ShatoDavis

It started august 2004. I hadn't booked or planned a trip for 2004 due to financial constraints. But, as fall approached I was getting the itch. A few calls later, I found a trophy hunt in BC had been cancelled and could be had at a discount. I called a friend (Ted)and the wheels where in motion. We had 45 days to get our stuff together do some hiking, shoot our rifles, etc. It was a whirlwind.

First morining of the hunt:
We woke well before daylight and saddled our horses and crossed the river. The path through the forest was barely visible. We rode for an hour before we stopped. We had come to a nice place to glass and call. As I glassed a Bugle rang down the mountain. I instantly started glassing in the direction it came from. A few cow calls and a bugle in return I saw him coming. I watched him work his way down the side of the mountain towards us. It was beautiful, I could tell he was a nice 5 point. Too bad I was hunting in a 6 point only area. I watched him come from nearly a 1/2 mile away to within 50 yards of our possesion. It was heart stopping. The 5 point had seen our horses and thought they where cows. Once he figured out they weren't cows he quietly left. I looked at Ted and he was smiling from ear to ear. Just when we thought it was over another bugle rang out up the mountain. I through the binos up. And there stood a monster 700 yards away. He was standing on a rock bluff over looking the creek. He was well above us in elevation and highlighted by the morning sun. It was like a painting. It was so beautiful with the fog rising off the stream, the sun rising behind him, the dark timber in the background, etc.

He was a 7 X 6. I would estimate that he would likely make Boone & Crockett. I was hoping we would come off the mountain like the 5 point. But, he didn't. We challenged him with bugles and sweet talked him with cow calls. He would answer us but not come any closer. I watched him thoroughly trash an Aspen tree. We had him really worked up. As I was watching him through my binos trying to figure a way to go to him when I saw a glimpse of another elk come over the rise. A 300 class 6 point. I guess all the racket had aroused the attention of someone else. Then I saw the big boy look at the intruder. You could tell it pissed him off. He charged the new arrival. Over the rise they dissappeared. It was a electric morning to say theleast. We decided to ride on up the drainage and leave those two be until evening. We would glass and scout and try them at dusk. The evening hunt was uneventful.

Second Morning:

Once again we awoke well before daylight and saddled the horses. We rode to where we had set up the morning before. A little calling yielded nothing. We decided to climb to the top of the mountain we had seen them on the previous morning. So the accent began. It was the steepest country I had ever experienced. We scaled a shear cliff that I was certain would kill me. But we made it to the top around noon. We sat down to glass and eat lunch and wait for evening to come. Our plan was to wait for 3pm and hunt down on them while the thermals where right. I sat and ate lunch and looked at the last of my water. I asked ted if he had any water.He said that he was out.We split thelast of mine. Ted had graciously given me first shot on this hunt due to our hunt the year before in Montana. I located elk the next to last day of the hunt. On the last day Ted and I went up opposite side of the mountain after them. Ted scored and I went home empty handed, but thats hunting.

Evening of second day:

We started down the mountian cow calling as we went. It was a slow process due to the terrain.Dusk was coming and we weren't half way down the mountain.I heard movement below us. I thought I could smell elk. My senses where in overdrive. A blow on the bugle.... no response....a softcow call.......a bugle echoed from across a deep ravine. We searched for him. Just then I saw movement as he stepped out into a park. I instantly saw that he was a six point. NO MORE looking at antlers to avoidthe nerves. Too late the nerves have kicked in. My left leg was shaking violently. Here was my chance at abig bull and I'm going to blow it. Ilook through the scope and even though my leg is dancinga jig my crosshairs are steady.Just then ted say to me: "kill him already"it makes me laugh and my leg stops jumping.I put the crosshairs onthe lower third of the vitals he starts to move,I squeeze. He doesn't even flinch. Then I realize that hes over 300 yards away and I've just shot under him. My god I'm going to blow it! Hestops in a opening.I place the crosshairs on the top of his back. Squeeze....Boom.....SMACK!Its clear my 338 cal225 grain partition has hit him hard as he wobbles.He turns to leave, I squeeze another one off. Funny I don't remember working the bolt. I hear ted shoot. I work the bolt again, through the gun to my shoulder. Searching through my scope. Ted say: "I think your empty!" You know I think your right. I try to reload but the shakes have hit me hard. I'm fumbling shells andthey won't go in the magazine. Its embarrassing yet thrilling all at once. There is so much adrenaline pumping inmy veins that my head mightblow clean off. I mumble:"I I I think I hit him with my second one" Ted yells: "Hell yeah you hit him! It sounded like thumping a watermellon with a bat. Hell I thought he was going to fall over from the impact." I yell: " hell yeah I hit that sumbich!" Highfive all around.

Now the problem is that he's on theother side of the ravine. We have to go back up to come down on the other side, and its almost dusk. 30-45 minutes later we are on the correct side looking. The longer we look the sicker the pit in my stomach feels. I start to worry that I missed after all. Some more searching and I finallyfind where I think he was when I shot. Now, we are getting close I think. I few minutes later we find him. He hadn't went more than 25 yards. Only one bullet hole in him, right in the perfect spot. Time to go the work!

Well, he wasn't the Boone& Crocket 7 X6.He was the satellite 6 point that got run off the day before he scored 296 inches after deductions. I'm proud as punch none the less. As you can see its nearly dark when we recovered him. We had to spend the night on the mountain in Grizzly country smelling like elk musk, blood, and guts without any water. But thats a whole other story!

huntnmuleys

great story shato....

that whole just outta high school im a badass story reminded me of one of my huge embarrasing failures. i was still in high school though, but i was the MAN....least i thought.

i was hunting in the high country, in the same area as my last tale, a few miles away. got onto a bull in the timber, but all i could ever seen was bits and pieces of body. knew he was a bull, think id heard him bugle before if i remember right. anyway, the call i was using was one of those cow talks from e.l.k inc in gardner montana (have called in more elk with that than all others put together). anyway, gave it a try, and he came in on the run. awesome bull, about 320-330, but to a kid a booner!!!!!! he stopped broadside at less than 20 yards, but i never even lifted my bow. i told everybody later there was no shooting lane, but i think really i was just to nervous to even give it a try.

but i was stoked anyway........

like to have that one back.