As some of you know, I've been chasing this little self-inflicted goal of the Colorado Archery Big 8 for a number of years. That is, taking at least one of each native big game species in Colorado with my bow. 2011 found me chasing perhaps the most unique end to this quest of any who have completed it; a mule deer, Colorado's most prolific game species. After some great opportunities on big bucks in the alpine terrain of the central Rockies, I got impatient and took a small buck. I admit it, I'm really an elk hunter at heart and I was feeling the attraction to my favorite elk haunts....shame on me. The not-so-fantastic finish sent me off the alpine and into the aspen groves that my soul calls home; elk bugles were waiting!
I thought the elk rut in Colorado was late in 2010, but 2011 was even later. Many have theories of weather or moon phase affecting the rut timing, but I believe two consecutive years of heavy snow pack pushed the rut to the right a bit more each year. The heavy snow in spring influences cows to hold their calves a bit longer which directly alters their biological clock for reproduction in autumn.
In addition to a new invasion of hunters into my favorite area, the action was slow until the final week of the season. My good friend Bryan and I were keeping our legs fresh in anticipation of a multi-day strike into new terrain for the final week.
As we arrived in the late afternoon to an area we were minimally familiar, there were bulls going crazy in a high mountain basin covered with pine and open parks. We dropped our packs, made a quick plan, and Bryan moved ahead as the shooter. Within five minutes, one of the three close bulls was on his way, like being reeled in on a line! The Heads Up was naturally poised and ready, but this 6 x 6 bull needed no visual to convince him. Everything was text-book perfect...except the shot. Bulls continued to scream into the night as we searched for an arrow or sign of a hit. The arrow was eventually found and it was clean.
The next few days were a blur of close encounters without any good shot opportunities and a miss by me on a real hog. One other particular bull was huge, but he caught us in the open. I couldn't move enough to employ the decoy. Too bad, because this guy was big, pissed-off, and looking for love. He got close enough to know he should see an elk and didn't...game over.
On the second-to-last evening of the season Bryan and I decided that our 6 x 6 or better criteria needed to be modified. The multitude of 5 x 5s we had passed on over the previous 72 hours would now be fair game; meat became the objective. Bryan made a beautiful shot on a freezer filling 5 x 5 and we packed meat until about midnight.
The final day of the season was now upon us as we struggled out of our comfortable beds in the camper. We were simply headed back in to recover our meager camp which had been home the previous three nights, but my bow was in hand and ready if an opportunity presented itself. Halfway to camp a bull was sounding off above us. We pushed ahead almost recklessly and found the bull with two almost separate groups of cows, one near us and one beyond the bull. Bryan stayed back with the Heads Up as I moved forward and intentionally bumped the near cows, scattering them side-hill away from me and the remaining bull.
Instead of attempting to call the bull away from his cows, Bryan and the decoy simply made the bull believe that his cows were still grazing below him. A few gentle cow calls reassured the big bodied guy as he continued to bugle, rake trees, and otherwise attempt to display his stature. With the near cows gone and a content bull ahead, I began my stalk across completely open terrain. Every time the bull looked away or destroyed a sapling, I moved directly at him. He kept looking and listening down the hill and was obviously content that his harem was still in-tact. The other cows in his group had drifted slightly uphill and were no factor to my advance. At about 70 yards, I figured that my luck would run out at any second; hunters don't just waltz-in on bulls in wide-open terrain, right! The bull looked uphill to check on his existing cows and gave me the last sprint opportunity I needed. I hit my knees at what I figured was about 35 yards, knocked an arrow and let it go....right over his back! Utterly disgusted with myself I instinctively knocked another arrow but didn't expect another shot opportunity. The racket created by my missed shot made the bull look uphill where the arrow crashed through the trees. My second shot was perfect (amazing how a nice miss helps calculate distance!). The bull almost ran me over on his death run downhill.
Bryan and I packed meat and our camp until dusk. The season came to a close back at the camper with an amazing alpine glow across the golden aspens and windless sunset. Although we were exhausted we hated the fact that hunting was now eleven months away.
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