until it was dark. Just before the last light I watched him wobble as he bedded down. Knowing that my shot was not the greatest, I decided to give him some time and as I crept out of the area, continuing to cow call in hopes of keeping him calm and in the same location.

As soon as possible the next morning, I headed up the hill. Nearing the area, I again cow called, not really knowing the bull’s location or condition. Just as I was about to crest the rise where the bull would be located, a small black bear popped over the hill about 50 yards away. He was upwind of me and could not figure out what I was. Three rocks, and many shouts later, he finally decided that it was not worth it to hang around any longer and he slowly sauntered off.

Topping the ridge, I found the bull in the same bed that I had left him, but not yet stiff, and none of the meat gone bad. He died just as the pictures show him, and no posing was necessary. My father in law, Dean Powers, Ken Lay, and Boyd Burnett helped me get him off the mountain. My thanks to them and to Ryan Lay, who started the phone tree of people to help.

Jared

So as I was walking down the big ridge...

Dad and I went up to Bull Creek last Thurs/Fri and had a good time. We hunted the Rocky Basin on Thursday morning, saw some/an elk at about 200-ish yards, and heard him raking his antlers on a tree. We got set up and cow called, but I'm pretty sure he just circled in down wind and got our scent and spooked. Then Thursday afternoon I went way down into the bottom of the Big basin and hunted around. Heard one bugle and went way down the stream. I think I spotted a bear or cougar den or something, but I only glassed it from across the canyon. (didn't want to walk right up and say hello to a grizzly) Then on Friday morning I was walking down the big ridge in between the tip top of the mountain and the point where we walk into the rocky basin. As I was walking along I noticed a dark grey stone amid all the tanish/yellowish stones and soil that are naturaly up there. I bent over and picked it up and sure enough I found an old Native American spear point (or something, whatever it is/was). I think it's pretty cool. Take a look.
Russ Lay

Hey there Folks
Just want you all to know that I'm going to get a really nice mule deer buck up at Bull Creek this fall. 281-40 that's what it's all about.

.....and that I'm probably going to shoot an elk with my bow too. No high falooting 380 permit needed.

Love you all

Russ Lay

Who's your Daddy?

Dad once again shows us all up by going out and catching the biggest fish.

You the man Dad