That feeling you get when you hear the first response to your location bugle is hard to describe. It?s a flood of adrenaline, its an anticipation that rivals a child on Christmas eve and almost a slice of dread as you can?t help but wonder if your elk season is soon to be over. I live and breathe elk hunting. I love everything about it from shooting my bow, practising my calling, to scouting and finally preparing for the season. But my absolute favorite part of elk hunting is the in your face, vocal interactions with a rut crazed bull! Every year seems to get better and better thanks to the tips and strategies I?ve read on Elk101.com and the amazing sounds that Rocky Mountain elk calling systems produce.
I reside in Northern Alberta and am blessed to have great elk hunting 20 minutes from my door. The type of country I hunt is a transition area approximately 7 kilometers wide by about 30 kilometers long. It is a mixture of aspen and spruce and extends between the Peace river valley and farm land. This terrain usually makes for a much less physically demanding hunt than a mountain terrain type hunt, but the river valley and some of the drainages can descend a touch over 1000 ft. Providing some strenuous pack outs and challenging wind directions and thermals.
To say I was excited for the 2019 season would be a huge understatement. I had hosted a good friend of mine in 2018 and while I never shot an elk that season myself, I called in a nice 6x6 for him. It was textbook, I located him, closed the distance, cow called and when he bugled I cut him off with a deafening challenge! 15 seconds later he was broadside at 75 yards searching for his new opponent. My friend made a perfect shot with his 300 WM and we spent the rest of that beautiful September night packing out the bull. Then a few days later I filled my moose tag with a decent 42? bull. Needless to say my freezer was full and I didn?t need anymore meat. I refrained from hunting elk for the rest of the season as I didn?t want to be greedy. But my thirst for chasing down adrenaline pumping bugles hadn?t been quenched. The 2018 season wasn?t even over yet and already I was making plans for 2019. Mentally reviewing the sign I had encountered and envisioning hundreds of different scenarios of encounters with those screaming monarchs that I would pursue in 2019.
Planning my 2019 season began like every other season. The only exception being that my 6 year old son was going to be along with me for the archery opener on August 25th. Unfortunately, it wasn?t meant to be. My wife and I had recently noticed some changes in his attitude and his health and on the evening of August 24th I decided that he and I would not be going hunting in the morning but we would be going to the Emergency room instead.
On the morning of August 25th my little buddies life changed forever, he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. Within an hour of diagnosis we were boarding an air ambulance headed for the Stollery Children?s hospital in Edmonton Alberta. We spent the next week learning all about Diabetes, like how to give insulin shots and calculate dosing to carb ratios. I was by his side every step of the way, I was his rock! His biggest fear up to that point had been needles, just like any other 6 year old he had despised them. Unfortunately, for the rest of his life he now needed them daily to stay alive.
My son was a soldier through it all and with me and my wife?s support he crushed every obstacle in his path. When we returned home he needed 4 insulin shots a day, two before breakfast and two before supper. At this point I was the only person he was comfortable with giving him his needles. I feared that the 2019 elk season was over before it had begun, as I had to be home to give my son his injections. But through my wife?s support and encouragement a plan was made for me to get out hunting two to three evenings a week as we needed some tender elk meat for the freezer.
On Saturday September 7th I headed out to a familiar spot with my bow in hand. It had been pouring rain all day long, the bush was sopping wet and I couldn?t stop thinking about how my little buddy was doing back at home. Yet I remained optimistic and decided that if nothing else, I would just cover ground and look for fresh sign. That evening I never heard a peep from an elk but I did find a couple promising spots that were just torn to shreds! I got back to my pickup an hour after legal light had ended and felt like my 2019 season had begun to turn around.
The following week felt like forever to pass. Work dragged on but when Friday the 13th finally rolled around I was pumped. The forecast was calling for a west wind which was perfect for entering the area I had seen all the rubs and wallows the previous Saturday. It was hard to keep my mind on work that day, I couldn?t stop planning the evenings hunt. After work I hurried home to have supper with my family. I scarfed down supper and raced out to my spot, trying to maximize every minute of legal light.
It was a beautiful September evening, not to hot and was supposed to cool off to just below freezing that night. The wind was just as forecasted too, 6kms from the west. I was envisioning the screaming bulls I hoped to encounter as I left my pickup. I knew the area well and wanted to get around a bedding area to get the wind in my face. Then come straight through as I would throw out a few bugles in the last hour of legal light in hopes of getting a response.
I hurriedly trekked down a familiar game trail I knew would get me to where I wanted to go. Its funny how every year it looks a little different than the last. I couldn?t help but wonder how many more seasons until the trail was completely swallowed up by the poplars. When I began to circle the bedding area I routinely checked the wind direction. The last thing I wanted was a gust of wind to swirl through the dense cover, taking my scent with it and ending my hunt before it got started. As I got closer to my destination I impatiently checked the time. I slowed my pace, but my heart still raced in anticipation. I didn?t want to put the bulls on alert by sounding off a location bugle to early.
I began to make a few soft sporadic cow calls just in case I was already close to a bull. A few minutes of silence passed and I finally allowed myself to bugle, quietly at first as I continued to move slowly down the trail. This time I stopped and listened intently but the silence was deafening. I continued down the trail about 50 yards directing cow calls in different directions trying to mimic a couple of cows moving down the trail. I stopped again, this time I did a loud location bugle followed by a few grunts. I was growing impatient as I had hoped to get a response by now. A few minutes passed before I got a faint response far from the west. My veins flooded with adrenaline as I looked at my watch, wondering if I would have enough time to close the distance and coax the unsuspecting bull into a shooting lane before the end of legal light.
I took off in the direction of the bull, each step with purpose and drive. I moved down the trail as quickly as the terrain would allow. Although the bull?s first bugle didn?t sound like he was very interested, I didn?t want to bump into him if he was on his way towards me. I slowed my pace for a moment while I regained control over my breathing and then sounded off another non aggressive bugle. Immediately the bull answered back, he still hadn?t budged. I was a little relieved because visibility at that point was 75-100 yards and would present some difficulty pulling him into bow range. As I continued to close the distance between us, I began to wonder what was holding him up. It didn?t take long to answer my question. There was a huge swamp between us. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon and I knew I didn?t have a moment to lose. With soaking wet boots I trudged on through the waist high swamp grass.
As I started to approach the side of the swamp that the bull was holding to, I ripped another timid bugle. The bull responded almost immediately and I was glad that he hadn?t started rounding the swamp on the other side. I had closed most of the distance but still estimated him to be 200 or more yards away. Looking at the tree tops in the distance indicated to me that in about 100 yards I should start to head off the trail to lead me in a more direct path to the bull. When I neared the point where I wanted to cut into the bush I bugled again. When he answered this time, it was evident that he had begun to come towards me. I knew things were going to happen quickly.
I checked the time again and was happy to see that I still had a half an hour to get the bull fired up enough to present me with a shot opportunity. But once I got a few yards into the now predominant spruce forest, I only had about 10 yards of visibility in any direction. With the thick cover I wasn?t worried about getting the bull within bow range anymore, I was questioning if I could find a shooting lane. I pushed on a few more yards, not really being cautious of making noise.
Finally I felt I was within 100 yards of the bull, I cow called trying to provoke him to bugle so I could walk all over him with a challenge. But to my surprise my calls were met with silence. I decided to bugle, but the bull cut me off with a very aggressive challenge of his own. I was furiated! The bull was stealing my strategy. I immediately followed with a cow call, which he didn?t hesitate to respond to. Awesome, I thought as I screamed a challenge over top of him. I cautiously advanced, I wanted to get roughly 40 yards from where I had last called from. I only made it about 20 yards and the bull screamed and chuckled at me. He was 40 yards away at most, I knew this is where I had to setup.
I quickly scanned from left to right, the only shooting lane was a 30 yard opening slightly to my right. At that moment the bull was positioned slightly to my left and I could hear him advancing towards me. He came in to about 25 yards and started veering to my right. I couldn?t believe my eyes when I caught a glimpse of his rack through the trees as he put his head back to manoeuver through the brush. He had 7 points on his right side and at least 6 on his left, his whale tails had roughly a 2 foot spread between the tips. And his eye guards looked like they extended past his nose. I was completely floored! But somehow I managed to maintain my composure as he walked towards my only shooting lane. I couldn?t believe how this was unfolding! I came to full draw as his head passed behind the last tree before the opening. He took a couple more steps and stopped broadside in my shooting lane, searching for his opponent. I settled my pin behind his shoulder and touched off my release. The resulting sound of impact wasn?t quite what I expected and the bull nervously leapt forward. I immediately cow called in an attempt to calm him. For a split second I thought maybe I hit him in the shoulder blade. But as a bow hunter one of my worst fears was now becoming a reality. My arrow looked to be suspended in midair, but as my eyes began to focus I was horrified to realise it had hit a 1.5? diameter tree, dead center. Due to the low light and shadowy conditions, I had failed to notice that dead tree between the bull and I. Meanwhile I nocked another arrow but the bull never presented another shot. He spun around and took off in the direction he came. I bugled in a frugal attempt to bring him back. He froze and did a nervous bark chuckle. I knew the bull didn?t know what was up yet, but I didn?t want to pressure him too much. I decided to quietly back out of the area and make my way back to the truck.
On my walk back to the truck, I replayed what had just happened over and over. I couldn?t help feeling disappointed, but a huge smile washed over my face and the feelings of relief and happiness replaced any disappointment I had. I was relieved because my arrow hadn?t glanced off the tree, wounding the bull. And I was happy because I had an amazing encounter and was hopeful that I would get to hunt him another day. Seeing how it was Friday the 13th and I was very unlucky, the evenings events had worked out much better for that bull. I thought ?Lucky? would be a fitting name for him.
When I awoke the next morning all I could think about was ?Lucky?. The memory of last evenings hunt was on repeat in my head. I planned to get out after supper again. I desperately wanted to hunt the same spot in an attempt to find ?Lucky? again, but decided I better not risk pushing him out of the area. I played it safe and planned to hunt the other side of the drainage where I had arrowed a bull in 2017. I wanted to mix it up and stay a couple kilometers away from where I had encountered ?Lucky? the day before, as I didn?t want to alert the weary old bull.
The evening of the 14th I rode my quad in on a lease road and proceeded to walk in heading west along the south side of the drainage. I hadn?t been on this trail yet this year and was frustrated to find myself walking through 4-6 inches of mud for the first kilometer. But once I made it past the mud it occurred to me that I was probably the first hunter down that trail this season. I slowed my pace and began picking apart the timber looking for fresh sign. As I began to round the first bend an animal spooked about 20 yards ahead of me. Suddenly, almost on instinct I raised my bugle tube to my lips and bugled softly. I checked the wind direction and froze. Silence filled the air. I still had no idea if the animal was an elk or not but decided to wait it out. A couple minutes passed as the mosquitos were driving me insane! I desperately wanted to swat them from my ears and face. Finally, I heard the animal take a couple steps. It started moving cautiously towards the trail. All that separated us was a barbed wire fence which was overgrown with willows. Antlers began to protrude from the willows before the bull leapt over the fence and stood facing me a mere 12 yards away. The bull was a young fork-horn and I needed him to have at least three points on one side to be legal. I remained frozen for what seemed like an eternity before the bull lost interest and sauntered away. I allowed him to get about 30 yards into the trees before I resumed walking down the trail.
I assumed there were more elk close by if that little guy was hanging out here. Roughly 50 yards down the trail I sent out a location bugle and eagerly awaited a response. A few minutes later a bull began aggressively raking a tree not 100 yards down the trail and just out of sight. I quietly knocked an arrow and started stalking towards the occupied bull. I gained 50 yards before he stopped. No later than I got to the side of the trail and knelt down did the bull step out from the timber. A beautiful young 6x6 stood there broadside on the trail looking in my direction. Do I shoot the bull if given the opportunity? Or pass on him, hoping for another chance at ?Lucky??
It was an extremely tough decision but cooler heads prevailed and he got a pass as well. I spent the next hour and a half exchanging bugles with this bull. I called him back repeatedly, watching him, listening to him, and studying him. It seemed as though I was in bugle university. What a way to end the evening! I was on cloud nine as I rode the quad back out to the pickup. Rifle season opened up on the 17th and I was confident I would have another chance and maybe, just maybe one more chance at ?Lucky?.
I reside in Northern Alberta and am blessed to have great elk hunting 20 minutes from my door. The type of country I hunt is a transition area approximately 7 kilometers wide by about 30 kilometers long. It is a mixture of aspen and spruce and extends between the Peace river valley and farm land. This terrain usually makes for a much less physically demanding hunt than a mountain terrain type hunt, but the river valley and some of the drainages can descend a touch over 1000 ft. Providing some strenuous pack outs and challenging wind directions and thermals.
To say I was excited for the 2019 season would be a huge understatement. I had hosted a good friend of mine in 2018 and while I never shot an elk that season myself, I called in a nice 6x6 for him. It was textbook, I located him, closed the distance, cow called and when he bugled I cut him off with a deafening challenge! 15 seconds later he was broadside at 75 yards searching for his new opponent. My friend made a perfect shot with his 300 WM and we spent the rest of that beautiful September night packing out the bull. Then a few days later I filled my moose tag with a decent 42? bull. Needless to say my freezer was full and I didn?t need anymore meat. I refrained from hunting elk for the rest of the season as I didn?t want to be greedy. But my thirst for chasing down adrenaline pumping bugles hadn?t been quenched. The 2018 season wasn?t even over yet and already I was making plans for 2019. Mentally reviewing the sign I had encountered and envisioning hundreds of different scenarios of encounters with those screaming monarchs that I would pursue in 2019.
Planning my 2019 season began like every other season. The only exception being that my 6 year old son was going to be along with me for the archery opener on August 25th. Unfortunately, it wasn?t meant to be. My wife and I had recently noticed some changes in his attitude and his health and on the evening of August 24th I decided that he and I would not be going hunting in the morning but we would be going to the Emergency room instead.
On the morning of August 25th my little buddies life changed forever, he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. Within an hour of diagnosis we were boarding an air ambulance headed for the Stollery Children?s hospital in Edmonton Alberta. We spent the next week learning all about Diabetes, like how to give insulin shots and calculate dosing to carb ratios. I was by his side every step of the way, I was his rock! His biggest fear up to that point had been needles, just like any other 6 year old he had despised them. Unfortunately, for the rest of his life he now needed them daily to stay alive.
My son was a soldier through it all and with me and my wife?s support he crushed every obstacle in his path. When we returned home he needed 4 insulin shots a day, two before breakfast and two before supper. At this point I was the only person he was comfortable with giving him his needles. I feared that the 2019 elk season was over before it had begun, as I had to be home to give my son his injections. But through my wife?s support and encouragement a plan was made for me to get out hunting two to three evenings a week as we needed some tender elk meat for the freezer.
On Saturday September 7th I headed out to a familiar spot with my bow in hand. It had been pouring rain all day long, the bush was sopping wet and I couldn?t stop thinking about how my little buddy was doing back at home. Yet I remained optimistic and decided that if nothing else, I would just cover ground and look for fresh sign. That evening I never heard a peep from an elk but I did find a couple promising spots that were just torn to shreds! I got back to my pickup an hour after legal light had ended and felt like my 2019 season had begun to turn around.
The following week felt like forever to pass. Work dragged on but when Friday the 13th finally rolled around I was pumped. The forecast was calling for a west wind which was perfect for entering the area I had seen all the rubs and wallows the previous Saturday. It was hard to keep my mind on work that day, I couldn?t stop planning the evenings hunt. After work I hurried home to have supper with my family. I scarfed down supper and raced out to my spot, trying to maximize every minute of legal light.
It was a beautiful September evening, not to hot and was supposed to cool off to just below freezing that night. The wind was just as forecasted too, 6kms from the west. I was envisioning the screaming bulls I hoped to encounter as I left my pickup. I knew the area well and wanted to get around a bedding area to get the wind in my face. Then come straight through as I would throw out a few bugles in the last hour of legal light in hopes of getting a response.
I hurriedly trekked down a familiar game trail I knew would get me to where I wanted to go. Its funny how every year it looks a little different than the last. I couldn?t help but wonder how many more seasons until the trail was completely swallowed up by the poplars. When I began to circle the bedding area I routinely checked the wind direction. The last thing I wanted was a gust of wind to swirl through the dense cover, taking my scent with it and ending my hunt before it got started. As I got closer to my destination I impatiently checked the time. I slowed my pace, but my heart still raced in anticipation. I didn?t want to put the bulls on alert by sounding off a location bugle to early.
I began to make a few soft sporadic cow calls just in case I was already close to a bull. A few minutes of silence passed and I finally allowed myself to bugle, quietly at first as I continued to move slowly down the trail. This time I stopped and listened intently but the silence was deafening. I continued down the trail about 50 yards directing cow calls in different directions trying to mimic a couple of cows moving down the trail. I stopped again, this time I did a loud location bugle followed by a few grunts. I was growing impatient as I had hoped to get a response by now. A few minutes passed before I got a faint response far from the west. My veins flooded with adrenaline as I looked at my watch, wondering if I would have enough time to close the distance and coax the unsuspecting bull into a shooting lane before the end of legal light.
I took off in the direction of the bull, each step with purpose and drive. I moved down the trail as quickly as the terrain would allow. Although the bull?s first bugle didn?t sound like he was very interested, I didn?t want to bump into him if he was on his way towards me. I slowed my pace for a moment while I regained control over my breathing and then sounded off another non aggressive bugle. Immediately the bull answered back, he still hadn?t budged. I was a little relieved because visibility at that point was 75-100 yards and would present some difficulty pulling him into bow range. As I continued to close the distance between us, I began to wonder what was holding him up. It didn?t take long to answer my question. There was a huge swamp between us. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon and I knew I didn?t have a moment to lose. With soaking wet boots I trudged on through the waist high swamp grass.
As I started to approach the side of the swamp that the bull was holding to, I ripped another timid bugle. The bull responded almost immediately and I was glad that he hadn?t started rounding the swamp on the other side. I had closed most of the distance but still estimated him to be 200 or more yards away. Looking at the tree tops in the distance indicated to me that in about 100 yards I should start to head off the trail to lead me in a more direct path to the bull. When I neared the point where I wanted to cut into the bush I bugled again. When he answered this time, it was evident that he had begun to come towards me. I knew things were going to happen quickly.
I checked the time again and was happy to see that I still had a half an hour to get the bull fired up enough to present me with a shot opportunity. But once I got a few yards into the now predominant spruce forest, I only had about 10 yards of visibility in any direction. With the thick cover I wasn?t worried about getting the bull within bow range anymore, I was questioning if I could find a shooting lane. I pushed on a few more yards, not really being cautious of making noise.
Finally I felt I was within 100 yards of the bull, I cow called trying to provoke him to bugle so I could walk all over him with a challenge. But to my surprise my calls were met with silence. I decided to bugle, but the bull cut me off with a very aggressive challenge of his own. I was furiated! The bull was stealing my strategy. I immediately followed with a cow call, which he didn?t hesitate to respond to. Awesome, I thought as I screamed a challenge over top of him. I cautiously advanced, I wanted to get roughly 40 yards from where I had last called from. I only made it about 20 yards and the bull screamed and chuckled at me. He was 40 yards away at most, I knew this is where I had to setup.
I quickly scanned from left to right, the only shooting lane was a 30 yard opening slightly to my right. At that moment the bull was positioned slightly to my left and I could hear him advancing towards me. He came in to about 25 yards and started veering to my right. I couldn?t believe my eyes when I caught a glimpse of his rack through the trees as he put his head back to manoeuver through the brush. He had 7 points on his right side and at least 6 on his left, his whale tails had roughly a 2 foot spread between the tips. And his eye guards looked like they extended past his nose. I was completely floored! But somehow I managed to maintain my composure as he walked towards my only shooting lane. I couldn?t believe how this was unfolding! I came to full draw as his head passed behind the last tree before the opening. He took a couple more steps and stopped broadside in my shooting lane, searching for his opponent. I settled my pin behind his shoulder and touched off my release. The resulting sound of impact wasn?t quite what I expected and the bull nervously leapt forward. I immediately cow called in an attempt to calm him. For a split second I thought maybe I hit him in the shoulder blade. But as a bow hunter one of my worst fears was now becoming a reality. My arrow looked to be suspended in midair, but as my eyes began to focus I was horrified to realise it had hit a 1.5? diameter tree, dead center. Due to the low light and shadowy conditions, I had failed to notice that dead tree between the bull and I. Meanwhile I nocked another arrow but the bull never presented another shot. He spun around and took off in the direction he came. I bugled in a frugal attempt to bring him back. He froze and did a nervous bark chuckle. I knew the bull didn?t know what was up yet, but I didn?t want to pressure him too much. I decided to quietly back out of the area and make my way back to the truck.
On my walk back to the truck, I replayed what had just happened over and over. I couldn?t help feeling disappointed, but a huge smile washed over my face and the feelings of relief and happiness replaced any disappointment I had. I was relieved because my arrow hadn?t glanced off the tree, wounding the bull. And I was happy because I had an amazing encounter and was hopeful that I would get to hunt him another day. Seeing how it was Friday the 13th and I was very unlucky, the evenings events had worked out much better for that bull. I thought ?Lucky? would be a fitting name for him.
When I awoke the next morning all I could think about was ?Lucky?. The memory of last evenings hunt was on repeat in my head. I planned to get out after supper again. I desperately wanted to hunt the same spot in an attempt to find ?Lucky? again, but decided I better not risk pushing him out of the area. I played it safe and planned to hunt the other side of the drainage where I had arrowed a bull in 2017. I wanted to mix it up and stay a couple kilometers away from where I had encountered ?Lucky? the day before, as I didn?t want to alert the weary old bull.
The evening of the 14th I rode my quad in on a lease road and proceeded to walk in heading west along the south side of the drainage. I hadn?t been on this trail yet this year and was frustrated to find myself walking through 4-6 inches of mud for the first kilometer. But once I made it past the mud it occurred to me that I was probably the first hunter down that trail this season. I slowed my pace and began picking apart the timber looking for fresh sign. As I began to round the first bend an animal spooked about 20 yards ahead of me. Suddenly, almost on instinct I raised my bugle tube to my lips and bugled softly. I checked the wind direction and froze. Silence filled the air. I still had no idea if the animal was an elk or not but decided to wait it out. A couple minutes passed as the mosquitos were driving me insane! I desperately wanted to swat them from my ears and face. Finally, I heard the animal take a couple steps. It started moving cautiously towards the trail. All that separated us was a barbed wire fence which was overgrown with willows. Antlers began to protrude from the willows before the bull leapt over the fence and stood facing me a mere 12 yards away. The bull was a young fork-horn and I needed him to have at least three points on one side to be legal. I remained frozen for what seemed like an eternity before the bull lost interest and sauntered away. I allowed him to get about 30 yards into the trees before I resumed walking down the trail.
I assumed there were more elk close by if that little guy was hanging out here. Roughly 50 yards down the trail I sent out a location bugle and eagerly awaited a response. A few minutes later a bull began aggressively raking a tree not 100 yards down the trail and just out of sight. I quietly knocked an arrow and started stalking towards the occupied bull. I gained 50 yards before he stopped. No later than I got to the side of the trail and knelt down did the bull step out from the timber. A beautiful young 6x6 stood there broadside on the trail looking in my direction. Do I shoot the bull if given the opportunity? Or pass on him, hoping for another chance at ?Lucky??
It was an extremely tough decision but cooler heads prevailed and he got a pass as well. I spent the next hour and a half exchanging bugles with this bull. I called him back repeatedly, watching him, listening to him, and studying him. It seemed as though I was in bugle university. What a way to end the evening! I was on cloud nine as I rode the quad back out to the pickup. Rifle season opened up on the 17th and I was confident I would have another chance and maybe, just maybe one more chance at ?Lucky?.
