Dand and Duxman
"]LMG - can you elaborate on your elk story? I'm not sure I read your post right. I'm really curious.[/quote]"
Here's the story;
IN GODS OWN CATHEDRAL
Darkness was fading fast. East far across the Imnaha, even farther across Hells Canyon the jagged peaks of the Seven Devils Mountains looked like the teeth of a giant crosscut saw ready to rip open the belly of the emerging dawn sky. I stepped out of the stand of tall Ponderosa pine trees above the head of Vance Draw. South the raw mass of the Wallowa Mountains stood in stark contrast to the early morning sky blanketed with fresh snow. I brought the binoculars to my eyes scanning the broken rolling plain out across the head of Alder Creek. Here and there were cattle and even a few mule deer but no elk. Funny how in the crisp clear cold morning air, even with the old military 6x30 binoculars, I could see clearly for miles. Yet within all those miles, there in the heart of the Chesnimus Unit located in the far northeastern corner of Oregon, I could see no elk. But then that never meant there werent any there!
Theres your coyote, want to try a shot? I quickly swung the binos to where Jack was pointing. Sure enough, a very nice coyote in full winter fur. Tucking the binos back inside the open front of my arctic parka I reached for the range finder. The rifle cradled in my arms made me think of the Remington 700 .22-250 that was back in camp. Bushnells Pro 800 said the sitting coyote, who was totally unaware of our presence, was 296 yards away. A fairly easy shot with the .22-250 but impossible with the .20 cal R9 cradled in my arms. Yea know Jack, nobody ever said you had any brains! That didnt phase him in the least. He still had that ear to ear smart-ass grin on his face. Okay, save him for seed. Lets head over to Sterling Gulch and find those elk and with that Jack slapped me on the back and we headed west across the open top of Vance Draw.
Stopping often to glass the open country we saw nothing. Nothing that is except some of the most beautiful country God put on this Earth and cattle, more mule deer, a couple other yotes and no elk. We had left camp in the light of false dawn with the high hopes of locating the herd of 200 Rocky Mountain Elk that Jack and Paul had scouted the week before. In three days the bull elk season would open and Jack, Paul and Mike had drawn tags, I had not. That made me chief camp cook, bottle washer, pack mule if they got an elk and would be guide, Hence Jack was adamant that I not shoot any coyotes as I might spook the elk. Against my better judgement I agreed. The R9 was my concession to not wondering about the woods without a rifle. As we broke the top of Sterling Gulch we glassed the open ridges running west and petering out where Sterling Creek ran into Alder Creek. We saw no elk along the two plus miles of open ridge. Jack was getting quite concerned as to the where abouts of the elk. Me, well I was rather nonchalant as elk can move around in a lot of country in three days. Besides I was looking for a fresh cowpie in which to test a Crowmag pellet.
Sterling Gulch broke steep on both banks with the timbered tops of the Spruce, Lodgepole Pine and White Firs growing up level with the ridges on each side. The Tamarack were mostly half naked with their needles turning golden and falling. The undergrowth of brush being very thick along the bottom gave enough concealment for a herd of elephants to hide in. Go down the south side along the top till you get to the fork about a mile down. Then drop down into the bottom, thats where I got my 6-point a few years ago. Its elk heaven there. Ill parallel along the north side. Follow the bottom about another half-mile then come up my side where the old cabin is. Well see what happens. I looked at Jack saying, Oh good, now Im the bird dog too! In return I get that smart-ass grin again and Hey, yea owe me for helpin pack out the sheep. Not much I could say to that so I turned and started off muttering thats right, huntem up, good doggie. I really didnt mind as I was doing what I loved to do.
We moved parallel, together, down the topsides of Sterling Gulch. We stopped often to glass down into the dark stands of timber. The striking shadows, the bushes, and the cuts in the creek bank and misshapen stumps often times triggering our imaginations with wild thoughts of Elk! But no it was not to be; there were no elk. The sun was up enough that its light was hitting my back as I dropped silently down into the fork of the draw. I could feel the temperature drop back below freezing as I entered the darkening shadows at the bottom of the fork about a hundred yards above Sterling Creek. The ground was a carpet of soft moist Tamarack needles enabling me to move without any noise. But I was not alone. There coming down the other bank was the tracks of perhaps twenty elk. The tracks were fresh, very fresh!
I moved with all the stealth I could muster. It was take a couple steps watching where I put my feet, then glassing every nook and cranny of every shadow, behind every tree and through every bush. It is amazing how a big animal can all of a sudden materialize right where youve been looking! Time had no meaning. Ive no recollection of how long it took to move those hundred yards. Could have been ten minutes, could have been an hour. Doesnt matter, the time was then and then was all that mattered. At some point I moved up along side of a tall Tamarack very near the fork at the bottom. Shafts of stark sunlight were beginning to penetrate the dark shadows beneath the tall columns of trees. Across the bottom, across Sterling Creek I saw a small flickering of movement. The dark gray shadow materialized between two trees about forty yards away, a coyote. He had no idea I was there. He stopped and looked up the other side, perhaps he had heard Jack, and he should be up there somewhere.
As the coyote was looking the other way I raised the R9 and settled the crosshairs on his shoulder. I was leaning against the Tamarack in a very relaxed, comfortable position. There was a small Chokecherry bush breaking up my out line and the loose GI arctic parka I had on blended me in perfectly with the tree and bush. The coyote paid no attention to Jack, if thats what he heard. He was just standing there looking around at the ground, probably for something to eat as he started sniffing something. He seemed unconcerned about anything. I had slipped the safety off with my thumb and the 4x Simons scope gave a crystal clear view of him. I was quite amused and giving some thought to shooting the clump of whatever it was he was sniffing. That should make him do a double back flip! Suddenly he gave a quick start and the fur stood up on his shoulders and neck. Then he looked right at me! Damn, I hadnt moved but neither had he. Then I noticed that little side to side movement of his head as if he was relocating his ears to better hear. He wasnt looking at me; he was looking past me. Something was behind me!
Its at times like that when you dont know which is worse. Your imagination throbbing and pounding your brains out with outlandish thoughts of bears, cougars and bigfoot or your heart beating its way out through your throat. I swallowed hard getting my heart back down where it belonged and blanked my mind out. Well okay I kind of blanked my mind out. Straining hard and using every ounce of self-control I could I did not move. Then I heard it, an elk calf whistling to its mother. As deaf as I am, I knew they were right behind me. The coyote was still frozen staring past me. In the peripheral vision to my right the cow elk appeared not ten feet from me. Damn, couldnt she smell me? If so she didnt appear to care. She walked out past between me and the coyote looking at him. As her calf came trotting up along side of her she gave a snort and charged the coyote, he did the double back flip and headed up Sterling Gulch out of harms way. The cow elk pulled up in a short distance so did the coyote giving her a what the hell was that for look. Several other elk cows and calves had now come down my back trail into the small clearing at the fork of Sterling Gulch. A young spike bull soon joined them. I had perhaps twenty elk within yards of me and they knew it not!
Suddenly the young spike, as had the coyote, gave a start and looked back past me. I heard the guttural grunt behind me sending shivers up my spine that should have measured 7.5 on the Ricktor Scale. It sent shivers up the spikes spine also as with great discretion he cleared out to the other side of the herd very quickly. The words Royal or Imperial do not do justice to what I saw next. The 6-point bull elk regally stepped past me into the midst of his herd. I was awestruck by the magnificence of his bearing, the arrogance of his movement, the beauty of his being. He was the bull of the woods and he damn well knew it! However, I was a hunter and I damn well knew it!
When he turned his head to give the young spike some admonishment I slowly shifted the crosshairs to center on a small mudball stuck on his front shoulder, the perfect heart/lung shot. The cows and calves were whistling and a couple calves were playing grab ass, they had no idea. I took up the first stage of the trigger; range was about twenty-five yards. I moved the crosshair to settle slightly below the center of the mudball. Zeroed at thirty yards the Crowmag pellet would hit slightly high. A little more pressure on the trigger thwwwaaakkkk dead center! The mudball shattered. The elk obviously had never heard the intense muzzle blast of an R9 and probably never would again. They all jumped and looked around but didnt get too excited. The bull merely flinched and reached up with his left hind foot and scratched the rest of the mudball off! He then apparently blamed the young spike for whatever it was that happened and with a deep grunt and a quick charge sent the young spike down the gulch helter skelter!
The old lead cow whistled up her calf and started off down the gulch too; so the rest followed. Just before the bull was out of sight he stopped, standing broadside to me. Even though I had not moved, other than my trigger finger, I believe he knowingly looked right at me. He then threw his head back and bugled. Just then a strong shaft of sunlight pierced the trees shining right on him. His antlers reached passed his tail! The haunting echo of his bugle reverberated through the gulch, reverberated through the trees, reverberated through me. In reverence I watched him saunter off until he was out of sight. I stepped out into the small opening and peered for how long, I dont know, up through the treetops into the bright blue sky. Jack had said that this little fork in the middle of Sterling Gulch was elk heaven. I disagree, we may have been in Gods country and the elk may have thought it was heaven but to me I was in Gods Own Cathedral!
Addendum: Two days later, the day before season opened we located the big herd, 300 plus head. This big bull was with them. Opening morning we put Pauls son Mike in the right place and he got the bull. Paul is seventy and Mike is in his late forties. Mike had his sons with him who had just returned home from serving in our countrys armed forces. Oh yeah, almost forgot, Jack and Paul also got bulls, Though not as big as Mikes. And me, well now how many have counted coup on a 6-point Rocky Mountain bull elk on his turf with an R9 air rifle? Perhaps though only a memory, it is the trophy of a lifetime!
Larry Gibson
Good luck, good shooting and good hunting
