jerryt
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2009
- Messages
- 1,313
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- 13
Dad's happened a little different than mine. We had finished our morning hunt and it was about 11:00 am and we had just done a drive across a hill that has been a known bedding area over the years and were headed to the truck when we remembered that there was a dead 5x5 with the horns and skull still attached that we wanted to carry out that must had died last winter. We got to the skull and turned to look back when all the sudden we caught a bull crossing the canyon behind us. I yelled at dad to take him and he let the lead fly. He was on the run at about three hundred yards through the Junipers. He heard the bullet hit home and could see the bull appear to go down in my binoculars. We sat there for about 10 minutes and never saw any movement so we headed that way. When we got to about 30 yards away the bull cam to his feet and took off like a rocket. Dad went to shoot but saw nothing but the sun in his scope. We talk a look at his bed and there was blood in the bed. We were off to the races following his footprints through the junipers. We saw an occasional spot of blood and every once in a while a 5" long piece of coagulated blood. He was headed down the mountain which told us he was hurt pretty good but 2 miles later we found ourselves at the rivers edge with no more tracks to follow and blood where he entered the river. We decided he must have crossed and left the public land for the private property we had access too. We looked for an hour and found no sign of blood or prints and I even waded the river to an island I thought he could be on. Back to camp we went for a couple of beers and some food and back to the other side we went. My best guess was he went in the river and then walked up to a willow patch to hide. I bailed off the rim rock and went into the patch of willows. About five minutes into me playing dog the willows erupted with what sounded like an elephant and then I heard the splash in the river. I ran for the rivers edge yelling shoot when he gets to the other side. Well he didn't head for the other side we went right up the middle of the river. I heard dad's gun go off and the elk drop like a rock on the rock sand bar in the middle of the river. The good thing about the whole thing was it was going to be a quarting job up on the hill in the canyon he shot him the first time and now I could use my three thousand foot roll of mule tape in the truck and pull him out with the truck whole.
