Walkingeagle
54 Cal.
Sept 21, day 6...
Woke almost 2 hours before legal shooting light to find the stove almost out. Just a few coals and embers still glowing as I feed the wood into it. I crawl back into my bag to try and grab a bit more sleep...
People often ask why we do this hunt? Why do we work so hard to get an elk when we don’t have to? Why do you guys camp with bugs and mice? You see, my best friend, and the fellow with whom I’ve been hunting beside for 25 years, has a sister and brother-in-law who farm and ranch nearby, lots of land that is covered in deer, moose and elk. We have been told we can just sit over access trails on their alfalfa and collect our animals. Same story for myself, with a half dozen friends also owning land, being told the same thing. “Sleep in the house,” or “Bring your trailer and park right in the yard,” is relayed annually to us. Yet we continue to come here. Why do we do it? Its because it is not about the collection of the animal. Do not misunderstand, we all want the meat and work hard to both gain, and preserve it. It is about the whole experience. The sights, smells, chilly morning air, scream of a bugle, howl of a wolf, rising and setting sun, laughter and camaraderie, great friends, good campfire and warm tents. This becomes a stark reminder when my friend remarked to nobody in particular this morning, as he sat gazing into the clear, star filled northern sky, “I really love this place!” We all know that our presence, coupled with the four(?) other camps around us, is a lot of human scent and traffic for this tiny little corner of crown land, sitting in a finger as the river bends around us on three sides. We are aware that in all likelihood the elk have moved into the deepest, toughest and gnarliest gullies this place has, and with every passing day our odds of success drop further. We could venture into those areas, but we don’t. Elk also need their sanctuary. Yet the group returns, with high spirits, new gear, open excitement and always a big hug from old friends each and every year!
I depart camp headed for an old trapper trail that runs directly East. This trail has not been utilized in years, thus not maintained, there are many blowdowns and much undergrowth. It really slows your pace down, which makes for better hunting. I follow this right to the edge of the river bank, which is almost a sheer drop 600’ to the river flats. There are elk down there, I know that but you’d have to eat it there too! That or build a raft and float it out. I then turn South. This new path will bring me near the Perch, on the East side by roughly 600 yards. My thoughts are that perhaps if I slow hunt through here, make the turn back West on the trail that passes through the clearing below the Perch, I may gently move an elk past the sitting party member. However rather than completely walk through that clearing, I will cut back North on a different trail, roughly 200 yards shy of the Perch, and slow hunt my way back to camp. Now, this does present a wee problem. Being just over the river banks means rolling hills and draws. Also, as this is old growth aspen, with 36”-60” high undergrowth, there are moments of high spots where visibility is way beyond my self imposed 80 yard shot limit, followed by visibility near zero. This will continue as I pass around the natural bend in the river right up to almost the Perch. However the scenery is beautiful so I will chance it. As I slowly follow the trail around I suddenly hear the soft purr “putt putt putt” of a grouse. I lower to the ground as my eyes search. There it is, a nice size ruffie sitting under a small spruce right on the edge of a little spruce bluff. I watch as he slowly moves away, his head bobbing with every step before I continue. I do not wish him to flush and put anything close on edge.
It is becoming quite late in the morning, the sun is high and packing heat, with me walking a south facing slope, which means openings and lots of exposure. My canvas bag has a single water bottle in it and I am thinking of breaking it out. The trail takes me into the shade of some trees, where I pause to enjoy the coolness. Laying on the ground right there is another water bottle! It is unopened and cold still from the previous evening. Well, can’t be leaving garbage hanging around so I do my part and pick it up. There is also no sense in packing the extra weight of the water, and pouring it on the ground doesn’t seem right, so I guess I’ll drink it. Yup, tasted good and did the job! I arrive at the Perch area having decided to push past the early trail. My guess was there probably wouldn’t be anyone there this late, and I was not wrong. A little rest then start the hill climb back towards camp. The sun tells me its lunch time.
As we eat we talk of the morning experiences. One seen some moose, cow and calf, as well as a deer, another seen a mullie buck and couple whitetails while a third seen a nice little whitetail buck. No elk were sighted. Again, the afternoon sun is quite hot, and we are forced to the shade. Way too warm for napping in the tent. I keep my promise to myself and have a good sponge bath, complete with a hair wash. It always amazes me how good one can feel after getting cleaned up. Discussions of old hunts, lost friends, farming and future ideas are abound. Its a good day...
Evening finds me gearing up lost in puzzlement of where to try? What to do? Finally I decide to just wander out of camp headed West. Isn’t that the saying? “Go West old man!” or something like that. Nobody hunts the area directly west of camp, its thick and dark, and never really showed signs of elk. Lots of moose sign, but not elk. Perhaps though with all the pressure??
I enter on an old trail and follow it generally westward, the wind is once again blowing fairly strong and every so often a dead pine tree falls. They do make a noise by the way. Pine beetles tore through here many years ago and there is standing dead pine everywhere. There is also lots of deadfall to step over. A lightening strike at the wrong time would be devastating. As would an irresponsible camp fire. The wind is creating a swirling effect in the forest. One moment its in your face, next at your back. Oh well, cannot control that. Onward!!
Working game trails ever westwardly I pause often to cow chirp, with only the odd soft bugle thrown in. Never hear a response. Lots of sitting and watching for motion in a sea of windy motion. Feels futile at best, but better than just sitting in camp. I stumble on another mule deer shed, this one older and badly rodent chewed, but has great mass and indications are had some good tine length. Wonder why I’ve never seen anything bigger than a forkie running around? Oh ya, they are smarter than me! At one point I slowly enter an open area with low underbrush. Trees are all white poplar and spaced several yards apart. Close examination shows the underbrush all nipped roughly 36” off the ground. Moose! Major moose browsing area for sure. I am not sure if elk will browse like this, I don’t think so but I carefully scan throughly. CHATTERING right beside me, scares me bad enough I jump. Damn red squirrel is sitting on a limb, ear high and only a few feet away. Apparently he wants me gone, and wont take no for an answer. Eventually I oblige as he wont keep quiet. Continuing my journey I start to swing North on trails to eventually end up at the main trail, where I rest and wait on my son-in-law, whom I know has to go by me on his way back to camp. Darkness sets in as I remove my percussion cap and secure the gun while waiting on him. Once again, nothing sighted by myself. Tomorrow???
Woke almost 2 hours before legal shooting light to find the stove almost out. Just a few coals and embers still glowing as I feed the wood into it. I crawl back into my bag to try and grab a bit more sleep...
People often ask why we do this hunt? Why do we work so hard to get an elk when we don’t have to? Why do you guys camp with bugs and mice? You see, my best friend, and the fellow with whom I’ve been hunting beside for 25 years, has a sister and brother-in-law who farm and ranch nearby, lots of land that is covered in deer, moose and elk. We have been told we can just sit over access trails on their alfalfa and collect our animals. Same story for myself, with a half dozen friends also owning land, being told the same thing. “Sleep in the house,” or “Bring your trailer and park right in the yard,” is relayed annually to us. Yet we continue to come here. Why do we do it? Its because it is not about the collection of the animal. Do not misunderstand, we all want the meat and work hard to both gain, and preserve it. It is about the whole experience. The sights, smells, chilly morning air, scream of a bugle, howl of a wolf, rising and setting sun, laughter and camaraderie, great friends, good campfire and warm tents. This becomes a stark reminder when my friend remarked to nobody in particular this morning, as he sat gazing into the clear, star filled northern sky, “I really love this place!” We all know that our presence, coupled with the four(?) other camps around us, is a lot of human scent and traffic for this tiny little corner of crown land, sitting in a finger as the river bends around us on three sides. We are aware that in all likelihood the elk have moved into the deepest, toughest and gnarliest gullies this place has, and with every passing day our odds of success drop further. We could venture into those areas, but we don’t. Elk also need their sanctuary. Yet the group returns, with high spirits, new gear, open excitement and always a big hug from old friends each and every year!
I depart camp headed for an old trapper trail that runs directly East. This trail has not been utilized in years, thus not maintained, there are many blowdowns and much undergrowth. It really slows your pace down, which makes for better hunting. I follow this right to the edge of the river bank, which is almost a sheer drop 600’ to the river flats. There are elk down there, I know that but you’d have to eat it there too! That or build a raft and float it out. I then turn South. This new path will bring me near the Perch, on the East side by roughly 600 yards. My thoughts are that perhaps if I slow hunt through here, make the turn back West on the trail that passes through the clearing below the Perch, I may gently move an elk past the sitting party member. However rather than completely walk through that clearing, I will cut back North on a different trail, roughly 200 yards shy of the Perch, and slow hunt my way back to camp. Now, this does present a wee problem. Being just over the river banks means rolling hills and draws. Also, as this is old growth aspen, with 36”-60” high undergrowth, there are moments of high spots where visibility is way beyond my self imposed 80 yard shot limit, followed by visibility near zero. This will continue as I pass around the natural bend in the river right up to almost the Perch. However the scenery is beautiful so I will chance it. As I slowly follow the trail around I suddenly hear the soft purr “putt putt putt” of a grouse. I lower to the ground as my eyes search. There it is, a nice size ruffie sitting under a small spruce right on the edge of a little spruce bluff. I watch as he slowly moves away, his head bobbing with every step before I continue. I do not wish him to flush and put anything close on edge.
It is becoming quite late in the morning, the sun is high and packing heat, with me walking a south facing slope, which means openings and lots of exposure. My canvas bag has a single water bottle in it and I am thinking of breaking it out. The trail takes me into the shade of some trees, where I pause to enjoy the coolness. Laying on the ground right there is another water bottle! It is unopened and cold still from the previous evening. Well, can’t be leaving garbage hanging around so I do my part and pick it up. There is also no sense in packing the extra weight of the water, and pouring it on the ground doesn’t seem right, so I guess I’ll drink it. Yup, tasted good and did the job! I arrive at the Perch area having decided to push past the early trail. My guess was there probably wouldn’t be anyone there this late, and I was not wrong. A little rest then start the hill climb back towards camp. The sun tells me its lunch time.
As we eat we talk of the morning experiences. One seen some moose, cow and calf, as well as a deer, another seen a mullie buck and couple whitetails while a third seen a nice little whitetail buck. No elk were sighted. Again, the afternoon sun is quite hot, and we are forced to the shade. Way too warm for napping in the tent. I keep my promise to myself and have a good sponge bath, complete with a hair wash. It always amazes me how good one can feel after getting cleaned up. Discussions of old hunts, lost friends, farming and future ideas are abound. Its a good day...
Evening finds me gearing up lost in puzzlement of where to try? What to do? Finally I decide to just wander out of camp headed West. Isn’t that the saying? “Go West old man!” or something like that. Nobody hunts the area directly west of camp, its thick and dark, and never really showed signs of elk. Lots of moose sign, but not elk. Perhaps though with all the pressure??
I enter on an old trail and follow it generally westward, the wind is once again blowing fairly strong and every so often a dead pine tree falls. They do make a noise by the way. Pine beetles tore through here many years ago and there is standing dead pine everywhere. There is also lots of deadfall to step over. A lightening strike at the wrong time would be devastating. As would an irresponsible camp fire. The wind is creating a swirling effect in the forest. One moment its in your face, next at your back. Oh well, cannot control that. Onward!!
Working game trails ever westwardly I pause often to cow chirp, with only the odd soft bugle thrown in. Never hear a response. Lots of sitting and watching for motion in a sea of windy motion. Feels futile at best, but better than just sitting in camp. I stumble on another mule deer shed, this one older and badly rodent chewed, but has great mass and indications are had some good tine length. Wonder why I’ve never seen anything bigger than a forkie running around? Oh ya, they are smarter than me! At one point I slowly enter an open area with low underbrush. Trees are all white poplar and spaced several yards apart. Close examination shows the underbrush all nipped roughly 36” off the ground. Moose! Major moose browsing area for sure. I am not sure if elk will browse like this, I don’t think so but I carefully scan throughly. CHATTERING right beside me, scares me bad enough I jump. Damn red squirrel is sitting on a limb, ear high and only a few feet away. Apparently he wants me gone, and wont take no for an answer. Eventually I oblige as he wont keep quiet. Continuing my journey I start to swing North on trails to eventually end up at the main trail, where I rest and wait on my son-in-law, whom I know has to go by me on his way back to camp. Darkness sets in as I remove my percussion cap and secure the gun while waiting on him. Once again, nothing sighted by myself. Tomorrow???
