He won't win any size awards, but I'm proud to have taken this bull. I started out the morning on this private ranch overlooking a watering hole and the surrounding valley. With about 45 minutes left before I was to leave to meet back at the 4 wheeler, I hear a cow call from a distance. I couldn't see them at first but I obviously knew there were elk nearby. After throwing up the binoculars and quickly glassing around, I spot a herd of 9 cows and calves followed by a legal bull with at least 5 points on one side. I watch them hop a fence from at least 1500 yards away and resign myself to the fact that I'll never be able to get close enough to them for a shot. They were moving deeper into the property fast and I was set up high on a far away ridge. A few minutes later I figure what the heck, my hunt in this location is almost over, I might as well try to chase them down. For all I know this might be the only bull I see. I tell myself that I had been running stairs and hitting the gym hard for the last several months for an opportunity just like this. I throw my pack together and start down the ridge I was perched on, more jogging than walking. There was nearly a mile of country to cover before I would be able to reach the next ridgeline the herd had gone over, with some serious elevation change in between. 30 minutes or so later I crested the spot where the herd disappeared. I quickly got to a position that allowed an opportunity to see as much of the below valley and adjacent ridge. It wasn't but 2 minutes later when I spot the bull from earlier on the opposite side of the valley. Having already seen him earlier, and knowing he was a shooter, I prepare for the shot. With my legs legs screaming and my lungs on fire I range the bull at 145 yards, perfect! The shooting sticks come out and I can tell he has spotted me and trying to figure out what was going on. I waste no time and let the 308 do it's thing. He was quartering sharply towards me and barely reacts to the shot. I reload with the intention of putting as many rounds in him while I still can. After getting him back in the scope for the second shot, I watch him turn uphill, try to take a step and crash over backwards. Success! Later my wife would ask if I had any buck fever or if I was shaking and nervous. I told her to be honest, my heart rate probably couldn't have gone any higher than it already was after the near sprint it took to catch up to him. It was one of those things where right after spotting him my body just went into autopilot for the shot. Despite being able to get the 4 wheeler within several hundred yards for the return trip, the process of gutting, dressing and dragging the bull was one of the most physically exhausting things. The shot ended up being perfect, with the 165 grain Trophy Bonded Bear Claw breaking the front shoulder, punching straight through the heart and exciting behind the back shoulder. All in all it is one of my most incredible hunting experiences ever.

Well, I'm hitting the road tomorrow headed to Denver, then on up to Meeker on Thursday. Mix of emotions day to say the least. I'm finely getting excited to hunt this year, haven't even gotten a Texas license this year...yet. August 31st my dad would always call to find out where I was hunting opening day (he couldn't hunt until temperatures got below 80, so October). My cousins and I have been planning this hunt for 3 years, but until February 24th (dad's funeral) it had gotten much beyond "let's do Elk 2 with OTC tags". We resolved at the funeral it was going to happen this year. My dad knew we were planning the hunt (granted not much detail), and was extremely excited by it. It's one cousin from each of my granddad's kids. My last real conversation with my dad was him offering to either buy me nicer rifle or the scope for a new rifle. He knew me well enough to know I would talk myself out buying a new gun.....as it turns out, an uncle offered up his Weatherby .270 WSM (can't deny it shoots way nicer than anything I own).

I'm sure the next week or so will be tough. The 20th will be 8 months since he passed away, the 25th he would have been 67......27th I'm conveniently missing my 9th wedding anniversary. Somehow I envision him trying to hobble along behind us through the mountains (there are a few OBers that got to meet him and what he would try to will his way through).

Damn, I'm ready for Colorado already.

Reporting in.

Just back from a week trip to Aguilar, CO. It's about 20 minutes north of Trinidad, CO.

Last year was my first time to hunt the area. It's private land that belongs to a friend of my father-in-law. It was cold and wet last year and I didn't see a single elk. We had one guy from our group that got a decent bull the night before we arrived and that was the last elk of trip for any in our group.

I went back this year purely on faith that elk do exist. I surely didn't want to leave having not seen anything other than birds and squirrels.

Anyway, we got there Friday and went up to look around. It was hot and dry. Really, really dry. Have y'all heard the phrase, "It's drier than a popcorn fart?" Well, it was a first for me to hear it too. I wasn't too thrilled about our chances. I checked the three water holes I knew about and only one had water. There was very little left but it was there. I set up some cover to sit on the water hole in the mornings and decided I would go at it on foot in the evenings.




Sunday morning was pretty cool as far as the weekly temps go. Dry and windy. I set up under my cover about an hour and a half before daylight and got ready for the wait. About 30 minutes before sunrise, bugle one. I returned with a hoochie mama call. Wait, wait, wait. 15 minutes later, another bugle. Man, I couldn't see crap but I knew he was close. Sun comes up, no activity. I figured he was gone. I was bummed too. I even texted a buddy - "Hadn't heard another bugle...bummer". That was 7:58AM.

Within a few seconds, I see some movement coming over the dam of a small pond. It's a spike and I'm not sure it's legal. I slowly went to grab my phone and shoot a pic over to my dad to see if he thinks I should take the shot. I got my phone, looked up...holy crap...I can shoot that one. Number two had just walked over the dam.

My heart was about to jump out of my chest. I couldn't hardly keep my aim on him. I lowered my rifle and took a deep breath. As I lined him back up...I couldn't believe what I was seeing...Number three just crested the edge of the dam and he was the biggest of the bunch. At this point I was debating on waiting for number four - Yeah. Right. He turned to find his spot at the watering hole and I got the shot off. Broadside. Right where I needed it. He fell within 10 feet.

I had mentally practiced my celebration the whole drive up. Should I just yell like a crazy person? Maybe I could fire off a few rounds with my pistol... Whatever I had come up with was useless and forgotten. I just sat there speechless and shaking. That feeling is tough to describe. It's joy, but also much more than that. I hadn't seen an elk anywhere but the side of the highway at 70mph and here I was getting to choose from 3 within 150 yards.

Then the texts start coming in from my dad and my father-in-law. "That you?" "Did you shoot?" Heck yeah. That was me. In addition to those replies I sent another out to the recipient of my previous lamentation @ 7:58AM. "I GOT HIM!" It was 8:10AM. Things sure can turn around quickly.

My dad, FIL and I got him moved back to camp, cleaned and ready to go to the processor. We brought the head back and caped it out ourselves. There are some things that you think of with respect to a father/son moment. A sawzall through the eye socket is oddly enough on the list now.

The next three days I chased filling a bear tag. No luck on that but I had all I came for. Good times, great company, a good story and my first elk soon to be on the wall.