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SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER May-June 2010 2010
HUNTING SEASON
Robbie Dockter’s hunting streak Alaska Blacktail hunting Archery Mule Deer & More
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REAL
Message From the Founders
HUNTING W
Chase Cooper
Mike Terzo
Jeff Llewellyn
e want to thank all the readers, advertisers, hunters, and field editors for making the last three years of Real Hunting Magazine such an unbelievable success. The response has been overwhelming and shocking to all of us involved. The support we have received from the hunting community has been humbling to say the least. We were impressed with how many “Real Hunters” are out there and have enjoyed sharing all of the unique “Real Hunting” stories with you. It was our goal from the beginning to make each and every issue our best one yet and we believe we have accomplished this. We have added sections to each issue which have created a following. These include Saving the Hunt, Accessing the Hunt, The Hunting Tribute, The Next Generation, and Widows Might. We are proud to say we have gathered readers from all over the country and are distributed to over 40 states. The slowdown of the economy and the contraction of advertising budgets have led us to an important decision. Effective with our September/October issue, we have decided to transition to an online magazine. This is based on the simple fact over 80% of our costs are related to printing and shipping. This move will allow us to focus our resources on continuing to put out a quality product. We feel this will allow us to provide the best publication possible to the largest numbers of readers. On behalf of our entire staff, thank you in advance for your patience and understanding with this transition. We want to reiterate that Real Hunting Magazine is your magazine, so if you have any real trophies, real stories, and real pictures you want to share with us, please submit them through our website at: WWW.REALHUNTINGMAG.COM or email us at editor@realhuntingmag.com. We appreciate the feedback from readers, advertisers, and industry experts and have implemented many of the suggestions to make improvements to our magazine. Hunt On, The Real Hunting Magazine Team™
Erik Peterson
SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
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RHM CONTRIBUTORS VOLUME 4 • ISSUE 4 SEPT/ OCT 2010 Founders Chase Cooper — Erik Peterson Mike Terzo — Jeff Llewellyn Editors
Remi Warren In the Field|| Remi Warren lives and breathes the outdoors. He works as a guide and outfitter during the fall while still finding time to hunt for himself. He has hunted in NV, MT, CA, ID, NM, AZ, SD & Alaska. Chasing everything from desert bighorns to mule deer. Hunting is his life. His columns come from countless days afield and are a great addition to RHM.
Ross Sevy Keep’n it Real || Living in Homedale, Idaho Ross has hunted everything from squirrels in the sage flats of southern Idaho to rutting elk and mule deer in Idaho’s rugged wilderness. His enthusiasm and dedication to hunting is unmatched which can be seen in his articles that combine his love for hunting and writing.
Shane Klippenes Backcountry Editor|| Shane is a career Firefighter/Paramedic from Great Falls, MT and member of IAFF Local #8. He will hunt anywhere, but has a particular love for the far flung places and spectacular views of the backcountry wilderness areas along the Rocky Mountain Front.
Toby Walrath Traditional Hunter || Toby has spent time as a wilderness field instructor, bow hunter, trapping instructor, and a student of the North American School of Outdoor Writing. He’s a good conversationalist with a penchant for gathering information from uncommon sources and writes regular features on wise hunters who’s stories may be lost without his interest and interviews.
Stacie Duce Remi Warren
Graphic Design
Remi Warren
Chase Cooper
Advertising Manager
Erik Peterson
Advertising Sales
Gered Allen Tyler Ferris
Sales and Marketing
Jeff Llewellyn
Backcountry Editor
Shane Klippenes
Field Editors
Jace Olson Toby Walrath Justin Harris Martin Pettit Tom Llewellyn Ross Sevy Tyler Ferris Branden VanDyken
Gear Editor
Subscriptions P.O. Box 309 • Corvallis, MT 59828 Customer Service (406) 241-2500 To Advertise P.O. Box 309 Corvallis, Montana 59828 (406) 241-2500 ads@realhuntingmag.com www.realhuntingmag.com Please allow 4 to 6 weeks for your first issue to arrive. Real Hunting Magazine is published bi-monthly for $25 per year by Real Hunting Enterprises, LLC of Missoula, Montana. Back issues, when available are $6. Copyright © 2009 Real Hunting Magazine. All Rights Reserved. “Hunt on” is a trademark of Real Hunting Enterprises, LLC. Postmaster: All change of addresses may be sent to Real Hunting Enterprises, LLC, P.O. Box 309, Corvallis, MT 59828.
Questions, comments or queries regarding pho-
Tyler Ferris Youth Editor|| Tyler is a young hunter currently pursuing a career in the hunting industry. Where he lacks in age he makes up in experience, graduating from “the school of the woods” he is a certified hunting nut and RHM’s Youth Editor.
Branden VanDyken Product Review Team|| Branden VanDyken from Belgrade, MT is the latest addition to the RHM Product Review team. Branden’s hunting success has been featured in the RHM and several other magazines to date and he’s most recently joined the pro staff for BetheDecoy.com.
tographic and/or written content in Real Hunting Magazine may be sent to editor@realhuntingmag. com
SUBSCRIBE NOW www.realhuntingmag.com This magazine is proudly made and printed in the USA
Letters to the Editor
HUNTING
REAL
magazine
HUNTING
REAL
Hello RHM,
I had a great idea for a magazine, but I found that “my” magazine already exists... and it’s RHM. So, I posted a few articles on a blog pse4mee. blogspot.com. I invite you and after a brief amount of research,
RHM, I appreciated the youth articles printed in your last issue. Thanks for inspiring kids to write and giving them incentives to be published and
recognized with your an-
nual contest.
An English teacher Montana
your readers to take a look at
some of my short story articles. I’m a Montana native from Trego (south of Eureka and north of Whitefish). We just moved to New Mexico, but hope to move home soon!
Howard Mee New Mexico Dear RHM, Thanks for your articles in every issue. I can’t believe the stories of disabled hunters and how he or she still finds a way to get out in the field and enjoy
Dear Editor, Sure liked the Father ’s Day issue with all the articles on dads passing on the hunting heritage
to kids.
Spending time in the outdoors
together is the best was to raise kids these days. It builds character, helps them be grateful and makes memories to last a
lifetime.
God’s creations. Their stories are real inspiring.
Our family loves your magazine ! The Smith family Idaho
Thanks, David D. Utah
RHM Staff, Thanks for the Father ’s day gear guide yet again. It saved me! I really like the hunt coupon. Keep up the good work.
Dear Editor, Pass on my thanks to Shane for sharing his “perspective.” I feel the same way about hunting now that I have a family. Doug Montana
Cody Young Yakima, WA
RHM would love to hear from you, our readers and real hunters. Give us your honest feedback. Send to editor@realhuntingmag.com or Letters to the Editor, PO Box 309, Corvallis, MT 59828. SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
7
LAND PROTECTION With 5,000 acres of great elk country lost to development every day, protecting what’s left is our greatest challenge. The Elk Foundation has permanently protected more than 800,000 acres of the most critical habitat in North America.
Join the Elk Foundation today and help shape the future of elk country.
8 •
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CONTENTS HUNTING
REAL
May - June 2010
FEATURED HUNTS
ON THE COVER
Montana Mule Deer Magic
by Branden VanDyken
by Frank Ireland
by Leon Morgan
by Matt Shorb
by Kyle VanDyken
Big Bull Down
12
Alaska Blacktail
10
14
Effective Archery Elk Hunting 20 by Sean Patterson Lessons of the Fall 22
26
The Perfect Storm
The Early Bird Gets the Worm 30 by Lance Stephens A Different Kind of Bear Hunt 32 by Steve Sukut Ten For Ten - Two Years in a Row 38 by Robbie Dockter
Robbie Dockter has two perfect seasons in a row- going ten for ten in Montana and almost all of his trophies were taken with a bow. Check it out on page 38.
“REAL HUNTING” COLUMNS RHM’s Next Generation Dear Grandma Robin Tips & Tricks
Nutrition- Can This Get You This- by Joe Dibble, RD Long Range Hunting - by George F. Costello
52 54 60
In the News Brucellosis
56
Saving the Hunt Archery for Kids
58
Backcountry Tips & Tricks Time to Bail – by Shane Klippenes
62
Gear Review Vortex Optics - by Ross Sevey
64
A Hunters Life by Toby Walrath Widow’s Might
– by Stacie Duce
Take Your Best Shot – by Remi Warren
68 70 72
Real Hunter: Branden VanDyken
C
oming out of 2008, I was sure there was no way I could follow with another year like it. I had taken my largest bull to date with my bow. I was not expecting the same kind of luck again. But, I was wrong. I found a bit of luck come July when the Montana draw result were released. I had been checking everyday on-line and had even checked the day they came out. I got a phone call on the way home from work from my brother, Kyle, telling me tags were out. What followed was about five minutes of him telling me I had drawn a mule deer tag, then telling me he was joking, then telling me I really did draw. And then again, that I had not. By that time, I was yelling at the phone alternating between threats I was going to kill him to begging him to convince me that I really had drawn the tag. I was so excited when I got home. After double-checking my results and getting permission from my lovely wife, I was out the door to look for deer. It was a short 30-minute drive to search for deer and Kyle came with me, of course. On the first night with light failing fast, we spotted a decent deer. We took pictures of him and looked at a couple of other deer in the area. The next few weeks consisted of talking to landowners and looking at new public land to hunt in the area. I was both excited and nervous about having the tag. I knew there was po-
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tential in the unit for good bucks, but knew a lot of tags went unfilled due to people holding out for a 200-inch pig. My goal was 170-inches but I wanted it to be with a bow. Opening weekend found Kyle and me on ATVs on a long ride to the area we had scouted. We were headed about seven miles in off the main road. We saw elk and deer the first morning and one good buck. No shots though. Kyle had to go to his stand that night, so I went out by myself and ran into a giant. I was still stalking an area where a bird hunter had seen a tall buck. I came around an island of trees and there he was – a huge forky. He had a box-shaped main frame, four-by-four tines with good brows. I knew right away I was shooting if I got a chance. But this was not the night. I watched as the deer worked away from me. I tried a couple of times to catch up, but never could. I backed out, planning my return in the morning. The next morning I was back with no sight of the big guy, but I found a couple more decent 170-inch deer. I returned to the truck for a mid-day nap but was back in the hunting area by 4:30 p.m. with a tree stand. I found a water hole on the previous night’s stalk and sat in a tree until 7 p.m. seeing only one deer and a coyote. I missed the coyote, not
a good sign. I got down and slowly made my way to where I had seen the buck the night before. I cut though the trees above the island this time and there he was at about 100 yards. I planned a stalk and 10 minutes later I was within range of the buck. I started looking around and all the sudden he stepped out. I drew quickly and released, but missed, right over him. I was sick, mad and screaming at myself inside. I was not able to go hunting again until the following weekend and only made it to the area of the big guy once. No sign of him anywhere. I decided to head to the area I had scouted the day I had drawn. I was going to be disappointed again. I saw the buck the first morning and put on a stalk. I was waiting at the top of a draw as he and the three other bucks made their way toward me. I ranged him and slowly drew. I waited for him to feed and shot – missed again. I went home this time and shot the bow. I was shooting six-feet high at 30 yards. I remember falling on the bow the first morning. I had bent a pin but just straightened them out and kept going. It was a bad move and a lesson learned. The next day went without a sighting of him but I found the bucks he was with. So, I had to wait one more day.
The next morning I sat in a blind on the edge of the hay field. As the light started to fall on the field, I could make out a few deer. Glassing the field I could see two bucks. They were starting to make there way towards me. They just had to feed though the gate and I would have a close 18-yard shot. The does were the first through the gate with their fawns. One of them walked within three yards of my blind. The bucks approached the gate and I came to full draw. He stopped right at the gate and I released the arrow. No miss this time. He took off and I bailed out of the blind in time to see him pile up 50 yards from me. I had to call for help getting him out, since he was a beast. His body was huge. He was still in velvet and went right at 165 inches – my best deer yet! To top it off, I had preseason pictures of him. It was another stellar year. Thanks again to my wife and son, I am gone a lot during the year. Thanks to Kyle and Matt for helping get him out. Of all things, I learned last season – Be persistent!
RHM
SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
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Real Hunter: Frank Ireland
I
watched as the bull appeared out of nowhere and quickly descended the ridge looking for the source of the cow calls. My mind raced as I replayed 20 years of elk hunting experiences, failures and memories in a matter of seconds. Will the bull come in closer? Will he catch my wind? Should I reposition myself? Should I stand and shoot? When is the right time to draw? The bull was closer now. I could see his dark horns and ivory tips. “Don’t look at the horns,” I told myself. He angled up the ridge and if he stayed true to the trail, would soon be broadside at 30 yards. At 50 yards, the bull went behind some trees. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I came to full draw. The bull hung up, moving up and away into thick cover, pausing briefly to rake his horns and take out his frustrations on the thick foliage. As it happens so many times, the opportunity was lost. It was early September in the mountains of Idaho. While on my way to elk camp, I received a call from my hunting partner saying he would not be in for the evening hunt, but would arrive the next morning.
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With that in mind, I knew just where I wanted to be in a few short hours. The weekend prior, we mountain biked down an old logging road, parked the bikes on the south side of a lush green meadow, walked 30 yards and ran smack dab into elk! We attempted a set up with some soft cow calls, but weren’t able to bring the elk in. A small grunt up the ridge confirmed that a bull was nearby. This was the first year I was introduced to mountain biking for elk and after many years of hunting for a nice bull without closing the deal, my options were open! I’ve read some of Cameron Hanes’ articles on mountain biking in, and I have to admit, that even with all the hours spent on the treadmill, stair climber and elliptical, I should have added the stationary bike to my routine as well! One benefit of mountain biking uphill, is that you know on the way out, it’ll be downhill! After arriving at elk camp and unloading my supplies, I managed to get in a bonus shooting session on forest grouse – a great benefit on most western elk hunts and an opportunity for some fine camp table fare. As the afternoon hours arrived, I strapped on my bow, donned my pack and mountain biked the two miles in to the meadow where we saw elk the
weekend prior. Around 5 p.m., I found a great place to sit on the backside of the meadow facing the timbered ridge. I sat for an hour enjoying the peacefulness, the fresh air and just listening to the mountain. As the sun began to cast shadows over my hiding spot, I decided it was time to make something happen. I started a soft cow calling sequence using a variety of cow calls, and it wasn’t long before I had a bull coming to investigate. Well, you already know what happened at the beginning of this story: bull elk – 1, hunter – 0. As the bull made his exit, he capped off the encounter with a crisp, clear bugle as he made his way up and away from my intended ambush. I’ve heard stories of hunters calling bulls back many times, even getting multiple shots at the same bull, so I continued cow calling. I was desperate to turn the bull back for a second look and a possible shot opportunity. Not this bull, not this time. Just as I was about to chalk one up to “another great experience,” I heard a bull grunt from near the same spot the previous bull had entered the scene. Across the top of the ridgeline, I notice an even bigger bull making his way off of the mountain! The bull came in strong, quickly making his way down the ridge look-
ing for the source of the excitement. He charged into the meadow looking for tan bodies. Thirty yards behind a knob, all I could see was horn. The bull looked into the meadow, didn’t see any cows, then turned and stopped at 40 yards quartering away, but his vitals were covered by brush. No shot. The bull sauntered away back into the thick timber and out of sight. Thinking the bull winded me and left, I continued with a few soft cow calls. It seemed like a handful of minutes passed, not knowing if the bull had made a full retreat or was listening silently, hidden by the thick brush. Next thing I knew, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. The bull appeared coming directly into my line of sight. He was walking a trail and quartered to me at 35 yards. I came to full draw as he turned broadside. Again, his vitals were covered by limbs and brush! He continued on up to my left,
turned, then walked across in front of me broadside. I had ranged a big quaking aspen at 32 yards prior, and as the bull walked behind a tree, I came to full draw again. As the bull stepped out a little more than half way, I settled my 30-yard pin and cut it loose. Direct hit, complete pass through! The bull ran 30 to 40 yards and with the sound of crashing timber, was down for the count! It was my first bull with a bow. I sat back, catching my breath and thanked God for the opportunity to harvest such an incredible animal and for the experience! I sat there on a timbered ridge, miles from the truck, on a solo hunt in griz country with 800 pounds of elk lying there as it got darker by the minute – I was wishing for some help! I managed to set up the digital camera for some self-timer shots, then ran to position and grabbed the
rack trying to maintain composure, over and over until I got at least a couple decent shots (A chore that had to make even a squirrel laugh!) I’ve skinned and quartered plenty of elk and mule deer, so I set forth on the task. By 9 p.m., it was dark and I worked by means of my headlamp. Now I was really praying for safety! As I was nearly out of energy, not sure if I could get it done, I finally got the quarters and the back straps hung in a tree to cool overnight and mountain biked down the mountain by the light of my headlamp. The next morning, a couple of my long-time hunting partners showed up to help pack the bull out. Perseverance finally paid off on a trophy six-by-seven public land, DIY, Idaho bull!
RHM
SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
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Real Hunter: Leon Morgan
T
he seas weren’t getting any worse; the ride was just getting more annoying. Orca Bay has a tendency to make a person question the size of their boat – or question their intentions for being in the middle of Prince William Sound on an easterly day. Winds from the east are nasty in this area, especially when one is bearing south. We were headed south. Three to five-foot confused seas with steep sides and small valleys bounced my 22-foot boat around like the lightweight aluminum hulled cruiser it is but with 200 horse power behind me, I was staying ahead of the seas.
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Rain gave my wipers a workout and I was getting a little seasick from staring at the bearing line on my chart-plotter. The low front ahead of us clung to the island barriers depriving me of any land references. I knew there was land somewhere in front of me. I just couldn’t see it. I looked questioningly over my left shoulder at Sully. He just gave me that blank stare; not wanting to be the one to “call the trip.” Sully was tired of spitting out his fillings and had already committed to memory the location of every immersion suit onboard. The pouring rain and gray ceiling didn’t look too compatible with the upcoming five-hour hike and his knees, already worn from 49 years of use, didn’t need much reason to shut down. Yet, I knew that he wouldn’t say a word. He couldn’t. He was with the two guys he had mentored to this point. Even though it was probably the smart thing to do, he would not be the one to hold us back. He knew the probability of his physical failure in search of alpine blacktail bucks was high, but he was going to try; probably in spite of us. Actually, it was in spite of us. Such is the irrational thought process of a retired cop. I knew better than to look behind me at Dan. He would drive in reverse through these seas in a smaller boat. He was probably asleep anyway. Not a lot of things shake that guy. Well, except politics and the Minnesota Vikings. So I increased throttle, dropped the trim on my starboard side, stared back down at my bearing line, swallowed hard and plowed ahead. “This sucks,” I thought. Twelve years ago, physical failure wouldn’t have entered Sully’s mind on a demanding hunt. He was in his late 30s and in good physical condition. Dan and I were fresh out of the Academy and Sully was still beating us (well, me) in our department’s twice-annual PT tests. He was hard on
us then. In fact, I am pretty sure I hated the man when he was my field-training officer. He expected a lot out of me, was short on praise and offered a lot of “advice.” He forced me to become a better police officer. In his mind, it was either succeed or leave. Nothing was going to be given to me. I had to earn my job, my standing in the department and my career. Twelve-hour shifts dragged on for three days with him in the right front seat of my training car. Often, I silently wished for a domestic violence or other ‘hot call’ to respond to because I was convinced an agitated and intoxicated abuser would be easier to deal with than Sully’s critiques. As the weeks of field training gave way to the years of becoming a “real” cop, Sully turned from tormentor to mentor. He was now there to hold me up – to help brace me from the personal, professional, and societal failures that dot any law enforcement career. He pushed quietly and was always looking to further my career. Sully provided me with the opportunity to succeed, knowing success was hard to come by in our line of work. He turned protective as well, often the first back-up officer to re-
spond to one of the many serious incidents I was involved in. At the time, I never fully appreciated his impact on me and my career. He gave himself to my professional development and took nothing in return. As I matured, those early “Sully lessons” became relevant and tangible. Today, I know Sully is largely responsible for my success – not that I would tell him that – it would just go to his head. I still will never forget the moment that Sully retired in 2000 and left Dan and me to fend for ourselves. It was a normal Monday night shift briefing. Sully made it through the brief and then, as the room emptied leaving the two of us alone, he looked up from his cup of coffee to say, “I’m done – I’ve had enough.” Those simple words led to his eventual retirement only a month later. Sully left Alaska that winter to return to upstate New York. Yet, friendships were maintained and future hunting trips were planned. When he returned in 2003, we could see Sully was slowing down. Knee surgery had diminished his already poor basketball skills. Running had become a life or death decision, not the 30-minute
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workout it once was. Forget hiking. Steep hills, wet grass, poor knees, and extra weight made the mere suggestion of hiking a cruel joke. With these obstacles, Sully turned to fishing – pike, rainbow, salmon and halibut became his passion. Yet he never let go of the hunt. For us, it was (and is) never about the size of the spread, the “points” on the head, or the breadth of a skull. No, Sully missed the intrinsic qualities of the hunt. He missed what Alaska gave to the fortunate few who hunted her land – time with friends, the personal challenges of going farther and higher and the quiet satisfaction of an unbridled view. Dan and I wanted to give him that experience again. In the middle of August with a couple of days off, Dan and I were talking about Sully and what we could do together. Ideas ranged from a twoday halibut trip, to silver fishing in the Port of Valdez, to grizzly hunting in the Chugach. “What about blacktails?” we thought. A couple of weeks prior, Dan and I had a successful alpine hunt and
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wanted to return. Alpine hunts for blacktails had become the vanguard of our hunting experiences and a treasured yearly experience. Nothing defined self-determination more than one of these hunts. We took our own boats, picked our own way and found our own success. While never bagging a Boone and Crockett buck, we had nonetheless never returned home empty handed. Not that it would have mattered. A bagged buck was just icing on the cake in these hunts. We wanted Sully to experience this. In all his time in Alaska, he had never been on this uniquely Alaskan experience. We just had to get him up the hill. So we told him about the plan. Of course he was in. What else could he say? He knew his limitations but he would try. About 40 minutes had passed since my last glance over my shoulder at Dan and Sully. Sully was quiet. That meant he was concerned. His facial expressions were eerily similar to the time I left a handgun on the hood of my cruiser while making a suspect do the “walk and turn test.” Dan was babbling on about something, prob-
ably politics. That meant he didn’t have the slightest care in the world. I was about to throw up from staring at my chart-plotter. No stopping. I wasn’t going to turn around now, just to have the windwhipped seas beat my starboard side as I headed north. Plus land was in sight. The alpine country was obscured by clouds, and it was pouring down rain, but I was getting off the boat. As I piloted the boat into the protected waters my spirits soared. Never mind the weather conditions outside. Sea ducks squawked as my boat silently slipped into position to drop anchor. As Dan and I stood on the rear deck, taking in the sights and smells, Sully sat in the cabin; slowly tying his shoelaces while looking out the window and wondering what he got himself into. I dropped Sully and Dan on the shore with gear. I motored out to a deep spot and secured my tanker-anchor to the bottom of Prince William Sound. “My boat isn’t going to sink this time,” I thought (that is another story). I did my best impression of someone who knows how to row a raft to shore and met up with Dan and Sully. It always amazes me how fast an inflatable raft will spin on axis when you are rowing. After some friendly advice on how to row from Dan, I thanked him with a brief wave of a finger, secured my pack and fell in line for the hike. The hike up was like it always is in this country – steep, long and difficult. We enjoyed all the topography this area had to offer with its dense rain forests, steep inclines, fields of devil’s club, cliffs, boggy meadows and large alpine valleys. The rain actually intensified during the hike, reminding us that all raingear – no matter its price or quality – has limitations. Every step immersed our boots into the sponge-like ground reminding us that all boots – no matter their price or quality – aren’t designed for
this kind of exposure. Glaciers met us at higher elevations, letting us know that it was time to make camp. We stashed our gear and set up ultra-light tents. Precious dry clothes were staged inside to ensure we had something dry to return to. We hiked up a ridge and immediately began seeking bucks. Dan and I became excited. Sully became apprehensive. The bucks were out but about a mile from our current location. Sully had already personally committed to not moving another inch and was shocked at our suggestions of moving on. There was a nice boggy pasture right below us. Surely a buck would appear over time. We hiked up and over two more ridges to reach the valley that held the bucks. The rain grew worse, to the point where a continuous wall of water fell to the ground. The effectiveness of our scopes and binoculars became limited as we trudged on soaked and cold. Several times I gave Dan a questioning look as to whether we were pushing Sully too far. It’s not that I didn’t believe in him, just that I was worried about him. Dan shared my concerns. We were far from help and a simple slip could turn an already bum knee into burger. But we both knew Sully wouldn’t stop; at least not as long as we kept pushing ahead. It wasn’t an ego contest. Sully wanted to experience the hunt but the trek became more than that – it became a test of mental fortitude. Dan and Sully split off as we crested the last hill. I moved to a ridge about 500 feet higher to (hopefully) intercept a couple of bucks that would inevitably run from Sully’s shots. Sully and Dan stalked within a couple hundred yards of a nice, wide forked horn with eye guards. He put the buck down with a 350-yard shot across a small ravine. Sully’s arm immediately pumped up and down as he saw the buck come to a complete stop in full view, but then his arm stopped pump-
ing when he realized the 175-pound buck was going to be carried down the mountain he had just climbed. As they walked to Sully’s deer, I peeked over my ridge to glass the top portion of the ravine. As I crested the ridge, two more bucks ran toward the opposite ridge lined with small shrub spruce. The first buck quickly looked back and then bounded into the safety of the brush. The second buck was not as quick and I was able to take him. My shot took the buck into the shrub trees and momentarily out of view. As I hiked to the opposite ridge, I saw Sully and Dan had reached their buck about 300 yards below me. I was more excited for Sully and his success than I was for my own. I found my buck in the shrub trees, not far from where he last stood. The antlers were wide and tall and were 3-by-2 with eye guards – the biggest buck I had ever taken. A certain trophy, if it mattered. After 30 minutes, the rain actually stopped. We took several photos of the trophies, boned them out, and then loaded our packs with the deer meat for the hike back to camp. We re-
turned to camp in the dark and had a wonderful night re-telling both stalks, arguing over missed shots and laughing about stories from hunts past. The next morning, Dan and I pushed Sully down the mountain harder than we did coming up, mainly due to our hundred-pound packs. By the time we reached the shore, Sully was broken physically, yet the smile was there. He succeeded ¬– not because he bagged a beautiful animal, but because he pushed on and road through rough seas, hiked in terrible weather, confronted treacherous terrain and assuaged his own nagging self-esteem. The buck was just icing on the cake. Orca was kind to us on the way home. As I glanced over my left shoulder, I saw Sully’s contentment and shared Dan’s satisfaction. After all, we learned about life from Sully and we finally were able to reciprocate a small lesson in return.
RHM
SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
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Real Hunter: Rob McClimans
W
ith the early morning sky full of stars, it was decided this would be the perfect day to visit one of my favorite turkey hunting spots in a quest for a “Gobbler for Brad.” In the scramble of getting ready and trying to get out of the house I almost forgot to grab Brad’s gun. I briefly waited to hear his familiar voice give me a little ribbing but instead I was met with silence. As I shook my head in disbelief, I could see Brad’s smile. The sound of his patented chuckle was all I needed to know that this was going to be a great day. As we arrived to the woods, it proved to be the perfect morning. With gobbling in every direction, I picked out what I thought to be the best gobble and headed to where we would have our best chance to work what sounded like a great bird. We set up in a small clearing atop a ravine, immediately placing a strutting tom decoy out in front. As I started working my favorite box call, I had the gobbler coming in on a string. Every call was met with a thunderous roar and as the bird approached nearer I could hear Brad say, “This is a good one Dad, keep doing whatever you’re doing.” With Brad’s gun now in the air, the old tom continued to close the distance, but I soon realized that he was heading directly into a briar patch 20 yards in front of me. I tried to throw some yelps from my trusty old mouth call to the right, but it was too late. He would not budge. As this clever old tom stayed behind the cover, all of my excitement soon turned to gloom. All I wanted
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was a chance for this tom to strut in front of Brad’s trusty old 12 gauge, but it was all for naught. I had to let the tom walk in hopes of hunting him another day. I apologized to Brad as I tried to figure out what I could have done different. As I picked up the decoy I thought I could hear Brad say, “Don’t give up Dad, give it one more try.” So I pulled my box call from within my vest and proceeded to make a series of calls. Before I could finish I was met with a barrage of gobbling. He was about 300 yards away and it was the same tom. As we slowly slipped into a ravine that provided lots of cover, we closed the distance without being seen. It was now clear that this tom was hotter than ever. We set up about 200 yards from the tom and I once again slipped the strutting decoy out in front. I thanked Brad for not letting me give up and even looked to the good Lord for a little help. Within a few minutes I could see the tom in full strut and closing. I switched to some soft purring which would prove to be just what it would take to get this weary old tom into range. With Brad’s gun again in place, the tom was now in range and all I needed was for him to strut into the gun’s line of sight. As if a gift from the heavens, a sudden breeze on what had been a calm morning, ever so gently moved my strutting decoy. As the old tom took notice, he slowly slipped right into the bead of Brad’s gun and I pulled the trigger thus dropping the big old tom where he stood.
My son, Brad, was 21 years old when he veered off a road on his way to work and tragically passed away only hours later. Hunting was our time together and he will always be by my side, every time I enter the woods. Brad was not only a hunter but a hero as well. Unknown to us at the time of his death, he was an organ donor and able to impact the lives of numerous people through his unselfishness. To this day his heart beats strongly within the soul of a young man whose only wish was to spend more time with his own son and to carry on his own family’s traditions and values. About a week prior to the 2010 Pennsylvania spring gobbler season, my wife Cindy approached me and asked for a favor. She wanted me to use Brad’s shotgun to harvest a gobbler and her demands were not simple. She not only wanted me to use his gun, but wanted me to shoot a tom worthy of displaying on our wall. Now I’ve been in the turkey woods long enough to know this would be no easy task. But with the guidance of Brad by my side, a little help from the Lord above, and the vision that only my wife could provide, we not only harvested what proved to be the greatest gobbler I will ever take, but one that will always be remembered as a Gobbler for Brad.
RHM
Real Hunter: Sean Patterson
M
y 4-year-old son, Treyton, was with me in Mark Stanley’s taxidermy office while making one of the last payments on my bighorn sheep mount. He pointed at the photos on the wall of big bulls Mark had taken. I thought to myself, most people see the trophy and the meat in the freezer. But what I was saw was the sacrifice: pushing yourself out of bed every morning no matter what the weather and leaving the trailhead or bushwhacking at 3 a.m. by headlamp in order to be successful. I’ve learned a lot about elk hunting since I started bow hunting 11 years ago. I’ve harvested 16 elk with my bow during that time. I love nothing more than hiking in the dark, sweat covering my face, pushing through grizzly-infested tangles and trying to break through to the alpine trails where you can cover a lot of ground to pick up bugles. I live in Montana but I have also hunted elk in Idaho where my hunting partner, Lucas Sterling and I usually hunt early in the season. Idaho’s season starts earlier than Montana’s which works out slick. We have had a lot of success brushing in ground blinds at good wallows. There’s nothing better than hiking in opening morning and catching a glimpse of the last Glo Tac that leads the way to your secret wallow. Right then the strong smell of elk hits your nose. You take a peek at the wal-
low and all you see is chocolate milk. It’s a waiting game but it’s a fun and effective way to hunt. We also call bulls in early season. By far, my favorite way is to bushwhack, run long ridgelines and access as many basins, pockets and benches as possible. When I do catch the bugle I treat it like it’s the last elk on the planet. I check the wind and make a run on it right away. My favorite scenario is hearing a couple bulls already fired up as I’m hiking in. If it’s still too dark to see your pins, you can sneak in a little closer or sit back and enjoy the show. When you have a herd bull with a couple bachelor bulls you can usually call them in with soft, drawn-out cow calls. I like to step on the herd bull’s toes by getting real aggressive with my bugling and raking. I’m a firm believer that being in shape makes the difference. When you make a run on a herd bull, the quicker you can cover ground and shorten the distance the more believable it will be to the elk that you’re just another bull. I have also found when a herd bull is pushing away from you but is still answering your calls, stick with it. Don’t give up. I have chased bulls with cows for hours before they decided to hit the brakes and make a stand. Usually when this happens, you’re going to be seeing horns coming at you through the brush! I like to throw out a couple different calls and see what the bulls
bite on. They will let you know what they want to hear. There’s nothing more frustrating than when a bull holds up 40 to 50 yards away. You can’t get a pin settled on his vitals due to thick brush and there’s no shooting windows as he’s pacing back and forth trying to see and wind you. I usually try calling behind me and raking brush in hopes this will entice him in that last couple of yards. When he has had enough and figures something isn’t quite right and turns to leave, I let him go until I can’t see his horn tips. Then I run up 30 yards or whatever distance I think I can get away with, then bugle right in his face. I have seen a couple times where the bull will turn and run right back to the imaginary line where he held up the last time. When he hits his “safe zone,” hopefully you will get a shot this time around. Elk can pinpoint you down to the yard when you bugle. When they answer, I like to make big advances to try and meet the bull on my terms so I can pick a spot with good shooting lanes and get in front of a bush or log to help break me up. I see too many people getting behind something. If your camo works and you don’t move, they will look right through you. While the bull is pushing toward you, look ahead of him for a place to draw. When you do get your shot at an elk, try for a broadside shot in the
pocket or a quarteringaway shot. I was hunting out of a blind in Idaho a couple years ago on opening day. At first light, we heard a bull’s hoofbeats running away down the mountain to get an early morning wallow in before he went to bed down. Right when he entered the clearing he hit the brakes, looked around, then came trotting in. He stopped to fling some mud with his horns and was slightly quartering away. This was my chance. I placed an arrow right behind the crease. We checked the videotape and the backslapping began. To make a long story short, nine hours later we found the 5-by-5 bull. His front leg was extended backward when I shot. Elk have such a long stride that the hole in his hide looked good but when we skinned him, it didn’t line up to where the arrow went through. I had hit him too far back. In this case, I got lucky and found him but now I always try to take the body posture into consideration. Elk hunting is all about pushing yourself and hunting smart if you want to be successful. The more time spent in the field, the more chance you have for it all to come together. If you’re like me, about a week after bow season you’re starting the count-
down toward next fall. I love the fall – the change in colors, the temperature and bugling bulls. It’s a no-lose situation. In my neck of the woods, we have grizzlies to contend with. At 3 a.m. when you’re hiking the alpine trails that wind in and out of huckleberry stands, you need to exercise caution. I usually slow up a bit and try to pick up eye-shine. I’m a firm believer in pepper spray. I’ve seen it in action once on a charging sow and it made her hit the brakes. I’ve also had a few bluff charges. I do carry my 44mag in my pack for some extra insurance. To summarize, an effective way to approach archery elk season is to: • Get in shape and do a lot of scouting. You can’t have too many
honey holes. • Shoot as much as you can – 3D’s are a good way to go. When looking for new areas with old and new rubs, stump shoot on the way in and out. • Getting comfortable with your calling ability is important. • Never give up. Always think today is the day. Cover a lot of country and be aggressive. • Always watch the wind and thermals. • Have a way to get the meat out. It doesn’t get any better than hunting the West’s DIY public lands. It’s the best medicine out there. Now, go getcha’ some!
RHM
Real Hunter: Matt Shorb
“P
ull back harder… hold steady,” I kept telling myself. Crouched on one knee and at full draw, my body was beginning to argue with my mind. My knee trembled and my release was growing increasingly heavy in my hand. Not 25 yards downhill from where I crouched behind a small bush, a good 6-by-7 bull elk had come to a stop two steps before entering my shooting lane – classic elk chicanery. The bull stood with his eyes fixed in my direction, as if peering through the leafy brush right at me. I had perfect wind advantage. Had I made a noise? Had he detected movement on my draw? Perhaps it was just another episode of the sixth sense these large bulls seem to have. Regardless, I knew the moment of truth was at hand. All the episodes and adventures of our hunt had boiled down to this one scenario. The previous day, we encountered a similar situation with a large
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six-point bull. The wind had not held steady for us that time and, at 45 yards through trees, the elk whirled and rejoined his herd, not to be seen again. The annual lessons of the fall had begun. I don’t care how long you’ve hunted elk, there are new chances to learn how to hunt these animals every fall. I had two good hunting partners with me on this weekend – my great friend a lifelong hunting partner, Jody Cyr, and another friend of ours, Jonathan Alsup, who was more familiar hunting this particular area than either Jody or me. The three of us made up a pretty determined and experienced trio when it came to archery hunting. We weren’t there to settle for a five-point bull and we weren’t going to balk at diving off into the canyons where the big bulls seemed to be holding. Despite hunting and hiking for 14 hours that first day, the encounter with that six-point at 45 yards turned out to be our only real chance at a ‘shooter’ bull. We had heard
enough elk talk to be optimistic for the following morning, despite some tired legs. The next morning we decided to hunt a different area, fully intending to go back in after that six-point the next day. Little did we know what the day held in store for us! We left our vehicle a little before daylight the next morning, intent on hunting an area of benches in a draw that looked promising. We walked for approximately 15 minutes when we approached a small draw that fed down into the main drainage. A few calls from our perch on top of the ridge produced a response deep below us. We decided to work our way around to the opposite side of the draw, gaining favorable wind and a better calling location.
The Call
When Jonathan cut loose with a bugle from the top of the next point, there was little hesitation from the bull patrolling the timber below us.
In addition, another response came from the main drainage at the end of the steep ridgeline that we were on. In fact, it sounded like there were multiple bulls responding in that area. While deciding what steps to take next, we heard brush breaking right below. The three of us, sky-lined on the ridge, just sat quietly. Less than 15 yards to the right, a small bull stepped out and walked right in front of us! It was an immature bull, four points on one side and a fork on the other, and he just casually walked and grazed not five yards in front of us. After walking past about 20 yards to our left, he must have winded us because he whipped his head around and then trotted off. The three of us just laughed and looked at each other as if to say, “Can you believe that?!” If nothing else, it was a good omen for our day of hunting! We decided to work on calling the bull in the timber that was below us. I eased my way down the hillside while Jody and Jonathan stayed above me and worked on the bull with their cow calls. They would call and the bull below me would respond with a bugle. Often when the bull bugled at us, there would be other bugles from further down in the timber. It was becoming more distinct now that there was in fact more than one bull in that creek bottom. One had a deep, bellowing sound to his bugle while the other was more of a whistling call. At this point, however, those were still some distance away. The bull below me was becoming increasingly agitated and (I hoped) curious with the calling of my two hunting buddies above me. A couple of cows exited the timber across the draw from me and side-hilled their way around and out of sight. I slipped a little lower on the hillside, positioning myself to have a good vantage point above an opening that bordered on the timber below. It took some coaxing, but pretty soon I could hear the bull moving
underneath me. It was evidence of a pattern we picked up on while hunting these elk – it often took very persistent calling to get them to move and sometimes to even respond. A few minutes later, I could see antlers over the top of some brush approximately 50 yards below me. It was a five-point. My adrenaline subsided and I relaxed, as this was not a shooter bull on this day. I just sat in my set-up spot and watched as this bull crossed at 15 yards, then circled around behind me. At one point I could hear the animal breathing behind me. I slowly moved my head to where I could see out of the corner of my eye. The bull was within five yards and looking up the hill. He side-hilled further and eventually left, but I never did hear him spook. That was another extremely close encounter for us in a short amount of time. “Wow, did you see that?” I whispered to my fellow hunters. “Yeah, that was crazy!” Jody said. “That bull doesn’t know how lucky he is this morning.” We decided it was time to find out what exactly was making all the noise down further in the draw. We climbed back up to the short
finger ridge and called. It didn’t take long and we had that increasingly familiar answer from deep in the low level timber. There were other bulls that answered too – one seemingly right above the one below us and another one from further down the drainage. One thing was certain, we had a quarry to pursue at the bottom of the steep ridge we were on and there was no sense in wasting time.
The Climb
This time I set out to get even more distance between my hunting partners, as the hillside was quite steep and open. As they began calling from above me, I climbed down nearly 150 yards below them, stopping on the south side of the finger near some small pine trees. At this spot it became so steep that I could nearly look right into the brushy bottom below me, an additional 150 yards. I could hear Jonathan above me bellowing out some inspired bugles and then, almost without exception, the answer from right below me. It went on this way for 20 minutes or more. We were learning that lesson about persistent calling yet again. At one point, three cows left the draw and ran across the facing hill-
side. They were followed by a decent five-point bull, noticeably larger than the one that had been so close to me earlier. At first I was afraid this was the one we’d been talking to, but one of Jonathan’s screaming bugles above me confirmed that the one we’d antagonized was still below in the timber. As if to confirm that fact, I watched the five-point across from me let out a whistling response as he
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disappeared around the hillside, following the cows that had left. Strangely, about five minutes later, while still in the throes of this bugling contest, the five-point came back. He had to cross several hundred yards over the hillside to return into the bottom of the draw. As it turned out, it actually seemed he was the catalyst for everything that ensued.
The Chase
It was at this point I could definitely tell the other bull was on the move – not up the steep hill toward me, but up the draw. I knew I had to move. He would come uphill
on the other side of the finger I was on, if in fact, he would come visit at all. I began making my way around the face toward the other side, a fair distance away. The bull seemed to be moving fast, so I knew I had move quickly as well. Earlier I had enjoyed listening to his majestic bugle, but now I used his bugle as a time to literally run to get where I needed to be. My cover for moving was his own noise. I knew there was no way he would notice me while he was screaming at the top of his lungs in the timber. He and Jonathan were having quite a bugling war. The bull would scream and Jonathan would cut him off with his own thundering call. It was aggressive elk calling as
its best, but the bull was charged up and coming hard. Nothing was going to slow him down. I came to a spot in some small alder brush 25 yards above a good cross trail and was close enough to the north side that I could see into the draw. If that bull came up the hill, I would see him from where I sat. It didn’t take long to figure out I was going to get that visual and it was going to be soon. The first thing I saw was the top of his antlers above the brush below me. He was on a cross trail at 25 yards. Then I could hear him breathing hard, just like the bull from earlier, only more ragged and intense. I’ve hunted elk enough to recognize a “whale’s tail” on a six-point when I see one, so I knew it was a shooter bull. Kneeling on one knee, I waited as he approached a clear shooting lane below me. This was the kind of bull I was after. He walked a few more steps along the trail toward the opening, two steps away. I pulled back to full draw.
Moment of Truth
That is how I found myself in the moment of truth. I was in a staredown with this beautiful six-point bull. While I had to maintain my full draw, it at least allowed me to confirm that this was indeed a good bull. At 25 yards you can get a pretty good look at an animal! I thought I could even see a seventh point on his left side. It wasn’t going to matter what points he had if something didn’t happen soon though, because as the time slipped by, I could feel my arm beginning to tremble under the weight of my draw. I wouldn’t be able to hold back forever, no matter how much my brain would implore. What happened next went so fast, it seemed like a blur even after the fact. Down in the bottom of the
draw one of the other bulls bugled. The bull in front of me whipped his head around and looked down that direction. Seconds later Jody cow called 150 yards up the hill from me, causing the bull to turn my way again. The difference was that this time he was looking over me up the hill, not at me. He trotted sidehill about 10 steps, stopped and turned uphill. I stood, still at full draw, to shoot over bush. The bull turned his head and looked at me just as I released the arrow. The arrow struck him behind the shoulder – a good hit – and I could see five or six inches of my arrow sticking out of his side as he wheeled and ran straight down the hill. He disappeared into the brushy draw below me, running about 50 yards, and then I heard what sounded like a car crash. I knew what I would find in the bottom of that draw. A short time later I wasn’t disappointed. This bull, like others that we encountered on our hunt, was not easy to call in. It took a significant amount of coaxing and calling, reading the mood of the animal, and then being in the right place at the right time to make the shot. The lesson we learned on this hunt was this: If you are confident there are elk within earshot, don’t quit calling just because you don’t get a response right away. While things were hot and heavy when the kill was made, it took a long time to get to that point. This was an incredible hunt with great results. The experience shared with some fellow hardcore hunting friends made it that much more enjoyable. Not every fall brings similar hunts – it was a thrilling couple days of active elk calling – but hunts like this sure make me look forward to the possibilities every fall.
RHM
Real Hunter: Kyle VanDyken
A
fter many sleepless nights and early mornings last season, I finally let an arrow fly at an elusive yellow cat. Every morning started the same, as I forced myself to fall out of bed and into my hunting clothes without waking the rest of the family. I’d start the truck and check for snowfall, then get the coffee going and into the thermos. Before I left, I’d call the quota hotline to make sure they had not been filled in the last 24 hours. After managing the usual tasks, I’d jump in the truck anywhere between midnight and 4 a.m., hit the gas station for an energy drink and be on my way. The plan was always to check as many trail heads as I could before 6 a.m.
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I walked trailheads, checked roads in the truck or unloaded the fourwheeler to cruise for tracks. Most mornings, check-in time with friends was around 6 a.m. I’d hook up with my buddy Ryan to see if he had cut tracks, or tell him if I had come up with anything that looked runable. Together, we’d determine the strategy for the rest of the morning. The beginning of the season started out well with plenty of snowfall to cut fresh tracks. December 18, our first morning out, was not a successful start to my quest for a cat. Around the third time out, I came up with what looked to be a runable track. I checked in with Ryan to let him know I had a track, but was unsure
how good it was after being slightly melted out. He told me it was worth checking out and he was on his way with the dogs. At his arrival, we made the hike back up the mountain to inspect the track. It seemed good enough to run, but Ryan felt we needed to cut a fresher track in the next canyon. I was stoked; this cat hunting thing was not that tough at all. But my confidence faded quickly on the next canyon when we came up empty-handed. Due to the lack of fresh snow, it became harder and harder to gage the freshness of a track and I started to let emotion take charge at the first sign of a lion. One morning, I cut a small lion
track at the top of a ridge, then what I thought to be a bobcat track lower on the same ridge. In a hurry to get a hold of Ryan to come and check out the small lion track, I failed to strap my four-wheeler into the back of my truck properly. I then failed to remember a big bump on the backside of a cattle guard resulting in my wheeler flying into my back window. “No big deal,” I told myself. “I have a cat track and it will all be worth it when we have it in the tree.” Well, the supposed bobcat track ended up getting wiped away by a snowmobiler, so when Ryan checked the lower road to make sure we were letting his dogs go on the fresh end of the track, he found nothing. Seeing no track, he let his dogs go on the first track I had cut. The dogs opened up on the track and all went well until they hit the lower road. They couldn’t pick up the scent because it looked as if the cat must have stayed to the road for a while, and any track that would have been there was now gone due to snowmobile tracks. As it turned out, the bobcat track I had cut early that morning was in fact the same small lion I had cut on the upper road. It took some time for Ryan to sort this out and as a result, no cat was treed that day. It was starting to look like getting a cat would be harder than it first seemed. The season began to pick up when I saw my first cat in the tree. We put the dogs on the track and waited to see what direction they would go. They took off straight up the ridge, only to get just out of hearing distance before looping back down the ridge. The race took them right back past us before ending 200-plus yards away. The cat was a female, but it was still a great day and an awesome experience nonetheless. The dogs did great, resulting in a short run and an unforgettable hunt. Not long after treeing the female,
we had another great morning when Ryan found what looked to be a tom track. We waited for legal light and then put the dogs on the track. They ran the cat until he lost them on a cliff. After catching up to the dogs we helped them around the cliff and the chase was on again. Not long after, the dogs put the cat up the tree. We were able to get some pictures of him before he decided it was time to jump. Less than 200 yards later the dogs put him in a tree for the last time as one of Ryan’s buddies filled his tag on a nice looking tom. Once again, the winter weather was not helping out my goal of killing a lion. After cutting six different sets of tracks, none were runable after spending 30-plus days in the field. But my luck was about to change. Around 10:30 p.m. the night before, it started snowing. I stayed up waiting to see what the storm would do. At around 1:30 a.m. it seemed as if it was going to quit snowing, but it didn’t leave many hours for a track to be put down. I was hopeful nonetheless. Leaving the house around 2 a.m., I checked four trailheads that morning. I gave Ryan a call to let him know I was up and on my way. Living closer to our hunting area, I let him know
a little snow was still coming down which was not good news. Ryan, being the good guy that he is, knew our odds were not that great with the weather but still got up and checked the opposite end on the unit. Around 4 a.m. while I was trying to decide what to check next or if I should just head home, Ryan called. He had a track and it looked to be a tom. We grabbed coffee in town and waited for light. Once the sun came up, it was time to get the dogs out of the box and onto the trail. We hiked the trail a ways past the track Ryan had previously cut. We needed to make sure we put the dogs on the out track on the fresh end. Once we had the track figured out, it was time to start the race. Ryan’s hounds, Cedar and Daisy, were let loose to do what they do best. They took the track well even though the trail had been covered by a skiff of snow. It seemed from the sound of the dogs that this just might be the day I finally punched my tag. We followed the race up and down three different ridges before hearing the dogs pulling tree. What a great sound that was to hear! Upon arrival
at the tree, we laid eyes on what would be my first cat. After confirming the sex of the lion, it was time to let an arrow fly. After taking a few quick pictures I set up to take the shot. My arrow found its mark knocking the cat from the tree. He made it 80-plus yards down the hill before going down for good. The not-so-good weather ended up being the perfect storm. I finally punched my lion tag 87 days after my first morning on a great tom. I owe much thanks to Ryan and his skilled dogs because without them I could not have taken such an awesome animal. The head ended up unofficially scoring 14 and five-eighths and we guessed his weight to be between 145 to 150 pounds. In the end, none of that mattered much as I could not have asked for a better season. I also give much thanks to my awesome wife who understandably is frustrated at times with my obsession of hunting, but keeps supporting and putting up with me.
RHM
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Real Hunter: Lance Stephens
F
or bow hunters, the beginning of the season is a time we anticipate with great enthusiasm. All have their bows tuned, tree stands set, and you just can’t wait to try out that new decoy. But, is every bow hunter really prepared to see more big bucks in that first evening than they ever had before? Well, I wasn’t.
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I took for granted that the first day of the season may be the day where there is no room for error. By the time the rut kicks in, we have taken care of all the nicks and knacks, but sometimes it’s too late. The opportunity you blew in the early season might be the only opportunity that presents itself. Everyone can see big bucks, but if you can’t deliver perfect execution when the moment arrives, you may be slobbering over the television for the next year watching Lee and Tiffany shoot the big ones. It just so happened that my big moment presented itself on the first evening of bow season. Of course I wasn’t planning on seeing a big buck that first evening. It’s never happened that way before. It had been almost a year since I had been in a tree stand. All I cared about was getting out and hopefully seeing a few deer. I scouted the area with a few trail cameras and knew of a few big bucks hanging around. I just didn’t figure I would see them all the first evening! So that first day, I got all my hunting equipment ready to go: grunt call, rattles, scent away, the
works. Right after I practiced shooting a few shots with my compound bow, I headed off to my stand. When I got in my stand I was just happy to be there. Once September hits, it seems like an eternity before October rolls around, so this moment couldn’t have come sooner. I had a nice little setup in a tree on a fence line, with woods in front of me, a cornfield on my right and soybeans on my left. Wouldn’t you know, after sitting in my stand for only 25 minutes, a 140-class eight-pointer walked out of the woods on the same fence line where I was set. This was the same eight-pointer I had on trail camera from the year before. He was very distinct with a cowlick on the back of his neck, and brow tines that started out very wide, so he wasn’t hard to identify. He was about 100 yards away when he walked out. I couldn’t believe it. I had been preparing all summer for this moment and it was all happening within 25 minutes of sitting in my stand! When he looked to the ground, I slowly stood up and got my release on the string. He started walking right down the fence line, right at me. Things were all going to come together. But then, he got 50 yards away, smelled the ground, looked up, turned around and went back in the woods. The path I took to my tree stand was the same path this deer was walking to me. I knew these bucks had been taking this path, so I should have taken a different route to my stand. My next mistake was the deer may have smelled my boots. I was wearing old boots because I had forgotten my new boots at my parent’s house. Needless to say, I felt pretty devastat-
ed. I made a few small mistakes that probably just cost me a big buck. Forty-five minutes later I felt a little better when I saw what was coming from my left. Two, 130-class bucks came grazing into the bean field. They ended up walking within 30 yards of me, but knowing that the 140-class eight was still out there was enough to make me hold off. I had never passed up a 130-class buck, but seeing a much bigger one a half hour earlier made me persevere. I even saw two does and another 130-class buck come out of the woods before dark and walk by me on my right side. This was, by far, the best evening of hunting I had experienced that early in the season. Lucky for me, I got another opportunity at the brute the following week. On Oct. 7, I was off to the woods around 4:15 p.m. In previous trail camera shots, I noticed the big buck had been coming out of the corn most often, making his way to the woods. On this particular day the wind was blowing from the field to the woods, so naturally I figured the best place to set up was downwind of where I thought the buck would come from, which was the cornfield. I learned from my mistake the previous week, so I decided to take a different path than usual to where I was going to set up my climber. I ended up getting in a tree just inside the woods, about 250 yards away from the cornfield. I didn’t want to be seen if something did come from the field so I faced my stand away from the field so my tree would serve as camouflage. I really felt good about this evening. A cold spell had come through so the deer were moving. I had been in the stand for 45 minutes and hadn’t
seen anything yet, but I was still hopeful. At 5:45 p.m., I heard a stick break from behind me. I slowly glanced over my shoulder and to my amazement the big eight was staring right at me, with a nine-pointer standing right behind him from about 70 yards away. I thought I had messed up again because he had spotted me. A moment later, he put his head to the ground and began walking right at me. I knew it was now or never to stand up, so I slowly rose out of my seat. He didn’t see me stand, so that was a plus. I thought for sure the smaller nine would come through first, since a smaller buck usually leads when the two are together. Lucky for me the big eight walked right underneath me. I was able to hold off until he got in front of me a bit. He was walking at a steady pace so I was going to have to make an attempt to stop him. As he walked directly underneath me, I slowly drew
back and attempted some fancy footwork to get my body turned so I could make the shot. At about 13 yards he was quartered perfectly as he was still walking. I gave out a loud bleat to stop him and it worked. I placed my first pin behind the front shoulder and let my arrow fly. When I heard the familiar thwack of my two-blade rage hitting that buck, I knew I had made a good shot. I found him about 200 yards from where I shot him. He was a shade over 22-inches wide and scored 140. He wasn’t the biggest buck in the world, but a trophy to me. The moral of this story is be prepared to see the big one from the beginning of the season to the end. You never know when he’s going to show up. When opportunity comes calling you don’t want to let yourself down.
RHM
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Real Hunter: Steve Sukut
I
t seems that many Canadian black bear hunts have become somewhat predictable. You drive north, meet the wonderfully friendly and accommodating hosts and settle in to a nice lodge. Many of these wilderness lodges give new meaning to the phrase, “sitting in the lap of luxury.” Coming away with a new spare tire under your belt isn’t uncommon after a week of overeating. During the day, you can usually help the outfitter check and replenish bait sites. Sometimes these baits sites are within 100 yards of a major highway, but the bears don’t seem to mind. Once they get used to the idea of free grub, they’ll generally visit the baits at least once in a while. Typi-
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cally, the bowhunter will slip into the stands late in the afternoon and hunt until dark. Predictable or not, I’ve spent more than 50 evenings in tree stands hunting bears in Canada and I love it. I enjoy the warming weather and spring green-up of growing grasses and forbs, miles away from the busy, time-eating lifestyle of the early 21st Century. A bear hunt is a wonderful gift that you can give to yourself, especially after a long, cold winter. Being there with a bow in hand only makes it better. All in all, bear hunting over bait is a great way to relax in the splendid Canadian north woods, and when a bear does come to a bait site, the adrenalin rush is real. Many bowhunt-
ers have all but melted down at the sight of one of North America’s most awesome big game animals. By no means is a hunt over bait a guaranteed dead bear. During all the times I’ve hunted black bears in Canada, I’ve only managed to tag one. I was hunting whitetails with Monty McKenzie of McKenzie Outfitters in Manitoba when he mentioned his bear hunts. Immediately, I was all ears. “What I offer for black bears is a little different,” Monty said. “I do my hunts on pristine lakes accessible only by float plane, so virtually all competition from other hunters is eliminated. We stay in wall tents with wooden floors, and when we’re not bear hunting, we fish during the
day, so we usually enjoy a few shore lunches. Oh, and by the way, did you know that with a hunting license in Manitoba, you can take a wolf?” No kidding? I can take a wolf if one comes by while I’m sitting in my tree stand hunting bears? That really got my attention. A timber wolf is one of North America’s rarest bowhunting trophies, and a chance at one would be worth the trip all by itself. Of course, who doesn’t like the idea of fishing for walleyes and northern pike? To top it off, we get to fly in to the hunting area. It sounded good to me. I contacted my friend Rocky Torgerson, who made a few calls. Before I knew it, we had a full camp of six bowhunters. We opted for a fall bear hunt, and it was helpful that bear season opened in Manitoba a week before archery season opened in Montana. Bowhunters enjoy opening weekend in Montana, and it might have been a hard sell if we had to sacrifice more than the first two days! A full day’s drive took us to Winnipeg, where we met up with the sixth member of our group and bought last minute supplies and fishing licenses. Our next leg of the journey was a three-hour drive north to Bissett, where we boarded the float plane for our flight to Giraffe Lake, home of one of McKenzie Outfitters’ bear camps. When one compares Manitoba’s bear population with that of other Canadian provinces, it becomes unclear why Manitoba isn’t more of a bear-hunting Mecca. The estimated population of 30,000 bears competes favorably with Alberta’s 36,000 bears. Manitoba’s southern region is mostly wide-open, flat farm country that grows some mighty big whitetails bucks, but not a lot of bears. One doesn’t have to travel too far north before Manitoba’s tundra and taiga region begins. That’s a great place to hunt caribou and it does hold bears,
but by far most of the bears live in the wooded areas between the southern and northern regions. The country surrounding Lake Winnipeg and Lake Manitoba is excellent bear habitat and in this comparatively small area is where most of the bears live out their lives. Non-resident hunter success typically runs close to 75 percent.
ings, Tom had a crack at a wolf. “There were two stands overlooking the bait,” Tom told us later. “The strap-on tree-stand was only 10 yards from the bait, which I felt was too close. But the ladder stand was about 20 yards out, and I’m very comfortable at that range with my longbow. I was caught sitting down when the
Manitoban Black Bear || Kenny with his bear and Robertson recurve bow.
With these thoughts in mind, we were fired up as we boarded the single-engine turbo-propped Otter that would ferry us to Giraffe Lake. The 40-minute flight gave us ample opportunity to see the lay of the land. It looked like bear heaven, and if there were walleyes in each of the dozens of lakes we flew over, then it was a fisherman’s paradise as well. We spent our first night fishing successfully for walleye and had a great time. The next night was our first in the stand and for the most part, was uneventful. The weather was warm, and the berries were ripe, so we knew that our bait sites were in competition with natural food sources. While there were no bear sight-
wolf came by. If I had been standing, or if I had sat in the strap-on stand, I would have been able to shift around enough to make the shot. As it was, I just got a good point blank look at him. He was huge, and absolutely gorgeous!” While several Canadian provinces offer wolf licenses, Manitoba is the only one that allows hunting of wolves with the procession of a current, unused hunting license. As long as a hunter hasn’t taken a game animal, it is legal to take a wolf on that license, and the hunter is still allowed to use that license to take his bear, deer or whatever. This amounts to a free wolf tag – a wonderful opportunity. Manitoba is to be commended SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
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for its forward-thinking in regards to wolf management. The next evening, we had our first bear encounter. Kenny was in his tree, patiently waiting to hear the boat arrive, when a he noticed movement right below his tree stand. A bear was carefully stalking the bait site. With only five minutes left of legal shooting time, Ken knew right away it was too late to ethically shoot this bear. Ken is one of those individuals who will not loose an arrow unless all the pieces are in place. He does not trust luck and will not take chances. As a result, Kenny has a very low percent-
was at full draw more than once, but again, like Kenny, he won’t take anything but a perfect shot. When Rock told the story over the libations and fish fillets that night, I think Mont was more disappointed than Rocky. He said wolf sightings at his bait sites happen all the time, but so far very few wolves have been taken. “For some reason,” Mont said, “the wolves seem to come most often to the stands that have bowhunters on them. Do you suppose those things are that smart?” The rest of the week started going
The Crew || Above: Moon Mayers, Rocky Torgerson, Tom Torgerson, Kenny Satra, Steve Sukut, and John Poole pose by Giraffe Lake. Right: A tough crowd to shoot in front of, especially if you missed!
age of anything but clean kills. He stayed in the stand until Mont came in to get him, thus ensuring that the bear wouldn’t know how close a hunter had been to him. His decision would pay big dividends later. That same night, it was Rocky’s turn for a chance at a wolf. He had a jet-black, mature wolf visit his bait site on and off for the last hour of the day. The wolf would slip in, lick bacon grease for a second or two, and then scamper off, always just before Rocky could release the string. Rocky
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by like a shot. We’d get up, run out on Giraffe Lake to fish, come in for breakfast, then return to the lake and fish until it was time to go bear hunting. The bears continued to be shy and content with the bounty nature offered. The bears visiting Kenny’s stand, though, had different ideas. It seemed that every time the bait was checked, the barrel had recently been knocked over. According to the tracks, at least three bears were coming in. One of the pads measured six inches across,
indicating a large, mature bear indeed. Kenny stepped up his efforts and asked to be brought in to the stand earlier around 1 p.m. “This is beginning to get personal,” he quipped once, after yet another eight-hour sit without a bear sighting. The rest of us hadn’t seen a bear yet, but just about all the barrels had been knocked over at one time or another during the week, so we kept after it, though at times it was hard to leave the fishing boats for a quiet night of watching squirrels, ravens, and camp robbers – or Canadian Jays. But time spent in a treestand wasn’t
time wasted, we came in from a quiet evening feeling not disappointed, but relaxed, happy, restored somehow. Between the fishing and time spent in camp, we were having a great time. Most days we’d shoot our bows for a couple of hours, sharing bows with each other and learning the benefits of a variety of brands and models. Sleeping in a wall tent with five other guys didn’t prove to be much of a problem. The 14-by-20 foot tent was more than enough for six comfy cots and all our equipment. All the men in camp were considerate and polite, and showed great tolerance in certain areas. Ear-
plugs were available for those who needed them. It was Friday when it finally came together for Kenny. He was quietly sitting, pondering his misspent youth, when movement caught his eye. A large black head was easing out of the thick bush, followed by a bulky black body – a mature bear, for sure. True to form, Kenny waited for the exact right time to shoot. “I had to,” he told me later. “As soon as I saw the bear, my brain started doing one of these.” He grinned, and started waving his hands all over and around his head. “Fortunately, I was able to calm
we get, though, the easier it gets to prioritize the experience and to happily make lemonade out of lemons. As Moon said setting the hook on another fat walleye, “So our bear hunting trip has turned into a fishing trip. Are we having any less fun?” Hunting is not shopping and we all realized that. Even with an average success rate on bears of 75 percent for non-residents in Manitoba, variables like warm weather, ripe berries, and an amazing array of other natural foods can spell defeat for a fall bear hunt. But this was no defeat. Between
Archer & Bear || Right top: Kenny Satra shows the focus and intensity that makes him an excellent archer and bowhunter. Bottom: Chief cook and bear guide Justin McKenzie accompanies Ken’s bear back to camp.
myself down and focus so I was ready when it turned broadside.” His cedar arrow flew true out of his recurve and Ken had his bear. The fall coat was lush, and unlike spring bears, the hair was almost exactly the same length all over. A beautiful bear in every way, Ken was ecstatic. We were all happy for him and our outfitter Monty was relieved, at least a little. He was feeling badly about the scarcity of bears and was glad at least one of us had scored. Taking home meat or a trophy is the goal of all hunts; otherwise, why would we buy the licenses? The older
the wolf opportunities, the awesome fishing, Ken getting his bear and the wonderful, relaxing time we spent in the Canadian woods, this was a successful and very enjoyable trip. It was definitely a “different kind of bear hunt” where the ancillary opportunities of wolves and walleyes became the primary goal. The final score was bears 5, bowhunters 1, but the bowhunters were still happy. We had fun and were even talking about going back. We made lemonade and enjoyed every drop.
RHM
Real Hunter: Darrell Fudge
I
t has been four years now that I have taken up bow hunting and I have to say, it gets in your blood in a hurry. When I was a young boy, I had a fiberglass recurve bow and would go into the fields of the Panhandle of Texas and shoot at different things. I felt that I was quite good and accurate. As I grew older, my interest went to other things, such as gun hunting. At that time it was mostly quail, dove, pheasant, and occasionally, a sand hill crane that caught my interest. As I grew older, I moved away from this area only to find myself in the middle of the largest population of whitetail deer in the state of Texas. I have been blessed with many deer harvested for food and have their heads mounted on my wall. After all that success, it was my younger brother, Cliff, who gave me a bow with all the equipment to get started. My story begins with a quest to hunt one of the exotic deer that was introduced to the Texas hill country – the axis deer. I had always longed to shoot one of these
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beautiful animals. It seemed that when I wasn’t hunting I would see one of these magnificent giants. Of course, never when you planned to hunt these guys were they ever around. Yes, there was an occasional axis doe, but never the bucks that I was looking for. I have found that the axis rut isn’t when whitetail deer are in rut. It happens to be in the late spring and early part of the summer when most folks don’t want to be out in the woods because of the heat. But for me, despite the heat, the hunt was on. I was hunting the Texas hill country of Bandera County. My blind was next to group of large cedars to help break up the pattern. At 5 a.m., I had no sooner set up in the blind, in the dark when I could hear something crunching nearby. I could do nothing but remain silent and hope the sun would be up soon to get a look at my visitors. As the sun did rise, I found myself sitting with a small number of whitetail deer and a few axis does. I watched for some time making sure I didn’t spook them from the area because I could hear in the distance an axis buck calling with that distinc-
tive call. Almost like a bugle yet not like elk, his call motivated me to remain silent and refrain from trying to take a shot at one of the axis does. I thought maybe I had made a mistake when all the animals slowly turned and walked away. I thought my hunt for the day was over at this point. Then a couple of whitetail deer returned. So as to not spook them, I decided to remain in the blind to give them a chance to move on before exiting. While watching these deer, I suddenly saw some more axis does coming in to feed through the cedar trees to my right. I thought to myself, this might be my chance for some more axis meat and a shot at one of the bigger axis does. As it turned out, it wasn’t just two or three coming in. By the time they had stopped coming to feed, I had nearly 50 axis in front of me. I had never witnessed this many animals in one place, especially the axis deer. I was further surprised when two large axis bucks came in with all the does. I beamed in on the big axis buck that was now in front of me at 25 yards. The feeling was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It was going to be now or never. Was this the right time at the right place? Was I going to be able to make this shot and make it cleanly? Was I going to be able to remain calm and get the job done? To say the least, I was nervous. Does moved in and out in front of the buck and I wondered if I was going to get a shot off before he decided to leave himself. I remained calm only by going over
the action of shooting in my mind again and again. “Look through the peep site, find the yardage pin, find my target spot on the animal, release when the shot is there,” I repeated to myself. It seemed like I was holding the bow at full draw for five minutes, when it was probably only seconds. When the does moved and the big axis buck turned enough toward me to get a shoulder shot, I let the arrow fly. It hit its mark. The big buck wheeled around and ran off through the cedar trees. I could see the arrow sticking out of his shoulder as he ran away out of site. I sat there thinking to myself, “What have I just done?” I knew that I should give it some time
since a wounded animal will jump up and keep moving to thicker cover if pressured too soon. After 30 minutes, I couldn’t stand it any longer. To my delight, I had not gone 10 yards out of the blind when I spotted the big buck. He was lying on the ground not more than 50 yards from where he was shot. This was a trophy for me. There was no doubt in my mind as to where he was going to hang in the house. The axis ended up weighing around 200 pounds. His antler beams were 31 and one-half inches in length. The inside spread was 25 inches. This one I’m very proud of. It was my moment to be at the right place at the right time.
RHM
RHM Axis Deer Facts There are huntable free-ranging (unfenced) herds of Axis deer in the United States. Originally from India, they were transplanted to Texas in the 1930’s. The island of Hawaii also has a large population of free ranging Axis deer. The Axis deer, also known as the Chital, generally has three points per side at maturity. The 3x3 frame is the deer’s typical horn configuration. They stand about three feet tall at the shoulder and weigh around 180 lbs. Trophy Axis deer can sport beam lengths of 3037+ inches.
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Real Hunter: Robbie Dockter
A
Left: Robbie’s 2008 Antelope. Top: 2008 Mule Deer. Bottom: 2008 Turkeys
cold winter brought on a new year and ended what I thought was my best season in Montana yet. A perfect score of 10 for 10, all but one was with my bow. How could I ever top 2008? Then just a few months into my 2009 season, I found myself at the base of a tree with a giant cat. I took only one look at this beautiful tom and my bow was immediately at full draw. A five-year dream soon became a stark reality and a great beginning to my 2009 hunting season. My next “pay day” came in early May as I was lucky enough to double on gobblers. I could hardly wait for fall to see if Mr. Luck would stay with me. The summer was spent scouting and things appeared bountiful for SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
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the fall. After a long wait, September finally came rolling around and I became acclimated by hitting the trail hard. A couple of does early in the season was an exceptional pre-game warm up. Then on the morning of Sept. 19, I spotted the buck I was after. A stalk was quickly started and six hours later I was standing on top of a colossal buck. The 95-degree weather was nothing to stop my killer instinct and I was grateful for my success. Two days later Mr. Luck glanced my way again and sent a 6-by-6 bull strutting past me at just 8 yards. Minutes later I was standing over my second Pope and Young within three days. Heavy pack trips quickly put my hunting game on hold while it took two days to get this monster of a bull out. With my tags fast disappearing
All the animals on these two pages were harvested by Robbie with his bow during the 2009 hunting season.
and the antelope rut rocking, it was a no brainer as to what to do next. I grabbed the decoy and headed out to my favorite antelope spot. Things were going crazy and I set up on a big herd buck. As I got to watch him chase off five different bucks, I soon realized a move 200 yards closer was necessary. I just stood up to move and for some reason, maybe to catch a glimpse of Mr. Luck, I looked behind me. A buck was on a dead run
at the decoy. With only seconds, I barely had time to jump behind the other side of the decoy and knock an arrow. At 16 yards I came to a full draw, settled on his chest and an arrow stopped him dead in his tracks. I barely had time to make sense of what and how fast this happened, but quickly realized this just brought me my third trophy in just seven days. The question – Could I do it again? The thought was really haunting my mind. I knew I was getting close to repeating the success of 2008 and the pressure was on. I still had the toughest tag in our country left to fill – a black bear. The first of October would be the next day I could get back
RHM
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to hunt the mountains. At about high noon I spotted a bear. It only took one look and I knew he was a shooter and was in a perfect spot for a stalk. He was 600 yards away and in just a few minutes I quietly worked myself to just 20 yards. Peering around a large boulder, I cocked the hammer on my .44 Mag lever gun and put the open sights right behind his shoulder. One touch of the trigger and my dream season was over just as fast as the bear went down. It was perfect in every way. I can only hope to have half the season my last two have been.
RHM
Top of Page Right: Robbie’s 2009 color phase bear. Middle Left: Robbie’s huge 2008 black bear. Middle Right: Robbie’s wife with a huge Whitetail. Bottom: Robbie’s 2008 archery bull elk.
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Real Hunter: Edward Napier
I
made the climb up the hill to my tree-stand on the long point. I settled in right at first light. The sounds of birds waking up and the beautiful colors of the sky as the sun climbs in the clouds makes dawn my favorite time of day. On this particular morning, all was calm with no wind until 8:18 a.m. Suddenly, I heard a crunch as a deer approached from my right. I looked and it was the buck I had been looking for. I stood up and looked for the shot, but he never gave it to me. The
buck walked right on through like he is on a mission. My heart sank and so I settled back in my stand to wait. At 9:47 a.m., three does blasted out of a thicket just over the hill from where the buck had disappeared. They stopped 10 yards from my tree and looked behind them. Then, the big buck with five points on each antler came chasing another doe. I stood up, drew my bow and started praying. Just then, the buck turned broadside at 12 yards and started to rub a cedar tree. Somehow, I settled the pin on his shoulder and released the arrow. The arrow found its mark, the buck turned and ran back into the thicket and the does crossed the point, out of sight. Then just, silence once again. I was shaking so hard I had to sit down before I fell or dropped my bow. As I settled down, I heard a loud crash come from the area I last saw the buck. I climbed down and started to track the deer. As I exited the briar
thicket, I saw antlers down and ran up to the deer. I thanked God several times, then sat down and just looked at him for several minutes. I had hunted this deer for two seasons and couldn’t believe he was finally down. Hunting is 2 percent luck, 3 percent skill, 80 percent patience and 15 percent prayer which equals 100 percent fun – I’ll never quit!
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Real Hunter: Richard Winters
I
was gearing up for the 2009 archery elk season that was less than a week away when I received a call from my outfitter that we had just booked another client for the opening week. Although that meant another week of work, it also meant my bow would have to sit out once again for the opening day of elk season. Sometimes being a big game guide in Montana is not all it’s cracked up to be. Although I may be in the field on every opener, I am rarely hunting for myself. Shortly after hanging up with my boss, my mind started having that
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conversation that always starts with the same question, “Why guide?” Why take people from all over the country to your favorite honey holes and help them accomplish their hunting dreams? Why not just hunt for yourself? Why not put all of those days in the field scouting, driving nasty old roads, studying maps and Google Earth and private versus public land ownerships? Why read every hunting book on the market as well as make all those calls to the fish and game biologists for other’s benefit? Why not just do it for yourself? I guess the answers to my own questions are simple. What other job
on this planet can a guy hunt more than 80 days per year, get paid for it and have little or no expenses? When can an avid hunter wake up everyday and witness the incredible things that we all have seen while hunting wild places? Where else can you get the best education on hunting the animals we all love and pursue just by being there and trying different techniques and strategies? And last but not least. I really enjoy seeing the faces of hunters who take their personal best of a mule deer, elk or antelope. Knowing I was a big part of their success makes it all worth it.
Guides’ Day Off
Shortly after the first group of archery clients were checked into the airport and headed back to their home states, I jumped into my truck and headed out to get that “guide’s day off” hunt in. As I drove the same gravel road I had just spend the last 14 days on, I had two good bucks in mind that I had seen earlier in the week. As I scanned the flats and sagebrush with my binoculars searching for the bucks, they were nowhere to be seen. So I took the remainder of my day off scouting a new area for antelope. Driving down the road and surveying the new area, my eyes caught a flash of white and caramel brown to my right. I pulled over, raised my binoculars and spotted a buck bedded with four does off the old dirt road. Further down, I saw an old dried creek bed and decided that would give me the perfect cover to make a decent stalk. With rangefinder, release, backpack and bow in hand, I began a 300-yard crawl through the creek bed. The temperature was reaching its high for the day at 90-plus degrees. I could definitely feel the sun through my backpack. While sweat dripped off the bill of my baseball cap like a leaky faucet, I made my way to a bend in the creek bed that gave my first real look at the bedded buck. He was turned away but I could tell he was a good buck with what looked like good cutters and good mass. I brought up my rangefinder and the buck was still 80 yards out. I looked for another route to cut the distance but I was at the end of the dry creek and there was only flat earth and cactus between me and the buck. I was pinned, so there I lay spread eagle, face down for what seemed like an eternity. The sun was beating down, the weight of my pack was compressing
my chest to the ground making it tough to breath and some menacing insect landed on my lip just long enough for me to get a finger up to swipe him away only to have the same insane situation unfold five seconds later. When the buck finally stood up and started to move around, he went to my left completely exposing me from behind the tiny sagebrush that was my only cover. Witnessing the buck’s demeanor go from calm to curious to alert, I knew the gig was up and it would be now or never. I slowly rose to my knees and held my bow in shooting position in front of me. While loading my arrow onto my rest, the does also noticed movement and began to rustle. As luck would have it, they began to curiously move toward me. I ranged the first doe at 61 yards, then came the buck at 55 yards. I could definitely tell he was in full rut by the size of his swollen neck. It was the only part of his anatomy I could see. I got a good look, but no shot. And so, as quickly as this quest began, it was over. I felt the hot prairie winds hit the back of my ears and carry my scent toward the group of antelope. And as if the gates opened at a horse race, they took off leaving me on my knees, soaked in sweat and watching their dust settle. I was humbled to say the least. So I made my way to my feet and walked back to the truck with my head down, sweat dripping off the brim of my hat and waving to my new best friend – the fly. I climbed into my truck and located the group of spooked, yet freshly educated antelope. They didn’t slow down or rest, so with a few choice words under my breath, I put the truck in drive, turned on the air conditioner and headed for home. I did make sure to take a GPS reading of where my fiasco had just unfolded.
Second chance
The next day began another week of guiding elk and antelope hunts near the spot of my now infamous failed stalk. Each time I passed the spot on the way back to the lodge, if sunlight remained, I could see the same buck pacing the skyline on the same hill where I had left him days earlier. My last hunter boarded a 4 p.m. flight, and even though I knew I wouldn’t have a full day to find the antelope, my foot was on the gas pedal and I headed right back out to ground zero to find that buck. When I arrived, I spent an hour scanning the area for the big buck. My anticipation was high and the quest became personal. I mean, after all, I am a hunting guide and don’t often get skunked. When I finally spotted the group, they were at the bottom of the hills slowly making their way back to the hilltop. I knew the only way I was going to make this hunt work was to drive back down the road a mile or so, hike the hills from behind and approach them downwind. As I stepped out of the truck, the wind blew my hat off my head and it danced across the ground until hitting a barbwire fence where it got hung on the wire. At least I was sure the wind was right. After reaching the backside of the hills, I belly crawled to the top and saw a group of does bedded 150 yards below. The buck was 50 yards from them overlooking the valley. An hour later, one doe stood and made her way to a small watering hole. The buck had his eye on her and then seemed irritated when other does followed. He quickly jumped up, ran down the hill, flared his chest, made a sharp grunt and then turned the does back around. Those ladies got in single file and headed back up the hill, right toward me. The buck wasn’t more than 30 yards behind them. As I watched, I tried to lessen the size of my smile and tried not to become too prideful over my perfect SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
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game plan. So there I lay in wait for everything to unfold according to my expectations. Eighty yards, 70 yards … sweet, here we go! My smile suddenly faded when I watched the big buck turn his harem to the left and down into a deep cooley.
The Duel
One by one they were disappearing out of sight. I knew I had to move on the buck immediately or I would blow another opportunity. It was then I remembered a hunt two seasons before when I had taken a large rutting antelope with a decoy. I remembered triggering the buck to a challenge and having him charge my decoy, but unfortunately I didn’t have decoy with me that day. I decided anything was worth a try at this point since I was quickly losing the battle. As he pushed the last doe out of view, I popped the top of my head over the hill exposing my head and the top of my shoulders. The buck immediately stopped and looked directly at me. With a sharp grunt, he started galloping toward me so I slipped slowly back out of view. It turned into a foot race to a small saddle in the hilltop where I predicted he would go to try and wind his would-be challenger. With my backpack on, rangefinder slapping my chest and bow in hand, I ran as fast as I could run. Nearing the top of the saddle, I saw a buck with his head high and almost prancing like a show horse in front of me. I came to a full stop and drew my bow, when the back end of my broadhead hit the front end of my riser and completely disconnected my knock from my arrow, sending my arrow shaft and broadhead to the ground. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me at this critical moment. I had already taken an antelope doe with my bow the first week without clearance issues, but this was no time for a quick tune on my bow. So I did the only thing I could at that moment,
I grabbed another arrow from my quiver and loaded it as fast as I could. Now the buck zigzagged back to my left and was standing broadside on the top of the hill looking down at his waiting does. Thank God for the rut! Because this buck had a confused look on his face much like a drunkard at a bar trying to decide if he should pick a fight or hook back up with his ladies before closing time. Taking full advantage of the buck’s confused state, I drew back my bow and stared at my arrow as the blade of my broadhead barely cleared the front of my riser to its full upright shooting position. Game back on!
Taking Aim
I picked a spot behind the buck’s shoulder and released the arrow. The buck somberly walked another 15 paces and then collapsed on the hillside. Knocking another arrow, I came to full draw and carefully walked to the hillside placing a second arrow into his vitals. Walking to the fallen buck, my emotions were all across the board: exhausted, excited, amazed, respectful and shocked. Standing over the buck that had bested me a week earlier, it was gratifying to see him lying on the same hillside as last week. As I knelt down, it was the first time I really got to see what a trophy buck he was. He was much larger than I had judged him to be. My 2009 archery season antelope green scored an impressive 82 6/8 Boone & Crockett. After taking as many photos as I could, I quartered my buck and placed him in my pack for the one-mile trek back to my truck. As I walked, I tried to take in as much of that moment as I could knowing it would be another whole year before I would be able to return to eastern Montana and hunt these incredible animals again.
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ell to start off I would like to thank all the young kids out there for submitting your articles for our annual youth writing contest last issue. I enjoyed reading all the submissions and look forward to reading many more hunting stories down the road. We now have more and more youngsters writing trying to tell their story of their hunting adventures. I feel great knowing that there are still so many young hunters out there carrying the fire for the Next Generation. Now summer is coming to an abrupt end and for most of you, school is just around the corner. With the end of
summer means the beginning of the fall hunting season. I am personally excited to see how this season plays out. Lots of new adventures, areas to explore, and memories to make. I unfortunately did not draw any special tag in my home state of Montana, except for antelope. I hope that many of you were more successful in the draw then myself. I will be waiting to get some good stories from your fall success. Get out and enjoy your time in the outdoors. Write about it when you can and submit your stories. Also if you have any questions, comments, or have a submission, email me at tyler@realhuntingmag.com or send to the main office.
Headwaters Seat Covers
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ere is the story about my deer. The night before I asked my mom if she would take me out about 6 a.m. and come back around 11. She said sure. So I went to bed early that night. The next morning before light appeared we got up there. I had a spot picked out to sit and wait until daylight. After about 30 minutes, I got out of the car and started moving toward the dam with tons of brush around it. Then before I got 20 yards away from the car, my mom yelled at me to shut the door and I ignored her and kept walking. Then I heard the sound of the car door slam! I knew at that time the deer were spooked and were gone. So we went driving along and spotted about 20 deer on my dad’s hay land. We drove to a hill about a half-mile away and I looked through the scope to see if there were any bucks. I spotted a nice 4-by-5 whitetail bedded down with about 15 does. They were on the wrong side of the road so I decided to see if they would move if we went toward them. It worked! They went up east of the highway and into a coulee. We lost them for a while and then we spotted them up on a side hill about one-quarter mile into a coulee. I decided to make a stalk. I got my 270 and started up the coulee bed. Once I was 300 yards away, I got my scope on him and didn’t have time to take a shot as he rounded a hill and went farther up the coulee. I decided to sit and rest a few minutes before getting on my hands and knees and
crawling a few 100 yards. That was the best choice I made this year. About 20 seconds later, I looked to my left up a little draw and here came a 9-by-7 buck hot on a doe – he didn’t even notice me. I was on the hillside about 25 yards up and he was running down the middle of the draw. I got set up and took the safety off. He got straight in front of me and I grunted to get his attention. He stopped broadside to me about 80 yards away. I got him in my scope and “boom.” The buck took off and I thought I’d missed. I hurried up the next hill. I was winded by the time I got up there, so I stopped and sat down and looked around with my scope. Then I saw the 5-by-4 whitetail and all the does walking about a 100 yards out. I thought about taking a shot at him, he was a huge 4-by-5 but I didn’t shoot. They got about 400 yards away and I got up and started to go where I first shot at the first buck. There was nothing, so I followed where I saw him go around the hill. Then I saw blood and hair on every branch and tree on the path. I got really excited and tried to keep my cool but when I saw horns sticking out of a four-foot washout I started to smile and shake with excitement. I got up to him and poked him with a branch, he didn’t move. I picked him up and couldn’t believe it, he had only run 50 yards from where I had shot! I shot him right through the heart! I called my mom and told her I got him, she paused and said, “No you didn’t, he is right in front of me.” I told her I got a even bigger one,
a 7-by-9. She freaked. Once she got done taking pictures, Chuck (our hired man) helped me gut it and put it on the tarp. Once I got home, my Uncle Larry scored it and then we looked to see how old it was. He was a very young buck, three years at the most. He still had teeth growing in. He had great potential to be a monster. And Grandma, yes I did score him and he finished out at 167 because of deductions. He had a huge spread of 23 inches. And we think he is an offspring of a muley and a whitetail. And that’s my story. I am getting a head mount for it, if you were wondering. OK, well got to go. Bye talk to you and grandpa later. Love you guys lots, Kyle
This story was taken from an email Kyle sent to his grandma
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fter reading outdoor magazines for over 20 years now, I am still amazed at the new products and strategies available to improve your odds of bagging a trophy animal. However, one of the most underappreciated and overlooked factors in hunting success is your nutrition strategy. If your hunt is physically demanding, then re-thinking your eating and drinking habits can be the difference between bagging the trophy of your dreams or going home tired and frustrated. Here are a few nutrition do’s and don’ts to remember when heading out on your big hunt.
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at breakfast! Your body needs calories for the demanding work ahead. A motivated hunter can easily expend 4,000 - 6,000 calories over long day of hiking. After fasting overnight, choosing to skip breakfast can mean going up to 17 hours without any fuel by lunchtime. This is a preventable situation that will cause even the most fit individual to suffer. As a rule, consume at least 500 – 1000 calories of mostly carbohydrate-rich foods within two hours of waking up. These are your bodies preferred source of fuel when exercising. I suggest you pack fruit, whole grain cereals, cereal bars, Pop-Tarts®, bagels, English muffins, pancakes, milk or yogurt. If you’re generally not hungry in the morning or have a sensitive stomach, you may prefer either fluid or semi-solid choices like 100% fruit juice, fruit smoothies or drinkable yogurts, and meal replacement shakes like Ensure® and Boost Plus®.
Joe’s Bio: Joe is a Registered Dietitian and Certified Personal Trainer specializing in sports nutrition and endurance training in Reno, NV. He teaches both recreational and professional athletes of all ages how to improve health and performance with food and specific exercise. Joe is a graduate of Cal Poly State University. In 2007, he was awarded Nevada’s “Recognized Young Dietitian of the Year”.
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oad up on fatty foods. Over-consuming fatty foods will prevent you from getting enough carbohydrates - and will probably better prepare you to take a long nap then to chase trophy elk. Go easy on fatty meats like sausage and bacon, biscuits, croissants, fried doughnuts, and toppings like butter and gravy, Also remember that caffeine is a stimulant, meaning it provides only perceived energy. This can make hiking seem easier, but if you are a coffee drinker, you still need breakfast!
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nack throughout the day. It is no secret why endurance athletes consume carbohydrates throughout their events. Studies clearly show that this practice improves endurance significantly. Start reading food labels and carry an assortment of lightweight, shelf stable products that have at least 20 grams (g) carbohydrate per serving. I prefer Cookie Boy cookies (available at www.cookieboy.biz), CLIF Mojo™ bars, fresh or dried fruit, granola bars, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cheese or peanut butter sandwich crackers, even mini candy bars and other candies. These products will keep your energy levels up, your aim steady and your mind sharp.
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ely on salami, jerky, cheese, nuts and seeds. Yes, they have calories but you may be surprised to find that these foods contain very little carbohydrate per serving, making them more suitable for stationary hunting situations.
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rink enough fluids. Heavy sweating and breathing will cause dehydration, even in cold climates. Symptoms of dehydration include muscle cramps, lightheadedness and fatigue. As a guideline, I suggest you drink a tall glass of water upon waking. Then, continue to drink fluids throughout the morning until you urinate. Back off but continue to hydrate throughout the day so that you urinate about every 2-3 hours. Your urine should be lemonadecolored or lighter. I often carry either sports drinks like Gatorade® or 50% diluted juice (mix water with apple or cranberry juice cocktail). This is a great way to get both carbohydrates and fluids. I also prefer backpacks with a CamelBak® drinking system. They make packing and carrying the extra weight easier and drinking more convenient.
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rink excessive amounts of alcohol during your hunting trip. Alcohol will dehydrate you, impair your decision making, slow your reaction time and will also delay your ability to recharge your internal carbohydrate stores, which are vital for consecutive day hunting. Save your stuff for the celebration when your tag is filled.
Brucellosis appears to be increasing in several elk herds in northwestern Wyoming, according to a new U.S. Geological Survey study. The study’s data suggests that enhanced elk-to-elk transmission in free-ranging populations may be occurring because of denser elk clusters during winter. The study also said that elk populations inside and outside of the Greater Yellowstone area that traditionally did not maintain brucellosis may now be at risk because of population increases. The new study on brucellosis – a bacterial infection of cattle, elk and bison – was recently published in the Ecological Society of America’s “Ecological Applications,” said USGS spokeswoman Suzanna Carrithers. Brucellosis causes miscarriages in cattle. The disease is present in many elk and bison in the greater Yellowstone region, known as the last reservoir for brucellosis in the United States. The disease can be transmitted from wildlife to cattle. The presence of the disease within livestock herds has resulted in additional testing
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requirements and trade restrictions in past years in both Wyoming and Montana. Both states have had to institute strict testing and quarantine procedures to regain federal brucellosisfree status. Paul Cross, USGS disease ecologist and lead author of the study, said elk-to-elk transmission of brucellosis may be increasing in new regions around Yellowstone. He noted several cattle herds have been infected in Wyoming, Idaho and Montana since 2004. Cross said recent cases of brucellosis in cattle are thought to have come from elk considering the lack of contact between bison and cattle. Positive brucellosis tests in freeranging elk increased from 0-7 percent in 1991-92, according to the study. The rate went to from 8-20 percent in 2006-07 in four of six herd units around Yellowstone. The study said biologists have
known that brucellosis in the greater Yellowstone area is being sustained by “abnormal densities” and restricted distribution of elk that congregate on the 20-plus feedgrounds in western Wyoming during the winter. Bison populations also maintain brucellosis irrespective of population size, the study said. Cross said the new research shows that brucellosis may also be increasing in some elk populations that are distant from supplemental feeding grounds and bison herds. He said researchers looked at a number of hypotheses for why increases in brucellosis in the region were observed. “Two seemed most probable,” said Cross. “Either brucellosis transmission among elk is becoming more frequent as elk densities increase, or the diagnostic tests are cross-reacting with another pathogen that is increasing in prevalence,” he continued. The authors noted that some elk populations were five to nine times larger in 2007 than they were in the 1970s. Elk have tended in recent years to take refuge for prolonged periods on lands with limited or no hunting, which creates a situation similar to feedgrounds. Some elk groups outside the region are
as large as those on the supplemental feeding grounds in Wyoming, the study said. “Addressing the unintended consequences of these increasing populations is complicated by limited hunter access to private lands, which places many ungulate populations out of administrative control,” Cross said. “Agency/landowner hunting access partnerships and the protection of large predators are two management strategies that may be used to target high ungulate densities in private ref-
uges to reduce the current and future burden of the disease,” he added. The study noted the available brucellosis tests indicate whether an individual has produced circulating antibodies to the brucella infections, but not whether they are currently infected with the disease. Outbreaks of the disease in domestic cattle can be very expensive to the ranching industry. Although other free-ranging animals such as elk can carry the disease, ranchers have long thought that bison
play the major factor in the spread of brucellosis in the region.
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The brucellosis research was conducted at the USGS’s Northern Rocky Mountain Science Center in partnership with the Wyoming Game and Fish Department; Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, National Park Service, Princeton University, and the universities of Wyoming and Montana. Reprinted Courtesy of the Casper Star-Tribune
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great way to pass on our hunting and shooting heritage is through 4-H. 4-H clubs across Montana instruct 9-18 year olds in archery and air rifle/pistol shooting. Our son started archery shooting with the 4-h club when he was 9. He is now in his third year. The amount of improvement in his shooting ability and self esteem has been fabulous. The instructors for his club are certified and some have been trained and shot at the Olympic level. Our instructors are a good group of men and women who volunteer their time in an effort to teach these kids and young adults the skills to shoot or to improve their shooting. It seems that instructions are easier to follow from a voice that is not mom or dads sometimes! Our 4-h club practices shooting every Friday night for an hour and a half. Practices start in mid November and continue through till early march. This is a great winter activity that can involve the whole family. All of the participants shoot from 10 yards. They have to follow strict range and 4-H rules, designed for their safety. Range etiquette is also taught as there are times when they will be shooting three feet away from someone else on the line who is also trying to shoot. www.realhuntingmag.com
Practice leads to tournaments. These competitions are held by different 4-h clubs across the state during the winter months, and culminate in the state 4-H shooting tournament. If you qualify, you can also go on to a national tournament. Participants enter in their respective age group in any number of different categories. Bare bow, bow hunter, Olympic recurve and unlimited are some of the different categories that one can shoot in. During their designated time, a shooter will be shooting with individuals from any age group or bow type category. This can make for positive interaction between young adults and youngsters who are all trying to achieve the same goal, hitting that bullseye. It is truly special when these older kids talk with and help the younger kids. After two practice rounds, the shooters are given two and a half minutes to fire three arrows. When everyone is done, they are given the signal to proceed to their targets where they score
their shots. Then it is back to the line to shoot again. This is repeated until they have scored thirty arrows. At which point, their score cards are totaled and the scores are posted in the age group and category the shooter was participating in. Everyone is trying to get the blue ribbon, but self improvement is what is pointed out. As with most sports, there are some costs that need to be figured in, equipment and club fees for example. Most clubs, however, will supply a basic bow and arrows for beginners that want to try shooting. The biggest cost is probably your time, but it is worth it to watch your child grow and improve. 4-H archery is a great place for kids and young adults to hone their shooting and life skills. If you are looking for a place for your child to get involved in the shooting sports in a safe and positive atmosphere, check out your local 4-h clubs.
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ong-range shooting has become more popular every year with hunters. In the past, only a few production rifles were chambered for cartridges suitable for long-range hunting. The Weatherby line of cartridges was at the forefront years ago but now Remington, Winchester, Savage and many other companies have chambered rifles in the big 30 and 338 caliber magnums. Today’s hunters have a much larger selections of rifles and cartridges to choose from. Probably the biggest advancement in long-range hunting is the laser rangefinder. Before the laser rangefinder came out, we had scopes with reference points or prism-type rangefinders to tell yardage. The laser rangefinders today are very accurate, with most of them estimating at plus or minus one yard. So what does it take to get into long-range hunting? For starters, a hunter needs a rifle capable of precision shooting and adequate one-shot killing power. If you’re lucky enough to have an off-the-shelf rifle that will shoot accurate, feel very fortunate. When I say accurate, I mean groups of one minute or less (one inch at 100 yards). Once you have an accurate rifle in your hands you will need to gauge your long-range capabilities. I like to use gallon milk jugs filled with water – hits are very obvious and sometimes
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spectacular. I think the milk jug represents a good kill-zone size for large game. When hunting limit your shooting distance to the furthest range you can consistently hit the milk jugs at. Start at 200 yards and work your way back. Don’t just shoot in flat areas, shoot across gulches, up hills and into the wind to see what your capabilities really are. When you start missing the jugs, you know what your limit is. Besides having good equipment, practice is the key to becoming a good long-range shooter. You don’t need to shoot your big rifles to get in good practice. Shooting a .17 or .22 rim fire at 100 yards and beyond really teaches a person to read the wind and calculate bullet drop at yardages beyond what you would think a rim fire is accurate at. When I was a kid and my dad gave me my first .22, it was a Winchester model 67a single shot. All my friends had repeaters and would burn up the ammo shooting gophers and rock chucks. I did just as well or better with that old single shot, one bullet at a time. This really taught me the importance of a well placed first shot at a young age. Times have changed plenty since my younger days. I now shoot a .375 or .408 chey-tac for my long-range rifle but still use a single shot action and know the importance of that first shot. I try and get out to shoot the big rifles at least a couple times a month at extended ranges, but get out all the time with a .17 HMR for practice. I can’t stress how important it is to get out and shoot as much as you can to become a good long-range shooter.
I think back over the nice bull elk I have shot over the years at long range and never would have harvested them if it weren’t for my ability to make that long shot. The rifles, optics and rangefinders get better all the time and the ranges I routinely shoot now are beyond what I thought were ever possible years ago. Just when I think it can’t become any better someone comes up with new equipment to make that shot just a little longer and more accurate. Now days with all the great long-range cartridges, hunters don’t really need to go with a wildcat to get a truly great long-range cartridge. Off-the-shelf rifles like the 30-378, 338-378 WBY and 300 RUM or 338 RUM (just to name a few) have made long-range hunting/shooting much easier to get into. One last thing I’d like to touch on is the ethics of long-range shooting at game animals. If you can, try and hunt with a partner so they can range and spot for you when you make a shot. Your spotter can call the shot and if conditions are right, he can even tell you where the hit was on the animal. Don’t make the shot if you don’t have adequate time to get to the animal in good light. Most importantly, never make a shot unless it’s within your limits. When you can’t consistently hit the jugs, you’re at the end of your limit.
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HUNTING
Backcountry Tips &
REAL
magazine
Tricks
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was 18 miles from the trailhead on a solo trip before I realized I was in trouble. Perfect weather, a moderate trail with only one steep pass to conquer, and stunning views worked together to numb me to the cries of my body. It wasn’t until the shakes and chills set in during the evening glassing session that I began to listen, and by that time my options were limited. What to do if you find yourself in a similar situation? Read on. Medical issues are no fun to deal with in town (leading many of us to ignore them even when care is available just down the street) and can be downright dangerous when backpacking miles away from help. Backcountry medical problems run the gamut from blisters to heart attacks and beyond, leaving it up to you to interpret the signals your body is sending and act appropriately. The first step to taking care of yourself in the backcountry is to realize when you are in trouble. Acknowledging this early expands your options significantly and allows you to begin self-treatment right away, when it will do the most good. Doing what you can to prevent problems from getting worse like resting, hydrating and giving yourself time to take stock of the situation will put you way ahead of the game and in the best possible frame of mind to make decisions that will directly affect the outcome of your trip and potentially your health. Make the time to determine if you’re dealing with a case of the crud or a true medical emergency that requires immediate intervention from professional help. If you are in over your head, call for help early in the game and get them on the way. Depending on your location, medical help is available from many sources including Search and Rescue, FWP, the local Sheriffs office, National Forest Service, Mercy Flight, local ambulance crews, QRU’s and more. However, they can’t help
you if you don’t call and get them rolling. Expanded cell phone coverage in many areas makes calling for help a breeze. For areas with dead spots or no service, a satellite phone or a SPOT device make sense and gets help on the way. When there is any doubt about your ability to treat and evacuate yourself from a potentially life threatening situation, call for help. More common are the nagging problems that sap your energy, take the fun out of the trip and generally make you feel miserable. To salvage your health and your trip, a no B.S. assessment is needed. Take the emotion about the hunt out of it and evaluate how you’re doing. If you think you can ride it out, a viable option is to hunker down and self treat. Use the medications, supplements and other resources that you packed for such a time as this. Rest, relax, stay warm and dry and re-evaluate things in the morning. If you’ve taken a turn for the worse, it may be time to bail. Some situations are just flat losers from the start. You know when you’re in over your head and it is time to leave, so don’t second-guess yourself. If it’s time to go, get moving! Making it back to the trailhead is going to require a fixed amount of output, and heading back out early in the game can be a more efficient use of the remaining gas in your tank than trying to stick it out. Meanwhile, back in the Bob Marshall … The shakes, body aches and vomiting continued throughout the night and by morning I was one sick puppy. Daylight found me stuffing my camp back in my pack, filtering water, filling bottles and hitting the trail back to the truck as fast as a sick dude could go. Eighteen miles with the flu is uncool, and leaves no room for style points, but I got it done. As I turned the truck for home, I had to keep reminding myself that I do this for fun!
Hunting and backpacking isn’t a competition or a contest to see who can be the most “hardcore” (stupid), it’s supposed to be fun. Establish and work within self-imposed limits on your backcountry hunts. Honest selfassessments of your health throughout your adventure goes a long way toward keeping it fun and bringing you home safe. See you on the Mountain! - Shane Klippenes
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HUNTING
Gear
REAL
magazine
Review
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iving out west, hunters have a diverse country to look over – high alpine basins, open sage flats, and thick north facing timber. Having such a variety of terrain, a hunter’s most important tool is his binoculars. We have all heard we should get the best pair we can afford and this is true. You can spend between $20 and $2,000 on a pair of binoculars. Remembering back when I was first hunting, I had a $20 pair of binoculars that I thought were great, but over time and as I have grown so has my taste in optics. I have learned having a quality pair of binoculars helps me spot game I otherwise would have missed and they also save a lot of walking. With so many optics companies and with all of them making quality binoculars it is hard to know which ones will work best. This past season I had the opportunity to use Vortex
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Razor 10X42 Binoculars. Vortex has been in the optics business since 1986, and all Vortex products are designed and tested to Vortex’s specifications.
The Test
Before I go into all the specs and the science of the Vortex Razor binoculars, I thought I would let you know how they performed in the field. Big game, for the most part, are more active during the first and last hours of the day, so I always look for a pair of binoculars that can perform in low light conditions. The Vortex Razor binoculars met my expectations as a low light capable binocular. Even in very low light conditions you will be able to pick apart a hillside and find that flicker of an ear or tail and the hunt is on. All hunters know throughout the fall season we can experience all types of weather and when we hunt during cooler weather, binoculars will usually
fog up. While on a late archery hunting in November I realized that when Vortex says “fog proof,” they mean it. The weather was far from perfect. It was either overcast or snowing the majority of the time. While waiting for storms to pass I tucked the binoculars inside my coat and when I could start glassing again, I’d pull them out of my coat and start glassing immediately without worrying about the glass fogging up. If you spend more than a couple of hours behind the glass of a pair of binoculars you are going to want them to be comfortable. Comfort may be an understatement – you want them to feel like they were made just for you. The Vortex Razors have an open bridge making them very comfortable. I really like being able to wrap my finger around instead of having them rest on top. Also the open bridge makes it easier to glass with one hand. Relief is a word that makes everybody happy.
The Vortex Razors have awesome eye relief, which made glassing for an extended amount of time fly by. One of the features of the Razors that helps with eye relief is the twist-up eyecups, which allows you to adjust the lenses closer or farther from your eyes. When I am in the wilderness or backcountry I expect the gear I pack in will not wimp out or break. I am pretty rough on gear and I like my gear to withstand the abuse I put it through. I am very pleased to announce that the Vortex Razor binoculars are still intact and are in great working order. The external layer is made of rubber armor which is non-slip and makes these binoculars tough as nails.
The Science
Many lens features make the Vortex Razor binoculars stand out. The first is the actual lens – made up of premium grade XD glass which enhances resolution, color, and contrast. The second is the XR multi-coated lenses coating which is the anti-reflection coating that increases light transmission. Third is the XT Optical Design that eliminates aberrations and makes images distortion-free. The last lens feature I appreciate is an ultra-hard scratchresistant coating called ArmorTek. Whether you hunt in hot/dusty September sun or during a snowstorm in November, Vortex Razor binoculars will have you covered. Their sealed
• • • • • • • • • •
Magnification: 10x Objective Lens: 42mm Exit Pupil: 4.20mm Eye Relief: 16mm Field of View at 1000 Yards: 325 feet Angular Field of View: 6.2 degrees Close Focus: 8.2 feet Size: 6.5” H x 5.5” W Weight: 29.8 oz. Tripod Adaptable
MSRP: $869.00
O-rings makes them waterproof and dustproof. As I mentioned before, I was really impressed with the Razors not fogging up while glassing during cool weather. Vortex accomplishes this by filling each barrel of the binoculars with argon gas to cancel out internal fogging.
Warranty
By the end of the 2009 season I had the opportunity to hunt the rugged wilderness for mule deer and elk along with the open flats for antelope. I could not have been happier with the way the Vortex Razor binoculars performed. Even with so many binoculars out on the market, I would highly recommend the Vortex Razor for your next hunting adventure!
Vortex optics have a VIP warranty (Very Important Promise) which means all Vortex optics are covered against future dents, defects, or damages. If you are rough on binoculars and break them, send them back to Vortex and they will repair or replace them for free. Using Vortex Razor 10X42 binoculars played a big role in harvesting this buck in 2009
the
Call
of the
Wild
Tell me if this hasn’t been your experience at some point during this fall hunting season. It’s a beautiful, autumn Sunday morning. You are sitting in a pew at church, worshipping God and enjoying it… but also longing to be out in His Creation, pursuing a trophy bull elk or tracking that elusive white tail. The call of the wild can be an intense call on a man’s heart. The reason it is so powerful is because God put it there. The Bible tells us that after God created the earth and all of the animal kingdom, He created man and put him in charge. Then God said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; and let them rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over the cattle and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” ~Genesis 1:26 God took delight in His masterpiece—man. And He said to us, Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on earth. ~Genesis 1:28 That longing that we have as men to be out hunting and gathering is a God-given desire. As with any good gift that He gives us, we bless Him when we use it for His glory and His purposes on earth. So I ask you, how are you using your God-given desire to hunt to bless the
Creator who gave it to you? Let me tell you how Scott in Wyoming is using his passionate pursuit of the wild for God’s passionate pursuit of hearts. In 2006, Scott befriended an 11-year-old boy named Masen. The world saw Masen as a pretty typical kid— one of the countless kids in every community who are being raised by single moms. But Scott saw someone different. Scott saw a boy with a gaping wound in his heart, a wound that was created when his dad abandoned him for a life of crime that eventually led to prison. That wound of abandonment tormented the little boy non-stop, convincing him that he was not worthy of a father’s love. Through their hunting and fishing adventures and exploration of the great outdoors, however, Scott helped lead Masen to a different conclusion. The boy learned that he does have a father who loves him and wants a relationship with him—his Father in Heaven, the Creator of the earth and everything in it including the majestic mountains abounding with animals and the rushing streams teeming with fish. At first, it was too much for Masen to handle or believe. But as the two pondered God’s Word, His promises, and the forgiveness and love offered through His Son, Jesus, Masen embraced his Father in Heaven. One Sunday morning on their weekly ride to church, Masen excitedly told Scott that he had prayed for forgiveness from his Heavenly Father and salvation through Jesus Christ. But that wasn’t all. Masen had also decided
to forgive his dad for abandoning him. To say the least, Scott was blown away. What a privilege it was for Scott to watch Masen’s gaping wound of abandonment has begun to heal before his very eyes. Incredible! This is what can happen when we use our God-given desires to serve the Lord. He blesses us beyond our imagination. In fact, within two weeks of that life-changing Sunday morning, Masen got a surprise letter from his father in prison who wanted to see him. Just months earlier, such news would have infuriated this hurting boy. But now, with his wound of abandonment beginning to heal, Masen welcomed the opportunity to visit his dad, tell him he forgave him, and share with him the freedom that he had found in Jesus Christ. Masen’s story is just the tip of the iceberg. There are countless fatherless boys in communities across America who desperately need mentor fathers to come alongside them and show them what it means to answer God’s call—His call on their hearts to follow Him and His call of the wild to love and rule over His Creation. God convicted my heart and stirred my passion to start Fathers in the Field—a Christian adventure ministry that unites fatherless boys (“field buddies”) with mature Christian men (“mentor fathers”) in God’s classroom, the great outdoors, to help boys learn about the liberating love of God and the healing that comes through the forgiveness of their earthly fathers. Right now, we are looking for
The world saw Masen as a pretty typical kid—one of the countless kids in every community who are being raised by single moms. But Scott saw someone different.
men who want to combine their passions for the Lord and the outdoors in a way that makes a difference in the world. If Masen’s story inspires you and the idea of blending your passion for the Lord with your passion for hunting intrigues you, consider joining Fathers in the Field. We are men united in our love of God, passion for the outdoors, and pursuit of purposeful living. For more information, visit us at www.FathersintheField.com
Left: Masen and Scott. Directly above: John Smithbaker and Laine with antelope.
John Smithbaker, a long-time outdoor industry advocate, entrepreneur, and founder/CEO of North American Gear, headquartered in Lander, Wyoming, started Fathers in the Field in 2005.
* paid advertisement
HUNTING
A Hunter’s
REAL
magazine
Life
A
lifetime of sharing knowledge of wildlife has taken Ed from private ranches to public schools as he continues to “pass it on” every chance he gets. After a walk through Ed’s home in Deer Lodge, Mont., it’s obvious this man loves to hunt. Unique artifacts collected over the years adorn his home including a whale’s vertebrae and a walrus skull complete with long ivory tusks imprinted with genuine Native American artistry. More traditional hunting gems include mounted deer, elk and moose antlers while a mountain goat taken by Ed in 1976 compliments two antelope taken in 1965 by Ed and his wife on their honeymoon. Sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by old photos and hunting paraphernalia, Ed shared stories of the Army, welding, hunting and trapping. His view on recent wildlife management decisions and the politics of it all came out with strong ties to
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the local ranching community. As a young boy, Ed recalled hunting squirrels and rabbits near his home. A brand new J.C. Higgins 12-gauge purchased for $25.88 from Sears and Roebuck in the fall of 1949 was Ed’s first shotgun. His earliest big game hunting experiences were humble. “Dad never took me out but got me shooting with a slug,” he recalled. “When you’re shooting squirrels on a limb you just point the thing and bang, the squirrel just falls off. But with a slug you’ve got to aim. Well, the first year we went deer hunting, I missed nine deer. I mean I couldn’t believe it! It sounds terrible but it’s the truth!” In 1956, Ed was turned down by Harley Davidson Motor Company for a job as a welder on the assembly line. As he walked out the door, he
walked right back in again following a group on a tour of the facility. The next morning Ed stood in front of the foreman once again and explained he knew he had the skills to perform the type of welding the job demanded. He was given five hours to prove himself. It only took three. His same perseverance showed through again after he was drafted into the Army in 1961. Ed decided he wanted to make Corporal before his time was up. As 2,400 men marched off the U.S. Darby in 1963, there was just one double-skeet wing Corporal in the group – Ed. After coming home from military service, Ed returned to welding before moving his young family to Deer Lodge. “When I first came here, there was nothing for sale and nothing for rent. You couldn’t rent a doghouse,” he said. At that time, local businesses started booming and after a couple of slow years, Ed’s welding business took off too. It wasn’t long before he earned a good reputation in the local community and around the state. Working as a welder for local ranchers had its advantages, and soon Ed found his way onto ranches that most people could only view from a distance. On one such ranch the owner gave him permission to shoot
a cow elk. “I’d get down in there and man, there’d be elk running all over the place,” he said. “When you’re going to try to shoot one elk out of 300, it really gets to be fun! I’d run down to where the elk crossed the fence below me. It was so dark in there that the elk were hitting the barbed wire and sparks were coming off the staples. So I’d run down in there and turn them. I was a lot younger back then. “I’d run up to the top trying to hit one of these elk as I leaned on the fence post and then they’d hit that fence!” Ed laughed. “They’d turn and run, so I’d run that way, then I’d run back up with them and I thought I had a necktie on so I grabbed a hold of it and gave it a jerk and it was my tongue!” Ed eventually shot an elk that day at 400 yards – a great improvement over his first big game experience. When asked his thoughts about the FWP and how our wildlife has changed over the years Ed said, “I am very closely related to the agricultural community and under those circumstances, I have a terrible time with the wolf. “Our ranching community is getting run over with these wolves and what they don’t kill they run (causing them) to abort their calves,” he said. Ed recalled a local rancher who recently had 40 percent of his cows open after breeding due to stress. “A man cannot stand that very long,” he said. “Our elk herds are in trouble because they’re coming up with 20 calves per 100 and in some places less than that. In some places it’s three. It’s over.” When asked about his views on the FWP’s management of Montana’s wildlife Ed offered an analogy, “I believe the FWP plays the political game and runs the center of the road. The way I look at the guy running the center of the road, he’s going to get hit by traffic going in both directions.” Ed has watched local deer and elk
herds plummet and it doesn’t stop at elk and deer. He has also witnessed eagles grab young big horn lambs and fly away. “They’ve got to make a stand and get rid of these predators,” Ed said. Ed is a man who will share stories for hours and he’s the first to help anyone who will ask. He shared stories that included getting caught in rain storms while hunting antelope in Wyoming, his Montana mountain goat and moose hunts, fishing trips in Alaska and 57 years of hand loading. Ed ended with a statement that shows his personality and defines the very core of his love for the outdoors and all that is in it; “Pass on the knowledge that you have to people – young people, old people, middle aged people, anyone who will listen to you and can pick up on the knowledge and experience that you’ve had in all your life – pass it on. That’s the way I look at it.” Thanks to men like Edward Hebbe III, our hunting heritage will live on for generations to come.
General Information: Born - May 28, 1938 Milwaukee, Wisc. Married for 45 years, family includes two sons Ed’s Favorites: .375 HH shot with 300 gr. Solids – Ed’s preferred rifle for the last 30 years. .458 shot with 400 gr. cast bullets
– Ed shot every type of big game species he’s taken with this rifle. 45-70-12-300 H- Ed’s unique rifle made largely by himself Ed’s Advice – “Pass it on” Ed’s shared knowledge: Re-loading, guns, hunting, trapping, fishing Other unique artifacts he collects: bullets retrieved from big game animals SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
69
T
Taking Aim
he mail came the other day with a nice reimbursement check from the Fish, Wildlife and Parks with my name on it. It was an unexpected surprise for me, but not my husband. “Oh yeah,” he said sheepishly. “You didn’t draw out for a moose or mountain goat tag.” And to think I’ve been sleepless the last few weeks waiting and wondering the outcome of my long-shot entry into the oncein-a-lifetime draw, I sarcastically ranted. I vaguely remember the day my husband decided it was time for me to start collecting bonus points. He entered me and my 14-year-old daughter’s names in the computer and paid the fees upfront. I didn’t stop doing dishes to find out which area and which animals he was entering, but I did stop scrubbing long enough to look him in the eye and say, “Yes” when he seriously asked, “You would shoot a moose if you drew the tag wouldn’t you?” I knew my affirmative answer was 100 percent naïve as to what would be required to hunt moose in
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Montana, but I do have fond memories of all that lean meat we enjoyed a few winters ago. My only confidence in following my husband’s example is because he’s “been there, done that.” So while I’m admittedly not prepared to hunt moose, the reality struck a chord as we came face to face with one while camping last week. My friend and I took our kids to relax at her parent’s cabin near West Yellowstone. During dinner one evening a moose passed by the big window of the rustic cabin. My son
called it a teenager with its barelythere velvet nubbins for antlers. It walked down the dirt road and then to the water to munch on luscious river greens. As he stood broadside grazing less than 50 yards away, my 8-year-old son lifted his imaginary rifle and took aim. I realized, I should do the same in theory and try to imagine what it would be like to make the beast my target. The moose was gentle and entertaining for the next half hour as I took aim with my camera instead. The sun eventually set and the bull disappeared into the shadows of the opposite shore. The moose’s demeanor this time of year was as lazy as ours while on vacation, but I know it’s a different story if my husband and I stalk one in winter’s early snow. I admit, I gained a new appreciation of the importance of imagining the hunt before it really happens. Thank heavens, I’ve got many years to gather bonus points and prepare in every way if and when it becomes my turn to hunt a mighty moose.
OCT / NOV 2009 •
71
HUNTING
Take Your magazine
Best Shot
T
he
REAL
marco lense on a camera allows the camera to focus on close objects and can provide a depth and view of your hunting trip not captured in a standard photo mode. You can take pictures of the other things you find along the trip that make the journey memorable. Plants, rocks, gear, insects, food, animals, even getting a unique view of a hunter in the field makes for some great macro shots Almost every camera out there has some sort of macro feature. When looking for the macro feature on your camera, look for the standard macro symbol which is a small flower. Some cameras also have a super macro setting for getting even closer to your subject. The focus distance of your macro setting will vary from camera to camera so try it out at home first. How to shoot great Macro Shots: Set your camera to macro mode. If using an SLR type camera setting a larger aperture is helpful. If using a point and shoot most of the options are automated. Lighting- make sure your subject is well lit. Remember that if the lighting is
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low on a point and shoot with an automated macro it will leave the aperuture open longer to gather more light. If the camera is not steady then the picture may turn out blurry. To help light your subject try diffusing your flash with a tissue or piece of paper. Getting steady – a tripod works great but if you don’t happen to have one try setting the camera on something and using the photo timer to take the picture. That way the picture is hands free and steady. Review the photo- check the photo on your digital camera and zoom in to make sure the picture is totally
focused. With Macro many parts of the picture should be blurry with the one focal point in crisp focus. If your photo is blurry try taking the picture a little further away or switching to super macro mode. Get creative – Macro allows you to get angles you can’t get with a regular shot. Try as many angles as you can. Remember the rules of composition and the rule of thirds. Focus on something that draws the eye of the viewer. With macro the camera is focused so tightly on the subject it blurs the background which creates a unique effect when the subject is properly framed in the photo. Hint: If you are using a SLR camera with a large zoom lens you may be able to set the camera to macro and still take great pictures from farther away. I have used this technique to blur the background on a wildlife photo while keeping the subject in perfect focus. The best part about taking pictures in macro is the ability to take something that would look ordinary in a standard snapshot and turn it into a picture where the viewer gets so close they feel like they were part of the experience.
RHM
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REAL
HUNTING
Send in your best photo from the field to: editor@realhuntingmag.com
This Issue’s
PHOTO SPOTLIGHT Hanford Bull
B
oil water in a paper cup- believe it or not you can boil water in a paper cup. Just fill the cup full and then place it in the fire. The cup will burn down only to the water level. It is great for sanitizing dirty water or cooking an egg. For many bachelors out there, this revelation may mean the end of doing dishes. Hint: make sure the fire is big enough so if the water boils over it will not put the fire out. Also fully soaking the cup keeps it from burning down to the water line.
R
ock Steady- When glassing, it is important to get comfortable. When using your binos, sit down and support your back against something solid. Lock your elbows into your body or brace them on your legs. Think of how a tripod works; the more points of your body you have on the ground, or a solid rest, the more stable you will be. If you are wearing a ball cap, hold the binoculars to the brim of your hat. This is just one more touch-point for added stability. The more comfortable you are and the more stable you are, the easier it is to spot game.
M
oving Archery Targets- a package of balloons, a slight breeze and a body of water make for great archery practice on moving targets. Blow up a balloon then place it on the surface of the water up wind of the shooter. The balloon will drift past creating a great moving target. It is like skeet shooting for a bow. Hint: This can also be done on the ground. For ground shooting use blunt tips and make sure there is a good backstop to catch your arrows.
S
ighting in your bow & tightening your groups- Aim small miss small. When sighting in your bow or trying to tighten up your arrow groupings, place a small one inch diameter white sticker on your target. The smaller size of the white sticker helps you aim more precisely. The white color is easy for your eye to pick up and contrasts great against your pins. By using the small white dot you will tighten up your groups and make it easier to tell where you are really hitting. You may surprise yourself at how accurate you are when you have a small focal point that is easily picked up by your eye to aim at. Hint: The top to a bottled water also works great by wedging it in missing chucks of a beat up target.
SEPT/ OCT 2010 •
77
PRSRT STD U.S. POSTAGE
PAID
Post Falls, ID PERMIT NO. 32
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