So after 8 years putting in for archery bull elk, I finally drew a tag near my home in Flagstaff. The Unit I drew wasn’t my first choice, but I knew the Unit and knew it has some good bulls in it - probably like most Units in Arizona. The hunting season was September 10-23.
I went out and scouted several times before my hunt. In May, almost all the water tanks were dry as we had a relatively dry winter. But the summer monsoon rains came in July, and this monsoon season was one of the wettest in many years. To put it in perspective, we got more rain this summer than the previous two summers combined. By August, every tank and hoof print had water in it. This season’s summer wildflowers were stunning. Grass and feed was everywhere.
The Unit I drew was say 150 square miles, mostly publicly owned Forest Service land. A portion is also owned by a large cattle ranch, but access to the ranch is allowed.
The Unit’s vegetation varies from Ponderosa pine to antelope flats. The terrain is generally hilly but there are some decent mountains and canyons in it.
My best friend’s (we’ve been friends for over 40 years) son drew the same tag, so I knew my friend was going to spend most of his time with his son. My sons in laws (who have limited hunting experience) wanted to tag along for a few days as they had never been archery elk hunting.
My hunting plan was be on the “attack” for the morning hunts, but possibly sit near a tank for the evening hunts, knowing that the animals would be thirsty by then and might start heading to water. The sitting water idea had some downsides in my mind as there was so much water available, I was unsure how productive it would be. As mentioned, there was water and plenty of food for the animals from the heavy summer rains.
I brought out my travel trailer and side by side to spend as much time out in the woods, even though it wasn’t too far from my house. The weather for the hunt was pleasant lows in the upper 50’s but warming up to approaching 90 by mid afternoon.
Opening morning had me out by myself, listening for bugles and heading after them with bugles and/or cow calls. Had one close, but I never got him close enough to see him as the pinion and juniper were too thick. He musta winded me with the swirling winds.
Opening evening had my son in law and I sitting near a water hole. We had three different bulls bugling nearby - one about 200 yards away, but we ran outta daylight before they came in.
The next morning, we were back in our morning attack hunt mode. We had bugles around us, but only spotted a rag horn. That evening, I decided not to sit a tank and instead try the attack mode. Not much bugling that evening, so it was unproductive.
The next morning, we were again on the attack mode. Had a few bugles, but couldn’t get in on them before the shut up about 1/2 mile from us.
The hunter pressure was fairly low where we were, which I was happy to see.
That evening, my son in law had to head back home, but was contacted by my best friend. Apparently, his son had a commitment in town, so my friend was available to hunt with.
I went to their camp, and we hunted in the attack mode. Didn’t hear too much, but had a good time.
The next morning, my friend’s son and a partner showed up about 4am, and decided to hunt together near a canyon several miles for their camp. So with my friend, being available, we decided to hunt a different canyon.
We got to the canyon rim about 45 minutes before daybreak. There were several bugles scattered in the area. He set up his 15’s to see if he could glass one up while I started bugling.
He spotted a huge 370-380” class bull about 3/4 mile across the canyon. We had a quick discussion on how we could get close enough for me to put an arrow in him while I kept up the bugling. The bull was pretty active, wandering around kinda aimlessly on the far side of the canyon. I was trying to figure out how we could get to him when my friend said try a cow call to see what happens. I blew a loud cow call while my buddy was watching the bull. The bull immediately stopped walking, turned around toward us, bugled, and started tromping our direction. I continued cow calling, and he kept coming. I thought, holy _____, I have never called in a bull that distance, but this guy must really want a cow! As he drew closer and closer, I dropped of the rim to head into the trees below to see if I could call him in as my friend stayed up on the rim to watch the action. As I descended of the rim, the wind was to my right, but as I got to the bottoms, the winds started swirling. I had no choice but to find a good shooting location with good shooting lanes and hoped I could call him in. I nocked an arrow, and tried a cow call. He responded with a bugle, about 100 yards away. I could hear him getting closer and closer, my heart pounding. He went from in front of me, then to my left. I never saw him in the trees, tried cow calling, but he shut up. After a few more calls and waiting for 15 minutes, I realized he had hit the road, so I headed back up to the rim to discuss what happened with my friend,
He said watched the bull, from about 200 yards away, closing in on me, nose to the ground, occasionally bugling, as he tried to find his “cow.” He said all of a sudden, the bull stopped, put his head back with his nose in the air, and quickly trotted off. Those swirling winds had betrayed me. Even with scent block on, and doing what I could with the wind situation.
That evening, my friend and I took an 90 minute side by side ride on one of the roughest roads on the planet to a tank he said was had recent bull activity at. When we got there, some other hunter was already there. So I again gave him grief for his sitting water hole idea. But as we had to deal with a broken play and try to get some yardage, we tried going on the attack mode about a 1/2 mile from the tank. As evening started closing, I tried a bugle and heard one not too far off. We tried drawing closer to the bugle in some of the thickest pinion juniper I had ever encountered. It was pretty cool, as besides closing in on the bull, we saw ancient Indian pottery shards on the ground, along with elk sheds and even a 3x3 buck mule deer skull. We got closer to the bull, cow calling, but never saw him. I am guessing I was about 60 yards away. We couldn’t get in front of him with as he was moving quick and headed toward that tank, bugling the entire way. He musta already had cows with him and in front of him. My experience is a bull will rarely drop back to pick a cow that is behind him if he has some right there in front that he can see.
That next morning was attack mode, but unproductive.
That evening, we hunted from his camp. We heard a bugle from camp, and headed after him. We bugled only a time or three, trying to get on him. By sunset, he was heading away from us, but we kept after him. Finally, we got into an area with less trees, and could see the bull with his 11 cows. He was bring up the rear of the herd, moving them away from us. The wind wasn’t good, but we tried maneuvering to get in front of him until we lost daylight. We got closer and closer but they simply could not be caught up with before darkness fell.
The next morning, I hunted solo near my camp. There wasn’t much bugling, so my attack mode idea wasn’t productive.
My friend contacted me again about noon and said his son had a commitment again in town, and wanted to know if I needed a hunting partner. I said sure, and headed over to his camp which was about 20 miles from my camp.
That evening, at the insistence of my friend, he talked me into sitting near a tank that he and his boys had shot really good bulls off in years past. He kept chiding me, “I wanna watch a big bull come in, you get buck fever, and ___ your pants. I wanna watch you do that.”
Well, other than donating about a quart of blood to the mosquitoes, not a single thing happened that evening. Nothing came in. Didn’t even hear a distant bugle. On the way back to camp, I gave him grief for his sitting water hole idea and told him that in my opinion, with all this year’s summer rain, sitting water holes wasn’t a great idea as it had been in the past. We chuckled about it on our way back.
The next morning had me back at my camp, solo hunting. Pretty quiet and only heard a few distant bugles, nothing I could make a play on.
I got a text from my friend around noon saying his son and his partner were gonna hunt somewhere farther from their camp, and spend the night there and gonna sleep on the ground. So my friend was again available to help if I wanted it. I said sure, head over to my camp.
He came over, as said he this was gonna be the last evening he could help me, but he would hunt, rolling his eyes, any mode of hunting I wanted. Laughing, I said ok, we will sit a tank he hadn’t been to that was nearby. We got near the tank about 4:30PM, and hiked the last 1/2 mile to the tank and got set up in a ground blind. The tank was the same tank I sat opening evening. The tank had three good shooting lanes all with 70 yard shooting lanes. We sat there, donated blood to the mosquitoes, didn’t move much, but as evening approached, I nocked an arrow. About 6PM, which was sunset, we heard a vehicle approaching the tank, and could hear their loud talking and laughing. As it drew closer and closer, I whispered, jokingly, reminding my friend this is another reason I hate sitting tanks. The vehicle got closer until it stopped at our tank. Fuming, my friend whistled loudly, and we heard the vehicle fire back up, their laughing, and head out. As they left, I said “Well ____, the sun just set, sitting this tank probably won’t be productive, and it’s too late to go anywhere else.” After a brief discussion, I decided, might as well just stay at the tank as it will be a nice way to end this whole sitting water idea. We sat, donating blood, not a bugle anywhere to be heard.
At about 6:45PM, without a sound and from behind a tree, without pausing a step, a nice bull strolled to the tank and got in the water to drink, about 15-20 yards from our ground blind.
He quietly watched him drink, broadside to us, and we watched without making a movement. That bull drank, I swear, for almost 2 minutes non-stop. Finally, he raised up and turned his head away from us. As I quietly raised up and drew back, my bow creaked. The bull quickly turned his head to us, but the time the bull turned around to look at us, I was at full draw.
I let it fly, and hit him in right behind the left shoulder. As he ran off, my friend grimaced and said I hit him too far forward. We watched as the bull ran about 40 yards, stumbled through a ravine, and kept going. Until he fell over after about another 20 yards later. Moved for a quick moment, then lay motionless.
My friend and I hooped, hollered, hugged, and laughed all at the same time. My friend remarked that I was as cool as a cucumber. Watching that bull for 2 minutes, drew back without a shake, and let it fly.
He also said the bull, when he turned toward us after hearing the bow creak, how big his eyes got just as I let the arrow fly. I didn’t see that, as I was looking at my bow pins. He said the look in that bulls eyes at that instant were “Oh _____, I am so ________.”
We took a few quick pictures in the waning light, as I had to meet my sons in law who were on there way up that evening to hunt the next morning with me) and had to meet them at a specific location at 8PM.
My friend stayed to start the gutting process and cooling the bull down while I was getting the guys. By the time I got them and got back to my friend, it was about 9:30PM and he had already gutted the bull and taken half the hide off. The four of us then quartered the elk, and loaded the torso and head into my truck. It was all we could do get the head, hide, and torso into my truck.
I had hit the bull directly in the heart.
We got back to camp, hung the bull in a tree, too a quick shower, and went to bed around 1AM.
The next morning, a Fish and Game officer stopped by my camp. After checking my tag and license, we chatted, and I guessed the bull to be 3-4 years old and 340-350” class. He said no, he was a 6 year old bull and bigger than that. After he left, we took the head to the taxidermist, and then started butchering the bull, making most of him into Italian, breakfast, and summer sausage, and some jerky, but kept the back strap and tenderloins for steaks.
I had the bull green scored, and he was 356”.
I am technically challenged, and with that, will only add this one photo of the bull I took at the taxidermy shop. The pottery and ancient arrow flakes is what i discovered while on that stalk. I can’t believe I picked them up and took a photo of them while stalking a bull🙄
Last edited by flagstaff; 09/30/21.
"Successful is leaving something in better shape than you inherited it in. Keep that in mind, son." Dad
"Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gored."
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