First off, I apologize for this late and brief report on our Colorado elk hunt. I'm so busy catching up after my trips that I couldn't even get out for D16 opening weekend! Haha I know, cry me a river, right?
Anyway, my brothers and I so enjoyed our 2014 first rifle hunt with J&D Outfitters at Canyon Rim Ranch, that we signed up for a return visit this year. The three of us were joined by a father-son team from northern Minnesota. They operate a fishing resort back home on the US-Canada border. Great guys to share hunting camp with.
The weather was so hot that our evening hunts were mostly a bust. The Minnesotans took a pair of small bulls on two consecutive evenings, and my brother Tom took a nice 5x5 the morning of day 2. Bob and I were pretty much skunked going into the 5th and final day of the hunt. Though each of us had passed on small bulls at long range that eventually ended up in the Minnesotans' cross hairs, you could say we really hadn't had a decent shot. That added a sense of urgency to that last morning and even though the guides were in great humor the whole week, you could sense that they felt it too. Still, when each of us told our guides that we would be happy with any legal elk, be it cow or bull, they both just smiled and said, "We're gonna get you a good one."
And so it went. The morning of day 5, at first light Bob and Doyle were on the far corner of the alfalfa fields working their way toward a big herd with several nice bulls. Bryant and I saw a lone bull on our end of the farms. We couldn't count his points, but I could see from 1,000 yards that his antlers were wider than his rump. Game on.
Bryant and I raced down the ridge, through a broad flat area and up to a rocky pinnacle we've hunted before together. The bull still hadn't committed. we worked our way to about 650 yards, then crept more slowly down a ridge that covered two separate draws where neither shot would be too far for me to reach with my 30--06 on a good rest.
The bull was skittish, and watched the ridge intently every time we moved. I crawled on hands and knees at times to stay below the scrub oak lining the path because the solid blaze vest and cap I was wearing would clearly be visible to the bull at that distance.
We worked our way down to him over about 90 minutes, then held tight. Once he committed to the draw to our left, I set up Bryant's sticks and he went about ranging in earnest. we were covered to our right, but I'd set up with some pine boughs blocking my sight (and more importantly, my muzzle) for an excruciating length of time. Finally the bull moved up far enough to give me a clear shot.
The range was a little over 300 yards. I put the cross hairs just above and behind his elbow and squeezed the trigger. He just stood there, looking stunned and surprised, so I shot him again, and again. 4 shots total. As I changed out my magazine Bryant glanced over from his binoculars and asked me, "Where are you hitting him?" ...Now, he asked in the most innocent manner you can imagine, but I've been around long enough to 1) recognize a rhetorical question and 2) recognize when a truly innocent question should in fact be rhetorical. "Doh!" I thought, "Maybe I'm not hitting him!?" The property we were hunting varies from 7,000 to over 11,000 feet altitude, and I've shot over animals at 8,000 feet, so I was under-estimating the drop and dismissing the few yards over 300 at which we'd ranged the bull. As I clipped in the magazine and chambered a round, I told Bryant I'd try holding high in case I was missing low. All this happened in such a short time that the elk was only now getting antsy. Bryant froze him momentarily with his first cow call of the morning, but as I squeezed off a shot holding over his shoulder, the elk bolted forward. the bullet caught him in the spine and he went down behind some scrub oak. he turned and tried to drag himself back down the draw. I waited till he cleared the scrub oak; he arched his head straight up, straining to get up, and I put another round in the base of his neck. Down he went.
Bob, on the other side of the valley, was a lot more efficient. As he and Doyle reached a range of 200 or so yards from their herd, the lead bull was just heading into the trees. The moment passed but Doyle gave a cow call and one of the other bulls answered, giving Bob a quartering shot that would sacrifice some shoulder meat but which Bob was not going to let pass. Both lungs out, the bull went over the ridge and collapsed.
It was a great hunt. I'll put more detail in later on the main page, but I at least wanted to get this up on the forum.
Cheers.
Anyway, my brothers and I so enjoyed our 2014 first rifle hunt with J&D Outfitters at Canyon Rim Ranch, that we signed up for a return visit this year. The three of us were joined by a father-son team from northern Minnesota. They operate a fishing resort back home on the US-Canada border. Great guys to share hunting camp with.
The weather was so hot that our evening hunts were mostly a bust. The Minnesotans took a pair of small bulls on two consecutive evenings, and my brother Tom took a nice 5x5 the morning of day 2. Bob and I were pretty much skunked going into the 5th and final day of the hunt. Though each of us had passed on small bulls at long range that eventually ended up in the Minnesotans' cross hairs, you could say we really hadn't had a decent shot. That added a sense of urgency to that last morning and even though the guides were in great humor the whole week, you could sense that they felt it too. Still, when each of us told our guides that we would be happy with any legal elk, be it cow or bull, they both just smiled and said, "We're gonna get you a good one."
And so it went. The morning of day 5, at first light Bob and Doyle were on the far corner of the alfalfa fields working their way toward a big herd with several nice bulls. Bryant and I saw a lone bull on our end of the farms. We couldn't count his points, but I could see from 1,000 yards that his antlers were wider than his rump. Game on.
Bryant and I raced down the ridge, through a broad flat area and up to a rocky pinnacle we've hunted before together. The bull still hadn't committed. we worked our way to about 650 yards, then crept more slowly down a ridge that covered two separate draws where neither shot would be too far for me to reach with my 30--06 on a good rest.
The bull was skittish, and watched the ridge intently every time we moved. I crawled on hands and knees at times to stay below the scrub oak lining the path because the solid blaze vest and cap I was wearing would clearly be visible to the bull at that distance.
We worked our way down to him over about 90 minutes, then held tight. Once he committed to the draw to our left, I set up Bryant's sticks and he went about ranging in earnest. we were covered to our right, but I'd set up with some pine boughs blocking my sight (and more importantly, my muzzle) for an excruciating length of time. Finally the bull moved up far enough to give me a clear shot.
The range was a little over 300 yards. I put the cross hairs just above and behind his elbow and squeezed the trigger. He just stood there, looking stunned and surprised, so I shot him again, and again. 4 shots total. As I changed out my magazine Bryant glanced over from his binoculars and asked me, "Where are you hitting him?" ...Now, he asked in the most innocent manner you can imagine, but I've been around long enough to 1) recognize a rhetorical question and 2) recognize when a truly innocent question should in fact be rhetorical. "Doh!" I thought, "Maybe I'm not hitting him!?" The property we were hunting varies from 7,000 to over 11,000 feet altitude, and I've shot over animals at 8,000 feet, so I was under-estimating the drop and dismissing the few yards over 300 at which we'd ranged the bull. As I clipped in the magazine and chambered a round, I told Bryant I'd try holding high in case I was missing low. All this happened in such a short time that the elk was only now getting antsy. Bryant froze him momentarily with his first cow call of the morning, but as I squeezed off a shot holding over his shoulder, the elk bolted forward. the bullet caught him in the spine and he went down behind some scrub oak. he turned and tried to drag himself back down the draw. I waited till he cleared the scrub oak; he arched his head straight up, straining to get up, and I put another round in the base of his neck. Down he went.
Bob, on the other side of the valley, was a lot more efficient. As he and Doyle reached a range of 200 or so yards from their herd, the lead bull was just heading into the trees. The moment passed but Doyle gave a cow call and one of the other bulls answered, giving Bob a quartering shot that would sacrifice some shoulder meat but which Bob was not going to let pass. Both lungs out, the bull went over the ridge and collapsed.
It was a great hunt. I'll put more detail in later on the main page, but I at least wanted to get this up on the forum.
Cheers.
