got back to camp in the dark, had a quick dinner and retired early.
My dreams raced with images of bugling elk and at some point I awoke. I lay there in the dark for no more than a few seconds before a bugle ripped the silence from a very close distance. Another bull answered from the other side of my tent, slightly further away. I could hear branches breaking and listened to a bull walk into camp. I listened to the bull mercilessly rub trees throughout my camp, all the while bugling and eliciting response. I looked at my clock, it was time to rise. I got dressed and started some water for oatmeal and coffee. The bulls were still going crazy. With water a few minutes from boiling I decided to see how close I could get to the raspiest of the buglers. A few minutes later and I was within 15 yards of a monster bull. He bugled repeatedly. It was just barely shooting light and I knew my water was boiling and I should be looking for deer. I jumped out from my aspen cover expecting to send the bull wheeling out of there. Instead, the bull wheeled around to face me head on, threw his head back and let out a bugle that shook the woods. I ran back to camp with a smile on my face. I grabbed my things and ran to the knob above camp. Bugles echoed everywhere and I saw 7 or 8 bulls in the first hour of light. Two bulls did battle on a nearby open hillside, making it difficult to focus on deer. I glassed several bucks that I had not seen the night before but headed back to camp feeling like I had seen the best that area had to offer. It was time to relocate.
I packed up camp and headed out with the intention of pursuing some country and ending up back at base camp. Instead, I ran into some country that just looked too good. I didn’ t have any dinner packed for that night, and only had a liter of water in a dry camp, but figured a night on the mountain without dinner was way safer than riding another in and out on the nasty trail I had gotten there on. I decided to hunt that evening and stay the night for a quick morning hunt. I worked through the heads of a couple nearby drainages that evening and spotted several bucks, the largest of which I jumped in the trees at close range. With only a second to size the buck up I held off on pulling the trigger. I wondered if I had let a shooter go. I convinced myself that I had made the right decision. As I worked my way back to camp the elk started to fire off and I listened to another pair of bulls clash as I walked the last few hundred yards back to my tent. The elk activity was going off everywhere. Bugles and crashing antlers helped to make up for having missed out on archery elk hunting earlier that season.
I wouldn’ t have any food left by morning so the plan was to wake up, glass, pack camp and get out. At some point I realized that over the last couple of days I had embraced the hunt for the experience that it was, rather than a means to an end. It was going to be a long season if I couldn’ t enjoy the special things that take place along the way. My wife had slipped a good luck card into my hunting pack that reminded me to follow my instincts, enjoy the ride, and good things will
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