Cherry Red Daggers
As we turned the corner on the dirt road a huge white beast with massive maroon antlers raced up and across the road in front of us. Three 20 something year old guys who had never seen a Roosevelt elk before, came to a sliding halt in the truck. We were flabbergasted at the size of the behemoth with those impressive antlers that had just appeared and like magic disappeared into a thick tangle of trees.
Fast forward 3 years….
On my quest to experience all of BC big game, and really find which hunt I like best, I put in for a Roosevelt elk draw this spring. I can never seem to wait for the results to come online, let alone in the mail, so at 9:30am one beautiful June morning I called the LEH office, knowing the draw had been run. Now I don’t mind traveling across the province to increase my chance of getting a draw and so I usually get draws as they are normally lower odds. Sheep, elk, and bison, are always ridiculously high odds though, and I really didn’t ever think I would win one of those. I gave him my hunter number and he told me I had gotten 3 draws. A moose, a goat, and almost in slow motion I heard him say “you got an elk too”! My heart raced like a school girl at a Beiber concert (apparently). This was way better than Christmas. Immediately I went to work on the planning….
Having never in my life thought I would get an elk draw I had definitely not scouted the area. In fact I had never even seen the area, though I have hunted on the island for black bears and deer a few times before. Instantly I grabbed my map book and looked at the area I was heading for. Seemed like good access, wouldn’t have to rent a boat, I would have to get over there and scout right away. Try to learn the habits of an animal I have never pursued. I really started digging, phone calls, emails and many PM’s were made to people who had hunted these creatures before. I definitely got a lot of great responses, and had a lot of great information on the area, but I had to get over there and see it for myself.
In July I made my way over from the mainland for the first time. We spent a couple days there and I really tried to soak in the place and see for myself if I could find elk. Soak-in I did as it always seemed to be raining. Even in July. We did find a herd of cows one day though, and a nice looking black tail deer still in velvet. At least I knew there were some elk there. What I did discover was just how thick and lush the place really is.
Having never killed an elk before I figured some books were a good idea. I started to read anything I could get my hands on in figuring out what the animals do. Of course that bull I had seen 3 years ago ran across my mind from time to time and I dreamt of not only taking a bull, but of taking A MASSIVE BULL worth putting on the wall.
As I have gotten into hunting, I have used all kinds of methods to hunt. This one would be done with stick and string. Actually a carbon fiber stick, and a few strings rigged up to be pushing that arrow at 320 fps. After using it to hunt water buffalo in South America this past spring, I rededicated myself to the art. I put in a lot of time practicing and tuning this muscle car of archery equipment to make sure I would hit my mark when the opportunity came along. Hundreds of arrows per week were flung, and I really honed my skills at some distance, even over 100 yards to make sure I could hit my target when push came to shove. Of course there is an ethical limit to shoot an animal. At 100 yards it will take that arrow almost a second to reach its mark, and in one second, a whole lot can go wrong.
A fellow with the same draw a month earlier than myself and I connected on the internet. I went to help him out in any way I could, as I would be there scouting for my draw. Hopefully he would have some insight for me as well. He was an expert Rocky Mtn elk hunter, who was also on his first Roosevelt hunt, and he really knew the animal’s behaviors. Going over there to hunt with him was a huge advantage. He had spent some time now hunting his tag and had really figured out their locations and habits. This man was pure inspiration in himself. Not only 2 weeks ago he had gotten off of crutches, after spending months in a wheelchair after a very serious snowmobile accident. Skirting death, many bones were broken including his back, and in some way, winning that draw for elk he said, gave him the motivation to get back on his feet and make his elk hunt happen. Elk hunting was a huge passion of his. And, he would be doing it alone. Near the end of his draw he did get his elk. I was thankful for the entire experience including the pack out as it was all great preparation for what I was about to embark upon.
The days flashed by again and opening day was tomorrow. I had made it to “camp”, and a luxurious camp it was, with hot showers, electricity and running water in my trailer. After setting up I shot a few arrows to make sure nothing had shifted or bumped on the long trek to get there. Things were perfect. In the morning I would find my elk and kill it. Just then the heavens opened up and the rain started to fall.
I woke up to the sound of rain on opening morning. I sprung out of bed and threw on my phenomenal Kuiu rain gear. Grabbed my pack and fired up the truck. It was go time. One thing I hadn’t really figured out was how to hunt on the rainy days. Glassing is definitely the name of the game in this hunt. Get some elevation and spend time behind glass. After an incredible sheep hunt this summer, this wouldn’t be hard. But it was…. It was wet. Everything was wet. Clouds were everywhere, or fog, and you couldn’t see 200 yards at most times. Your binoculars would fog up, and have water droplets plaguing them constantly. The tissue paper I would keep in my pocket to dry the eyepieces would even be soaked by noon. You basically were forced at times to sit and wait for clouds to move. As I sat and glassed that first afternoon from where we got that elk the month before I suddenly caught a glimpse of what I had come for. Elk! There were those unmistakable maroon antlers flashing glossy rain from over 3 kilometers away. I threw up the spotting scope and saw what looked to be a nice rack.
Using google maps in my iPhone I marked his exact location in the cut block and found the old overgrown road that led up to the slash where he was with 3 other cows. I remembered then a fellow at the camp where I was staying, telling me to try and get above them and come down on them. So after getting drenched running through the alder overgrown road I got to the edge of the cut block. Keeping in the shadows of the old growth timber, I climbed to just above their position. When I caught sight of them I got low and headed straight at them, staying out of sight, and trying to be as quiet as possible in a very wet and slippery cut block. The cut blocks back on the mainland are like manicured lawns in comparison to this jungle gym of downed timber. You have to try to step on the wood so as to not make noise, but the stuff is so slippery, you need to use all 4 limbs to stay up right. One thing that did help is all of the running water. It really covered the noise.
It was about 3pm and I had all the time in the world, though the wind was now angling towards them. I got to my last point of cover, not knowing how close I was to them. Drifting in the air was a distinct musky odor of my quarry. I knocked an arrow and eased over a rock. There at less than 10 yards was a bedded cow, looking down hill. I slowly retreated and went up a rock higher. Looking over it I caught sight of those cherry red antlers, not 25 yards away. I watched and watched wondering what to do. It was a 4x4 rack. Do I take the bull and run? No more rain. Home in my bed after an already long season. He didn’t smell extraordinarily tasty, but I had heard he would be. It wasn’t a long decision. I shot him....
I shot him with my camera and green peaced him. Still, it was a huge rush! Plus, now I knew what was possible.
Many more herds of cows and young bulls were spotted, however I didn’t even stalk in on them. I would look them over, checking for big bulls, and then move on. I would see an average of two herds a day. Most groups having 8-12 cows and the occasional young bull. I wanted to hold out for at least a 5x5 antlered bull. That would be the smallest I would shoot at this point in the hunt. A 5x5 with a bow would have a good place on my wall.
About day 5 of the hunt I found a different herd that had 4 bulls and 9 cows. One of the bulls made my eyes a little bigger so I grabbed my spotting scope and zoomed in on him. Much to my delight he met my mark with 5 solid points on each side.
As we turned the corner on the dirt road a huge white beast with massive maroon antlers raced up and across the road in front of us. Three 20 something year old guys who had never seen a Roosevelt elk before, came to a sliding halt in the truck. We were flabbergasted at the size of the behemoth with those impressive antlers that had just appeared and like magic disappeared into a thick tangle of trees.
Fast forward 3 years….
On my quest to experience all of BC big game, and really find which hunt I like best, I put in for a Roosevelt elk draw this spring. I can never seem to wait for the results to come online, let alone in the mail, so at 9:30am one beautiful June morning I called the LEH office, knowing the draw had been run. Now I don’t mind traveling across the province to increase my chance of getting a draw and so I usually get draws as they are normally lower odds. Sheep, elk, and bison, are always ridiculously high odds though, and I really didn’t ever think I would win one of those. I gave him my hunter number and he told me I had gotten 3 draws. A moose, a goat, and almost in slow motion I heard him say “you got an elk too”! My heart raced like a school girl at a Beiber concert (apparently). This was way better than Christmas. Immediately I went to work on the planning….
Having never in my life thought I would get an elk draw I had definitely not scouted the area. In fact I had never even seen the area, though I have hunted on the island for black bears and deer a few times before. Instantly I grabbed my map book and looked at the area I was heading for. Seemed like good access, wouldn’t have to rent a boat, I would have to get over there and scout right away. Try to learn the habits of an animal I have never pursued. I really started digging, phone calls, emails and many PM’s were made to people who had hunted these creatures before. I definitely got a lot of great responses, and had a lot of great information on the area, but I had to get over there and see it for myself.
In July I made my way over from the mainland for the first time. We spent a couple days there and I really tried to soak in the place and see for myself if I could find elk. Soak-in I did as it always seemed to be raining. Even in July. We did find a herd of cows one day though, and a nice looking black tail deer still in velvet. At least I knew there were some elk there. What I did discover was just how thick and lush the place really is.
Having never killed an elk before I figured some books were a good idea. I started to read anything I could get my hands on in figuring out what the animals do. Of course that bull I had seen 3 years ago ran across my mind from time to time and I dreamt of not only taking a bull, but of taking A MASSIVE BULL worth putting on the wall.
As I have gotten into hunting, I have used all kinds of methods to hunt. This one would be done with stick and string. Actually a carbon fiber stick, and a few strings rigged up to be pushing that arrow at 320 fps. After using it to hunt water buffalo in South America this past spring, I rededicated myself to the art. I put in a lot of time practicing and tuning this muscle car of archery equipment to make sure I would hit my mark when the opportunity came along. Hundreds of arrows per week were flung, and I really honed my skills at some distance, even over 100 yards to make sure I could hit my target when push came to shove. Of course there is an ethical limit to shoot an animal. At 100 yards it will take that arrow almost a second to reach its mark, and in one second, a whole lot can go wrong.
A fellow with the same draw a month earlier than myself and I connected on the internet. I went to help him out in any way I could, as I would be there scouting for my draw. Hopefully he would have some insight for me as well. He was an expert Rocky Mtn elk hunter, who was also on his first Roosevelt hunt, and he really knew the animal’s behaviors. Going over there to hunt with him was a huge advantage. He had spent some time now hunting his tag and had really figured out their locations and habits. This man was pure inspiration in himself. Not only 2 weeks ago he had gotten off of crutches, after spending months in a wheelchair after a very serious snowmobile accident. Skirting death, many bones were broken including his back, and in some way, winning that draw for elk he said, gave him the motivation to get back on his feet and make his elk hunt happen. Elk hunting was a huge passion of his. And, he would be doing it alone. Near the end of his draw he did get his elk. I was thankful for the entire experience including the pack out as it was all great preparation for what I was about to embark upon.
The days flashed by again and opening day was tomorrow. I had made it to “camp”, and a luxurious camp it was, with hot showers, electricity and running water in my trailer. After setting up I shot a few arrows to make sure nothing had shifted or bumped on the long trek to get there. Things were perfect. In the morning I would find my elk and kill it. Just then the heavens opened up and the rain started to fall.
I woke up to the sound of rain on opening morning. I sprung out of bed and threw on my phenomenal Kuiu rain gear. Grabbed my pack and fired up the truck. It was go time. One thing I hadn’t really figured out was how to hunt on the rainy days. Glassing is definitely the name of the game in this hunt. Get some elevation and spend time behind glass. After an incredible sheep hunt this summer, this wouldn’t be hard. But it was…. It was wet. Everything was wet. Clouds were everywhere, or fog, and you couldn’t see 200 yards at most times. Your binoculars would fog up, and have water droplets plaguing them constantly. The tissue paper I would keep in my pocket to dry the eyepieces would even be soaked by noon. You basically were forced at times to sit and wait for clouds to move. As I sat and glassed that first afternoon from where we got that elk the month before I suddenly caught a glimpse of what I had come for. Elk! There were those unmistakable maroon antlers flashing glossy rain from over 3 kilometers away. I threw up the spotting scope and saw what looked to be a nice rack.
Using google maps in my iPhone I marked his exact location in the cut block and found the old overgrown road that led up to the slash where he was with 3 other cows. I remembered then a fellow at the camp where I was staying, telling me to try and get above them and come down on them. So after getting drenched running through the alder overgrown road I got to the edge of the cut block. Keeping in the shadows of the old growth timber, I climbed to just above their position. When I caught sight of them I got low and headed straight at them, staying out of sight, and trying to be as quiet as possible in a very wet and slippery cut block. The cut blocks back on the mainland are like manicured lawns in comparison to this jungle gym of downed timber. You have to try to step on the wood so as to not make noise, but the stuff is so slippery, you need to use all 4 limbs to stay up right. One thing that did help is all of the running water. It really covered the noise.
It was about 3pm and I had all the time in the world, though the wind was now angling towards them. I got to my last point of cover, not knowing how close I was to them. Drifting in the air was a distinct musky odor of my quarry. I knocked an arrow and eased over a rock. There at less than 10 yards was a bedded cow, looking down hill. I slowly retreated and went up a rock higher. Looking over it I caught sight of those cherry red antlers, not 25 yards away. I watched and watched wondering what to do. It was a 4x4 rack. Do I take the bull and run? No more rain. Home in my bed after an already long season. He didn’t smell extraordinarily tasty, but I had heard he would be. It wasn’t a long decision. I shot him....
I shot him with my camera and green peaced him. Still, it was a huge rush! Plus, now I knew what was possible.
Many more herds of cows and young bulls were spotted, however I didn’t even stalk in on them. I would look them over, checking for big bulls, and then move on. I would see an average of two herds a day. Most groups having 8-12 cows and the occasional young bull. I wanted to hold out for at least a 5x5 antlered bull. That would be the smallest I would shoot at this point in the hunt. A 5x5 with a bow would have a good place on my wall.
About day 5 of the hunt I found a different herd that had 4 bulls and 9 cows. One of the bulls made my eyes a little bigger so I grabbed my spotting scope and zoomed in on him. Much to my delight he met my mark with 5 solid points on each side.
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