Enjoy.
In the rugged canyons of eastern Oregon I made good use of my 28 year young legs and lungs and had a season that will not be forgotten. The end result was a notched Oregon elk tag and memories that will last a lifetime.
Like a-lot of you who read this, I earn my living by the sweat of my brow, I’m a simple man who enjoys his hunting activities as much as the next blue collar worker. So every spring I spend my hard earned pennies and nickels putting in for tags across the west, most of the time I am left with a few refund checks and some over the counter tags that yield me time in the outdoors. The spring draws were winding down, and a few tags that I felt I had a 100% chance of drawing came up with nothing more then the dreaded “unsuccessful. “ With only my home state of Oregon left I figured I was as good as gold for being unsuccessful there too. But, during a hot June lunch break I jumped on my phone to check the status of the draws and I was nearly floored when I found out I drew a decent tag for Northeast Oregon. Phone calls and text were sent to family members and good buddies and the upcoming summer months lead to planning shooting and preparation for the fall elk rifle opener.
Like it always does hunting season came up quick fast and in a hurry. Before I knew it I was perched on a canyon rim in some of the most breathtaking and rugged country Oregon has to offer, with My good buddies Chad and John by my side. The days before the season turned up only a few bulls, and we were left with only a few options on the opener.
Opening morning was as perfect as any I’ve ever been on. The day prior the weather had turned terrible, gale force winds and sideways rain kept the elk and hunters tucked in. However, on the opener, the ground was soft and quiet from the rain, the bulls and cows were out feeding and my blood was boiling in anticipation of finding a bull to wrap my tag around.
Like it has happened so many times before other hunters interrupted our game plans. We decided to head back a spot where we knew elk like to be, we hadn’t seen anything there the days prior. But all in all, we had nothing to loose.
The first few moments of glassing yielded a Five point a few drainages away, given the great distance between us and him we opted to not hunt that bull. As we worked our way down a steep finger ridge Chad and I intercepted what appeared to be very fresh elk sign. A heard of elk, without a doubt.
The heard worked there way down to a terrible nasty drainage that was as steep as any I’ve ever been on. At 9 am opening morning we found our bull. A very respectable six point for the unit and the state of Oregon. Chad and I knew that if we could pull the stalk off our day was as good as done and we would coming out this terribly wonderful hole with elk on our backs.
At first sight they were nearly 1000 yards off, as the heard fed there way up and over the ridge we were on, Chad and I elected to wait them out and move when they were in the bottom of the next drainage. As time passed we watch cows and spikes of heard all walk single file into the bottom the next drainage. I questioned our strategy as I thought the bull might feed further away and we would loose him. Fortunate for me, my hunting Partner, Chad Dotson, thinks like an elk. And we found ourselves in nearly the perfect position only a few minutes later.
As we sat on the adjacent ridge and watched the heard feed out on the open hillside my heart began to race. From our position to the hillside was 307 yards, within my comfortable range of shooting. The situation couldn’t have worked out any more perfect. With the bull in the bottom and a few of his cows on the hillside, I positioned myself over our packs and had nearly a bench like rest. Perfect.
Several minutes had passed and still had no sign of the bull, we knew he was down there though, his bugles, gave him away. Apparently there was a hot cow in the bottom that was in her second heat cycle because he was very reluctant to leave her side. As time passed the heard moved through the clearings, this time allowed me to settle in and prepare for the shot. Then out of the bottom he came.
With nothing more then a scraggy pine separating me and a perfect shot on the bull I had to wait, what seemed like hours was more like 45 seconds. Eventually that hot cow lead him right to a clearing.
Chad read out” 300 yards man, squeeze the trigger, nice and easy, you’ve done this a 1000 times before”
As the bull stepped out, I clicked the safety off and told him “ here we go”.
The shot broke the morning silence, and the bull didn’t even act like he was hit, slightly confused about the situation I popped out of my scope to survey what was going on, my initial reaction was that I missed, it’s happened before, it’ll probably happen again, but I really felt like I had a dead solid bead on him when I sent my 180 gr accubond his way. Something wasn’t right.
AsI chambered another round Chad said“ Get another one in” as he watched through his binos, Chad had watched to whole thing and said the bull didn’t even flinch.
With a fresh round in the chamber I found the bull in my scope making what would be his last steps, with the crosshairs on him I watched him stutter step and to his final resting place.
Nearly overwhelmed with emotion, I couldn’t help but sit in silence and soak in the moment. I had Just taken a bull in God’s country with one my best friends by my side and nobody could take him away from me.
Chad and I sat on the hill side for a few minutes soaking up the precious moments after a successful hunt, only a hunter knows that feeling of success when they have harvested an animal. It is those moments that I truly cherish.
As we made our way to my bull I was nearly speechless the entire time, all wound up on adrenalin I ran straight down and up the hill before Chad snapped me back to reality and suggested we side hill around to the bull to save our legs for the packout. Quality call, because we would need them.
Photos, handshakes and a sense of accomplishment filled that canyon air that morning, and pack out was nothing short of miserable. God has blessed me with a body that I can use and abuse on countless outdoor adventures, and I did here.
I’ve pushed the limits of what my body can handle before, but never to this extreme. I try to run a couple half marathons a year to keep in shape, and hike countless miles in the summer. However this pack was one that I will never forget. I pushed myself to the point of severe dehydration, the combination of the heavy packs, steep terrain, and the lack of water I packed that day will be a lesson I will forever keep. Fortunately Chad was there to keep my spirits up and share the heavy load, And upon reaching the pickup greeted me with a sugar cookie,( elk camp necessity) that I promptly puked up. Thanks man.
All in all, I couldn’t have asked for a better Oregon rifle season, to top it off, my good buddy Jon was able to kill a six point on the only day he had to hunt during the five day season. Lucky, good, whatever you want to call it. I call it fun!
Thanks to my wife for putting up with need for life’s little adventures, Thanks to Chad for being there with me that morning, and thanks to Jon for being a pack mule and helping us get my bull out.
In the rugged canyons of eastern Oregon I made good use of my 28 year young legs and lungs and had a season that will not be forgotten. The end result was a notched Oregon elk tag and memories that will last a lifetime.
Like a-lot of you who read this, I earn my living by the sweat of my brow, I’m a simple man who enjoys his hunting activities as much as the next blue collar worker. So every spring I spend my hard earned pennies and nickels putting in for tags across the west, most of the time I am left with a few refund checks and some over the counter tags that yield me time in the outdoors. The spring draws were winding down, and a few tags that I felt I had a 100% chance of drawing came up with nothing more then the dreaded “unsuccessful. “ With only my home state of Oregon left I figured I was as good as gold for being unsuccessful there too. But, during a hot June lunch break I jumped on my phone to check the status of the draws and I was nearly floored when I found out I drew a decent tag for Northeast Oregon. Phone calls and text were sent to family members and good buddies and the upcoming summer months lead to planning shooting and preparation for the fall elk rifle opener.
Like it always does hunting season came up quick fast and in a hurry. Before I knew it I was perched on a canyon rim in some of the most breathtaking and rugged country Oregon has to offer, with My good buddies Chad and John by my side. The days before the season turned up only a few bulls, and we were left with only a few options on the opener.
Opening morning was as perfect as any I’ve ever been on. The day prior the weather had turned terrible, gale force winds and sideways rain kept the elk and hunters tucked in. However, on the opener, the ground was soft and quiet from the rain, the bulls and cows were out feeding and my blood was boiling in anticipation of finding a bull to wrap my tag around.
Like it has happened so many times before other hunters interrupted our game plans. We decided to head back a spot where we knew elk like to be, we hadn’t seen anything there the days prior. But all in all, we had nothing to loose.
The first few moments of glassing yielded a Five point a few drainages away, given the great distance between us and him we opted to not hunt that bull. As we worked our way down a steep finger ridge Chad and I intercepted what appeared to be very fresh elk sign. A heard of elk, without a doubt.
The heard worked there way down to a terrible nasty drainage that was as steep as any I’ve ever been on. At 9 am opening morning we found our bull. A very respectable six point for the unit and the state of Oregon. Chad and I knew that if we could pull the stalk off our day was as good as done and we would coming out this terribly wonderful hole with elk on our backs.
At first sight they were nearly 1000 yards off, as the heard fed there way up and over the ridge we were on, Chad and I elected to wait them out and move when they were in the bottom of the next drainage. As time passed we watch cows and spikes of heard all walk single file into the bottom the next drainage. I questioned our strategy as I thought the bull might feed further away and we would loose him. Fortunate for me, my hunting Partner, Chad Dotson, thinks like an elk. And we found ourselves in nearly the perfect position only a few minutes later.
As we sat on the adjacent ridge and watched the heard feed out on the open hillside my heart began to race. From our position to the hillside was 307 yards, within my comfortable range of shooting. The situation couldn’t have worked out any more perfect. With the bull in the bottom and a few of his cows on the hillside, I positioned myself over our packs and had nearly a bench like rest. Perfect.
Several minutes had passed and still had no sign of the bull, we knew he was down there though, his bugles, gave him away. Apparently there was a hot cow in the bottom that was in her second heat cycle because he was very reluctant to leave her side. As time passed the heard moved through the clearings, this time allowed me to settle in and prepare for the shot. Then out of the bottom he came.
With nothing more then a scraggy pine separating me and a perfect shot on the bull I had to wait, what seemed like hours was more like 45 seconds. Eventually that hot cow lead him right to a clearing.
Chad read out” 300 yards man, squeeze the trigger, nice and easy, you’ve done this a 1000 times before”
As the bull stepped out, I clicked the safety off and told him “ here we go”.
The shot broke the morning silence, and the bull didn’t even act like he was hit, slightly confused about the situation I popped out of my scope to survey what was going on, my initial reaction was that I missed, it’s happened before, it’ll probably happen again, but I really felt like I had a dead solid bead on him when I sent my 180 gr accubond his way. Something wasn’t right.
AsI chambered another round Chad said“ Get another one in” as he watched through his binos, Chad had watched to whole thing and said the bull didn’t even flinch.
With a fresh round in the chamber I found the bull in my scope making what would be his last steps, with the crosshairs on him I watched him stutter step and to his final resting place.
Nearly overwhelmed with emotion, I couldn’t help but sit in silence and soak in the moment. I had Just taken a bull in God’s country with one my best friends by my side and nobody could take him away from me.
Chad and I sat on the hill side for a few minutes soaking up the precious moments after a successful hunt, only a hunter knows that feeling of success when they have harvested an animal. It is those moments that I truly cherish.
As we made our way to my bull I was nearly speechless the entire time, all wound up on adrenalin I ran straight down and up the hill before Chad snapped me back to reality and suggested we side hill around to the bull to save our legs for the packout. Quality call, because we would need them.
Photos, handshakes and a sense of accomplishment filled that canyon air that morning, and pack out was nothing short of miserable. God has blessed me with a body that I can use and abuse on countless outdoor adventures, and I did here.
I’ve pushed the limits of what my body can handle before, but never to this extreme. I try to run a couple half marathons a year to keep in shape, and hike countless miles in the summer. However this pack was one that I will never forget. I pushed myself to the point of severe dehydration, the combination of the heavy packs, steep terrain, and the lack of water I packed that day will be a lesson I will forever keep. Fortunately Chad was there to keep my spirits up and share the heavy load, And upon reaching the pickup greeted me with a sugar cookie,( elk camp necessity) that I promptly puked up. Thanks man.
All in all, I couldn’t have asked for a better Oregon rifle season, to top it off, my good buddy Jon was able to kill a six point on the only day he had to hunt during the five day season. Lucky, good, whatever you want to call it. I call it fun!
Thanks to my wife for putting up with need for life’s little adventures, Thanks to Chad for being there with me that morning, and thanks to Jon for being a pack mule and helping us get my bull out.
