I eventually ended up relocating to a different area in attempt to find some unpressured elk. After my son’s football game I was able to put in a good afternoon hunt. Once I arrived to my new “honey hole” Tthe temperature was starting drop and the conditions were shaping up in a hurry. The elk were close so I decided to hang tight and wait for a bugle in order to play the wind and make a move. Within minutes, a deep screaming bugle echoed a few hundred yards away with two other bugles following. I rushed to the edge of a clearing and quickly set up. I then moved about thirty yards toward the action. I blew a few soft cow calls from my temptress in the opposite direction and waited patiently. The bulls were going crazy, the wind was in my favor, and this was my chance! It was no more than thirty seconds before a bull came crashing off the hillside. He quickly let out a scream and scanned the clearing, looking for cows. The bull saw my decoy, started to lick his lips, and quickly closed the distance. I could tell he was a respectable bull and there was no doubt in my mind that I would take him if an opportunity was provided. He was coming in on a string; I drew back and waited for the bull to walk by broadside. “Meeeeww,” the bull hit the brakes and looked in the dark timber behind me. I settled my 30-yard pin in his armpit and watched my arrow punch its way through his vitals. My Hoyt Rampage Xt that I received for OO performed flawlessly. The bull crashed through the timber and quickly stopped. I made several more cow calls, attempting to ease his emotions. The bull slowly walked through the timber and disappeared.
Another long thirty minutes passed before I found myself on the huge and always reassuring blood trail. After 100 yards of tracking, the blood trail was tapering out. It was now down to pin drops and I was starting to second guess my shot. I found a fresh broken limb lying on the ground and beyond that some small, thick pines. I analyzed the small pine needles and found some dried blood that had been brushed off the bull. I looked up and there he was, piled up in the middle of the thick pines. I rushed over to lay my hands upon my trophy. A respectable 6×6 with a small sticker between his fourth and fifth points. I found myself lying on the ground overwhelmed with emotions of joy. I finally got my break! After all of the discouraging events, I never would have thought I was going to make that telephone call seeking help to pack out my elk. I could not have been happier with my first public land harvest in Montana. This had been a long time coming . . .
Keep the wind in your face