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Jesse's Hunting > Hunting Articles > Hunting Articles Archives > Tagging Out on CO Elk
Tagging Out on CO Elk
Phil Loughlin - JHO ProStaff
- Bay Area, CA
October 25, 2005
Bad Moon Rising?
The full moon is usually considered a bane to big game hunters, but it didn't seem to hurt the hunting during first rifle season in Colorado Unit 62. |
As it turned out, he was completely right on both counts. The bulls were there and we did “some” walking. In fact, I’d hazard a guess that we walked close to 20 rugged miles the first day. At least it seemed that way. The second day was pretty similar to the first.
Our guide, Grant Kleebes, was obviously half mountain goat. Fortunately for us, he was a considerate mountain goat and slowed his pace for us “flatlanders”. Even so, Scott’s coastal North Carolina lungs had a tough time adjusting to the 9000 foot altitude.
Scott got lucky though. Grant had done his homework and told us he knew where we’d find some bulls. At first light on Saturday morning we rounded a bend and froze in our tracks. The rustle of brush gave notice that there was something large nearby. As we listened, a bull bugled somewhere below us. Grant grinned and gave the thumbs up. “That’s Chuckles,” he said. “We chased him all over the place during archery season.”
Another bull bugled even closer. My skin tingled and you could have used Scott’s grin as a spotlight. This was his first elk hunt, and his first time to hear the bulls in the wild. After this hunt, Scott said he’ll be hearing that in his dreams for the rest of his life.
As the daylight got brighter, we could see that there were elk everywhere – some as close as 25 or 30 yards away. Most of what we saw were cows and calves, mewling and calling as they grazed. We also counted four or five spikes in the group. Grant called back with the cow call, soothing the animals as we moved closer to the clearing.
Through a gap in the brush, I could make out the form of a larger set of antlers. Or was that some brush from the cut-down? I looked again, but a cow elk was staring me down and I couldn’t raise the binoculars. Apparently the angle was such that neither Grant nor Scott could see the animal until it finally turned and stepped up onto a rise. I quickly counted five points on one side. Grant whispered excitedly, “that’s a legal bull! Can you get a shot?”
The day before, I’d told Scott to take the first shot since this would be his first elk. I backed off as he raised his rifle, but the bull moved off of the high spot and disappeared from sight. Scott wanted to move out into the opening, and see if he could get on the bull. Grant told him to go for it.
Scott moved back down the trail and then stealthily made his way into the cut-down… belly crawling the last 10 or 15 yards. As he eased into position, another cow and a spike moved up the edge of the clearing right toward Grant and me. The cow’s head popped up and she locked her gaze on us. We stood still, but even as we did I felt the breeze tickle the hairs on the back of my neck. She turned her head back and forth, and I was certain she would bolt at any moment. Instead, she lowered her head and began to pick at something on the ground.
We watched Scott in his position, scanning for the bull we’d seen. Later, he told us he could see elk moving all the way down the clearing, but the bull wasn’t out there. Suddenly, a bull screamed from the far side of the clearing. Another bull answered from the distance. We could see Scott get more attentive, and at one point his Ruger M-77 came up and he peered through the scope. I grinned at Grant. “If he shoots at something, he’ll kill it,” I whispered, well aware of Scott’s marksmanship.
Grant and I both held our breath until the rifle came down and Scott began scanning again.
The cow and spike were getting closer, and her head came up again. It looked like she was going to be right on top of us any minute. I prayed that the bull would show up soon, or this episode would be all over. Then Scott’s rifle came back up, and he lowered his cheek to the stock. He turned and signaled to Grant as if to ask, “how many points does it need to have?”
In Colorado, a bull must have four points on a side or have five-inch brow tines to be legal. I knew Scott was feeling a touch of “buck fever”, because as we saw later, there was no question the bull he was looking at was legal.
Grant tried to signal back, but the communication wasn’t working. Finally, he slipped around and crept up to Scott’s position. Somehow, the cow and spike didn’t notice the movement. I couldn’t hear the whispered conversation, but when I saw Grant pull out the rangefinder and read off the range I knew they were onto something.
At the first crack of the 30-06, the whole clearing seemed to come alive with panicked elk. I heard Grant say, “hit him again!” and watched Scott frantically work the bolt and send another round downrange.
“Again!” Grant coaxed, and the process repeated three more times.
At the third shot, I un-shouldered my Savage and trotted toward them, ready to provide a follow-up. Just as I topped the rise, I could see a huge bull stagger, then turn and stumble behind a bush. Scott stood and he and Grant performed the classic high-five.
Scott reloaded, and we went down the hill toward where we’d last seen the animal. The shot was at 340 yards, and no one was sure where the bull was hit. We were all quietly thinking about the possibility of a long tracking job in this rugged country; however, when we got within 100 yards of the hill, I spotted the tan bulk of the bull’s body right there on the top of the rise and pointed it out. Grant whistled softly. “That’s at least a 305 bull! Congratulations!”
Outdone by Little Brother
My little brother, Scott's bull was unofficially green-scored at about 315 at the lodge. Not bad for a first elk, and even better when you consider that it was taken on public land! Of course, his had to be bigger than mine. |
Scott’s responses were pretty limited at first. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it!”
The handshakes, high fives, backslapping, and picture-taking continued for a few minutes before the hard work of skinning and dressing the huge animal began. A quick inspection of the carcass showed that the first shot had been absolutely true, completely destroying the big heart. The following shots had gone high or wide save one weird round which had somehow glanced off the bull’s rear-end and lodged about two or three inches deep in the neck muscle…completely mushroomed.
Once the bull was quartered and hanging in the trees, we continued the hunt in hopes of doubling up for the day. We saw a few more elk but no bulls, and as darkness spread across the western slopes, we hiked the long trail out already making plans to find a bull for me the next day.
An hour or so before dawn, Grant and I were on the same trail and heading back to the clearing. We were alone, as Scott would be riding the horses down later with Rick to pack his bull out.
The plan was to start in the same clearing, and if nothing was there we’d work our way up a high ridge to a spot Grant knew the elk to be bedding. We headed down to the trailhead on quads, in a light rain. As we parked the machines and started to prepare for the hike, the rain increased. I was dressed for it, but I didn’t look forward to slogging through the rain all day.
We reached the clearing before the first light grayed the sky. There was nothing moving near the trail, and we slipped out and took up a good vantage point in the cut-down. The rain moved off with the clouds, but despite the break in the weather no elk showed up. After an hour or so, we picked up our gear and started working our way toward the top of a ridge.
I was glad to be able to follow Grant, because there were several times when I wasn’t sure where the trail had disappeared to. Aspen leaves littered the ground, hiding any trace of passage in most places. But Grant picked his way confidently and we moved up from bench to bench.
At the bottom of the hill, elk sign was scarce. We did find a lot of deer sign, and as we rounded one bend a large-bodied forked horn buck nearly walked right into us. A few minutes later, a larger buck slunk away into the junipers. We watched him for a while, then continued upward. I had peeled off two layers of clothing, and was down to a t-shirt and BDUs. Even though the temperature dropped as we climbed, sweat trickled down my back and underarms.
Finally, we reached an open point where we could see the entire canyon and meadows below us. We set up and glassed for a while. Suddenly, Grant locked in on something in the distance. “There’s some elk,” he said, and pointed toward a distant canyon wall. 
Packing Out
Dark Timber Outfitters Rick Webb, heading down to pack out the author's elk. |
I turned my Nikons on the area and immediately picked up three elk moving in and out of the junipers and scrub oak. As I watched them, I spotted two more further up the canyon, then several more appeared a little lower down. “That must be the herd we were into yesterday,” I guessed.
Grant nodded. “It could be. If we don’t find anything up top this afternoon, we’ll try down there tomorrow morning.”
I looked at the expanse of rugged country between where we sat and the distant elk. It looked like we might have to do some more walking. But first, we had some climbing to do.
We finally reached the top of the ridge. Elk sign was all over the place, including some very fresh tracks and scat. This looked like a good area to hunt. We sat down to take a break, and Grant looked at his watch. “I need to go help Rick and Scott pack that bull,” he told me. “As soon as I get done, I’ll head back up here.”
That was fine by me. I could use a rest. The mid-day sun felt great on my face, and after a couple of long days I thought this would be a good place for lunch and a nap before hunting the afternoon. As he stood to leave, Grant told me that if I wanted to, I might want to take a little walk along the west side of the ridge and glass the dark timber down below.
I slept until about one o’clock, then woke and ate lunch. Grant wasn’t back yet, and I wondered if he would be back before dark. I decided to take a short walk along the ridge. I didn’t want to go too far away from the fenceline, so Grant would be able to find me when he got back. I moved just into the edge of the dark timber. Elk and deer sign littered the area.
The ground was soft from recently melted snow, and covered with pine needles. I was able to move almost silently. I crept along, and was rewarded with the sight of two mule deer does browsing along the trail, less than 20 yards below me. I stopped and watched as they moved by, totally oblivious to my presence. Suddenly, there was the crack of a twig to my left. The does both went on full alert and locked gazes straight down the trail. I followed their eyes, and saw the tip of a large antler moving behind a tree trunk. “Wow, what a buck!” I thought to myself.
The antler kept coming from behind the tree until I saw that it wasn’t a mule deer, but a small-racked 5x5 elk! He was less than 40 yards away and closing as I eased my rifle off of my shoulder. At the movement, he spun and started to bolt. After only a couple of steps, he stopped and looked back, offering me a perfect quartering-away shot. I snapped the Savage to my shoulder and leveled the crosshairs just behind his shoulder. As soon as the sight was steady, I squeezed off the shot.
My hell-hole bull
As usual (for me), I took my animal on the side of a steep, high ridge with a long drop to the bottom. Fortunately, a dead pine tree stopped my bull from rolling all the way to hell. |
The 180 grain Nosler Partition zipped into him exactly where I’d aimed, punctured a lung and grazed the top of his heart. He dropped instantly, but as I took a step toward him he struggled to get back up. I put the sights on his neck and fired just as he thrashed and started to roll down the steep hill.
I watched in dismay as he tumbled downhill, gaining speed with each yard. Luck was with me, though, and he lodged against a downed pine tree. He tried to rise again, and I put one last shot through his throat to end the struggle.
I scrambled down the hill to make sure he was dead, then took several pictures. As the euphoria wore off, I began to realize that I was on my own to field dress and quarter the elk… standing on the steep hillside. This would be a great time for Grant to come back, I thought as I drew my skinning knives and started to work.
I had to drag the upper half of beast partially up the hill in order to get the skinning started. Every time I dragged him though, he slid back down to the log. My back was screaming, and again I found myself hoping to hear Grant’s voice over the radio. Finally, common sense clicked and I pulled a length of cord from my pack and tied the elk’s head to a tree. Then I used a downed aspen trunk as a lever to move the dead pine down hill…exposing the bull well enough so that I could start the skinning.
It was still slow going, and after an hour and a half I had him half skinned and had removed the front quarter. The rear quarter was wedged against the log, though, and I puzzled over how to get it removed. As I stood scratching my head, the radio crackled. Grant was back!
With two of us working together, we were able to get the bull disassembled and hang the quarters and backstraps in the trees. The tenderloins and heart went into my pack, and we made it back to the trail as the full moon rose to light another beautiful Rocky Mountain night.
On day three of our five day hunt, I was on horseback heading down the trail to pack out the meat and antlers from my elk. We spent the rest of the week listening to elk bugle in Unit 61, just behind the lodge, and trying to get them on video and film.
Double Header
Scott and I were the only hunters hunting Unit 62 from the lodge, and we both tagged our animals. Rick was guiding a young lady for cow elk in Unit 61, but while she got a shot, she went home early and without an animal. That's hunting. |
If you’re interested in learning more about Dark Timber Outfitting, you can review their site at http://www.darktimberlodge.com. This was their first year of operation, and if this trip has been any indication, Rick and company will be around for a long time to come.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Before booking any guided or outfitted hunt, do your homework. Contact the operator and discuss your needs and expectations ahead of time, and make sure there’s a match. Also, check as many references as you can get… especially those who were unsuccessful in their hunts.
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