How about some fun memories. How many of you can remember your first archery elk kill? Mine goes way back to 1986, I think. Back then it was army surplus camo, a hooky fanny pack, army surplus canteen that leaked, and a Martin Cougar Magnum that was like bending a cedar post to shoot, a Wayne Carlton blue diaphram, and vacuum hose cut and covered with camo, There wasn't all the jargon back then of deciphering what a bull meant with his different vocalizations, you just did back to him what he was doing to you. I'd called in a nice 6 point a day earlier and he came in through the pine trees with his horns laid back, mouth dripping and moaning as he weaved his way towards me. I never did get a good shot, but when I finally got a one foot wondow, I let her fly. It was the first time i magically witnessed my bow being pulled back and not even remembering doing it, and also learning how much noise an arrow can make bouncing off of limbs, and how fast a bull can grab gears.
The next day, at sunrise, I was on a point where I had glassed a bull the prior evening. I ripped off one of my expert bugles, was gagging and repositioning the diaphram, when a bull bugled about 100 yards away. So i backed up against some oak brush and nocked an arrow. Back then, more time than not, bulls would come a running, and this one did. He busted through a big, thick area of oak brush into a pretty good sized open area about 40 yards in front of me. As I had moved, he was going to where i had bugled and gave me a perfect broadside shot. But, like i said, was a lot of learning to be had in the early days. I didn't try to stop him and i had to set my 40 yard pin on him and follow him as he trotted...the 40 yards was a guess cuz weren't any range finders back then. I let her fly, remembering yesterday when that bull blew my every nerve up. I will never forget the suprise when i looked after my shot and there was arrow fletching stickng out right behind his shoulder. Holy ### i hit him. There was a bench below me and he disappeared over it. I'm regaling in my shot when i hear a noise and that bull has turned around and is heading right at me. Oh shit...I grab an arrow, try to nock it and drop it....grab another and miss the string and drop it...remember the flipper arrow rests? All this commotion from me caught the eye of the bull and he veered away from me making the damndest wheezing noise with every breath, sounded like an old coal fired train. I watched him disappear through the oak, looked at my half empty quiver, looked down to the ground strewn by my dropped arrows....and I was hooked, for about 37 years worth so far.
The next day, at sunrise, I was on a point where I had glassed a bull the prior evening. I ripped off one of my expert bugles, was gagging and repositioning the diaphram, when a bull bugled about 100 yards away. So i backed up against some oak brush and nocked an arrow. Back then, more time than not, bulls would come a running, and this one did. He busted through a big, thick area of oak brush into a pretty good sized open area about 40 yards in front of me. As I had moved, he was going to where i had bugled and gave me a perfect broadside shot. But, like i said, was a lot of learning to be had in the early days. I didn't try to stop him and i had to set my 40 yard pin on him and follow him as he trotted...the 40 yards was a guess cuz weren't any range finders back then. I let her fly, remembering yesterday when that bull blew my every nerve up. I will never forget the suprise when i looked after my shot and there was arrow fletching stickng out right behind his shoulder. Holy ### i hit him. There was a bench below me and he disappeared over it. I'm regaling in my shot when i hear a noise and that bull has turned around and is heading right at me. Oh shit...I grab an arrow, try to nock it and drop it....grab another and miss the string and drop it...remember the flipper arrow rests? All this commotion from me caught the eye of the bull and he veered away from me making the damndest wheezing noise with every breath, sounded like an old coal fired train. I watched him disappear through the oak, looked at my half empty quiver, looked down to the ground strewn by my dropped arrows....and I was hooked, for about 37 years worth so far.