10 days. When I was 12, after school on the opener of deer, my dad took me up behind the house and I shot a little 4 point mulie.
10 days later, on the opener of elk, we hiked 1 ½ miles up the steepest mountain I'd ever climbed and got to a point at the head of 2 canyons. We left my brother on the point and Dad and I headed across to the opposite ridgeline. We only made it about 50 yards when my brother fires off a round.
Next thing I know, 2 elk are crossing the open hillside in front of us at 250 yards. My dad immediately drops the bull in front (brother actually hit that one low in the brisket), then looks at me and says, "what the hell are you you doing?" So I pop off a shot with my 6mm at the second elk, and he promptly yanks it out of my hands and hands me his 30-06 and drops to all fours to become my shooting bench and he coaches me where to hold (just above its back). Shot 1, just over it's back. It runs 10 yards downhill towards us and stops. Shot 2, center punched the lungs and it drops like a sack of potatoes.
After congratulating me on shooting my first elk, we start hiking up to the elk, and my dad mentions that mine might be a spike. When we get to it, it's a little 5x6! It's dark gray antlers in the first light conditions were hardly visible through the rifle scopes.
I know I was spoiled, especially since I got an even bigger bull the next year on the same mountain, but I quickly learned how hard it can be to get a bull elk, especially primarily doing morning and evening hunts on weekends and after school. 20 years later, I think my bull to cow ratio is about 40/60 and multiple years without tagging out.
I also learned as a 12 year old how hard packing out 2 bull elk is, playing leap frog with a meat pack and going back for the guns and horns (Dad and uncle did the heavy lifting). Tears were shed and soreness for days afterward was felt, but I was on cloud 9 - however that works haha
