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ALEISHA’S FIRST ELK HUNT

A proud husband shares the story of the monster seven-point bull his wife harvested the first time she put in for a New Mexico draw tag.

STORY AND PHOTOS BY ROY DON BABITZKE

Ibegan my elk hunting career in an over-the-counter tag unit. In my opinion, the unit I generally went to was overhunted. If you saw a legal bull, you had to shoot it because the chances of seeing another animal were limited, and you hated to go home empty-handed after paying the inflated nonresident license fee.

When considering a new place to go, New Mexico looked to be a good option. After only harvesting two bulls (small five-points) in the last 15 years in the OTC unit and never drawing a tag in New Mexico for the last four years, I decided to hedge my bet and go with an outfitter. But which one to choose? ere are so many, and I have been burned in the past by outfitters, both in terms of quality of animal and lack of ethics for my type of hunting. I was looking for a guide who could match or exceed my passion for the

Aleisha Babitzke smiles over the seven-point bull she harvested on a guided hunt in New Mexico’s Unit 37.

outdoors. I had several references from Facebook (where else?). I made several phone calls, and I went with my gut to choose the guide my intuition told me to go with: Prime Tine Outdoors.

I asked my wife, Aleisha, if she was interested in putting in with me for this hunt. She is new to hunting, but I have been there to see her passion grow as she has taken her first dove, duck over decoys, and whitetail deer – all stories for another time. So, when we put in for this elk hunt, we did so separately to maximize our chances of drawing. After talking with our guide, we decided to put our first choice in a unit with limited tags (30, I believe), with most of them going to residents of the state. I just knew Aleisha was going to draw a tag on the first time, beginner’s luck and all. Sure enough, she was successful for her first choice in the unit with the best potential for great bulls. roughout the next few months, we trained by working out with weights and doing cardio in preparation for long walks with gear strapped on our backs. We also practiced with the muzzleloader just to make sure Aleisha was comfortable with the operation and ranges she would need to shoot on this hunt. e guide had suggested several Airbnbs, but Aleisha wanted to “have the full experience” of elk hunting from a tent camp.

Fast forward to the day before the hunt. We had the camp set up and we met our guide, omas Austin, for the first time. Right after the meeting, I was really sure I had picked the right guide. I knew we were in for a great hunt, though I wasn’t aware of how great it was going to be.

NOT JUST ANY DINKER

On the first morning (3 a.m. came fast) we headed to the first spot. Before we even got out of the truck, omas was giving us the play-byplay of how the morning was going to go, how the elk were going to move, where we would likely see them, and so forth. I can tell you from experience that hunting never goes as planned. You think you have the pattern down and that morning it is different for whatever reason. As fate would have it, as soon as we geared up on the first trail as daylight started to break, the elk started bugling just like our guide said they would. Obviously, he had put in the hours of scouting to see where they were.

We started to climb up to a vantage point and put ourselves in a good spot to get a shot if an animal

Aleisha’s hunt featured several o’dark hundred wakeups in a row, putting her, husband Roy Don Babitzke and guide Thomas Austin in elk country well before sunrise early this past October.

presented itself. omas was looking for a quality animal for Aleisha’s first elk; “not just any dinker” was the mentality. (I am completely sure any representative animal would have made her just as excited.) As we were getting into position, a shot rang out from the countryside. We checked the time as it was questionable whether it was legal shooting hours. Our guide wasn’t too pleased that someone would take a shot in the dark like that, no pun intended. But omas was confident that the animal we were hunting hadn’t spooked and that we could see what quality of game was grazing around when the sun came up.

Right at first light, we spotted three bulls and several cows. One of the bulls was a 310-incher, and I thought, Man, that is the largest bull I have ever seen! I figured we were going to call him in or start putting a stalk on. omas took a few pictures through his spotting scope and assured us he was a young bull and there was an older, bigger bull around. I thought he was crazy but a true outdoorsman for wanting to harvest a mature animal. I have the same sentiment when hunting whitetails back in Texas; I am pretty selective on the bucks I harvest, but I have several months to hunt one, not five days like in this situation. Nevertheless, we continued to hike in search of Aleisha’s bull. It was a midintensity hike the rest of the morning, but I was impressed at how well my wife kept up with the guide. I, on the other hand, had apparently skipped some of those cardio days.

We made our way back to camp and prepared for the evening hunt. Nothing really noteworthy happened other than omas said he could smell the elk. I have smelled them before, but I couldn’t in this situation. Sure enough, as soon as we rounded the corner, our heavy steps spooked them out. We didn’t notice any quality bulls in the group, though. And once again, a shot rang out outside of shooting hours, in my opinion. I was impressed at how much that upset our guide; omas was so passionate about the outdoors, so shooting after hours was like a mortal sin.

An early sighting of a 310-inch-class bull whetted the hunters’ appetite.

CHASING THE HERD BULL

ree a.m. came early again as we set out on a longer hike this time. It was a beautiful countryside, and there were fresh signs of elk everywhere. I am sure they were in the area, we just didn’t see them in the timber. Since they weren’t answering any calls, omas decided to head to another spot for the evening hunt; one that was higher and more open so we could glass for them.

On the evening hunt, as soon as we got to the top, we could hear bulls bugling below. ere were three bulls: a six-point, a five-point and a dinker four-point. ey were chasing a single “hot” cow. e five-point was clearly smaller than the six-point, but the five-point was asserting his dominance over the other bulls. e six-point looked like a shooter to me, but omas assured us he was just another “typical six-by-six dinker.” At this point I was thinking he had lost his mind, but I trusted him. We then heard an elk scream out from the canyon across from us. We made our way to that canyon, and there were seven bulls held up in there. I have never been in an area where more than one bull was bugling, but here stood seven of them. ere was a five-point back on the ridge closest to us screaming his head off, another six-point, a seven-point and a variety of spikes and other little dinkers – my words this time, not our guide’s. One of the spikes and a twopoint were sparring; nothing major, but still so cool to see.

My attention turned to this seven-point. He looked to be the tagpuncher type to me, but I could tell from the expression on our guide’s face that he was also a little dinker. It wasn’t a little bull, but it was one I could tell omas wanted to save for another year because it did appear to be a younger bull. e genetics in this area must be present for seven-pluspoint bulls. Generally, in the areas I hunt, a seven-point is a mature bull and possibly on the decline – but not here. omas was right. I could tell the horn mass and body size weren’t quite there for a mature bull. is had me thinking, What was this mature

bull that we were hunting going to look like?

Just about the time we were going to head over to check the next canyon, a bull bugled out from below us. e bull actually spotted our movement and started heading our way. We took cover under a small juniper tree and waited patiently as he stalked us. He ended up taking a trail about 15 yards north of us, completely unaware of our presence. He was a really coollooking six-by-seven, but still not the bull our guide was hunting for.

After assuring he was out of range so as not to spook the elk, we started our adventure back to the next canyon. About another 200 yards down the trail, another bull stepped out heading away from us this time. He was really screaming up a storm. I asked omas to hit a quick cow call just to see his reaction. As soon as the mew came out, he came walking rapidly towards us. Again, we took cover just to see what he was going to do. He came in to about the 15-yard range and spotted us; he couldn’t tell exactly what we were, but he was going to be cautious. He walked downwind of us at about the same range but soon caught our wind and bolted.

Around the time we were headed to that ever-unreachable canyon, another bull bugled out from below. is one was different, a deeper and more gravely sound. Our guide was convinced this was the herd bull. I had no clue at this point, but everything else he had said came true. As we headed down to put a stalk on this bull, Aleisha almost stepped on a huge tarantula that reared up at her foot. I wasn’t about to mention it, as I didn’t want her to scream and spook our chances at this bull. omas misstepped and dislodged a huge boulder that clanked, but the wind was in our favor. I stumbled over just as many loose rocks, drawing attention to ourselves, but the deeperbugling bull resumed calling back to us. About halfway down to the bottom of the canyon, light was fading and omas wasn’t comfortable continuing the pursuit, as we would end up having no shot and could spook the big guy to the next county.

Aleisha glasses for bulls. New to hunting, it was her first time ever putting in for a New Mexico tag and as beginner’s luck would have it, she was drawn.

As we made our way back to the truck we were interrupted by the sound of crashing shale under hoof. e five- and six-points that we saw at the first part of the hunt had chased the cows out of the valley and over the ridge we were scouting from. Our guide assured us we were not going to blow them out as it was almost dark at this point, and we continued back to camp.

It was a sleepless night wondering if the bulls would still be in those canyons in the morning. Would there be other hunters in the area that either followed our truck or heard the bugles? Would that “hot” cow take them to faraway places? Would that deep-voiced bull be the one or just a dinker with laryngitis? All were valid questions.

THE PALMATED SEVEN-POINT

Again, 3 a.m., oh how quick it came. In the truck ride, omas assured us they were still there, and we would for sure get to look at a possible shooter bull. As soon as we got to the top of the first ridge, we waited for more light to come. It was dead quiet; no bull sounds in the air. As we waited for what seemed like hours, the sun began to rise, and the bugles came like clockwork. We spotted the six-byseven, the seven-point and all the other assorted bulls, but no new players showed their heads. We headed over to the canyon we hadn’t reached the night before. At about the time we reached the summit, we heard that deep bugle ring out in the bottom.

As I glassed the ridges, I could see a really nice seven-point and a sixpoint, along with about half a dozen cows. I was convinced the sevenpoint was a shooter for sure. All in all, I had seen about 20 other bulls, and this one was by far the biggest. e guide was still looking down in the valley for the deep-voiced bull. I then spotted a really wide six-point in the bottom. Surely one of these bulls was the one we were looking for. Finally, omas spotted the palmated seven-point bull on the ridge. Bingo! We had a shooter bull in our midst! e guide also spotted the wide six-point with good fronts and great tops. Now this gave us two options but also a whole lot of eyes on us. ere were probably 12plus elk on that hillside and a few unknowns in the valley bottom. I was nervous on the descent, to say the least. We played the wind right the whole time and got within 500 yards of the palmated bull. e wide six-point was in and out of the trees chasing the other bulls around. I really wasn’t confident in the 500-yard shot. I know Aleisha could make the shot, but was it an ethical shot with a muzzleloader? Probably so with a modern inline one with a supermagnum charge as I had loaded, but we had never practiced at that range before; 300 was our limit. omas said he could get a 300-yard shot if that’s what we wanted. We backed out and tried for a new position. e palmated bull stepped out 300 yards perfectly broadside. We froze until he headed back into the trees. e guide was liking the wide sixpoint better from previous glassing. We took a few steps forward with the shooting sticks I had prepared earlier for Aleisha to rest on. e wide sixpoint stepped out probably 120 yards, looking right at us. We were busted. is whole thing was fixing to come unglued, but within a few minutes, he put his head down and continued his light grazing and running other bulls away from his cows. He continued to stay just below us on a slight ridge. e guide tried coaxing him out of the bottom with a few cow calls but ended up just drawing the smaller satellite bulls closer. at palmated seven-point bull just kept standing there broadside looking at the other elk and grazing.

We moved again into 220 yards

Preseason preparations for the Babitzkes involved weightlifting and cardio work, along with target practice with a muzzleloader out to 300 yards.

Aleisha with her bull. Her guide said he had “only seen one other elk taken with a muzzleloader that dropped the bull so effectively,” her husband wrote.

of the main herd; we kept glassing, and the wide six-point wasn’t giving us a clean shot. e whole valley was alive with elk screams. ey all were under 200 yards from us now. At any given time they could wind us or spot us. We were in the middle of them and this was going to happen with a happy ending or tragic one with us starting all over for a new place to hunt. omas went back and forth on which bull was better, but the palmated seven-point was the choice. e guide changed shooting stick orientation and lined up for the shot. As fate would have it, the bull took a step into cover. You have got to be kidding me, I thought. at dude stood there for 15 minutes as we plotted our shot on the other bull, and seconds before trigger time, he moved! My luck was rubbing off on Aleisha’s hunt. en, out of nowhere, the bull turned and faced the other way, giving us a perfect broadside shot – a textbook event. At the beginning of this trip, I had told Aleisha I had always fancied spotting a huge bull from afar, putting a stalk on and have him walking out of the trees to give me a perfect shot, and here that scenario was playing out like a TV show. I’d told omas at the beginning of this trip that my wife likes to hold on a big game animal for a while. Aleisha wants to make a perfect shot, and on this adventure she didn’t disappoint. She held her breath just right and got super steady for the perfect shot. And held and held – so much so that I couldn’t look any more. I looked down at the ground and prayed I would hear the shot and the thud to follow. For those of you who don’t know, when you hit an animal with a rifle, there is a certain thud it makes that is unmistakable for a body shot. e thud doesn’t mean it’s a good shot, but it does indicate a hit.

Finally, I heard the boom, but I didn’t hear the thud. Fear took over, but the sight I saw was the animal down. Aleisha had made a perfect hit, but I was not convinced of it. If there is one thing I have seen from big game hunting, it is that even though they look down, they aren’t out just quite yet. As we celebrated with omas, I readied the backup rifle on the sticks. We had Aleisha hold on target for a few more seconds just to make sure

he was down. We slowly made our way up to the bull and approached cautiously, and there he was, a cleanly killed bull.

We continued with the celebration and picture taking. Aleisha’s knees were still weak and in disbelief of what she had just accomplished. She later told me I always tell her to “let it fly” (meaning the bullet), and just before the shot, she could hear me telling her to “let it fly right ... now.” en she squeezed off a perfect shot. omas said he has only seen one other elk taken with a muzzleloader that dropped the bull so effectively.

SAVING THE DAY

One would think this is where the story ends, but wait, there’s more. After we finished field processing the animal and packing our backpacks for the long hike back uphill to the truck (a hike I was not looking toward to), omas decided to remove the lower leg portion of the front quarter for our packs just to loosen the load a bit. He slipped with the knife and cut his leg above the right knee. We both use replaceable-blade knives to process our animals, and his Outdoor Edge had a fresh new blade. e cut looked deep and a couple of inches wide. With a leg injury you really can’t take any chances when hunting far back in the sticks. Accidents can happen to anyone, even to those who take the most care, which we had.

Aleisha is a wound care nurse by trade, and she had brought the stuff to save the day. She had blood stop, and we made makeshift bandages out of the game bags we had for the processed meat. She got the bleeding to stop, and we decided to go downhill rather than back uphill to the truck. Our downhill path would take us across private land on the way to the nearest public road. It was still about 2 miles to that road, so we took our time. Along the way we alerted proper authorities as to our path and for them to alert landowners as well.

I was joking that we were going to see an even bigger bull on our way out, as that’s just my luck. I was really kidding because we were not at all disappointed at the quality of animal Aleisha had just harvested. Any other animal we would see would just be a bonus. As you guessed, there was a monster seven-point that jumped up about a mile into our pack out. It stopped and turned just to let us know there is something to try for next time. It was just such a perfect specimen of the elk species.

We had to stop a few times on the trail to reclot omas’s knee, but we eventually made it to the highway where we were met by a game warden and another guy the guide knew to give us a ride to the emergency room. Hopefully we made lifetime friends with omas and his family.

I believe that a Christian God is what brought all of this story together, and that everything worked out just perfectly for memories of a lifetime. You can believe in whatever deities you like, or that just random chaotic events set this tale in motion. is is where one adventure ends but the planning of many more begins. 