It is September in northwestern New Mexico. A 15-year old boy crouches quietly in the rabbit brush surrounding a small pond, bow in hand, patiently waiting for one of the region’s few elk. Elk here are scattered, ghosting in and out of areas they like to inhabit, but fresh tracks around this water hole indicate their presence in the vicinity. As the last rays of the afternoon sun slant through the piñons and junipers to the west, the young hunter hears the clatter of rocks on a nearby ridge. Slowly shifting his gaze, he sees several cows and calves working their way toward the pond from their higher bedding ground. Soon, the elk are filling their bellies with cool water, while some splash playfully. The boy, sensing now is the time, slowly draws his bow and stands to get a clear shot. Most of the elk scatter at the human’s sudden appearance, but one remains, standing chest deep in the murky water. The hunter takes careful aim, releases his arrow, and watches its flight, seemingly in slow motion. The arrow passes cleanly through the elk’s chest, burying itself deeply in the soft soil beyond. The elk surges from the pond, running quickly from the scene. After a short blood trailing job with his dad and hunting mentor, the hunter kneels next to his first elk, his first big game animal. He is awed by its size, its beauty, its “naturalness.” Even at his young age, he understands death and appreciates that the animal provides sustenance for his family.
The short story above describes my first successful elk hunt. What follows is a more thorough account of my daughter’s first successful elk hunt, completed earlier this week. It started with learning that she had received a hard-to-draw antlerless elk tag in the Valles Caldera National Preserve, a 90,000-acre component of the National Park Service in which limited hunting for elk and turkey is allowed. This is traditional elk country, with large grasslands cut by cool mountain streams and surrounded by forested ridges. Efforts to restore this area to its original beauty have been successful, and the land seems mostly untouched by man’s hand.
Preparation for Sarah’s hunt started several months ago when she received a left-handed Savage .22 rifle for her birthday. She had outgrown her Rascal and needed something larger to continue her training.
Last Friday morning we departed home at 3:30 AM in order to make it to the required pre-hunt orientation, provided by two park rangers. Following that briefing, we finished setting up camp in preparation for our stay (we had up to four days before Sarah had to be back to school and gymnastics training).
We then spent the afternoon and evening touring around the park getting the feel for the place, showing Sarah around, and looking for elk. In 2019, my older two kids hunted cow elk here, so I am somewhat familiar with the place and knew a few places I wanted to start our search. We saw the sights, including a few elk, and made our plan for the morning.
The team, consisting of Sarah, her big brother Erik, and me, was up and ready to go early on opening morning. It’s about a 45-minute drive around to where we wanted to be, and by the time we got there the truck thermometer showed a balmy 14 degrees, awful cold for these desert-dwellers! We arrived in plenty of time, but there was already a truck at our chosen trailhead, and the young hunter there was headed right into the area we had planned for. Plan B it is! We got to our second location just a bit later than desired, and the elk were already moving across the flats toward bedding timber. We made a mad dash through the tall grass and across the creek, but we were not able to catch the herd before they made it to dark timber. With the wind now drifting our scent in their general direction, we opted to back out rather than blow them out of this area. It was a great first morning though, and this young hunter was thrilled to be out amongst them, even if we had overheated on the long hike and had to shed some clothes for the return.
The day was mostly uneventful, and by midafternoon we were on the prowl for a new place to explore. We drove back to our planned morning location and the small roadside parking area was vacant. Our truck soon filled the spot and we headed down the trail, an old closed road that led about two miles back into several open feeding areas and a small pond. We wandered slowly around those fields, glassing likely feeding areas on our way to the watering hole. We arrived there just as the sun was setting and tucked in behind a large boulder to add a layer of clothing as the temperature started to drop with the sun. Halfway through dressing, Erik peaked over the rock and saw elk at the pond! Now in a rush, Sarah and I quickly donned our orange vests and attempted a stalk through the glass to close the distance from ~400 yards to something more manageable for her. As you would expect of watering elk, they were on high alert and trotted off when the spotted us at slightly more than 300 yards. Over the hill they went, and around the hill we followed, staying out of sight. Once again they were faster than us, beating us to timber on the far side of an open grassy area. Legal shooting hours closed without a shot being fired.
Day two dawned clear and bright as we made our way back into that same area.
As the landscape lightened with the rising sun, we found no elk in the openings or near the pond. We did, however, see a large herd about a mile away on a previously burned slope, feeding in the still-green grass among the blown-down trees. Ever the optimist, Sarah agreed to pursue them, even though our odds of catching them before their bedtime were low. We didn’t quite make it, and rather than busting through their bedding areas, we hunkered down in a small sunny valley about 600 yards from the opening in which we had observed them feeding earlier. We held up there for most of the day, snacking and snoozing in the warm sun. By midafternoon, we were restless and ready to get back after them. The slow sneak up the hill began. An hour, a mile, and several hundred vertical feet later, while creeping through mixed trees and small grassy areas, we spotted the bedded herd just 150 yards away. Sarah and I dropped our packs and made the approach, snuggling in behind a wide tree and setting up for a shot. As we did this, a cow on the outer perimeter of the herd spotted our movement and alerted the rest, all of which began to rise and nervously drift away into thicker timber. Sarah was set up on the Trigger Sticks and ready for a shot. She selected her elk and got ready. The red gods frowned upon her though, and just as she squeezed, the cow quickly turned, timing her movement just to avoid the bullet that Sarah’s hand-eye coordination was too slow to stop the firing of. At the shot, the elk thundered off into the steep dark country nearby. Though we tried to follow, there’s just no way to outrun elk in their own terrain. Feeling a little defeated, we started working our way down towards the larger openings and last night’s pond, hoping to catch elk moving out to feed or water. Luck was not with us, and shooting light ended with no further animals spotted. We hiked back to the truck by the light of our headlamps, thus ending day two.
Ready for a change of pace, we started day three with some glassing to locate alternate animals to pursue. About an hour after daylight, we spotted a small herd with several cows about a mile away. Knowing that we could not catch them, we marked the map and planned for a return that evening. My son needed to spend some time on one of his college classes, so we had to drive back down to the main valley to get cell service. While he did his homework, Sarah and I shopped at the Valles Caldera gift shop, getting her a couple souvenirs. Since we were close, we headed back to the camper for lunch and a bit of rest. Unfortunately, Erik developed a bad headache (school work?) and chose to skip the evening hunt. Sarah and I returned to where we had seen elk that morning and planned a circuitous route to a good vantage point where the wind would be in our favor. We were set up with plenty of time to watch good feeding areas as the sun set on the distant hills.
As darkness approached, Sarah spotted movement in the trees. The binocular revealed a pair of nice bulls making their way down to feed. They emerged into the small grassy plain and fed around until dark, offering us plenty of opportunities to shoot, had they been legal! As shooting light faded, we could hear the cows coming down, talking and mewing amongst themselves. Knowing we hadn’t disturbed them, we back out quietly, being sure to keep the wind in our favor during our exit. It was a long walk back around to the truck in the dark, but we were excited for the following morning’s prospects.
Oops, too many characters and pictures; to be continued...
The short story above describes my first successful elk hunt. What follows is a more thorough account of my daughter’s first successful elk hunt, completed earlier this week. It started with learning that she had received a hard-to-draw antlerless elk tag in the Valles Caldera National Preserve, a 90,000-acre component of the National Park Service in which limited hunting for elk and turkey is allowed. This is traditional elk country, with large grasslands cut by cool mountain streams and surrounded by forested ridges. Efforts to restore this area to its original beauty have been successful, and the land seems mostly untouched by man’s hand.
Preparation for Sarah’s hunt started several months ago when she received a left-handed Savage .22 rifle for her birthday. She had outgrown her Rascal and needed something larger to continue her training.
Last Friday morning we departed home at 3:30 AM in order to make it to the required pre-hunt orientation, provided by two park rangers. Following that briefing, we finished setting up camp in preparation for our stay (we had up to four days before Sarah had to be back to school and gymnastics training).
We then spent the afternoon and evening touring around the park getting the feel for the place, showing Sarah around, and looking for elk. In 2019, my older two kids hunted cow elk here, so I am somewhat familiar with the place and knew a few places I wanted to start our search. We saw the sights, including a few elk, and made our plan for the morning.
The team, consisting of Sarah, her big brother Erik, and me, was up and ready to go early on opening morning. It’s about a 45-minute drive around to where we wanted to be, and by the time we got there the truck thermometer showed a balmy 14 degrees, awful cold for these desert-dwellers! We arrived in plenty of time, but there was already a truck at our chosen trailhead, and the young hunter there was headed right into the area we had planned for. Plan B it is! We got to our second location just a bit later than desired, and the elk were already moving across the flats toward bedding timber. We made a mad dash through the tall grass and across the creek, but we were not able to catch the herd before they made it to dark timber. With the wind now drifting our scent in their general direction, we opted to back out rather than blow them out of this area. It was a great first morning though, and this young hunter was thrilled to be out amongst them, even if we had overheated on the long hike and had to shed some clothes for the return.
The day was mostly uneventful, and by midafternoon we were on the prowl for a new place to explore. We drove back to our planned morning location and the small roadside parking area was vacant. Our truck soon filled the spot and we headed down the trail, an old closed road that led about two miles back into several open feeding areas and a small pond. We wandered slowly around those fields, glassing likely feeding areas on our way to the watering hole. We arrived there just as the sun was setting and tucked in behind a large boulder to add a layer of clothing as the temperature started to drop with the sun. Halfway through dressing, Erik peaked over the rock and saw elk at the pond! Now in a rush, Sarah and I quickly donned our orange vests and attempted a stalk through the glass to close the distance from ~400 yards to something more manageable for her. As you would expect of watering elk, they were on high alert and trotted off when the spotted us at slightly more than 300 yards. Over the hill they went, and around the hill we followed, staying out of sight. Once again they were faster than us, beating us to timber on the far side of an open grassy area. Legal shooting hours closed without a shot being fired.
Day two dawned clear and bright as we made our way back into that same area.
As the landscape lightened with the rising sun, we found no elk in the openings or near the pond. We did, however, see a large herd about a mile away on a previously burned slope, feeding in the still-green grass among the blown-down trees. Ever the optimist, Sarah agreed to pursue them, even though our odds of catching them before their bedtime were low. We didn’t quite make it, and rather than busting through their bedding areas, we hunkered down in a small sunny valley about 600 yards from the opening in which we had observed them feeding earlier. We held up there for most of the day, snacking and snoozing in the warm sun. By midafternoon, we were restless and ready to get back after them. The slow sneak up the hill began. An hour, a mile, and several hundred vertical feet later, while creeping through mixed trees and small grassy areas, we spotted the bedded herd just 150 yards away. Sarah and I dropped our packs and made the approach, snuggling in behind a wide tree and setting up for a shot. As we did this, a cow on the outer perimeter of the herd spotted our movement and alerted the rest, all of which began to rise and nervously drift away into thicker timber. Sarah was set up on the Trigger Sticks and ready for a shot. She selected her elk and got ready. The red gods frowned upon her though, and just as she squeezed, the cow quickly turned, timing her movement just to avoid the bullet that Sarah’s hand-eye coordination was too slow to stop the firing of. At the shot, the elk thundered off into the steep dark country nearby. Though we tried to follow, there’s just no way to outrun elk in their own terrain. Feeling a little defeated, we started working our way down towards the larger openings and last night’s pond, hoping to catch elk moving out to feed or water. Luck was not with us, and shooting light ended with no further animals spotted. We hiked back to the truck by the light of our headlamps, thus ending day two.
Ready for a change of pace, we started day three with some glassing to locate alternate animals to pursue. About an hour after daylight, we spotted a small herd with several cows about a mile away. Knowing that we could not catch them, we marked the map and planned for a return that evening. My son needed to spend some time on one of his college classes, so we had to drive back down to the main valley to get cell service. While he did his homework, Sarah and I shopped at the Valles Caldera gift shop, getting her a couple souvenirs. Since we were close, we headed back to the camper for lunch and a bit of rest. Unfortunately, Erik developed a bad headache (school work?) and chose to skip the evening hunt. Sarah and I returned to where we had seen elk that morning and planned a circuitous route to a good vantage point where the wind would be in our favor. We were set up with plenty of time to watch good feeding areas as the sun set on the distant hills.
As darkness approached, Sarah spotted movement in the trees. The binocular revealed a pair of nice bulls making their way down to feed. They emerged into the small grassy plain and fed around until dark, offering us plenty of opportunities to shoot, had they been legal! As shooting light faded, we could hear the cows coming down, talking and mewing amongst themselves. Knowing we hadn’t disturbed them, we back out quietly, being sure to keep the wind in our favor during our exit. It was a long walk back around to the truck in the dark, but we were excited for the following morning’s prospects.
Oops, too many characters and pictures; to be continued...
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