The Hunt of a Lifetime

For the last 13 years, I’ve been applying for a special draw elk tag here in Montana. This year was nothing different, throwing in the unit number and assuming I’d get another bonus point but for some reason this year was different. Maybe the hunting God’s knew I was expecting a baby this winter with my wife and a hunt of a lifetime wouldn’t be the best option for me next season? Whatever it was, when I finally checked my draw status this past spring, I did the thing most people do after they’ve drawn a rare tag. I went straight to the regulations and double checked I actually applied for the correct tag, I called friends, freaking out, double checking with them it was correct, but after numerous texts and emails and I finally convinced myself I had drawn this ever-elusive rifle tag, 1 of 30 in the state, and it was time to start figuring out exactly what I wanted to do in a few months once rifle season opened.

I was lucky enough to have some friends who had drawn it in the past as well as a few friends who lived in the area that pointed me to some great areas including a block management spot that generally holds big bulls. I put in some vacation time from work and as soon as opening weekend hit, I was off with hopes that the few days I was given to hunt would be enough.

The first days of this season were hot.  Like almost hitting 70’s during the day, which as most know, isn’t the best weather for elk hunting.  The first day came in went with me not seeing much other than 1 bull that scampered off without getting much of a look at him.

Day 2 was about the same, up hiking in the dark before sunrise and hoping for some luck. It didn’t happen, although I had a run in with a few rag horn’s that weren’t exactly the bulls I was looking for. I hiked nearly 11 miles that day and saw 2 elk. Not exactly what I had anticipated.

Day 3 started off like the previous 2 until about 10 am I heard some bugling from the southern part of the property.  I walked about 3.5 miles and got into the area where I thought I heard the bugles coming from.  Across the small valley I glassed a spike walking through the timber but never got a glance at the bugling bulls I was looking for.  As I started to eat lunch, another bugle rang which was back towards the area I had just came from.  Over the next hour or so, I circled back and started following the bugles until I felt I was about a few hundred yards away from the bugling bulls.  Crawling through the brush, I peaked over the next ridge and found myself about 100 yards from 2 spike bulls, both sitting in the brush, likely exhausted from their hour-long bugling session.  I was disappointed but kind of just laughed to myself as I had been fooled into following these little guys for the past few hours on my last day of hunting this spot.  I decided to sneak back off to a high glassing point and wait for the darkness to set in, which it did, and much earlier than expected.  Rain and clouds came in about 2 hours before sunset, it got dark and cold. And it dumped rain.  I could still glass through my binoculars and as the darkness came, the elk emerged. Small groups of 2-3 started popping up everywhere. I found the ones I thought looked like the most mature of the few within a reasonable distance and took off after them. After closing the distance to a few hundred yards and as shooting light disappeared, I was able to lock onto the biggest bull in the group through my scope and realized he was likely one of the rag horns I had spotted earlier in my trip. As darkness came in, I waited out and watched these guys slowly feed away and realized opening weekend was over for me, I didn’t have an elk, but somehow still felt like it was a success without harvesting an animal. Before I left, I told myself I’d only take a mature 6 point bull with this tag, and even though I had opportunities on other elk, they didn’t quite fit the bill. I hiked back to my truck, soaking wet in the rain, pondering what my next move would be and if I’d be able to get back up to the area again anytime soon.

As luck would have it, I sent an email off to the block management owner and he approved me for another hunt a few weeks later. Those few weeks came and went, I made some plans, set out, and set up camp about a mile from where I was hunting in a camper loaned to me from a friend. I knew this trip was likely my last to this particular spot and missing any hunting time was not an option.

My first day started out like many of the previous days on my earlier trip as it was fairly warm out, but this time it was very windy.  I explored the particular piece of land I was assigned to as it was about 2 miles west of where I had hunted previously. I started off before the sun came up and got to a high glassing point but did not see anything but a few mule deer roaming around. I came back down off the glassing spot and started heading towards the end of the property, about 3 miles away from where I currently was. Almost immediately after dipping into the trees, I jumped 3 big bulls from their beds. They sounded like a herd of 50 crashing through the trees as they dipped off the side of the hills I was in and took across the open meadows towards a thicker forest about 2 miles away. I glassed and watch them slowly disappear and figured they were as good as gone. They didn’t stop running for damn near 2 miles. It was almost as impressive as the racks on all three of them were. They were by far the biggest bulls I had seen on my trip and I was so pissed at myself for spooking them off so damn early in the trip.  Stalk and spook success! I gave up on anymore adventures through the timber as the wind was bad and I didn’t want to risk blowing out any other elk that may happen to be bedded down in the area. I finished the evening off on an alternate ridge, glassing until shooting light ended, and slowly made my way back to camp.

Day 2 started much like day 1, except it was even more windy.  With the wind directly at my back, I wasn’t able to make much headway into the areas I wanted to hunt, so I hiked up the same ridge as the night before and hung out until mid morning.  Nothing was moving in this wind and I think I was likely the only one dumb enough to be out and about at that point in time.  I headed back down and decided to head into town to grab a few supplies and watch a little Sunday football before coming back for an evening hunt. I was hoping the wind might have died down a little before the afternoon came around, but I was wrong. Back out again in the wind, I decided my only option was to climb the tallest vista in the area, get out of the wind as much as possible, and sit and wait. Coming through the opposite side to make the wind my advantage would take me a few hours of hiking before I could even start hunting and I’d still have the chance to spook any remaining elk out of the property, so sitting high and tight not far from the road on this peak was my plan. I reached the top of the vista at around 1:30 PM and decided I would wait it out until shooting light ended around 5:30 or so that night.

I soon realized that I didn’t bring a big enough jacket and had forgotten my gloves in my truck. The temperature dropped and I ended up hiking back and forth up the hill to keep myself warm over the last few hours of daylight. It was a slow afternoon and I did not see anything as my binoculars focused in on the same tree stumps and random logs that somehow appeared to be moving or “definitely weren’t there before”. Out in this wind, I would be amazed if anything decided to show itself. The sun was disappearing and I was making plans of where I wanted to head for the final light of the day.  Before I could do that though, I heard something unusual. Something was crashing in the deep timber right below me. At first I thought maybe a tree had been blown down as it was super windy, but the sound kept coming and soon enough I realized it was bull elk fighting in almost the exact same spot as I had busted the three big bulls out of yesterday.  I slowly made my way down from my glassing location to see if I could get a look at these guys fighting. As soon as I left the protected side of the mountain, I felt the wind again at my back and realized I had made a mistake as 3 giant bulls, likely the same I encountered the day before, poured out of the trees below me looking ever so cautious. I realized they must have winded me but they weren’t exactly sure where I was as they almost ran directly towards me and the wind was swirling in every direction. They ended up cresting a near by hill and as soon as they were out of view, I took of sprinting in that direction.  I reached the base of the hill, completely out of breath, and slowly climbed up to the top to peak over and get a good look at these 3 bulls and prepare for a shot. As a looked over, I was surprised what I saw. Nothing. Not an elk in sight. I was dumbfounded and had no idea where they had ventured off to. I started glassing frantically, glassing the nearby trees and open meadows they may have ventured to.  Nothing, at least for a minute. As I was glassing around, I pulled my binoculars down and took another look across the field. About 200 yards in front of me was another small hill, and out from under it, 3 bulls came out. Two of them definitely spotted me and walked into the timber cautiously and the third was still in the open meadow, unsure what the other 2 were looking at. I dropped down quickly to my rifle resting on its bipod, focused my scope on the 3rd bull in the open meadow, picked my target, took a breath and pulled the trigger. The blast definitely got the elk moving, as all 3 joined up to go over the next ridge. As I readied for another shot, I had to figure out which one I shot at previously as all 3 had grouped together and were heading on up the ridge. As 2 continued up the ridge, the last one suddenly stopped, and I noticed blood coming from the vitals. He started “the wobble” as I put a second shot into the chest cavity as he tipped over. I kept my scope on him with another round chambered but it was done. My excitement was overwhelming. I had done it. I was whispering to myself “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD.” I laugh thinking about it, wishing I had video taped myself in that moment but I finally got the bull elk I had always dreamed of. I texted my wife through my Garmin inReach “BULL DOWN!!! 5 x 5!” I sat and watched him through my scope, making sure he didn’t move and just waited a few minutes to calm down. As I was confident he wasn’t going anywhere, I headed over to see what this guy looked like up close. He was a giant. Not just his rack, which I soon realized was actually bruiser 6 by 6 with a busted off 3 as he was a fighter, but his body. I couldn’t believe how big these elk are up close. I’ve been on many elk hunts, but for some reason this guy just seemed bigger. I looked back at where I had shot from and noticed he ran about 30 yards from my initial shot and as I gutted him out, I realized he wasn’t going anywhere. I had placed my first shot right through the top portion of his heart. It was a nice knowing that all the time I had spent on reloading and getting the perfect round for my rifle had paid off. I had shot and sighted in my rifle as best I could, even printing out a shooting chart just in case I had a longer shot I needed to take. It turns out 200 yards was all the distance I needed.

Grandpa’s knife with R.A.M. initials

I took a few photos as the sun set and remembered to pull out my grandpa’s knife resting in his self made leather sheath with his initials burned into it. It was his hunting knife he had used many times over his years and I have brought it with me on almost every elk hunt I’ve gone on, hoping that one day I’d be able to use it again on a bull elk such as this one. It was surreal. The moon and stars were now out shining from above and I was sitting with my elk in the darkness thinking about my grandpa and hoping he was looking down smiling at what his grandson had accomplished. It was a perfect moment of stillness and reflection, reminiscing about all the hours I had put into my rifle, my scope, my hunting applications, scouting, driving, camping, etc. I was thinking about my wife at home with our unborn child, excited to call and talk to her about my hunt and even more excited to get back on the road to see her again. It was a moment of pure happiness and relief, excitement and relaxation. It’s hard to explain other than saying it was just a perfect moment in time that I’ll never forget. And after that the realization came forth that I still had a 700 pound animal to take care of.

About 2 hours after a text to a childhood friend of mine, (a guy who’s been my best friend since I stepped foot into second grade at Cherry Valley Elementary in Polson, MT) I saw his headlights coming down the road. I asked him to bring a wheelbarrow and a couple other guys if he could and we could have this elk out quickly. It turned out he was the only one who could make it but with a game cart and a wheelbarrow, we slowly but surely got the elk out after quartering and caping him out. It took about 7 hours from the time I pulled the trigger until I stepped onto the first step of my camper to ready myself for bed. Still filled with adrenaline, I finally caught some sleep after realizing my goal had come to fruition. It was a long road to get me to this point, but the journey was worth it. I finally had my mature 6 point bull, a successful hunt, and a lifelong friend of mine to enjoy it with. It was definitely a hunt of a lifetime.

Montana Paddlefish 2016

Instead of dealing with the insane crowds and parties that amassed from the first come, first serve mentality of previous paddlefish seasons, Montana FWP elected to make the Upper Missouri paddlefish tag draw only this year, and as luck would have it, I was one of the 750 or so people who drew the tag on its inaugural year.  

My fly fisherman friends liked to joke about how easy it would be snagging one of these prehistoric giants, as there's "no skill" involved in snagging, but as I soon found out, it was a lot tougher than it seemed it would be.  Finding the right rod, the right tackle, learning how to tie the treble hooks correctly, etc. etc. all took quite a bit of time and dedication.  The biggest challenge was finding the right spot and the right time to fish for them.  As the river flows increase, these old dinosaurs will swim upstream to spawn, and with that, the fish is on.  

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And yes, I did say dinosaur.  There are fossil records of paddlefish dating back over 300 million years ago.  Even having survived for that long, they are now sadly considered a threatened or vulnerable species, meaning they may someday end up on the endangered species list if current trends persist.  Then, why, you may ask, did you just harvest one?  Once overfished for their caviar, today habitat loss is a huge threat to them and many species considered borderline threatened or endangered, and the American paddlefish is no different.  Having uninterrupted, free flowing rivers is critical for their survival, and also why they only remain on select areas of the Missouri River basin to this day. Thankfully we have Montana and the Missouri River breaks, where I caught my fish, which has a few hundred miles of free flowing, uninterrupted water flowing from Fort Benton, MT to Fort Peck Reservoir.  This is perfect habitat for these fish, allowing them to swim freely upstream every year to spawn and play grab ass, or whatever a paddlefish does to make babies.  My friend Lance may be able to tell you more information on that if you're interested, as he is a fish biologist who tags these fish (check out this video) every year, and who I obtained a little information on how and where I might be able to hook onto one of these big guys.  Essentially, the Missouri River Breaks boasts an extremely healthy and numerous population of paddlefish and catching them allows biologists to weigh, measure, and age all these fish that have been caught in order to get a good sample to see how the population as a whole is doing.  My particular fish had a jaw sample taken (right side of jaw in picture above), and hopefully within a few months, I'll receive a letter in the mail explaining how old this particular fish was.  Essentially, unlike the Japanese fisherman in "Whale Wars", these caught fish have tissue samples and data that do go to scientists and biologists for the betterment of the species. 

When you draw the tag, you can actually fish and catch as many paddlefish as your heart desires during the open season as you are also issued an over the counter catch and release permit, but you can only keep one with the tag.  When handling those you aren't keeping, Montana FWP urges fishermen (under penalty of a fine) to keep the fish partially submerged and to release it as quickly as possible, ie. no long, exposed photo opportunities as these fish are in the middle of spawning and mistreating them could ultimately lead to their death.  I knew I wanted to keep a fish, but I wanted to keep a particular fish, more specifically, a large, old male.  Harvesting males will theoretically keep females and their eggs in the rivers to continue breeding and allowing the next generation of paddlefish, and although the taking females is taken into account by FWP when issuing tags, I couldn't see myself taking a breeding female out of the gene pool when I could just as easily harvest a large older male.  Females can be more desirable as they grow much larger, but as I've been told from multiple fishermen, the amount of meat you get off large males and females is fairly similar and I'm not a fan of caviar.

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All in all, it was an awesome trip.  We made two different trips up to the Breaks, and finally with my good friends Kendall and Lance tagging along, I landed my beast of a male, a 43 pound, 46 inch paddlefish.  Had the measurement included the paddle, I'm guessing he would have pushed 5 feet long.  They do fight quite a bit, and you'll definitely know when you've got one on.  It was an awesome experience and I can't wait to give it a go next year. 

Goose Baggin' Montana

The annual goose hunting trip to eastern Montana is something that we look forward to every year.  After our friend Phil, The "Goose Bagger", decided to buy a trailer and fill it full of decoys, we decided we might as well make it a yearly trip to put them to good use.  

This year went off as usual, with waking up at 4:00 AM and driving across Montana to get the decoys set up prior to the geese showing up that day.  Day 1 ended up being a bust as we didn't have a single goose decoy and ended up going home empty handed.  We ended up picking up early and scouting another spot for the next day, which low and behold held a few hundred geese.  The Goose Baggin' was on...we just had to wait until the following morning. 

Day 2 and Day 3 left us with 2 limits on our birds including a Quill Lake Goose, which is fairly unusual for this part of the country.  Great few days and couldn't have been happier.  

Day 4 ended with a slow day, we packed up and headed home. 

Mountain Goat hunting the Montana high country

With Montana's special draw tags now done, and left with nothing to show except some more bonus points, I was thinking about last years mountain goat hunt with Phil.  Here's a few pictures from hiss goat hunt last fall.  Crazy country, crazy weather and very few goats but Phil did end up getting an nice billy down.  Getting snow on opening day, with thick fog and freezing temperatues didn't provide us with the best weather...along with getting followed by a few grizzly bears, but we still had a great hunt.  The Hilleberg tent Phil and Dan had held up amazing, and having our trusty Garmin's loaded with OnXMaps did help a ton, but being in the high country in September is something to never underestimate.  It was tough hunting but great memories and I can't wait to do it again someday.

Giving up on Montana's Bighorns?

Montana's House of Representatives just made it apparent that sticking with the party lines is vastly more important than providing habitat to one of Montana's iconic wild animals in a time when it's livelihood is being challenged more than ever. If you haven't heard, House Bill 403 just took a big black sharpie through $849,000 for the Upland Game Bird Program; $10.6 million for Habitat Montana; $345,000 for fishing access site acquisition; and $460,000 for bighorn sheep habitat.

Why is this 460K so important?  Well, the Rocky Mountain Bighorn sheep is having a pretty rough time these days, especially in Montana.  It's all in the news...just google, bing, tweet, yahoo or whatever you feel like "bighorn sheep pneumonia" and it's easy to see why they need as much help as possible and they need it NOW.  Just recently, the Gardiner/Cinnabar herd just north of Yellowstone Park lost 40% of its herd, with more deaths expected in the near future. It's happening all over the state and the sheep need help because what we have been doing obviously isn't working.

The sponsor of House Bill 403, Rep. Dave Hagstrom, R-Billings, said the reasoning behind the decision was that the GOP doesn't want Montana FWP "buying more land" although the bill actually states the money is for "acquisition, land leasing, easement purchases, or development agreements."  Essentially money that could be vital in helping distance disease carrying domestic sheep from our wild sheep is now gone unless our Senators strike this bill down.  The less chance of interaction between domestic and wild sheep, the less chance of huge die offs like they currently are going through.  And a great way to decrease these interactions is by...guess what?!? "Acquisition, land leasing, easement purchases, or development agreements"  of bighorn sheep habitat!  

Wildlife conservation should not be a political issue divided by party lines...it's all encompassing.  Both sides enjoy what Montana has to provide us and the health and livelihood of our public land and native animals should not fall on one side or another of the political divide.  I won't give up on Montana's bighorns and other wildlife in our state like our representatives just did and neither should you.  Contact your local state Senator's and demand them to vote against Montana House Bill 403.

_Comancho T

Thanks to LUDA Photography for the photos

"It's all about the kill"

Anti-hunters constantly state that hunters are "all about the kill."  In my short, few years of hunting, I can tell all of them, that although the kill is the end point of what were are searching for, it does not begin, nor stop with that.  In fact, the pack out, putting meat in the freezer, or the BBQ's months later are also something that I fondly think about.  Seeking the "thrill" of killing an animal is the furthest thing from my mind while I'm out hunting, and believe it or not, every time my friends and I take an animals life, it's not 100% high fives and chest bumping.  I feel anti-hunters can vindicate their feelings by labeling us as killers or blood thirsty, when in fact we mostly are nothing of the sort. I often feel regret and remorse for taking an animal's life when the hunt has finally come to its fruition.  It's a constant mental battle in my mind...was this life worth taking, should have I let it go, why did I do this? It always comes back to the thought that this animal lived the most free, independent life that any animal that becomes food for humans beings has ever lived. I don't have all the answers, and being that I grew up in a non-hunting family, I'm still learning and developing my own ethics as far as hunting, but I can tell anyone straight faced, that when I kill an animal, I do feel some remorse, regret, and sadness for the life that I just took, but also realize that if I am going to be a human carnivore and have to choose where I obtain my protein, there's no place I'd rather get it from than the back country wilderness that we have been blessed with. I took a lone calf elk this fall with my bow, and some friends were happy that I filled my tag, and even some hunting friends of mine gave me grief for killing an "innocent baby."  In the long run, I filled my freezer with an elk that more than likely could have fed a bear or mountain lion later in the year, but for me, it filled my freezer for the winter and I managed to do it with a bow at a distance less than 30 yards.  There's something to be said about how difficult fair chase bow hunting can be, and like it or not, reality is that meat has to come from somewhere, and if you eat meat, you have no right to tell me that its more ethical to get it from a market place than from the woods.  As far as actually killing an animal, is it "thrilling!" as so many anti-hunters will tell us it is? Well there's always excitement when successfully connecting on an animal, but it is way more than that.  It's about the planning of the hunt, the endless days you put in, the perfect setup, the ethical placement of the shot, the countless hours and days that went into the hunt, and eventually what it provides my friends and I when we finally succeed.  A successful hunt doesn't have to have a dead animal. Thats why we call it a Stalk and Spook a success...because if you were out there doing it and getting close enough to spook something it's always a success. It is definitely never "all about the kill." 

It’s So Hard…To Say Goodbye….To September…

September was again filled with bugling elk and starlit nights, mostly spent with my two good friends Kirk and Shawn.  These two hard working, hard hunting guys of high moral fiber and questionable hygiene, and I always meet up every year to see what September has in store for us.  We spend time chasing the elusive elk that Montana graciously provides us with every fall, while trying not to laugh or screw up too much along the way.  This year was no different than the last, mainly spent in our local honey hole that has few to far between elk and numerous other hunters, but we decided to give it hell again and see what lady luck would bring us.

It turns out lady luck, like she almost always is, was on the side of the elk again this year as we had numerous Stalk and Spook successes.  My greatest success to date actually was exploding the top of a fallen tree as I had a 6 by 6 bull at 30 yards.  Had my arrow been one cm higher, I would have had a very nice bull on the first day we went out, but instead, I have a broken arrow and a spooked off bull. Nothing better than learning some new Stalk and Spook techniques while out in the field.  Just because your shot looks good through your sights doesn't mean the arrow flight will be.  I believe it was Socrates, or maybe Aristotle (always get them confused) who once famously said “Elk hunting is a bitch, and then you die.”  The extreme high of calling in that bull to an absolute perfect spot for a shot on him was something that happens maybe once in a season if you’re lucky, and I had completely blown it.  It’s definitely something that will linger until next September even if I get a bull later this year with my rifle.  There’s something special about that perfect September setup…the perfect call, the big bull, the wind in your face, and he’s on a bee line to a broadside shot.  It’s something you dream about and to have it go south like that for a small oversight will constantly stick in your head until you can attempt to recreate that scene again, but finally put that arrow where it was intended. 

September didn’t pass without its blessings though.  Days spent with great friends, hearing the elk bugling, watching elk come in quickly to calls, and disappearing just as quickly with a shifting wind, and being able to fill my Elk B tag were all blessings I soon won’t forget.  You can’t complain about Montana grown organic elk in the freezer, and on top of that, I still have my general tag to keep on Spookin’.   Cheers to you September…I know you’ll be back, and when you do arrive, we’ll be somewhat ready for what you may have to offer.

"It's hard to describe the emotions that go through your body as a hunter. We experience the ultimate of low's immediately followed up by the ultimate of highs. We leave the trailhead each day never knowing what the story is going to be by the time the sun sets on the horizon and we anxiously await the next sunrise. It's a feeling that is so natural and deep within our bodies there is absolutely no way to ignore it. This is naturally what we were put on earth to do....Hunt, Respect, Conserve, Provide." - Jason Matzinger of Into High Country

_CTN

The First Hunt of the Year

Everyone is always pumped up about their first hunt of the year.  Having “Pump Up the Jam” on repeat in my head seems to occur often as I gear up to head out in search of antelope, elk, deer, or whatever else we may be chasing for the first hunt of the year.  But this year will be a little different as I won’t be actually be the hunter, and yet, I think I’m more excited than ever.  Being able to sit back, glass, spot, stalk, spook and help out my good friend Phil and his quest for a Montana mountain goat is something that not many people get to do. 

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Getting dirty (Sophia Photography)

Having someone you know draw a Montana Mountain Goat tag in itself is nearly impossible, and having that person being a good friend that asks you to come along is another rarity.  He drew a tag in south Central Montana in the highest mountain ranges that Montana can provide, and it’ll be nothing short of an extremely tough and grueling hunt.  After all, they are the largest high altitude mammals in their habitat. According to our maps, we’ll be constantly hunting and hiking between 9,000-11,000 feet elevation.  To make it even more difficult, Phil has decided that a bow will be his weapon of choice for the first week or so of the hunt, unless that once in a lifetime billy shows up, then all bets may be off and the boomstick may have to come out.

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Sophia Photography

Being prepared for this type of backcountry, DIY, self-guided public land hunt is vital, and I thank my friends who have shared ideas and equipment with me as we head off into this unknown land near the so-called “Roof of Montana.”  My friends Josh and Matt hunted this same area a few years earlier when Matt from onXmaps was lucky enough to draw and harvest an awesome mature billy.  Josh gave me some great tips on this hunt and I’m sure they’ll come in handy.  So much to get ready still…optics, tent, sleeping bag, water purifier, knives, lighter, mountain house meals, my onXmaps GPS, warm and cold weather clothing, rain gear, boots, socks, Dora the Explorer pillow pet, etc. etc. and all have to be carefully planned out and placed into my pack with weight in mind as we head up into the unknown…I can’t wait!  Only a few more days and we’re out of here.  Wish us luck, we’ll need it.  Time to Stalk and Spook us some Mountain Goats!  Here’s to the beginning of fall, the first hunt of the year and hoping for as few as possible Stalk and Spook successes and at least one epic Stalk and Spook Failure.  Yeehaaaw! 

Montana backcountry

Blizzard Bull - Behind the Bugle

                Shawn’s Blizzard Bull of 2013 will likely be in my top 5 hunts for a long time. This bull topped off a very long, tough day in the mountains and served as a good reminder that in the most unlikely of situations and conditions, great things can happen if you stay the course and keep hunting.

                The early morning segment of this hunt started off just as Shawn stated. A long, steep climb in the dark, a few bugles, a few answers, and few good set ups. The elk were fairly eager to respond, but none of the bulls were fired up enough to do anything about it. Finally late in the morning, one set up did draw a bull in.

Listening, calling, and waiting

                I was calling from midway across a small bench, Shawn was looking downhill from the edge of the bench. Ideally we would set the caller farther back than we did but this particular hillside had to be a close-together setup. I knew where Shawn was, but due to the nature of the slope, I couldn’t see him. I could only see which tree he was under. The brush was thick but things looked good for a close quarters encounter. The bull had continued to respond and move with us much later into the morning hours than I would have imagined. Finally he showed a little emotion and made a line for us. I remember, just before ducking over the rise, pointing downhill and giving Shawn the wide-eyed “he’s coming” signal. I kept with the cow call and a little brush raking and sat back to watch the show. I was shocked how quickly the bull covered the ground and in no time I could see antler tips moving remarkably close to where Shawn was set up. Fully expecting to hear a shot, I was on full alert: arrow nocked, release hooked up, ready. If a follow up or an opportunity came my way, I had a Slick Trick ready for action.

                Nothing happened. Soon it was apparent that the bull had simply ghosted back into the brush. I called a few more times and got a few more replies, but this bull had given us the slip. He’d gotten lucky as it turns out, because he was definitely in range. (See “Tree-licker”)

                Shawn’s close encounter gave way to rain. After a simple lunch it turned into snow. We were still getting into elk though, so we kept hunting. I could sense Shawn’s disappointment when he offered to sell me his bow and his pack, but I didn’t have my wallet with me. I think it would have been a bargain though. Especially if he would carry it off the mountain for me.

                We climbed higher in the snow and discovered some really good looking ground. Things were starting to get pretty damp by now and it was only about 2 o’clock. After coming this far, neither of us wanted to bail on the evening hunt so we figured we’d kill a few hours with a fire and warm up a little. As Shawn mentioned, this resulted in me getting a turn to drop into the canyon and stalk a bugling bull. The snow was really piling up by the time I got back. My pack, which I had placed safely at the base of a tree, was nearly buried when I returned for it. We hustled to the ridge top to make a plan.

                Evening was closing in and with so much cloud cover and a blizzard, we decided to hunt our way back down the face we had climbed that morning. We could hear a handful of bulls below us so it made sense to pursue them instead of the one that had just led me part way up the canyon again. We’d slide a few steps, fall a few times, stop and call and do it again. We actually made it down fairly quickly.

                As we neared the bottom, three bulls turned into many more. It was surreal. We scrambled along a fairly hidden trail and found a good place to set up on one particularly vocal bull. Again, the blizzard conditions and terrain dictated our set up and I was calling a little closer to Shawn and the decoy than I would have preferred. I knew if the bull came all the way in, he would expect to the “cow” by the time he got in range. The decoy, I think, saved this setup.  I took cover beneath a big fir tree and began calling. Shawn set up as close to the opening as he could. We had this bull coming on a rope and he finally appeared about 100 yards out. When he crossed the 60 yard line, a group of 8 or so Angus cut him off. He stopped and stood for a few minutes. I thought it was over. Then he continued on his march as I tried my best to be the cow elk of his dreams. I watched, with an arrow nocked, as Shawn came to full draw. A cow chirp stopped the bull and his attention was on me. That’s when I heard it: the quietest bow in the world. I thought Shawn had broken his bow sometime earlier when it barely made a sound at the shot. Turns out that slush is a good sound and vibration dampener. The bull wheeled took a few big hops as I stepped from behind the tree and came to full draw, I cow called frantically. I knew Shawn had missed, but I saw that the bull was stopped and allowing him to nock another arrow and draw again. With my 40 and 50 yard pins bracketing his vitals, I watched as a G5 Montec laced his lungs. I knew from the sound that he wasn’t going far and that Shawn’s Hoyt was just fine. I let down and watched Shawn’s fist rise and fall in the classic pump motion. His bull fell in sight.

                We were celebrating when we realized there were still bulls bugling all around us. I bugled, they bugled. I cow called, they bugled. I nocked an arrow and set up. Both Shawn and I called, and the bulls kept bugling.  

                Soon a group of cows appeared and walked the same trail the bull had come on minutes earlier. I was fully prepared to shoot a cow at this point and cringed when they turned at about 70 yards. Their path led them to my right and I was able to find a shooting lane through the tree I was crouched next to. I ranged the first of the group at 50 yards, and by the time the second large cow was stepping into the lane, I was at full draw. I stopped her with a cow call and settled my pin. I knew I was pushing my bow into the tree, so I took a moment to analyze things. It turned out that my top limb was up against a tree limb. I knew if I shot, it would get messy and the arrow would not leave my bow cleanly so I let down. This was no time to take a bad shot. We had a bull on the ground, and we were both already cold and wet. It was dark within 10 minutes and I returned my dripping arrow to its place in my quiver.

                As we walked to Shawn’s bull, we found a bloody arrow sticking from the wet snow. It would have made an awesome picture but we were already pushing it letting ourselves get this cold and wet with so much to still be done. We discussed just field dressing the bull and packing it out in the morning but agreed to come back with pack frames that night. In hindsight, a morning pack out would have been much better. At the time, the snow was falling so fast that I had no idea whether we’d be able to get there in the morning. Not to mention the obvious reasons I don’t like leaving any meat out overnight.

                We trudged back to our trucks in the falling snow and scrambled to get them brushed off and out of the hole we had parked them in when roads were dry and getting stuck was the least of my concerns. Shawn led the way and crawled up and out with little trouble. I got second-tracks and with the weight of a heavy topper and a week’s worth of hunting gear on board, barely got up the slushy two track. We drove down to where we thought would be in a direct line with the bull and readied our load hauling packs.

                We knew we had to cross the river, but I wouldn’t have guessed it was as deep as it turned out to be. Shawn plunged in and it got deep quick. I chose another spot and it was only about as deep as the tops of my boots. My feet, though not dry by now, didn’t take on any more water on the first trip.

                The other river bank was a challenge too. Thick, wet brush hung out over the river bed and a steep bank held the stems, branches, and more brush. We finally crawled through and got up on the flat. We made a line across the meadow and found the bull fairly quickly. The snow was coming down so hard that our headlamps mostly just illuminated the falling snow. It was really hard to see much more than the heavy wet flakes.

                We got down to business as soon as we got there. We chose to break the bull down via the gutless method and quickly had two loads ready to go. I took a hind quarter and Shawn took two front quarters and some boned out meat. We opted to carry this before we broke down the rest of the carcass as a quick hike sounded better than standing in the blizzard. I was soaked and holding legs and loading packs did nothing to warm me up. We shouldered our packs and headed for the trucks.

The hike out

                This time I got wet. After we crashed through the brush and down into the river, I simply followed Shawn. Knee deep water quickly found its way up my pant legs and over the tops of my boots. I know I said some bad words because Shawn apologized for getting us into our current situation. I wouldn't have had it any other way.

                We tossed the meat into the snow in the back of Shawn’s truck and went back for the rest. As Shawn cut meat, I pushed and pulled and pointed; directing Shawn on what little I know about “elk management.” More than once I had to hold my hands against the still-warm elk meat to warm them up enough to work straps and buckles. I again shouldered a hind quarter and Shawn took the rest of the boned out meat and dragged the head behind him. This river crossing was similar. the water that was trapped in my boots had warmed up some, so the third and fourth dunkings weren't as frustrating.

                With an elk in the truck, we headed for lower elevation. Ours were the only tracks on the road the entire drive down the mountain. Brush, limbs, and entire trees hung low in the road under the weight of unseasonable snow fall. It’s a wonder that no trees had broken off and blocked our path. That drive down, with the heater on full blast, is the coldest I have ever been, hands down. I could not control my shivering for the first few miles. By the time I had drained my first Cold Smoke, I was finally starting to warm up. When the snow slid from the cab of my truck and rendered my windshield wipers useless I had to get out and clean off my hood and windshield. The wetness and intense cold returned instantly and I actually wondered how close to early-stage hypothermia I might be. I warmed up faster this time and the snow finally turned to rain.

                I have never been so uncomfortable and had so much fun at the same time. Seeing Shawn stand up in the falling snow and pump his fist wildly was awesome. He’d made another opportunity for himself by choosing to keep hunting. The highs and lows were plentiful that day and we were both drained long before dark. I don’t know if we will ever be around that many bugling bulls in one day at the same time, but the September Blizzard Bull will always keep me on the mountain until dark.  - Kirk T. Norris

Blizzard Bull 2013 - Epic Stalk and Spook Failure

2013 Blizzard Bull

The morning started like any other, dark and me feeling like I could use 2 more hours of sleep. Kirk T. Norris and I hit the trail about 2 hours before light, hoping to make “pistachio ridge” by shooting light. The hike doesn’t seem like much when glancing at a GPS or google earth, but hiking up the steep ridge proved to be quite the challenge. It had rained the night before and the slick grass on the steep hill side put me on the ground several times on our trip up the mountain.

                After the tiring hike, we had made our way to the ridge slightly after shooting light.  We were in high spirits because we had made it and we had seen lots of sign, including a lone cow.  We sat on the ridge and formulated our strategy for the morning.  As we sat there making our plan, the elk rudely interrupted us with several bugles bellowing out of the box canyon behind us.  We spent the next couple of hours playing cat and mouse as both us and the elk made our way up the heavily timbered canyon.  We got several answers to our calls, but we couldn’t close the gap or turn the elk.  We relocated higher up on the canyon wall and kirk set up about 30 yards behind me.  Kirk proceeded to do what he does best, as he blew into his reeds and gave the illusion of several cows and small bull in the area.  After about 10 minutes of calling we listened to the silence, and then “crack”.   Elk? Squirrel?  Moose?  Me hallucinating again?  Kirk continued his sequence and I could tell that the noise was getting closer.  I had set up in front of an old dead lodge pole and some alders.  I had about a 30-40 yard shooting lane that was about 5 yards wide.  The hillside was thick with lodge pole and healthy growth of alder clouding the shooting lanes.  To my surprise the elk chose not to walk into my perfectly planned shooting lane.  Instead, it walked in about 6 yards from me.  It glanced at me, walked straight up to a lodge pole as if it knew where it was going.  Then without hesitating the bull licked the tree.  I still don’t know what to think about that.  I was frozen.  I had no chance to draw or move as the bull was mere yards from me.  Knowing better I tried to lift my bow and the bull snorted and trotted off.  Stalk and Spook success! I was amazed at how silent it could move through the timber as it blasted away from us. Kirk and I regrouped, he was in awe of what he had just witnessed.  He should have been proud, he had coaxed a bull to within yards of his partner.  I had mixed emotions.  I was so excited to be that close, but so disappointed in picking a set up that didn’t give me a chance to draw back and take a shot.  I was quite certain that was my chance for 2013, and I had blown it.  It was incredible, but I knew it would take me several months to appreciate it.  At the the time I couldn’t forgive myself for not taking more time to set up and pick a more opportunistic spot, (lesson learned).  

                After several hours and miles of exploring and chasing, Kirk and I found ourselves back on “pistachio ridge”.  By this point the weather had started to take its toll on us.  A drizzling rain had started in the morning and by afternoon it had turned to a very heavy wet snow.  The snow was now about six inches deep and accumulating by the minute.  It was approaching the last couple hours of light, and Kirk and I planned to hunt back down the face as the light fell.  First we decided we would warm up with a quick fire.  That plan never quite materialized for us, because we managed to bring in a bugling bull with all the noise we made by snapping twigs and branches.  The fire was out and the chase was back on, a chance to avenge my prior flop.

                The herd of elk decided to follow along with our plan and work their way off the ridge to valley floor and river below.  We followed behind, able to track the bulls by their constant bugling.  Getting off the mountain was treacherous.  My feet slipped out from under me several times and my Sitka pants were like a sled on the steep hill side. Kirk and I finally reached the valley floor in one piece.  The snow had started coming down so hard that we had to clean our sights every 5-10 minutes.  It was all worth it, because the elk seemed to be accumulating as fast as the snow.  The elk were dropping into to the valley from both sides of the canyon, and there were making no secret of it as they bugled their way into us.

                Our final set up was nothing more than the standard.  Kirk playing his symphony of calls about 30 yards behind me, and our Montana Decoy splitting the difference about 15 feet off to my left.  The call sequence produced quickly, just as earlier in the day.  The advantage I had this time is I was looking out into meadow with scattered pine trees and bull approaching from about 100 yards away.  As the bull passed the final tree about 60 yards out, the only thing between it and me was a 4 foot pine I had set up behind.  The bull rolled towards me with no concerns at a steady pace.  Before I knew it, I was at full draw.  The bull was 15 yards from me.  Story over, right?  Had this been a TV hunt or I had no conscience I would say yes, but…The truth.  Remember that snow that was accumulating?  I had done a great job of keeping my sight cleaned off.  This proved useless as my peep was filled with snow, and I didn’t realize it until I was anchored at full draw.  I released the arrow, and it was an obvious miss.  The elk jumped.  Kirk Called.  I knocked another arrow from my quiver, trying to be quick and efficient with my movement. The elk stopped.  I now had clear shot, as the previous shot knocked all the slush and snow from bow and more importantly my peep.  I held steady and released the second arrow into the blizzard.  There is no words to describe my emotion as I watched the arrow pass though the bull in double lung fashion.  In the next thirty seconds I was able to witness the same sequence I had seen one year ago to the day.  It was the exact same day I had shot my first elk and first bull.  The elk walked 30 yards, and it fell to the ground with its back legs giving out first.  Kirk had handed me an elk in an area that I had always dreamed of having a successful hunt.  It didn’t go as planned, but we adapted and we were successful...or as we call it a "Stalk and Spook Failure". 

Blizzard Bull with a little snow

                At the end of the hunt we found ourselves about a mile from our camp, and about 500 yards from the road with only the river separating us.  We dressed the elk into quarters and made 2 trips across the mountain river.  As we dressed the elk out branches were snapping in the background under the load of all the wet snow.  We picked up camp that night and headed back to home base full of excitement, happiness, and reeking of a rutting bull.  The hunt couldn’t have been complete without Comancho.   Just as we were finished packing the elk out, Comancho showed up to lend a hand as we hadn’t yet returned to our rendezvous point.  Perfectly timed arrival to not have to do a damn thing except celebrate…haha!

Elk in back of truck

Shawn on the Bridge of Fame

Shawn T. Norris

Wolf Hugging and Vaccine Deniers: How Emotions, Not Facts, Rule Anti-Wolf Hunting Rhetoric

I should be the first the mention that this article may be brushed off immediately by many of those with opposing views, firstly because I have no formal education in wildlife management outside of my 30+ years of being a native Montanan and an advocate for the outdoor life and culture that I consider unique to this part of the United States. On the other hand, in the area of health care I have obtained a doctorate degree in Pharmacy from the University of Montana and have been practicing as a Clinical Pharmacist since. With that, I’ve concluded that within these two distinct disciplines, I’ve found some similarities, specifically between the anti-vaccine movement perpetrators and supporters with those who are whole heartedly against wolf management. These two groups are undeniably connected in the manner in which they proceed to broadcast their opinions and lies.

The anti-vaccine movement was perpetrated initially by a false, fabricated, and altered scientific study by then Dr. Andrew Wakefield, which led to a widespread scare that vaccinating our children could increase their risks of developing autism.  This particular 1998 British study has been described as an “elaborate fraud” and has done long term damage to public health and led to Wakefield’s jailing and revocation of his medical license.  According to the Centers for Disease Control, 2013 had the second largest measles outbreak, a vaccine preventable disease, since being considered eliminated from the US in 2000.  These fabrications brought on drastic changes in how vaccinations were viewed by parents across the country and world.  Not only did the fraudulent study harm the lives of so many, it also allowed those with absolutely no background in the area of science or medicines to become spokesman or spokeswomen against vaccinations, i.e., see Jenny McCarthy.  A loud, emotional, public figure, with plenty of media exposure was able to spread these fabrications across the airwaves of the United States and we are now dealing with this issue on a daily basis 15 years after the initial study was published.  The anti-vaccination rhetoric often includes it being government conspiracy, a huge money maker for drug companies, containing faulty or flawed science, which interestingly are also used by animal rights organizations.  All in fact are fabricated from the minds of those who have little insight to the American health care system, immunology, medical sciences and wildlife management in general.  

First and foremost, many people responsible for the blocking of the initial wolf hunts and re-listing wolves as an endangered species are just as much wildlife biologists as Jenny McCarthy is an immunologist or medical professional.  Claiming an animal is on the brink of extinction in Montana when it’s able to simply walk a few miles north of Eureka, MT cross the Canadian border and instantly become one of thousands of wild Canadian wolves lacks discernment. They use scare tactics and processes that those in the anti-vaccine movement did years before.  Preaching for “wildlife conservation”, while they have little to no background in the matter except for having a deep love and appreciation for the animals that they cherish.  I can relate on how they feel a wolf is a beautiful animal that deserves to be protected, as I share the same feelings but where we differ is where we get our information and how we proceed from such.  Many of these “conservation” organizations are based out of big cities like New York City, Oakland, California, and Washington DC, while I prefer to obtain my opinions from wildlife biologists, Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, Montana FWP, and others close to the issues at hand here in Montana.  Montana FWP puts out statements like “Wolf hunting seasons and harvest quotas are established based on actual wolf population data and statistical models which simulate harvest” while Defenders of Wildlife issues statements like “These wolves face rabid anti-wolf politics, aggressive lethal control, unsustainable hunting, intolerance and other threats across the entire country.”

Common misconceptions that are actively spread about wolves are that: they only eat what they need to survive, they are herd “thinners”, i.e. taking out the least healthy individual which makes herds stronger, they will become non-existent again with continued hunting and trapping efforts, that hunting wolves has no real benefit other than to satisfy “blood thirsty” hunters who hate a little competition when hunting.  All of these have been continually disproven. Wolves are fully capable of taking down a full sized mature bull elk and do so often.  In a historical sense, not actively managing wolf populations is what led to their eradication in the first place.  Without proper management it’s not unforeseeable that it could happen again.  Hunting wolves gives them awareness that humans are meant to be feared, which gives those who don’t hunt the opportunity to enjoy the woods and outdoors that Montana has to offer without fear of attack…just ask any Russian historian how unmanaged wolf populations affected the lives of their predecessors.

The anti-wolf hunters (or wolf huggers as I call them) preach that Montana FWP wants these hunts simply to increase elk populations in order to have an abundance of hunters that spend thousands of dollars on hunting and tags throughout the state of Montana, while it was the hunters through tax dollars and the FWP that actually paid for and put through the reintroduction efforts of wolves into Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho.  Destroying the wolf population would be extremely counter intuitive to hunters’ priorities as millions of dollars already spent on management would have gone to waste.  Conservationists are masters of deception using words like cruel, inhumane, and violent instead of words like carrying capacity, ecological balance, and management objectives.  Without deception, these wildlife conservation groups would not be bringing in millions of dollars in donations every year. 

Lastly, there is a petition being spread throughout Montana to ban trapping on public land here.  While I am not a trapper, I still feel this is part of a continual attempt to restrict rights of hunters and trappers alike by these wildlife conservation groups.  With many failed lawsuits to keep the wolves on the Endangered Species List, these groups are now attempting to bypass those already tasked with managing Montana’s wildlife by using emotional, non-science based ideologies.  By eliminating trapping on public lands, they can begin to expand to other areas, targeting private land trapping, banning mountain lion hunts with hounds, which already has happened in a few states, banning bear and other predator hunts, etc.  A blanket ban on trapping fails to address that all types of trapping are not equal, just as all hunting is not appropriate. There are multiple types of traps, animals, seasons and reasons to trap.  This ban is an easy way to avoid discussion and rational thought on the issue.  Instead of addressing which issues of trapping these organizations have issues with, they simply try to ban everything.  By modifying or discussing current practices and laws in which they seem unfit, a more reasonable and humane way of trapping may be possible without completely banning trapping as a whole.  Discuss where traps should and shouldn’t be placed, what times of years trapping is appropriate, what types of traps should be used, what animals should and shouldn’t be trapped, etc. is a more political way to come up with a solution that may provide mutual agreement. Under the guise of animal cruelty (nature is inherently violent) they force their agenda upon the citizens of Montana with uneducated, non-science based, emotional ploys that I for one won’t be fooled by. 

Whether it’s Jenny McCarthy’s crocodile tears or the Defenders of Wildlife and other such groups’ protests, lawsuits, and propaganda I hope people can see through the falseness and nonsense that these groups claim to be realities.  I don’t want to be the one 15 years from now saying “I told you so” as these falsities have detrimental effects on our society and ecological balances.

Montana Buffalo

I've always thought of bison as amazing animals. Growing up on the Flathead Indian Reservation a few miles from the National Bison Range in Montana, our school would always organize field trips to go see these animals roaming as they once did hundreds of years ago. Teddy Roosevelt founded it in 1908 to give them a free ranging protected environment in an attempt to save a species on the brink of extinction. "As many as 30-60 million" of these animals once roamed the United States and Canada, and in the late 1800's the populations dwindled to a few hundred living naturally in the wild. I feel fortunate having grown up next to one of the wildlife refuges that had a vital part in saving this animal from extinction. So then, with all this conservation, why did I just shoot one?  That's another story all in its self.

In 2009 I was lucky enough to tag along with a friend who drew a coveted Montana Yellowstone bison bull tag.  Out of the thousands upon thousands of people who applied, he had drawn the tag, and had harvested one coming out of the park that winter. With bison numbers stable in Yellowstone, and at times an overabundance in the park, hunters can play a vital resource in keeping the numbers in balance for the future buffalo to roam. My friend Matt had taken an amazing bull and we spent the day in freezing below zero temperatures getting the buffalo out. Being on a hunt in which a wild, free ranging buffalo was taken is pretty rare.  There are very few places in North America that this can actually take place (Wyoming, Montana, Alaska?).  Matt's bull was the first one taken that year, and if I'm not wrong, the only one taken on that side of Yellowstone for the whole year.  Truly a very rare and great hunting opportunity.  This hunt sparked my interest in possibly harvesting a buffalo of my own some day and with that, I started applying every year to draw a tag outside Yellowstone Park with the hope that one day I'd be drawn and get to complete the hunt as my friend had done a couple years prior. The years went by, and I didn't draw...in fact its a nearly impossible endeavor looking at the drawing statistics and although I haven't given up hope, I looked at other ways of harvesting a buffalo.

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Ryan, Josh, Matt and me with Matt's Yellowstone Bull - 2009

My interests grew even more after reading Steven Rinella's book American Buffalo: In Search of a Lost Icon.  It gives a fascinating historical look at the bison, as well as chronicling his bison hunt in Alaska's wilderness.  It goes into great detail of the decline of the buffalo in North America, as well as a historical and evolutionary recap of how the bison, or American Buffalo became what they are today.

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Phil and "Stretch"

Well back to my buffalo...my fortunes changed when a good friend and fellow Stalk and Spooker Phil informed me he had just harvested a bull buffalo outside of Billings, Montana. There is a ranch about an hour out of Billings that runs of herd of buffalo and had a couple of rogue bulls that couldn't be herded back into the ranch land and Phil graciously "volunteered" to hunt one of the bulls down. This one, nicknamed Stretch, had actually gored one of the horses on the ranch and was becoming increasingly violent.  Although they normally don't let hunters use bows, with these bulls being outside the herd, the normal worries of a wounded buffalo causing a stampede were not present, a bow hunt was allowed. After telling me his experience, he also told me they had room for one more cow hunt. Being that I had not filled my freezer with an elk this year, my desire to actually harvest a buffalo, and a long Christmas weekend ahead of me, my fill the freezer quest of 2013 had one last chance.

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Comancho and his prized cow buffalo

As a hunter, I'll say my experience at Sacred Grounds International far exceeded my expectations. It was very spiritual and a lot of respect and honor is given towards these animals, and although surrounded by fences, these animals have plenty of acres to roam freely as they had many years ago. But also, as a hunter, I can't quite describe this as being a "hunt". I like to refer to it as a harvest because there really wasn't a lot of hunter skill involved in the taking of my buffalo, and my chances of success were upwards of 100%, which all hunters know, that high of a success rate isn't really a hunt. At first I was very tentative to actually participate in this as I didn't find it to be a fair proposition to the buffalo.  I feel a fair hunt is one that the animal has as a high likelihood to escape.  I instinctively desire the challenge, the stalk, the patience and the perfect shot before I can call it a successful hunt.  That wouldn't be the case with this particular situation, and after realizing that this wasn't going to fulfill my desire for a fair chase, wild game hunt, I did acknowledge it would in fact fill my freezer.  I could be respectful and honor this animal in a way that I felt was fit and coincided with my morals and ethics as a hunter, as well as fulfill one of my goals as a hunter in harvesting a buffalo. One way of doing this is being honest about what it was, and the difficulty involved. I don't want to misrepresent the harvest and call it a crazy, wild, intense buffalo hunt, but it was more in fact a harvest of a great animal.  I felt the importance of this hunt/harvest was more involved with the honoring ceremony prior to going out in the field, honoring the animal and blessing it for the nourishment it will provide for my family, friends and me, and making sure that there would be a clean kill with proper use of the animal. Tana at Sacred Grounds International has a ceremony prior to going out in the field that includes a smudging ceremony, where she blesses the hunters and their guns and reminds us that these are great animals and deserve to be honored and respected. I felt very fortunate to have been able to harvest this great cow buffalo and encourage anyone else interested in doing the same to check out Sacred Grounds International.

Tana and Buffy the Buffalo, one of the original 3 buffalo brought to the ranch.

Finished the weekend with our limit on ducks.  Hopefully duck and buffalo go good together...

Wingin’ It North Dakota Style!

Last weekend I took a weekend off of big game hunting here in Montana and went back to my old stomping grounds in North Dakota. Me and a couple buddies went back home and met up with Team ND Stalk n Spookers, Dean and Tyler. While at home we hung out with family, had a monstrous fish fry, frequented the local watering hole, known as the Buckhorn Saloon, and spent several days targeting waterfowl in one of the top waterfowl destinations in the central flyway.

For me, the trip back home was like taking a step back in time, back to my high school days when I used to live for waterfowl hunting, shooting hundreds of birds a year with my yellow lab Duke. As fate always has it, my favorite hunting partner, Duke, passed away when I was in college. When Duke passed, it was almost a turning point for me, when my passions changed from bird hunting to archery hunting, and I moved to the great state of Montana to chase the almighty wapiti. I have been in Montana for about 7 years now and have done very little bird hunting since I moved. Although I truly love it here in Montana there will always be a part of me that is connected to the old farm back in North Dakota and I will always have a sweet spot for letting the old 12 gauge bark and watching birds hit the ground…

During the trip we hunted ducks and geese over 4 days hunting a variety of hunting techniques. Several evenings we hunted ducks over water, decoying divers into a small spread of floaters watching ducks buzz our heads and then crash into the water. The birds on the lake that we duck hunted on provided a lot of opportunity for different species. We shot several different diver species including canvas backs, red heads, blue bills, spoon bills and even had a few mallards mixed in. The variety of birds available and experience to hunt on big open water was a blast. My friend Matt that came with from Montana brought his black lab, Axle, that was a true necessity for the trip. Without Axle, retrieving the birds in the deep water would have been a struggle.

One morning we hunted Canada geese in a winter wheat field that the birds had been feeding in for several days. We hid on the edge of the cattails with a moderate spread of 8 to 10 dozen full body Canada decoys in front of us in the winter wheat field. As the sun started to rise above the horizon line, sheets of honkers would come off the water and gracefully glide into our decoys from 500 yards out. After the first flock came in we looked down to 16 canada lessers laying on the ground. It was an amazing morning with the wind at our back, thousands of birds in the sky, and an unforgettable experience with friends that ended with 51 honkers in the back of the truck.

My favorite hunt of the trip was the morning hunting snow geese. It has been over 8 years since I have shot a snow goose, and it was a complete blast! We put out over 40 dozen snow goose decoys and we all layed in white suits in the middle of the spread as 20 mph winds ripped at our backs. The flocks of snow geese would come in and whirl wind above our spread before we would open up on them. Snow geese are a very tough bird to hunt successfully as they travel in such large flocks that they can be tough to decoy in. Fortunately, the morning we hunted the snows all the conditions were right and we ended the day with 34 birds on the ground!

The 12 hour drive back to Montana was a long grueling drive, but as we look back on the trip it was some of the best 4 days of waterfowl hunting I have had. We ended up with 108 total birds, 11 different species, and memories that will never be forgotten. Good friends, good food, good drinks and a sore shoulder are always a good time!

Josh L. Norris

September Failure / Blizzard Bull

Bow season is over and I’ve dawned my rifle numerous times looking for elk but it’s just not the same.  Not even close.  After the rut died down, I couldn’t stop thinking about my missed opportunities and my one misguided arrow that missed what would have been my first bull elk with my bow.  I blew an amazing opportunity and don’t think I’ll get over it until I start hearing the bugles of 2014, but then again, it’s still hunting season.  I keep thinking of this bow season as a failure, as I never got the bull that I had desperately wanted.  But looking back on the season now, was it really a failure?

Shawn's bull

 My good friend and fellow Stalk and Spooker Shawn T Norris got a bull on the exact same day as he did the year prior.  We didn’t realize it until later, but it made us laugh.  Must be his lucky day…he should have probably bought a Powerball ticket that day as well.  We couldn't have been happier for him.  We probably were  as excited as he was that a bull was finally down.  We could have cared less who got it.  

After that, we got into multiple bulls almost every night and became so familiar with them that we named a couple based on their bugles.  I was full draw multiple times on different bulls but never quite got it done. 

I passed on a cow that had a calf that walked at 20 yards past me without a worry in the world.  The cow and her calf were continually talking throughout their adventure through the forest something about that family relationship made me drop my bow.  Had she not had a calf, maybe my season story would be a little different, but had I shot her, I don’t think I could look back at the kill and be happy about it. 

Bow season?

Having some fresh elk in the freezer is nice, but thinking about the wandering calf calling for her mother for the next couple days just made me uneasy.  Some people would say shoot, some wouldn’t, but I just did what I felt was right.  I’m definitely not saying it would have been wrong to take that animal, as it was perfectly legal, but I think it’s the intimate part of bowhunting that allows us to make those choices.  Being that close to an animal allows you to look at the whole picture, the herd and family mentality, and allows you to make choices and restrictions with hunting in ways that rifle hunting may not.  I guess that’s what makes bowhunters a little different.  We choose to bowhunt not because it’s easy, or a more efficient way to fill the freezer, but we do it because of the challenge, the adventure, the memories, the bugles, and knowing that it is one of the most pure and honest ways to take down a game animal.  It’s truly a hunt.  The ethics that bowhunters (as well as many rifle hunters) have don’t lie directly in the black print of the FWP hunting regulations, but expand far beyond that.  Not only is bowhunting difficult and at times exhausting, our personal ethics and restrictions that we put on ourselves can make it that much harder.  Try to convince someone who’s never bowhunted before to come out with you and they may say yes right away, but first let them know that you have a slim to nothing chance of getting something, if you see something you’re lucky, and if you actually get close to an animal it’ll be one of your best hunting days of the year. I don’t know many people that would gladly sign up for that, but for some reason us bowhunters can’t get enough of it.  Maybe some bowhunters won't agree with that, but we're normal guys with jobs constantly hunting public land, so I shouldn’t speak for all bowhunters on this, as I don’t know every bowhunter out there, but I’m guessing a lot of them feel the same way I do, especially those I hunt with.  
But really...was this season a failure? 

For two weeks I got two hunt with 2 of the best guys I know.  Four days into the season I was full draw on a nice bull, basically 2 more steps and could have had a bull.  Kirk and I did get to see the BIGGEST SMILE we’ve ever seen on our close friend Shawn T Norris during one of the worst September snow storms we’ve ever been in!

The September Blizzard Bull

We saw and heard more elk and had more opportunities on bulls this past year than we ever had before, and we got to spend two weeks hiking and camping around the beautiful state of Montana during the fall.  You can’t really beat that.

I guess I can’t call it a failure.  It was definitely a season full of Stalk and Spook success. 

One of my favorite times after a Stalk and Spook Failure... 

Getting the job done

Unsuccessful Success - Elk Spooking Session

I'm sitting on my couch now having just hunted the last couple days and can't stop thinking about what happened yesterday.  Having to come home from the backwoods to go back to work was tougher than I expected.  Having a bull elk at 15 yards and not being able to take a shot was even worse.  I can't stop thinking about it.  As a fellow hunter/huntress, I'm sure you've all had those moments.  Reevaluating your every move, criticizing the ones you did make, wishing you had done something else a little different. The moment continues to replay in your mind but there's nothing you can do about it except go out and try again.  Successful hunts are great, but I really believe the ones that get away fuel that passion for bowhunting.

This was the closest I've ever been to a bull elk.  ProSpooker Shawn T Norris and I had it ripping bugles from the moment we got to our summit on Stalk and Spook Mountain.  Not by amazing skills but basically dumb luck.  The wind was perfect, the temperature was still cool, and the smell of elk was in the air, literally. As we were heading up the hill Shawn mentioned "Can you smell that!?  Smells like elk!"  I agreed.  Not long after reached our pinnacle in the early morning, we let out a simple cow call and instantly had a hot bull bugle back...and it was close.  The bull was coming in quick and we had hardly any time to react.  I sprinted across the open meadow and set up close to the corridor I thought the bull would head down.  Shawn kept calling and within 30 seconds I saw the white ivory tips of a bugling bull come into view.  The only problem was that it came below where I thought it might come from.  As it passed behind some trees, I snuck closer and drew back my bow.  The bull was about to emerge.  Being at full draw, the 30 or so seconds seemed like an eternity as I thought the shot through my head.  Focusing on my form, judging the distance, lining up the pins with my peep, and just waiting for the moment that this big bull stepped out from the trees and gave me a shot.  I even laughed in my head a little thinking the pins were a joke, as every single pin I have would be completely buried into the bulls vitals.  

But after waiting for that moment, it never happened.  The bull simply jumped back 20 yards back into the timber and slowly disappeared.  Maybe I flinched, maybe he winded me, maybe, maybe maybe...it goes on and on.  The cow calls didn't bring him back, and as soon as he was there, he was gone.  Meeting back up with Shawn, we couldn't help but laugh.  Having such an amazing animal that close was something not a lot of people get to experience, but also dealing with the what if's and should have's made the moment a little hard to swallow.  I guess we can't be Team Stalk and Spook without doing a little Stalkin' and Spookin'.  I have one more day of work and its back out to the life of a bowhunter in Montana.  Can't wait to blow another hunt if its anything like this one was.  I drew a really fancy diagram to explain the situation so that you could follow it better.  The bananas are Shawn and I for reference. 

Rethinking trail cams

I read an interesting article about a week before I put the camera out. in the past I had always put them at deer level so I could get body height pics....it just made sense. The article talked about the reactions that critters display when they encounter a camera, even one that isn't turned on. They tested it with inactive cameras being watched by hidden cameras and most critters spooked like crazy and hauled ass. Even when the camera was turned off...they see them on trees and know somethings wrong. We just don't realize it because these reactions happen after the picture we get has been triggered.

I always got alert pictures of deer before and in hindsight, I bet they took off shortly after the pic was taken. This time I hung the camera about 8 feet up and pointed down to the trail....out of their normal field of view and not one animal locked eyes with the camera . Even a few of the duplicate pics, when the does just stood there, they look like they are sensing "something" but they don't look up....pretty cool.

Hang em high!!

_Kirk T. Norris

Spoon and Sprocket Antelope Buck

A couple months ago, my buddy Kirk and I decided mid-September was too far away and we needed to try our luck with the Montana antelope 900 tag before the mayhem of September started.  We decided to set out to the mountains for a chance at some early season antelope this past weekend.  Neither of us have ever arrowed an antelope before, and with our number of Stalk and Spook antelope hunts mounting, we felt this short trip may give us the best chance possible.  Bow hunting antelope in August is something most people don't know you can do, let alone actually be successful at, but it's exactly what we headed out to do.  

Antelope are amazing animals.  They are the fastest land animal in North America, have supposedly eight times the vision humans have, and combine it with an extremely wide field of vision that gives us bow hunters little chance on sneaking up on them in a spot and stalk situation. It's actually been said that the only person ever known to run one down in full sprint was Chuck Norris.  Sitting in a blind all day in 90 degree weather can be really fun if you can't afford a sauna, but with this land and terrain, spot and stalk was our hunting style of choice.  

It's amazing how these antelope vary in areas that they live.  We spotted a herd at the top of a mountain range, guessing somewhere around 9,000 feet, and also spotted a few of them several thousand feet lower on the open meadows and river bottoms.  My good friend Shawn T Norris was bear hunting the snowline at around 7,000-9,000 feet elevation this past spring and ran into them up there, just acting like they belonged.  They are definitely Montana's version of an antelope...tough, rugged, and will make any situation a favorable one.  It's an extremely unique situation and I've never seen anything like it anywhere else I've seen antelope.  We were truly hunting Montana mountain antelope.   

Our first night, we met up at camp and made a campfire and discussed plans for the morning. The next morning started off with mountain closures due to forest fires, and we had to alter our plans dramatically due to the changing of conditions.  We headed back up the road and found a spot to gain some elevation to start our spotting.  It worked out.  We found a herd of about 20 speed goats up on the hill side and decided to put a stalk on.  There was one giant buck with a ton of does sitting in a field surround by hundreds of yards of open grass land.  After closing the distance to the final tree, there was no more cover and we just had to sit and watch these animals hang out and leave without us having a chance on them.  We packed up and headed back down the mountain, which actually turned in to a lucky turn of events.   

Heading back towards camp, my fellow Stalk and Spooker noted some interesting white spots on the side hill of the road.  We pulled over and glassed and it was exactly what we were looking for...antelope.  Not only 2 bucks, but 2 young bucks in an area where a stalking position would be possible.  We grabbed our bows and headed out on another stalk.

This stalk was perfect.  We had cover the whole way by trees on a river bottom and by walking up the river side, the constant noise of flowing water covered our noise from the dry grass and branches crunching under our boots.  The wind was minimal and the antelope were grazing some of the only green grass we'd seen.  As we crawled up the river bank to get a shot, I noticed the first buck heading down river right behind a tree.  I took this chance to set up and get ready to draw back and wait for him to pop back out so I could get a shot.  Kirk ranged my buck at 36 yards and I waited.  As I was waiting, Kirk whispered over to me, "I've got a shot on the second buck...Should I take it!?" Obviously, I told him of course and Kirk drew back and released...all I remember is the classic "thwack" and we had an antelope down.  It won't be breaking any record books and we joked it was more "Spoon and Sprocket" than Boone and Crocket, but its a trophy in our eyes.  A great end to a great weekend.

I'm still thinking about it...this was a buck completely unaware of our presence, chomping down on delicious grass, making his way towards water and still jumped the string of Kirk's bow without even seeing him release his arrow.  I  am amazed by their quickness and ability to try and avoid oncoming arrows.  We had a friend last week that missed a buck at 45 yards due a a string jump.  They are quick little critters and have evolved into a bow hunters nightmare.  With cooling temps, I'll be tempted to sit in a blind the rest of the year, but this hunt was awesome and a great warmup to the coming elk season.  Is it September yet?

Morning view from camp while drinking coffee.  Can't beat a beautiful Montana morning

Double Shovel, Double Trouble - Another Stalk and Spook Failure

Our favorite native Montanas are up to it again, unsuccessfully spoking this great Alaska Caribou Bull.  Dane T. Norris was lucky enough to draw a limited draw tag this year with and took an amazing full velvet, double shovel mature bull.  He said with all his spooking techniques he's learned over the years, he finally toned them down enough to get this bull on the ground.  Fighting through mosquitoes as thick as Churck Norris biceps (both of them combined) and having to pack this bull out over 7 miles, it didn't stop him and his faithful team of Mike and Steph from completing the job.  On asking him on how the 7+ mile pack back to the truck was he said "It was heavy."  Couldn't have said it better.  The weirdest thing they encountered mosquitoes still sucking on the antlers of the caribou after he had shot it.  Velvet must be tasty this time of year.  Awesome story and beautiful pictures.  I got to make it up there again soon.  Good look with the upcoming Spook season everybody!

Is it September yet? Take 2

‘September’ is derived from the word septem which means seven and was the seventh month of the Roman calendar.  It is now obviously the ninth month of twelve in our modern calendar and marks the beginnings of many occurrences.  September means different things to a lot of people around the world.  Mexico’s Independence Day, the start of Germany’s Oktoberfest, first day of spring in Australia, and even ‘National Talk like a Pirate Day’ all fall within the days of September…but for the people of Montana, September brings something different.  For some, it could be the first day of Autumn, the end of summer, the changing colors of leaves or the start of football season, but for my friends and I, September is something special. It's the beginning of archery season and the peak of the elk rut.  That 1-2 week window of the elk rut that you have been preparing for the last 11 months finally arrives and every day not in the field feels like an eternity, and each day in the field goes by faster than you can imagine.  In the United States, September is supposedly ‘National Preparedness Month’ but for a bow hunter, it’s something of the opposite.  The previous 11 months go bye with non-stop thinking, calculating, practicing, motivating, preparing, and dreaming.  It's what we talk about at work, with friends, and with a random stranger on a bar stool.  It's when we hang our trail cams, move our trail cams, and constantly check them to see if you by chance got a picture of something amazing.  If you aren’t prepared by September, you are too late. 

For me, September is using my 2 weeks of vacation to pack into the mountains, losing cell phone service and disconnecting from one world only to connect to another.  It’s waking up early and going to bed late. It's hiking miles upon miles only to turn back around disappointed, where a changing wind can ruin your dreams, a dumb move can look like the smartest thing you’ve ever done, or watching a friend fulfill a dream of a lifetime while you go back empty handed and it being one of the best memories you’ll ever have.  September isn’t just another month, a number or a small part of an ancient calendar, it’s something you can’t describe.  I can’t really say what it is, but if you’re like me, you’ll know when you find it. Is it September yet?

Is it September yet?

September used to just be another month that stood between me and the general hunting season. Now September is only the beginning. My life changed the first time I released an arrow and September quickly became something very special.

As the late summer months finally arrive, the grasses cure and the nights cool. Western bowhunters feel a different chill though. When August finally gives way and the calendar rolls on, September is greeted with anxious hearts and focused, determined bodies. Ready or not!

I always sleep much better in September. I lose sleep thinking about September the other 11 months, but I rest easy when its bow season. 

September is the reason I include “sets” of arrows into my morning workouts, the reason I run before work, shoot before work, and try to shoot an arrow or two as the sun goes down after long days.  

September is the reason I taught myself to tune bows, fix bows, string and restring bows, etc. This got me a job at the local shop and September is the reason my debts vastly outweigh the extra income.  

September is my motivation to finish all my summer chores and projects by the end of August. I know that if it came down to hunting or cutting firewood in September we may be a little cold come winter.  

September is the reason I don’t take any vacation days the rest of the year. And the reason I “bank my hours” of family time. My wife and kids know that I’m a better, happier, and more content father and husband if I have my time to hunt. Once the kids are old enough to tag along things will get really exciting! 

September is incentive for me to check and double check all of my gear. And have back-ups for my back-up. No excuses in September.

September is the reason my rifles are collecting dust. My sidearm is part of my everyday hunting gear, but my rifles are lonely. I bowhunt well into the rifle season and usually only pull out a long gun if a tag really needs filling or I am going in the company of other rifle hunters.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, September is the reason distant friends stay in touch. Selfless hunting partners with common goals learning together. Their success is mine and I would sooner offer to man the camera and make memories for a buddy then ask him to take “hero” pictures for me. I’d forsake my hunt (for a while) to help a friend blood trail, butcher, and pack out an animal. Especially if they’re so shaken with adrenalin and emotion that they can’t safely handle a knife!

In my opinion, September is also the best “character reference” imaginable. Life is hectic and everyone’s is different but September levels the field. When good friends endure the ups and downs of September together, they grow in ways that non-hunters cannot appreciate.

 Hunting is not a team sport by definition. And bowhunting is even less so. But when we work together and consider any success a shared one, good things can happen. And in September, they can happen in a hurry. You better have someone you know you can count on nearby to bat clean-up if the wheels come off on your end.

Bowhunting has become a lifestyle for me. Every year when September finally rolls around it’s a new beginning. 11 months of preparation all comes down to these few precious weeks. I believe that if I prepare all aspects of my life meticulously, September (or maybe October) will reward me with an opportunity. Then it’s up to me. If I weather the lows and capitalize on the highs and put myself out there every chance I get, I will earn an opportunity. When that moment arrives and the world stands still in perfect focus, the last 11 months will all be riding on the scary-sharp point of a 100 grain broadhead. When that broadhead silently spills lung blood the spirit of September is alive in me.

                                                                Is it September yet?

 -Kirk T. Norris