Opening day - Oregon general archery season - 1 mile east of Olney in the Oregon coastal range.
I'd scouted a bull I'd named 'Blondie' for his abnormally light colored body. I'd also subconsciously dubbed a flirty girl at my gym 'Blondie' as well, so maybe there's something I should explore there as well. :help2:
Blondie was the herd bull for about 20 cows, a couple spikes, a 4x4, and a smaller 6x6. Blondie was a 6x6 Roosevelt with some good mass. Blondie was a very active, boisterous, and aggressive bull.
I'd patterned Blondie pretty well, and planned by hunt with a descent into the dark woods he called home. I was heading to an area with a good amount of old growth that prevented much under story from growing.
I slowly moved towards my spot as light broke, eagerly listening for movement. I arrived around 7AM, settled into my spot atop an oldgrowth stump that gave me a concealed vantage within bow range to the alder thicket I knew Blondie would frequent.
Oregon is known for many things. Granola people. Subarus. Crater Lake. Hell's Canyon. Heck, beer.
One thing not a lot of non-locals realize is present is a hefty population of shithead hillbillies. Seems that someone wasn't too thrilled that I was parked where I was. They decided to dump an AR mag in my campsite in what I can only imagine was an attempt to ruin my hunt. It sounded like it was coming from the area I was parked at, so after a quiet morning I decided to check on my truck.
Working my way back up the hill at about noon, it started POURING. I had just stopped to put on my rain gear, and as I dropped my bow and pack I heard that unmistakable sound of a heard of elk moving through the woods. It was like the stampede scene in Jumanji. I dropped.
On my knees concealed among dense ferns, I saw a spike (not legal in the Saddle Mtn Unit) and two cows about 20 yards away.
I nocked an arrow knowing Mr. Spike wouldn't be alone.
Lo and behold, behind them was a 4x4 - very legal. I ranged him at 43 yards - very doable.
Then I saw a spidery 6x6 - a few yards closer, and broadside. I clipped my release, and got ready to take a shot.
Then I saw Blondie in the back of the pack. He was running the show. He seemed to know I was there, but none of the other Elk did. With an emphatic grunt he moved them down the hill out of my sight, but stuck around obscured by trees keeping a keen eye on me. I could have taken a shot on him, but I didn't. It would have been 81 yards, uphill, in pouring rain, and partially obscured by ferns.
He walked.
I followed.
He disappeared.
Two weeks of hard hunting later without seeing Blondie again, I got off work early on a Tuesday. 5 mins into my hunt, I heard his Louie Armstrong on acid esque bugle.
I've watched tons of YouTube videos on bugling, and I'll always remember watching one that said the more creative you were with your calling, the more real it would sound to Elk. I believe the term used was 'Jazzy' Blondie was jazzy. He had a wild raspy high pitched scream followed by a series of bass tone barks unlike any bull I'd heard before. He seemed to revel in spreading christmas cheer for all to hear.
I worked my way downwind of where the bugle had come from and immediately found the herd about 1000 ft downhill from where I had seen them opening day. There was Blondie.
Blondie didn't give me a shot that day, nor did he give me one of the following Thursday when I found him pushing up a drainage after I most likely bumped him.
Saturday was going to be a long day of hunting. I got out there at 5AM, and slowly descended into the woods I hunted on opening day. at 7:30 I heard Blondie bugle, and another bull respond. I worked my way to the bottom of the hill and ascended to his area.
About 300 yards up the hill, I worked my way around a fallen tree and saw a cow 20 yards ahead of me chewing on a young alder tree. I dropped.
Concealed by ferns, I watched in awe as a heard of Elk slowly moved around me. I counted 27 cows, all within 40 yards. I could hear two bulls squaring off in a drainage 100 yards ahead of me, so I sat there and waited.
I waited about 20 mins, surrounded by cows, when Blondie emerged. He gave a holler, then descended back into the drainage to square off with the other bull again. It sounded like the opening scene in a bad scifi alien thriller in the drainage, and eventually Blondie returned.
Blondie came in HOT. Right at me. I was ready to take a self defense frontal on a charging bull, but instead he turned broadside right behind a tree I'd ranged at 16 yards. He started munching on a young alder, and was mid meal when my arrow punched right through his heart and dropped him on the spot.
Blondie down.
I'd scouted a bull I'd named 'Blondie' for his abnormally light colored body. I'd also subconsciously dubbed a flirty girl at my gym 'Blondie' as well, so maybe there's something I should explore there as well. :help2:
Blondie was the herd bull for about 20 cows, a couple spikes, a 4x4, and a smaller 6x6. Blondie was a 6x6 Roosevelt with some good mass. Blondie was a very active, boisterous, and aggressive bull.
I'd patterned Blondie pretty well, and planned by hunt with a descent into the dark woods he called home. I was heading to an area with a good amount of old growth that prevented much under story from growing.
I slowly moved towards my spot as light broke, eagerly listening for movement. I arrived around 7AM, settled into my spot atop an oldgrowth stump that gave me a concealed vantage within bow range to the alder thicket I knew Blondie would frequent.
Oregon is known for many things. Granola people. Subarus. Crater Lake. Hell's Canyon. Heck, beer.
One thing not a lot of non-locals realize is present is a hefty population of shithead hillbillies. Seems that someone wasn't too thrilled that I was parked where I was. They decided to dump an AR mag in my campsite in what I can only imagine was an attempt to ruin my hunt. It sounded like it was coming from the area I was parked at, so after a quiet morning I decided to check on my truck.
Working my way back up the hill at about noon, it started POURING. I had just stopped to put on my rain gear, and as I dropped my bow and pack I heard that unmistakable sound of a heard of elk moving through the woods. It was like the stampede scene in Jumanji. I dropped.
On my knees concealed among dense ferns, I saw a spike (not legal in the Saddle Mtn Unit) and two cows about 20 yards away.
I nocked an arrow knowing Mr. Spike wouldn't be alone.
Lo and behold, behind them was a 4x4 - very legal. I ranged him at 43 yards - very doable.
Then I saw a spidery 6x6 - a few yards closer, and broadside. I clipped my release, and got ready to take a shot.
Then I saw Blondie in the back of the pack. He was running the show. He seemed to know I was there, but none of the other Elk did. With an emphatic grunt he moved them down the hill out of my sight, but stuck around obscured by trees keeping a keen eye on me. I could have taken a shot on him, but I didn't. It would have been 81 yards, uphill, in pouring rain, and partially obscured by ferns.
He walked.
I followed.
He disappeared.
Two weeks of hard hunting later without seeing Blondie again, I got off work early on a Tuesday. 5 mins into my hunt, I heard his Louie Armstrong on acid esque bugle.
I've watched tons of YouTube videos on bugling, and I'll always remember watching one that said the more creative you were with your calling, the more real it would sound to Elk. I believe the term used was 'Jazzy' Blondie was jazzy. He had a wild raspy high pitched scream followed by a series of bass tone barks unlike any bull I'd heard before. He seemed to revel in spreading christmas cheer for all to hear.
I worked my way downwind of where the bugle had come from and immediately found the herd about 1000 ft downhill from where I had seen them opening day. There was Blondie.
Blondie didn't give me a shot that day, nor did he give me one of the following Thursday when I found him pushing up a drainage after I most likely bumped him.
Saturday was going to be a long day of hunting. I got out there at 5AM, and slowly descended into the woods I hunted on opening day. at 7:30 I heard Blondie bugle, and another bull respond. I worked my way to the bottom of the hill and ascended to his area.
About 300 yards up the hill, I worked my way around a fallen tree and saw a cow 20 yards ahead of me chewing on a young alder tree. I dropped.
Concealed by ferns, I watched in awe as a heard of Elk slowly moved around me. I counted 27 cows, all within 40 yards. I could hear two bulls squaring off in a drainage 100 yards ahead of me, so I sat there and waited.
I waited about 20 mins, surrounded by cows, when Blondie emerged. He gave a holler, then descended back into the drainage to square off with the other bull again. It sounded like the opening scene in a bad scifi alien thriller in the drainage, and eventually Blondie returned.
Blondie came in HOT. Right at me. I was ready to take a self defense frontal on a charging bull, but instead he turned broadside right behind a tree I'd ranged at 16 yards. He started munching on a young alder, and was mid meal when my arrow punched right through his heart and dropped him on the spot.
Blondie down.
