I took Jeremy with my as a copilot for the trip and we arrived out at the house on Thursday night. The little guy was so excited to see Grandpa and Grandma that he didn't even want to sleep with me! So I had a queen bed all to myself. I honestly can't remember the last time I slept in a big bed all alone... Kinda lonely...
Dad and I awoke the Friday morning at 5:00 a.m. and got in our camo. We made our way across the river and around the lake and sat down with a nice vantage point of the meadow. We let loose with a variety of different cow calls, but only heard a few cows chirping far away. A few hours later, we made our way back home for some breakfast.
We spent the rest of the morning unloading Dad's hay bales for the horses' winter feed and that made for a good workout. After that, the real fun began as we found the fishing poles and made our way down to the river. We didn't catch anything, mostly due to the fact that the dog kept jumping into the river and scaring all the fish away. But the fishing trip wasn't a total loss because we caught something much better...
Yeah, we all had a blast. That night, the good vibes continued. Dad and I went back to the same spot we were at in the morning and continued with our cow calls, but received no response. Just on a whim, Dad told me to let out a bull bugle and almost immediately we got an answer! A few calls later, we saw a bull walk into a clearing across the river with several cows! We knew it would be tough to get him across the river, but we moved in closer to try our luck.
When we got down near the river, we called again and he responded immediately! We knew he was coming closer so we started to set up in case we got a shot and that's when we saw him... This bull was huge! You could see his large spread swing back and forth as he wandered down the hill towards us and it was on! A few calls later, we heard the encouraging sound of water breaking as he entered the river. A few minutes more and he'd be in view and we'd be picking our target... but he never came. His cows ran away over the hill and he wasn't having any of that. Just as quickly as he'd come, he was gone.
At this point, we were pretty bummed, but really stoked that he'd come this close. We could have gone home, but we devised a plan. If we went back up by where we were sitting, made a large loop through the trees and came back across the river to the north, there's a chance we could catch him in the large meadow above where we were. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try. We trekked our way through the trees and a while later, broke into the clearing near the river's edge. I let out a bugle and luck was still with us... a response from the meadow!
We hurried down across the river, climbed through the trees on the other side, and let out another call... There he was again, out of sight, but definitely in the meadow somewhere. He sounded further away this time, so we moved in closer. We crossed the open area and made our way into the small grouping of trees that surrounded the salt lick area where the cows liked to feed. Not seeing anything, I let out another toot...
It's like the thing stood up right in front of us, even though he was still over a hundred yards away! We both hit the ground as we had been standing in the open, not knowing he was there. Dad dove behind some downed trees while I knelt down and notched an arrow. I called again and here he came! He was coming right for us, a huge bull, out in the open, wind in our faces, a stone's through from the road, right in front of Grandpa's cabin... It couldn't have been more perfect! I called again, and just inside of 100 yards, he stopped. Another bull, back across the river where we had started, bugled in return. Our bull stood still, looked from our direction, to the direction of the intruder, back and forth, until he made up his mind: he wasn't losing his cows to the newcomer. He turned and started moving away. We tried to call him back, and he stopped, looked in our direction, then began to trot off in search of his herd. It was bittersweet again. We were obviously disappointed. Had the new bull not called, he would have come right for us and we would have had a shot. On the other hand, that was SICK!!! We were stoked for sure.
We stayed out a little longer, but eventually made our way back home to tell our tale of adventure. The next morning, we went back to our spot again. It was cold, a fresh frost on the ground. We hoped we'd hear the elk really start talking with the bite of cold in the air, but nothing at all. All we heard were those pesky wolves. We did have another bull come in with a small herd of cows, but they moved across the meadow silently, 200 yards away, not paying any attention to us other than to stop once and look.
We spent the rest of the day working on a shed and cutting trees on the mill and watching Jeremy spray Mom with the hose. We went back out again that night, but all we saw were a few deer. Dad was so exhausted that he fell asleep under the tree we were sitting at. I loosened the cap off of my bugle and he jumped in surprise when I let off a loud blast right next to him! Hahaha. After that we called it a night and went home to watch Utah spank BYU.
Jeremy and I headed home after church the next day. It was a great hunting trip. We came up empty, but we took home some great stories and experiences. One day, Dad and I will finally bag a bull elk off the ranch, but until then, it's just great being out there together making memories. Thanks, Dad.
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| Yeah, that's the aftermath of a weekend with Grandma and Grandpa! |
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