Along for the ride

"Lucky bugger" I smiled, a bit envious that my brother-in-law Brandon had just drawn an archery elk tag in a decent unit... for Utah's standards with one bonus point.

I knew my fall season would be plenty busy with three hunters in the family now with tags, so quite honestly I was relieved when Brandon said he had plenty of help for his hunt. I figured he might need lots of help being that he is a newcomer to hunting big-game and this would be his first hunt.

Fast forward to August when my dad called and explained some of Brandon's help had as well drawn archery tags of their own and haven't been able to get out with Brandon. It happens. I've let down friends by not making their special hunt although I would have loved to have been there. I've experienced good friends not making my special hunts. We all live busy lives and it's okay. Sometimes life throws an unexpected curve and you just adjust.

"Can you come be a part of Brandon's hunt?" my dad threw me a major curve. I glanced at my schedule and planned the last weekend of the hunt to fly to Salt Lake City and spend three days on the mountain. My parents would arrive early and set-up camp, while Brandon would pick me and Hunter up from the airport and we'd head to camp.

Hunter and Roo both were on my hunt in this same area back in '04, along with my parents so it was exciting to take Hunter back. Quite honestly, Hunter was more excited just to see his grandma and grandpa than drop into a steep elk canyon with dad. I can't say I blame him.

2004: Hunter, Grandpa, and Roo on my elk hunt

2012: Hunter and Grandpa on Brandon's elk hunt

A summer rainstorm beat us to the mountain making a slick ride into camp. It was past midnight as we slid our way towards camp. We couldn't help but stop and try to locate bulls by bugling into different canyons before arriving to camp. We pulled into camp at 2 AM and my parents were still up stokin' the fire. "A couple bulls are going crazy below camp" my dad smiled. We responded with our own smiles and stories. I think the rain got the bulls goin' a bit.

Lovely grandma and Hunter

The plan was not to kill the biggest bull on the mountain, there wasn't time for that. Our goal was to have a good time and hopefully give Brandon the chance to harvest whatever bull we can get into range. Just a few hours later at first light, Brandon and I  dropped below camp to chase bugles on Brandon's first elk hunt.

We quickly worked across a slope of fir and broke into scattered aspens and grass meadows. This is where we spotted our first herd of elk. Fifteen cows and a big 6x6 dotted the steep hillside. The bull turned his head downhill and screamed at the morning light. The smells, the sounds, and the mountain scene before me made my trip from Oregon worth it already.

The herd made their way down into the aspen and we were off looking for an easier bull with fewer eyes protecting him from danger. Within the next hour we had seen or heard several more bulls and cows. We worked our way down hill towards the elk while the air began to warm. The bugling activity slowed down and I wondered if we should turn and hunt the mile and a half back towards camp or make for a long day working deeper for more elk.

We sat down to do some calling and rest a bit. I explained to Brandon that a bull will often quietly respond to the calls and sneak in as quiet as a mouse. Several cows called back to my cow mews from down slope but with the draft moving downward I thought it would be best to pick up and move before we spook the cows. I stood up, turned around, and right behind us 25 yards stood a nice bull. It was just as startled as I was.

I sent Brandon sneaking ahead to where the bull was as I continued calling...but the gig was up. The bull knew better. Hunter wanted to hunt with us in the evening so I thought since it was nearly noon we'd hunt our way towards camp to pick-up Hunter and then drop into another canyon for the evening.

Elk country

There was just enough bugling action it instilled some confidence that something exciting could still happen although it was now warm and the elk were bedded. One bull was down slope a couple hundred yards from us and was responding to my cow calls with deep bugles. I wanted to hunt the bull but the wind couldn't decide if it wanted to go uphill or downhill, so it did both. I didn't want to spook the bull with bad wind so we kept our distance until we had a steady uphill breeze, then it was time to execute.

I had already tried to entice this bull in with cow mews but the bull was not willing to get out of bed. we needed to get closer into to his bedroom. Brandon inched his way closer towards the bull and I would stay back 30-40 yards sounding like a small herd of cows and calves. We found ourselves in a position where the bull was 100 yards below us in heavy timber. He would respond with bugles but acted as if he had cows...he wasn't budging. "We need to get in his face and challenge him" I whispered to Brandon. We inched closer. I flanked Brandon to the left as we slowly made our way closer to the bull.

Brandon stopped suddenly focusing below. A large bugle echoed my eardrums and I knew the bull was close! Brandon whipped his head towards me with his eyes bulging from his head. He signaled to me that he could see the bull! I spied down the hill and could see the bull raking a small fir and nodded trying my best with hand signals to tell Brandon to get ready and range the surroundings with his rangefinder. It was obvious that Brandon was excitedly nervous moving around like a little girl on the first day of kindegarten. I was a bit nervous the bull was going to see his bobbing but it didn't.

The bull finished destroying the poor little fir tree and began pacing away from our direction. I saw that Brandon had put his rangefinder down and his bow was up so I cow called. The bull stopped looking back towards me and made a compete 180 coming right at me...broadside of Brandon. With a fir branch hanging from his left antler, he looked big...he felt big, walking stiff-legged urinating on his belly trying his best to impress the lonely cow he was now coming for. At 30 yards from Brandon the bull stopped looking in his direction. Brandon squeezed his bow release and the arrow flew perfect horizontally...just not vertically. The arrow sailed over the bull's blonde body.

Look close, you'll see  Brandon trying to pull his arrow from the fir tree. I'm standing where he  missed from

The bull jumped at the sound of arrow smacking the dead fir tree right behind it  "Thwanggggg!" I cow called and stopped the bull who was now confused looking at me, then looking below at the tree that went "thwang", and looking over at Brandon who is excitedly attempting to nock another arrow while adrenaline, aka bull fever,  appeared to be getting the best of him. Brandon couldn't get another shot and the bull decided he needed to get out of dodge so he bolted. 

"Seriously, it's alright. Well try again. I told you you'd screw up your first shot" I smiled wondering if I had just cursed the poor guy. We sat down and recounted what had happened while Brandon tried settling down a bit. I was a bit shakey myself. After missing the bull, Brandon was on a steep descent on the roller-coaster ride called bow-hunting. Inside I wanted to hit him in the back of the head for missing but I was having way too much fun with my brother and I was a long ways from being disappointed...I was just along for the ride Although he is a newbie to big game hunting I know he had been shooting his bow for a few years and was a good shot so I had confidence that Brandon wouldn't let himself miss again.

We decided to follow the direction of the bull and see if we couldn't get on him again. We followed the trail for a hundred yards and decided to cow call again. Brandon sat on my downhill side about 5 yards away. Within minutes, I spied a cow head poking through the understory downhill maybe 60 yards away. I turned to tell Brandon there was a cow coming in and his arms were way over his head giving me a signal. What is Brandon telling me? It was the sign a person uses when he see an animal with a big rack. Does Brandon see a..."Mike, there is a big bull coming in above, look at him!" Brandon shouted. Brandon's voice was loud and I worried the bull heard his excitement. I worry a lot. I flipped my head just in time to spy the nice bull coming in from the uphill side.

I couldn't believe it. There was no time he was on his way to a tree just 20 yards away. Brandon was busy nocking an arrow. "Pull back and stand-up!" I shouted loudly. "Right now?" he questioned. The bull walked behind the tree. "Right now! Stand-up!" I wanted Brandon to stand up because if he didn't he would have had a hard time getting the arrow though my head and into the bull since I was between him and the bull. When Brandon stood, I laid down on my back and focused on Brandon's movements, seconds seemed like minutes. I watched him release the arrow and then fall to his side exhausted of the adrenaline rush. 

The familiar thunk of broadhead slicing skin and bone was music to my ears. I whipped my head to see the bull whirling and running on the same trail he came in on. I couldn't see the hit nor the arrow "I got him good!" Brandon grunted. We jumped up and down like two excited monkeys. I kept asking Brandon where the arrow hit I wondered if it was lung, liver , or stomach...depending on how close to the shoulder he hit. He said the arrow hit within 4 inches of the shoulder crease. I smiled.

He shot the bull at 12:30. The next 45 minutes is the hardest for a bowhunter. We waited and wondered the outcome.  Finally we decided to go look for blood and arrow. We found a piece of arrow but zero blood.  This was Brandon'w first blood trail. I think he expected a ribbon of crimson  leading us to his bull. We didn't find a drop and Brandon started asking questions and worrying. I worried a bit but trusted that he hit the bull good. You have to stay optimistic. We were on the bowhunting roller coaster and the next few minutes would determine whether it was the best ride of our lives...or crash and burn. I began tracking tracks slowly glassing ahead hoping to see the bull dead. After 60 yards of a slow pace I saw movement, it was only a jay. What is that next to the jay? Right next to the jay lay a blonde bull....dead. 

I called Brandon over and now it was time to celebrate!!  Brandon inched forward still cautious. "He's dead, get up here!" I laughed. Brandon still approached carefully throwing rocks at the lifeless carcass. I had to remember this was Brandon's first big game kill. What was so natural and beautiful to me was a big learning experience for Brandon. His shot was good right behind the shoulder just like Brandon said. 

I can go on and tease Brandon about his introduction to hunting and field-dressing big-game,etc. but I won't because Brandon did a fine job and I couldn't be more proud of him for putting up with me barking directions and my anxiety as I tried to help make the stars align so that he could put some excellent meat in the freezer for his family. He put the arrow where it needed to be like a veteran.

Brandon helping out with the butchering...

We quartered up the elk and hung the hindquarters, backstraps, tenderloins, and neck meat in nearby trees to cool. We packed the front shoulders and skull out that evening. The packout was about a 1,600' uphill climb around 1.5 miles form camp, which wasn't too bad.

The uphill climb went slow but we felt like heroes walking into camp as grandma, Hunter, and grandpa turned and saw us come out of the woods packing success! It's a good feeling. We celebrated with some of my mom's shredded BBQ beef sandwich with all the fixin's.  Thanks mom.

Brandon has told me he has friends, I didn't know if I believed him until the next morning when two of them, both hunters, pulled into camp at 6:30 am with packs ready to haul some meat. What a welcome sight. What a great hunt. What beautiful country. Brandon, thanks for letting me be along for the ride.

Landon, me, Brandon, and Mike going in the next morning for the rest of the elk. Thanks again guys.