By Craig E. Kimball
Normally, an over the counter hunter, I decided to use my preference points and hunt public land in Colorado near my longtime friend and former student, Mark Alward. He had described this area as tough to get to with plenty of elk and a fair number of bulls in the 250 to 300 class. Having shot a few bulls already in that range, I was hoping for something bigger. As always, the preparation began long before the hunt with tuning, shooting from various positions in varying conditions, calling practice; and, of course, antelope hunting. Spot and stalking speed goats in open terrain sharpens the senses and skills.
I arrived two days before opening day to scout. I was somewhat familiar with the terrain, already having hiked it with my grandson, Jayden, the year before. The days were cool in the mornings and warm almost hot during the day – not unfamiliar to most hunters this season. Everything I saw was high above timberline. No fresh sign lower and not one bull, only a few cows. After four days of scouting and hunting, not seeing or hearing bulls was discouraging. So, the decision was made to come back later in the season. I was still antelope hunting and had an antlerless elk B license OTC. Plus, two guys from Texas, Mike and Taylor Weaver were elk hunting in an over the counter unit in mid-September and I had volunteered to help them.
I filled the B tag the second weekend, missed my opportunities with antelope and met my Texas friends on September 13th. For the next five days they hunted hard in the foothills of the Sangres. They had close encounters everyday and a missed 40-yard shot on the last day. I left from there and traveled to my draw unit to hunt the remainder of the season.
With legs sore, a poison oak rash, and mentally exhausted, rest and relaxation was on my mind. I rested the remainder of Sunday and most of Monday. Mark wanted me to stay at his house for dinner, but the hunt was calling. So, I left, set up camp and went out for the evening hunt. Being still somewhat tired, the hike was going to be a short one in to a place on the edge of dark timber with two game trails leading from the top through a large stand of aspens. I noticed fresh tracks on the trail leading up the mountain and arrived at my spot about 5:40 pm. The wind was blowing back down the hill, then up the hill, then from the right, then from the left. You know how that goes. I selected the ambush position, cleared brush, ranged trails, trees and bushes and then practiced drawing in various directions from sitting, kneeling and standing positions. As I settled in for the evening, I began to visualize a bull coming in from every direction, then, played out the shooting scenarios in my mind.
The skies were clear as the sun crept closer to the horizon and the wind had shifted more steadily downhill. No responses to my cow calling until around 6:30 pm. when a bull bugled from a long distance away. Twenty minutes later he was closer. Another 20 and he was closer yet, maybe just 200 yards up the hill. The sun had now slid behind the mountains. I looked at my watch. It was 7:11 pm. and thought this could be lucky. I have practiced shooting in low light conditions and felt confident if the animal was close. With maybe 20-25 minutes of shooting light left, I gave one short mew and brought them running down through the aspens.
Two cows and a yearling crossed in front of me and stopped down below in a tiny clearing 40+ yards away. But the bull had not appeared yet and I feared that if he did not come into view in the next ten minutes, my opportunity might be lost. Catching a glimpse of a whale tail less than a minute later coming through the aspens, I drew and looked for one of the openings selected earlier, but couldn’t find one. He was moving too fast. He turned and started quartering to me, but suddenly stopped at 20 yards away on the trail where I had walked amongst the aspens. His head and neck were covered by two mature aspen trees and his belly by another. In between, his vitals were clear. This was the exact shot I had visualized an hour and a half earlier. I could see my pins well then realized I was not looking through the peep. Moving to the peep made it more difficult to pick him up in the heat of the moment, but the 20-yard pin appeared. I settled on the bottom third, and squeezed the trigger. WHACK !!! In a flurry, they were grabbing some yonder. A sinking feeling developed because I didn’t see the flight of my arrow. Did I blow the shot and hit an aspen tree? Did I hit bone?
The cows began calling about 100 yards away. That seemed somewhat odd to me and hoped there was a reason for it. Waiting until dark dark with no rain in sight or in the forecast, I eased out for a sleepless night of replaying it over and over again. Morning came stubbornly and I was back at first light to see what happened.
His busting away tracks were obvious and there was a tiny speck of blood on a leaf 15 yards away. Blood was hard to come by for the first 60-70 yards, but working slowly and methodically, I spied the back half of my bloody arrow at the base of an aspen tree 80 yards into the track. More and more blood appeared on the deadfall that lay crisscrossing the aspen grove. Having tracked for nearly an hour, I looked up and saw him 20 yards away over the knoll. He had gone about 150 yards.
At that point, I realized how big he was and let out a whoop. I had hit on the point of the elbow and doubled lunged him about 8 – 10 inches from the bottom. He was cold and had died with his legs underneath, but was now in the morning sun. I tried to move him but could not. My first instinct was to cape, so the initial behind the leg halfway back cut was started but realized no pictures have been taken. The only option was to run back down to camp, get on my ATV and drive to Mark’s house for help. I covered him with my space blanket and took off.
What normally takes me an hour and fifteen minutes walking and riding, took 31 minutes. I’m a track coach. I time everything. We returned 45 minutes later. Mark estimated him to be about a 360 bull and took the pictures. We boned him out, made five trips down the hill and had him back to the house in about 5 hours.
We scored him unofficially between 370 and 375 inches. I felt privileged and lucky to have harvested this magnificent animal. Good luck is sometimes described as when preparedness meets opportunity. I am a believer.
