After applying for a Utah limited-entry big bull tag for over 12 years, I’m still empty-handed.  I covet the big bull hunt and long to spend weeks in the mountains scouting for the monster bull of my dreams.  I live at the base of the most beautiful mountains in the world.  I hunt with a bow and I’ve taken cougar, bear, elk and deer within two miles of my home.  I watch these animals year round.  I’ve even named a few of them!  If you are going to get close enough to shoot with a bow, you have to understand the habits of the animal you are hunting!

Several years ago, the big bulls began wintering closer and closer to the highway and eventually started crossing it on a regular basis.  A number of those gorgeous beasts were killed by automobiles.  In order to maintain a safer highway, the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources (DWR) provided a special rifle hunt in late November for 30 hunters on my favorite unit.  The tags were drawn five at a time with a one week hunt.  A local group of Sanpete citizens met monthly and made a recommendation to the DWR to replace the rifle hunt with an alternative archery hunt as a more public friendly way to deal with the safety hazard.  If a hunter purchased a General Season Archery Tag and did not fill it, they were eligible for this hunt after completing an on-line Archery Ethics Course.

The first year they implanted this special hunt, I was so excited to finally be able to pursue a big bull, I made no effort to fill my general season archery elk tag.  I was saving it for this wonderful opportunity.  As the long months finally lapsed into only a few weeks until the hunt began, I started to hear ugly rumors.  My friends were telling me that all my favorite hunting places were being locked up.  I jumped in the truck to investigate.  It was all true!  There were big signs and locks on all the biggest and most widely hunted wintering grounds near my little town.  I wondered how this could be happening.  I knew it was all private ground, but the landowners have always been generous and accepting of hunters and our wildlife passions.  For the past 20 years, I had built up hordes of memories in these two parcels of property.  I know of older hunters who wanted to cry at the loss.  They no longer had the ability to get around the steep slopes of the mountains.  These wintering grounds were their only link to the thrill of the hunt, whether they shot the animals with a camera or a gun.  I shared their pain.  I had an unfilled tag and no where to hunt.  I fought the bitter cold and woke up at 5:00 a.m. every morning for over 45 days.  I only saw two elk that year.  They were both over 200 yards away and running at full speed in the opposite direction.  I was extremely disappointed.

The next year, I tried to fill my tag during the general season, but I wasn’t very aggressive.  I thought I’d give the special late extended hunt one more chance.  I had enough time and I began asking permission from all the remaining land owners.  I received three permission slips!

I ended up hunting on a very small parcel of land.  I had a blast!  I saw elk almost every morning.  One morning, I stood ready with an arrow nocked and my release attached to the string for over an hour and a half.  When I got back to the truck, I discovered that it was 18 degrees below zero.  If an elk would have walked up the trail, I doubt I would have been able to move!  I never did harvest a bull, but I got some shots and had a fantastic time!

This year, they moved the hunt boundaries and I knew before the hunt started that my chances of harvesting a big bull went from slim to almost none.  Although I did see two elk from my mountain tree stand in the mountains, I did not take an elk.  I was disappointed and not too excited about hunting in November in the cold, but I wanted to fill my tag (and my freezer!)  So once again, I found myself standing in the freezing weather.  This time, it ranged from four to about 14 degrees above zero.

My husband, my son-in-law and I went out faithfully in hopes of catching a bull elk near the road or on one of two “huntable” pieces of property.  It was discouraging day-after-day to go home without seeing anything but people – lots of people!

Saturday, there were a lot of people.  The temperature was around 20 degrees and we had all the locals and lots of hunters from the Wasatch Front.  Many of them we recognized from previous weekends.  As the black sky turned gray and shadows became trees, we saw some elk working their way toward public ground.  They were 95 yards away from the highway and headed south.  We ran and got into position.  Just when we could see legs flashing through the thick cedar trees, a stranger walked up and asked us what we were looking at?  He coughed violently before his boots squeaked through the snow and carried him further west.  The elk were long gone.   We went to the south-end of the property where my son-in-law Justin and I hiked up over the hill.  I spotted an elk on the next ridge over.  I hollered, “Justin!”  That was a mistake.  There were three big bulls 30 yards away.  He had already spotted them and was just drawing back his bow when my voice scared them away.  I watched helplessly as they ran down into the draw.  We made a plan to split up.  Justin stayed high on the ridge and I went down into the bottom.  I stopped near a little clearing and watched all around me.  I heard a loud noise behind me and when I turned around, three more bulls were charging down the slope towards me.  I ranged one small tree in the clearing and got an arrow ready.  The biggest bull stopped at 60 yards and I let the arrow fly.  It missed by five feet and went between the big bull and a smaller bull.  They spooked and ran up hill.  Within minutes, I heard a loud “whack” and then a “whoopee” as I saw the three bulls run across the sloop and disappear over the ridge.  Justin started yelling at me to come see the shot he had just made.  He was only six yards from the big bull.  He was certain he had made a good shot.  We waited an hour and tracked the bull to the highway.  We met up with my husband, Robert, and we continued to track him into private property.  We were lucky to have written permission from the land owner and we trekked across the top.  We finally found where the bull had bedded down.  He had lost a lot of blood but he had pushed on.  He walked another 20 yards and tumbled down a very steep hill.  We found him upside down.  We were all excited and gave each other hugs and high-fives.  He was a beautiful 6x6 with little “devil antlers” off his eye guards.  I carried three bows and hiked back to the truck while the two men unhooked the bull from the cedar tree and let him slide another ten feet only to repeat the process for another hour.  We got back to the house and had the meat safely in the locker by 1:30 p.m.   I asked Justin how it felt to have a big bull in the freezer.  He smiled from ear-to-ear.  He had only been hunting for three years and he has managed to take a good animal every year!  He said it was easy!

The next morning, we had the same ritual.  This time, Justin drove since he had already filled his tag.  Again, our morning was ruined when another hunter walked up to give up our hiding place as the elk ran westward and out of our hunt boundaries.  I tried to talk Robert into going back to the south end, but he wanted breakfast, so we headed home.  As we neared town, we spotted our good friends crouched near the road.  They motioned that a big bull was still hidden in the thick trees.  They had already taken one shot and missed.  We tried to surround the bull, but he broke and ran.  We got in the truck and drove to a place we hoped the bull would cross our path and set up.  Robert and Justin were a block away when the bull came running toward me.  As he came closer, I realized that I was in the lowest part of the fence and I was about to get run over!  The bull was watching me and I still hadn’t drawn my bow back.  He was less than 20 yards.  I didn’t dare move, but I knew I had to.  I began the process of drawing my bow back, but my arm had turned into mush and I couldn’t pull it back!  I stared in disbelief at my incredible weakness and rushed to make a decision.  I stood up and pulled hard on my bow at the same time.  The bull whirled but stopped and turned back.  He walked right and stopped broadside only ten feet away!  I still couldn’t shoot because there was a tall mesh-wire fence between me and the bull.  He pushed on the wire a couple of times.  I was still at full draw.  My husband watched helplessly and screamed through his brain, “SHOOT!  SHOOT!”  Then he leapt across the fence and trotted past me.  I let the arrow fly.  The bull took off and I turned around and asked in a whisper, “Did I get him?”  I saw what looked like red ribbons hanging from both sides of the bull as it ran away.  Then it dawned on me to shoot again.  I didn’t have time to range the bull and judged him at 55 yards.  The arrow hit right smack in his right butt check.  He staggered and slipped over an icy patch and through a field.  He jumped over another fence and a wheel line before disappearing in the cedar trees.  I started to holler!  “I hit him!  I hit him!”  I waited two hours before I started to track him out.  I waited for my daughter and my two youngest granddaughters to share this once-in-a-lifetime moment with me.  We found seven beds within 50 yards and then a blood trail that led to private property.  I’ve been trying to persuade this landowner for permission for over ten years and hadn’t gotten very far, but I thought perhaps maybe he would let me track out my bull.  I was dead wrong.  I found out within minutes of my pleading (I even offered him money), that the reason I hadn’t been able to soften his heart, is because he doesn’t have one.  He completely refused to let me on his property and to make his point; he said that no one with me could go on his property.  I had to call the local game warden and he made arrangements with the land owner to track my bull.  The land owner would not allow anyone to help him.  I waited until after nine in the evening to see my big bull.  He was gutted and cut in half.  It was cold and the kids were asleep.  I got my first pictures as we butchered him out at the house.  It was a difficult ending to a perfect day.  But I have a big bull.  He is a beautiful 7x7.  Justin’s bull is wider, but mine has longer main beams.  They’ll both score about 330.

Robert still waits for his chance to harvest a big bull.

 

© June 2006