|
|
|||||
|
Elk Hunt by Mike Schmitz My first elk hunt was a little over two years ago. On that hunt, I learned two very important things. First, if you want an excellent chance of taking a great bull, hunt with Rick and Rusty Hawryluk of Watson Creek Adventures near Pelly, Saskatchewan, Canada. Second, don’t go to central Saskatchewan in mid-January unless you enjoy uncontrollable shivering and frostbite! I took a nice 5x6 bull that first hunt and to this day I’ll swear he was frozen solid before he hit the ground. At -32 degrees Fahrenheit, so was I ! This year, I decided to heed the two major lessons that I learned from my first elk hunt. I called Rick at Watson Creek and told him that I was ready to brave the wilds of Canada again but that I didn’t want to have to wear nine sets of wool underwear this time. We decided that early September would be a much more comfortable time of year for me and that this time, I would leave my trusty 30.06 at home and take my first elk with a bow. I practiced with my Horton Legend SL crossbow 2-3 times a day for over two months and it performed flawlessly. Twelve days before I was to leave for Canada, I noticed a small crack in one of the limbs of the bow. I frantically contacted Horton, explained my dilemma and was quickly assured that they could repair my bow and return it to me in time for my trip. Nine days later, I had it back and it was awesome. Fully upgraded with modern limbs and riser, the bow shot straighter and hit harder than ever before. The hunt was saved! I made the 1685 mile trip over three days. Other than some minor engine trouble and a North Dakota Trooper with what must have been a defective radar gun, the trip went well. I had beautiful sunny conditions and the temperatures were in the mid eighties. No worry about snow and freezing to death on this trip, or so I thought. Not more than 40 miles before reaching Watson Creek, the clouds darkened, the rain started and the temperature dropped 35 degrees. I was happy to see the rain ending as I neared the final turn off but unhappy to see the fog that was rolling in to take its place. It was everything I could to see beyond the hood of my truck. This was not a good sign. I called Rick to have him come find me and play escort through the last few miles of pea soup. When we finally arrived at the lodge, it was though sunshine appeared. Not from the skies, but me. I was so happy to have arrived and I couldn’t wait to get inside their beautiful lodge. That afternoon I met one of my guides, Doug. We hit it off right from the start and went out onto the deck to swap some tales and talked about his soon to be born baby girl. Not long afterwards, Glen, one of my guides from last year and the local abattoir (butcher), rolled up the drive. After just a few minutes, the scene looked like three old friends sitting on the deck. We swapped more stories, laughed at some old memories and came up with a game plan for the hunt. Rusty had scene a big 7x8 before I arrived and thought that he would make the perfect bull for my first archery elk. After showing me a picture that he was able to take of the bull, I had no arguments. Since the time Rusty took the picture though, the bull had only been seen two other times and not in the same place. He was an elusive one and I wanted him so bad I could taste it! That night I went to sleep listening to the sound of elk bugling in the distance, something I’d never heard before. It probably because their vocal cords were frozen the last time I was here! Laying there listening to their song, I thought of the picture Rusty had showed me and prayed that I would get my chance at this bull. I awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee and breakfast, the only thing better than waking up itself! During breakfast Glen explained his plan to construct some ground blinds using concrete wire with willow branches weaved into it. It sounded like a good idea to me, but I was worried what the elk might think when there was suddenly a big bush that didn’t used to be there. Time would tell. After breakfast we took a 4 wheeler tour of the surrounding area and met some neighbors whose land we’d be crossing through. When I first went to Saskatchewan in January of 2001, everything was blanketed in snow. It was a beautiful picture but too cold to look at for long. Now, in September, it was breathtaking. The aspen trees had leaves that were quaking in the breeze flashing their many shades of yellow and brown. Leaves were turning colors, the loons were calling and this time, the breeze felt good despite the persistent fog and overcast conditions. Te rest of the day was spent touring and scouting the area followed by relaxing on the deck overlooking one of the many lakes on the property. The three day drive was worth it and my hunt was about to begin. That evening, we took the home made ground blinds out and set them up high on a ridge where the elk liked to travel. Shortly after, I was sitting in the blind doing my best imitation of a love sick cow elk using a call I had bought only days before. It must have been obvious that I didn’t know what I was doing because I didn’t have any takers. About an hour later, we caught movement in the bush. A large whitetail doe emerged. This would be the first test of our willow branch blind. Much to my amazement, it didn’t spook her at all and in fact, she walked right to us. The next thing I knew, she was eating the leaves off of the branches like they were bushes that had been there all along. A few mere feet away, I could hear her breathing and crunching the leaves. I couldn’t resist the moment and had to go for a camera. Big mistake. She busted me and bounded off the ridge, disappearing into the bush. Shortly after our blind wrecking doe departed, we heard a bugle. It was close. Very close. I slowly turned my head to see a 5x5 bull coming over the ridge. He would pass only 20 yards in front of us. Not far behind him on the same trail was a bull that could have been his twin. Both of them cautiously walked down the trail towards us and stopped right in front of the blind. As if on queue, they both turned their head and looked right at me. Busted again. I don’t know what it was that gave us away unless they heard my heart pounding out of my chest and the adrenaline flowing through my veins. Spooked, they ran a short distance and were quickly out of bow range. The rest of the evening was spent swatting at mosquitoes and watching numerous deer an elk roaming at a distance. We had set the blind in the right spot and were presented with not one but two 5x5 bulls. Not bad for the first evening! Due to the weather and my lack of ability to go out without a four wheeler, we decided to wait until the next afternoon to head afield. The game plan would remain the same but on a different trail. The same willow branch blind proved effective again with us seeing several elk but not "the one". I wanted him bad and his image was burned into my mind. Like the first night, I was serenaded by several elk somewhere off in the distance. One of them was the big 7x8. He was there; I knew it and I would find him. The following morning came early. As usual, Doug showed up at the lodge right on time. We threw some gear in the truck and were off. There he was. In the first area that we came to and not far from where my blind was from the previous day, stood my bull. Busted again. He didn’t like the sight of a truck sneaking though his territory and was off into the bush, disappearing in a matter of seconds. Was it really him or just an apparition? This bull had become a ghost that was hard to track, pattern or find and if you did find him, he’d disappear right in front of you. Rather than continue and possibly spook him even more, Doug and I decided to call it a morning and let things settle down. We would return to the blind that evening and try our luck. We were in the blind and set up by 3:30 that afternoon and it was just in time. A 6x6 came out of the bush bugling and was headed our way. He was a nice bull. Despite him being an excellent specimen, I let him walk by me at 15 yards. He never knew we were there and that’s what I was hoping for. We had the right set up and we were ready for the big boy. We didn’t see anything else that evening but I could still hear elk bugling in almost every direction. I kept thinking of that 6x6 walking by me and wondering if I had made the wrong decision. Instead of being picky, I should have anchored him right where he stood. I was now hoping that it would not be a decision I would regret. I had to find the ghost now. If not, I’d never be able to live with myself. It was now the third and last day of my hunt. If the ghost didn’t show, I was out of luck and would make the long drive home with an empty cooler. That thought made the uneventful morning and afternoon very long. Unlike the first two days hunts, we hardly saw a thing. No elk and only one or two deer. This was not a good sign. Things had to get better and there wasn’t much time. As the sun started to set and bring my hunt to a close, we noticed movement in the bush. It was a couple of deer. Oh well, at least they’re starting to move I thought to myself. Let’s see who comes out next. A bit later, I heard a couple of bugles. That’s the sign I was waiting for. I started cow calling which was answered with more bugling and it was getting closer! Suddenly, as though he just dropped out of the sky, I saw the ghost. He was standing right in front of me, quartering away at 37 yards. He was massive and I began to shake. I already had a bad case of "elk" fever but looking at him, it had become super sized. I couldn’t believe I was about to take this bull, let alone with a bow. I tried everything I could to calm my heart and steady my hands but nothing seemed to work. Finally, after one more deep breath, I slowly squeezed the trigger on my Horton crossbow and unleashed my 3 bladed 100 grain Muzzy tipped Carbon Express arrow. Just as advertised, the Muzzy was "Bad to the Bone", smashing though the big bull’s shoulder and lodging in the spine. He never knew what hit him. He staggered a few steps but stood strong. I knew the shot was good and that it was a fatal hit but just to make sure this Ghost didn’t disappear again, I let another arrow fly. It hit even harder than the first, letting the air out of both lungs and exiting the opposite side just behind the shoulder. Less than 60 yards later, my bull of a lifetime laid down for the last time. I was ecstatic and relieved at the same time, know knowing that letting the previous day’s 6x6 walk was the right choice. This was probably the biggest bull I’d ever take let alone see in my lifetime. What a rush. For more information on Watson Creek Adventures and the fantastic hunts they have to offer, visit their website at www.watsoncreekadventures.ca
|
|||||
|
Next Page | 1 |
2 | 3 |
4 | 5 |
6 | 7 |
8 | 9 |
10 | 11 |
12 | 13 | 14 | 15
| |
|||||
|
|||||
