My friend Rich Howarth sent me pictures from his Fall elk hunting trip in Oregon.  While he didn’t tag out, He called in a great bull for his friend, Jason Callahan from Junction City, Oregon.  Now if I can just get him to rattle me in a good blacktail this November!

 

In the morning Ed, Jason and I set off to a ridge top saddle that is a primary game crossing between canyons. Having set up to locate, we pulled in a cow, but she spotted movement and calmly made her retreat. As we carefully made our way up the ridge spine, a bull bugled at the three “cows” that were making noise. He was only 30 yards away but, unfortunately; Ed was in the lead and stuck in the middle of the dog hair. I was behind and pulled the bull over to 15 yards, Ed could see his antlers and hear him breathing, but just could not get a clear shot, it was just too thick. The wind was perfect but, eventually, after a long game of cat and mouse the bull followed his suspicious cows down into the drainage.

We followed them down to the bottom, but with the bone dry conditions, we lost the trail. After hunting our way to the other side of the canyon, we set up on a high spot which allowed us to call into three separate areas. The country we hunt in is not conducive to spot and stalk, one’s best chances are to get the elk to reveal their location, move in close and pull the bull in with calls. However, this was proving to be rather difficult this year, the weather was extremely hot and the elk did not appear to be very enthusiastic. We were fairly sure elk were in the vicinity, but try as we might, we could not locate them in the midday heat. We decided to wait it out until later in the afternoon and take up the chase again.

After lounging in the shade on top for several hours, we started discussing our plans for the evening. With a sudden itch, Jason let out a sneeze. Call it coincidence, call it luck, we heard a distinct bugle only 300 yards away to the east and down the hill. It was 2 in the afternoon and the breeze was extremely unpredictable, switching back and forth, and we debated whether to sit there and wait for a better wind, or push our luck and go right at him. Ed suggested we split up, send two down to the bottom and work the bull from below, and keep one person on top to set up in a saddle to ambush the bull if he winded us and tried to escape over the top.

Jason and I made our way to the bottom and moved over to approach from below. After some doubtful moments trying to relocate the bull, he finally sounded off again about 150 yards up the hill. We carefully made our way into position, trying in vain to keep a favorable wind, until we thought we shouldn’t press it anymore. I started calling the bull with cow calls. He responded quickly, but after several minutes did not seem motivated to get out of his bed. With Jason set up hill and to the side about 30 yards, I switched to a cow call, followed by a bugle with my Chuckler tube. Immediately I heard the bull get up and start down the hill. In seconds, I spotted the bull on a fast walk, his antlers swaying as he came to investigate. When he made it to a grove of small hemlocks, he stopped and proceeded to thrash the trees. I ranged him at 70 yards and he proceeded to put on a display of tree abuse for several minutes. I watched to see if Jason would close the gap with the bull occupied, but he could only move when the bull turned his back. The breeze kept shifting and I was sure it was only a matter of time before it betrayed us. I needed to pull the bull down some more to get Jason a shot, so I looked around, spotted a suitable hemlock below me, snuck down to it, started raking the tree with a limb and hit him with another bugle.

That did the trick, and the bull quickly moved down to close the distance. I knew he was in range of Jason, and although the bull was slightly obscured, I heard the loud twang of Jason’s trusty old Hoyt and watched his arrow streak across to the bull followed by the inevitable “thwack!” The bull sprinted down the hill away from us both, but as he left our sight, we heard a distinct crash and the bull let out one last gurgled bugle.

Jason misjudged the distance and the bull turned right at the shot. While quite high, the arrow punctured both lungs and ended up lodging in the back quarter. He only made it 150 yards before he could go no further.

Mike Hoppis is a fellow California hunter who was fortunate enough to draw a Nevada tag for Mule Deer.  He put in a lot of time scouting the unit before hand and managed to connect on a nice mature buck after scouting a total of seven days before the season.   It was  the fourth day of the season when he finally squeezed the trigger on a nice 3×4 buck that in Mikes Words was “the best buck I saw by far and was just too good to pass. ”

Cindy went on her first hound hunt near Porterville, CA this Fall and arrowed this black bear. Now Cindy has bow hunted in New Zealand, and across North America and she said that that bear chase was “Exciting, but kind of WILD!”

In related news, keep an eye out for Cindy in an upcoming issue of Eastmans Bowhunting Journal.  You may recognize the Elk….In fact in my latest issue of the Pope and Young Journal, it was on the back cover!

Kelly Heard from Southern Oregon passed along some pictures and a story from her husband and son who are packed into some good Idaho Elk country.  Kelly was out hunting the local archery season and taking care of chores at home.  Kelly is an accomplished hunter herself and she has graced these pages with a pronghorn and a moose

I got a call from my son this morning. He was whispering, as they were glassing a big herd about a mile away across a canyon. He said that they heard more bulls and had seen more action today than any day they had been in there.

I got a quick version of his bull story though and here it is:

He and his Dad start each morning hunting together but within an hour or so out they have been sort of just splitting off without saying anything. Something will draw one to another area and they’ve just split up, which has worked well for them.

Tuesday, they climbing up almost getting to the top of a ridge.   About then he heard a bull sound off not far away. He moved towards it and began cow calling. nothing. He changed up his calls between 3 different ones and then BAM…he was coming.

Spencer said he pulled out his range finder, marked 2 trees and within seconds, there stood the bull. A really cool bull, according to him. The bull was standing broadside between the two trees, with his vitals being hid by a straggly little bush.

Spencer was at full draw so he scuffed his foot to make some noise to make the bull move. He did move, just stepping forward one step. He released his arrow, knowing he hit him good but could not see his arrow OR blood as the bull bolted away.

He sat down right there where he shot from and was going to just sit and wait it out, when who shows up behind him? His dad. He asked Spencer “what are you doing”? Spencer just said “oh…just sittin’ here. I just shot a bull and figured I would wait a while.” (you’d have to know him. he has a great sense of humor and can keep a very straight face). He said his dad about came unglued with joy! They both snuck over to where he shot him and did not see the arrow or any blood. So they sat. A few minutes later they heard a crash up above them. They still waited it out. Finally they began their search. They would find a small bit of blood here and there that was in fact leading to the direction of the crash they had heard.

They got up to where they thought they heard the crash and…no bull was easily seen. But dad went a little higher than Spencer thought the sound came from and low and behold…there was his bull, curled up in a ball at the base of a tree.

He said he is barely a 6 x 6 but are super cool one with lots of character. He said he is more proud of this one than his one from last year.  Great seconds and thirds and has a brow tine that hooks down.

The two of them got him back to camp in 4 trips. And on the fourth trip, the two guys that went with them were back at camp napping. They heard Spencer and without opening their eyes said “Oh, we thought you and your Dad were in your tent sleeping”. Spencer said “nah, just been out”. Ken (one of the guys) said, were you down by the creek sleeping? Spencer said “Well, not exactly sleeping by the creek but we were down there. We figured the meat would cool better down by the water”. They both jumped up and said “WHAT”? As you can imagine, everyone was happy!

Congratulations Spencer!  Both on getting your elk, but also on being able to spend the time in the backcountry hunting, as a college student.  It’s hard to balance school with hunting season.  Although I’m sure your roommates appreciate elk steaks!

Many of you might recognize Nate from his African adventures chronicled here in past years. Well his far flung archery success hasn’t taken away his appreciation for his local deer. Once more he has produced a freezer full of venison with his bow.

I had just settled into my stand last night at about 5:00. I wasn’t expecting anything yet so I broke out my new book about a guy who walks the Baja Peninsula on a burro. I figured I’d kill an hour or so reading and then get serious. About 20 pages into it I glanced up just in time to see a lone deer cross an opening 25 yards below me. I put the book down on the seat of my treestand, stood up and grabbed my bow. She went behind a thick oak tree and out of sight. Several minutes went by and thought she had walked away, out of sight. A gust of wind came and started ruffling the pages of my book. I thought, well at least she’s gone now because the noise of the pages rapidly flipping would have surely scared her. I re-situate the book to quiet it. I look up again and the deer had stepped out into a small clearing. She had been there all along, just silently hanging out under the tree limbs, blocked from my view. I made one last check to make sure no fawn was with her.

She stood broadside at 28 yards, but not where I ever expected to shoot at a deer from out of this stand. I had to turn around in the stand,squat into the catcher’s position to get under a limb, and make a clean shot. I hit her right through the shoulder, cutting off the top of theheart and both lungs. She did a death run out of sight crashing into every bit of deadfall in the process. It sounded like a herd of buffalo crashing away. Then all went silent. I waited 20 minutes, went and checked a game camera, then went back to the site of the shot.

I found my arrow, broken in half, and a good blood trail. The blood was heavy. I followed it about 40 yards where I could see she jumped over alog and some deadfall. Right over the top of the log she lay. It was pretty textbook. I wished they all worked out this way.

She was very healthy and covered in a nice layer of fat. Surprising, given our drought conditions. Even the fireman who validated my tag remarked how good she looked. My only concern was that she did not get bred last season. She was totally dry. That is a good doe to take, but it still concerns me as a healthy doe like this should have had at least one fawn.

No apologies here. I like venison and these deer are some of the best on the table. This is a heavily hunted public land area in San Diego County where success is very low, even for filling an either sex tag.

She’ll be a welcome addition to my freezer. Even better, I still have another tag left! We’ll see if I have the restraint required to holdout for a buck.   Probably not!

I’ve made some good friends through archery, running and online forums.  Rich is one of those.  We have hunted together, he has beat me in trail races, we have shot together, and we banter back and forth on Sage Creek Forums.   

Below is his epic saga.  A tale of overcoming obstacles to succeed, that even a motivational speaker would have a hard time topping. 

I set off for my 5 day adventure to the place I killed a bear a few years ago. I headed up the trail intending to reach my destination of 7 miles in time to hunt that evening. I don’t recall it being that tough, maybe I’m getting old, but it was a rough haul. I found the whole area burned, even where the stands of timber were still viable, the understory was taken out. That could bode well for the next few years, but I noticed there was no sign the whole way. Previously the trail was littered with bear tracks and scat, now the only track I came across was a big cat (I think).

I set up for the evening but spotted absolutely nothing, nor the next morning. I was pretty discouraged (and tired), but decided it was time to come out and relocate. When I made it out, I made camp at the trailhead and made a new friend. I left my UA heatgear shirt out and hunted out from camp. When I returned, I found the doe trying to make a meal of my shirt — yum, salty.

I got up the next morning and drove another couple of hours to another spot I wanted to check out. I’d not been in there before, but it looked promising, at least on paper. By the time I reached the trail head, I found to my dismay, the trail was closed that morning due to fire. I was starting to feel that I was the victim of a nasty conspiracy. Even so, I decided to take off in the other direction. No map, no idea of the kind of territory, nada. Up the trail, a bunch of weekend hikers were coming out, great, I thought, just what I need are tons of people around. Eventually I made it up to a ridgetop overlooking a small basin. I glassed it until late in the evening and it was not looking positive, no deer, no bears.

 

I decided to move my vantage point way around the other side and my mind starting wondering if I should just call it a trip. I hadn’t seen didly and it was frustrating me to no end. But I finally persuaded myself to stick it out and see if my luck might change.

I awoke to a gorgeous sunrise and set up to glass. After about an hour and a half, after spotting nothing but a small herd of cattle, I did a double take when a decent sized black bear appeared at the bottom of the basin. It was nearly shear faced at my location and it was going to take me a good 90 minutes to go back around and down to get in position, but the game was on. Packing up my gear, I slowly made my way around to a finger ridge that would take me down to where I thought the bear may be hanging out.

Once I reached the timber, I slowed myself down to still hunt mode and tried to keep the wind in my favor. Before long, I heard a buzzard fly up out of the forest floor. I thought there may be something dead in the area and went to check it out. As soon as I spotted the deer carcass, the bear that was guarding it spotted me and busted out. I stood there silently cussing, but I took out my camera and headed down to take a few snaps. I got 10 steps and the bear busted out again; it had come back and apparently wasn’t ready to give up its meal.

I worked my way back up the hill about 100 yards and sat down to wait for him to return again. I thought it would be an hour or two, but no more than 15 minutes passed before I heard the bear starting to drag the carcass through the brush. I removed my boots and sneaked down the hill. I side-hilled my way above the bear and suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a bear woofing. I peered into the brush below me and saw the bear looking in my direction and woofed again. I couldn’t see its body clearly, but the head seemed big given the tiny ears. I was thinking this was the bear I spotted that morning. It didn’t appear that it would abandon the deer easily, and although it was only 25 yards away, I could not get a clear lane. After about 10 minutes the bear worked its way back to my left and started feeding again. I maneuvered my way left about 10 yards. There was a bright sun and the shadows were deep and, finally, the bear moved into a spot where there was a gap in the brush about the size of a pie plate with his vitals exposed – 20 yards. I decided to take the shot and settled my top pin in the middle of the gap where I thought was the sweet spot. I let off a smooth release and my arrow zipped through the gap to put the smack down on him.

He roared, did a few spins and took off. He crashed off through the brush and I kept a mark of the last location. After I went back up the hill to collect my things, I went back down to the shot location. Half of my arrow was laying on the ground. I tried to follow the trail, but it was torn up by him dragging the deer around. I searched and searched and found not a single drop of blood. Not good. So, I set out on a grid search to cover the whole basin if I had to, but it only took me an hour to find it.

The bear had definitely lost weight since I last saw it, ground shrinkage was severe. Turns out it was a sow, and not the bear I spotted earlier, about 175 – 180 lbs. The shot was not ideal, I put the FMJ400 with a Hellrazor broadhead right through its shoulder blade. The broken end of the arrow was sticking out and the broadhead ended up just at the edge of it’s chest and was still in perfect condition. Did the job, but it left nary a blood trail.

I was a little surprised at how small she was, but the best thing was I was only 50 yards from the trail. Suhweet.

If any trip convinced me of the value of not to giving up, this was it.

On the Second Sunday of the California A-Zone General Season my father, and our pointers, Jake and Gator were successful and connected with a Blacktail buck.

Dad was hunting with a group of us as we made a traditional deer drive in Northern California. California permits the use of dogs (one per hunter) during the firearms season, and it is one of the few ways that hunters on the coast can root the secretive blacktail deer out of the thick coastal brush in the steep canyons.

The morning hunt started in a canyon that had a fire some years prior and the brush has grown back with a vengeance. The brush runners entered at the top of the canyon, while other hunters watched the historic escape routes. Old Jake (13 years) made long forays into the steep canyon,and after bringing out a doe, was done in. Luckily he was smart enough to go back to the truck and shade up, so Dad gave him some water and the rest of the day off. Returning to the canyon,Gator wanted to dive off the point of the ridge,but Dad called him to the left side to investigate a likely looking patch of brush. He rousted out a small forkhorn that ran past a hunter on a stand who let him go by.

Young Gator came back, looking for more action. Dad followed Gator down into the patch that had interested him earlier. In a matter of moments he started barking wildly and made a run far down the canyon. Shortly after, the buck apparently circled back up the ridge and came out of the high brush weaving through some lower stuff up towards Dad. His first shot missed and the buck turned and headed up and across the ridge. The second shot entered the top of the shoulder, angling through the neck. Gator made the scene shortly after. Dad remarked “It was just a quail shot” referring to the instinctive follow up snap shot that successful California deer hunters just seem to master with the fleeting opportunities the coastal blacktail offer.

So young Gator got a buck, as seasoned dog runners would put it. With 4weeks left in the season, it’s anybody’s guess as to what the canyons hold,but I think there is a pretty good chance he will roust out a few more before the season is done.

Trevon connected with this beautifully coated black bear in Ontario, Canada. I’m sure we will see this hunt on a future episode of Outback Outdoors.

Trevon writes:

Over bait, but not 55 gallon drum, they use onion sacks hung in a tree. I really like that and the video isn’t as cluttered as when shooting a bear coming to a trash can looking barrel.

Passed on numerous bears, actually one bigger than the one I killed (but it was the first night and they had a ton of trail cam pics of HUGE 350-400lb bears). My camera man and buddy Durk Stark (from Kicking Bears camps) actually killed a bear I passed on the first night and he ended up being a bigger than mine by about 20lbs. Mine has a beautiful white V on the chest (they call it a blaze).

Once again, my buddy Nate Treadwell has scored on a nice pronghorn.  He sent me the picture and story of this nice Colorado buck.

I hunted antelope in Southern CO over the weekend. It was awesome! We got lucky and timed the weather just perfectly. I managed to kill a nice one. I saw more P&Y goats here than I ever have anywhere in my life. The number of mature bucks was jaw dropping. A couple other hunters even killed 2 bucks over 80” gross. It was awesome. On opening morning, after 4 smaller bucks had attempted to approach my waterhole only to get about 50 yards and then turn away, this guy was about to do the same. I wasn’t going to let this one walk without attempting a shot. He should score in the 74” range.

Cindy was a great resource when I went down to Tejon Ranch on my feral hog hunt. So I wasn’t surprised to see an e-mail here last week with the latest bruiser she had arrowed

Got lucky last night and shot this nice boar. His teeth aren’t all that big, but he was a little more than 200 pounds on the hoof. I got within 10 yards of him before I finally got a clear shot at his heart. So much fun!