Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Elk Hunting An accounting of 4 Idaho bulls

Excellent

Great stuff there Dave, another memorable year for your crew...well done!

This is awesome.
Tis some mighty unforgiving country.

Dang man I always look forward to your reports and this did not disappoint! Excellent work on putting up some serious meat man that’s just awesome!!

Dave is being kind. I was, plain and simple, freaked out about making that drive, especially if it had kept snowing. This wasn't helped by the downed tree we saw on the way back that day where someone had obviously left the road. I was mainly concerned about not having purchased new tires, like I had planned, and not having enough clearance. The hunt ended up, as you can see, being a great time. I feel blessed to experience Idaho back country the way we do. I always love the feeling of accomplishment when the chore is complete, especially when you have the company of a great friend. I did not grow up hunting big game, and Dave has been a great mentor (and tormentor, which might be mutual) to me. We always seem to have some great laughs, and come home with great stories. Some of the best hunts I've been on did not result in tags being punched. The drive home ended up being quite a bit more treacherous than expected. I've never been so happy to see pavement in my life. Three hours of drifted snow, ruts, pot holes, fishtailing uphill, trying not to look down all the while. After we pulled into town, Dave greeted me in the parking lot with smirk and a "That got kinda sporty on the way out"... he knew I was dreading that drive and seemed to be amused by it all. Thanks Dave!! Cheers, and a fist bump...

This thread is amazing. Great job guys

[i]continued….

Rowdy does it again

As it happens, the last story is the best one. Well, it’s the best one for me anyway, as it involves my son. Rowdy is 17 and in his senior year of high school. He’s also a straight A student that never gives his mama and I a lick of trouble. This affords him some luxuries in life. Not only does he get to come and go at all hours from our house like a feral cat, he also gets to miss school on occasion to go hunting. I told him when he was about 13 that he determined how we parented him. If he acted right and kept school at the forefront, he’d enjoy freedoms most teenagers only dreamed of. If he acted like a chithead and got poor grades….our house would feel like Alcatraz. He wisely chose the former, and we’ve held true to our word as parents in the years that followed. I digress however.

Rowdy has had a run of good luck over the last few years. Last year he killed a huge, old bull on a hunt in the same area. It was an epic pack out. It damn near broke both of us quite honestly. It was rough enough that I was mildly concerned he wouldn’t want anything to do with elk-hunting again, or at the very least he’d stick to chasing waterfowl with his buddies. I needn’t have worried. The early success Tim, Matt, and I had enjoyed this year had him chomping at the bit to get up in the hills. The suffering of last year’s pack a distant memory it seemed. We departed Boise on a Thursday evening and made our way north with anticipation running high. It was a sporty drive in to say the least, but the new Yokohama mud terrains scratched and clawed the old pickup back into the high-country without incident. We rolled into camp around 10 o’clock that evening, and hit the sack after getting the fire going on a low burn to ward off the chill of the night.

The alarm greeted us early as usual. The poor planning (my fault) last year had Rowdy double-checking the packs prior to our departure that morning. Extra water and extra protein bars…check. We hit the trail with two hours of dark still left before us and our intended destination. We didn’t chat much in the dark as we bumped along. Neither of us are morning people under even normal circumstances. I also think both our minds were occupied with the task(s) that lay ahead. There would be no “easy” elk on this hunt, and we both knew it. Rowdy only had 4 days to hunt and we were headed to the farthest reaches of our area. We were headed to where he had killed his bull the year prior, and it wasn’t a short jaunt. We simply leaned into our packs and trudged along like a plow-horse taking the collar in the frigid morning air.

We made good time, and dawn was just breaking when we sat down to glass almost 5 miles later. Rowdy spotted a couple of muley does a long way off, but the big draw we had hoped would hold elk was otherwise empty. I could see three bulls a on a remote hillside so far away it was likely they were in a different zip code, but they were out of our reach no matter how froggy we might have been feeling. The first hour or so passed quickly. Each passing minute diminished our expectations though, and we were settling into the idea of an unsuccessful morning when things changed in an instant.

For reasons I can’t fully explain, I turned around and looked back up the hill we had previously descended to get to our current glassing location. Much to my surprise, I was greeted by the sight of a decent bull coming down the hill at a good clip. In fact, he was almost to our elevation by the time I spotted him. I hissed “Bull coming!” at Rowdy and the scramble was on. He hadn’t yet seen the bull but knew from the tone of my voice things were urgent. He quickly threw the .280 up on the sticks, and I pointed over his shoulder in the direction he was headed. He picked him up and tucked in behind the scope just as the bull was about to enter a thick stand of dead, jack-pines. I “mewed” with my mouth as loud as I could, and the bull stopped and looked back our direction. I hadn’t had time to range him or dial accordingly, but I was confident he was just under 300 and told Rowdy to hold on the pocket.

“His shoulder is covered up dad, I don’t have a shot. Do you want me to put one in his neck?” he whispered. The kid is a good shot and I’m sure he could have made it, but I’ve seen some goat-ropes arise from neck shots and I told him to just be patient and wait for him to take a step. After what seemed an eternity, the bull continued his trajectory down the hill. My attempts to “mew” him to a stop again were unsuccessful, and by this point he was only about 5 steps from being lost in a jungle of smaller trees where I knew Rowdy wouldn’t have a shot. In desperation I barked at him like a coyote as loudly as I could, and by the grace of God he stopped and look back at us over his shoulder. It was a hard quartering away shot and I knew the window was going to be tight, but Rowdy understood time was of the essence and squeezed the trigger before I even had a second to communicate my thoughts. I heard the bullet strike home and watched the bull stagger forward as Rowdy worked the bolt and cycled another round. There would be no need for a follow-up shot, as the bull collapsed inside of 25 yards. We hugged each with joy and for just a moment it felt like he was still my little boy again….instead of the 6’ 220 pound man he’s grown into. We collected our gear and our emotions and headed off to get a closer look at things.

He kept saying he felt like he’d made a good shot as we walked down the hill. He was right. He’d hit him just forward of the rear quarter, and I could see the tell-tale bulge of a bullet just under the skin against the skin on the far shoulder. I’m not sure he could have placed the bullet any better. I noticed him stand just a little taller when I pointed out what a great shot it had been. It wasn't his best bull, but it was a damn fine bull none the less and we were both grateful for the success. We shed the packs and he posed for a picture for mama and our friends back home.




Light hearts made for easy work as we broke the bull down to quarters in short order. Once again, I was pleased to recover a beautifully mushroomed 160 grain Accubond. Here is the bullet in question.



Rowdy has been cutting out backstraps since he was 12, and it always brings him great pleasure knowing the delicious steaks we’d be enjoying in the weeks and months to come.




I secured a front shoulder, backstrap, and some trimmings in each of our packs as we readied for the hike back to the truck. I estimate that first load was around 85 pounds. It was with a measure of pride that I watched him reach down with one hand and swing the pack over his shoulder like it held nothing more than a coat. The kid is strong like a bull. The days of me taking the heavy loads while “protecting” him from the heavy packs are officially over. Even with the benefit of a month of scouting and 4 animals already packed under my belt, Rowdy was on my heels the whole way out. I’m pretty sure he’d have lapped me had we been on a track. The rest of the day was uneventful. We made our way back to the truck and a warm wall tent by sunset that evening with the first load. We stuffed our bellies and retold the story several times, before the excitement and work of the day forced slumber upon us. The next day would also be relatively uneventful, if a little tiring for the old man anyway. Here he is patiently waiting for me to catch my breath as we packed out the hind quarters the following morning.



He still has some things to learn of course, but at 17 he’s light years ahead of where I was at that age. He's a great kid with a bright future ahead of him, and he's proven to be a stone-cold killer. My GPA was so low in high-school, I'm shocked they didn't make me ride the short bus. As far as hunting goes,I think I’d managed to kill one VERY unlucky spike bull at his current age. He’s killed five elk in the last 6 years of hunting, all on public land and four of which were OTC tags. He's already tagged two bulls north of 300", so he's got his work cut out for him in the years to come if he's going to top what he's already done. I wouldn't bet against him though. He's got the fever, and I suspect he'll be chasing bulls long after I can no longer join him.


It's been an unbelievable year and I am grateful beyond words for all of our shared good fortune. I am blessed with great friends/hunting partners and a wonderful family awaiting me each time I return home. As we turn the corner to Thanksgiving, I'll have a lot to recognize given my many blessings in life. I hope the same is true for all of you reading this, and thanks for taking the time to follow along on our hunts.

Dave
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p.s. I want to acknowledge AH64guy and Kimber7man here on the Campfire. Both have helped Rowdy with incredibly generous "deals" on gear the last couple of years and that gear helped immensely this season. Thanks again gentlemen.

Awesome story. Congratulations.

Dave

Amazing write up and congrats to everyone on the successful hunts and memories. Also congrats on raising a great young man! He sure is a stone cold killer.

I sure enjoyed this entire thread, as I have every year when you post. Your taking us along on your adventures is much appreciated - thank you!

Amazing write up. Great year for you guys. Congrats.

Great story! Felt like I was right there! Congratulations to all involved.

You’re welcome - thank you for sharing the successes!

Thanks for sharing your adventures with us. You are an excellent writer.

I've had the privilege to be around and coach a lot of great kids over the years, but Rowdy is one of the greatest. Mature beyond his years, level headed, smart as heck and tough as nails but has a heart of gold. Sometimes I gotta whoop on him a bit to keep him in check but aside from my own boy, he's one of my all time favorite kids. He's definitely a dude in my book. Been fun watching him grow up.

Great thread!

Thank you for posting...…
Lifelong memories were made.

Great read and an even better season!!

Awesome writing! I also was impressed with the 160 grain accubond out of my 280 a few weeks ago, recovered one that looked like a textbook picture of an expanded bullet.

I just love seeing that young man smile!