Busted. The cow was staring
straight at us. This was third time we had been spotted by this alert
little cow. She was feeding on the leading edge of about 200 head of
Rocky Mount Elk in Northeastern Oregon. It was the second day of the
Rocky Mountain Elk Second Rifle Season and we were in a spot in which we didn't
expect to see elk the week before.
We spent the entire previous day hunting the timbered draws and dry hillsides in which we used to finding the elk. This year was a little different. Drought has hit this portion of the east side of Oregon quite hard. This is one of the factors contributing to moving the elk out of the timber and down to agricultural land.
We spotted our first herd in a CRP, Conservation Reserve Program, field. This wasn't the first time I had seen elk down in the lowlands. Every year, it seems, the elk find their way down out of the mountains and on to grazing land, dryland wheat farms, and other irrigated farms. It was always a treat for me to go out and watch the large heard as they fed into the wind on winter mornings when I was younger. The cows and calves would softly be calling to each other at the base of the Blue Mountains in stubble and on seeded wheat.
That's exactly what we were seeing on this day. The herd was slowly moving from east to west, into the wind, along the top of a hill with three draws leading up to it. The rolling hills were exactly the type of terrain the elk herd seemed to prefer. We would eventually spot four herds that day, all at, or near the very top of the rolling terrain.
The elk fed like this to maximize their chances of spotting approaching predators, like us.
Our initial approach to the herd was down a dry creek bed. I have to imagine this is a tactic used by our ancestors for thousands of years. Thankfully, I wasn’t carrying an atlatl; I had a Remington 700 in .300 Winchester Magnum. Topped by a Leupold Mark IV 6.5-20 scope that was the nicest piece of hunting equipment I own. This was our first hunting trip together. Being the largest caliber rifle I currently have, I like to call it The Big Dog.
Moving down the creek bed, we knew we had to be close to the elk and would spot them just around every turn. The only problem was we kept moving further down the creek, rounding turns, and there were no elk. My buddy and I looked quizzically at each other, not really knowing how we could have missed the elk we had spotted almost half a mile back. We decided to start heading, diagonally, up the hill.
We had walked about 400 yards when we saw the curious cow's ears poking up above the sage brush. We slowly sprawled out on the ground. Both of us had our rifles, shooting sticks, and packs. It was about forty degrees with the wind blowing around twenty miles per hour from east to west.
As we lay splayed out on the cheat grass, basalt, and sage brush covered hillside, a line of elk, moving up the terrain, were feeding parallel to the direction we were traveling. While we misjudged where to move up the hill based on where we thought we had spotted the herd, we were actually on the right side of lucky meeting them where we did. The only elk not moving was the nosy cow who spotted us.
We were unsure what to do. We had almost no cover. No rim rocks, no sage brush, no anything. Thankfully, the curious cow put her head down and started to feed again. So we made a few hand signals and whispered at each other to come to a decision to start crawling, moving parallel to the direction the herd was travelling.
As we were crawling, we continued to see elk through the sage brush and grass. Brown manes, tan hides, and white butts seemed to be pouring up the hillside. We stopped to range the closest cow elk. She was 178 yards away, three animals ahead of the nosey cow who now had her head up staring at us a second time. We decided to wait where we were for a few minutes to watch more of the elk herd feed up the hill through a little swale parallel to us,
Crawling through the brush is never an easy thing. Feeling a little nervous about having hurriedly crawling over the last 100 yards or so, I decided to check The Big Dog's scope and barrel to make sure I had been as careful with it as I was trying to be. Thankfully, both scope and barrel were dirt free.
The curious cow finally put her head down and began to feed once again. We resumed our crawl, changing direction slightly to get a better angle on the slowly feeding herd. We set the goal of reaching a patch of taller sage brush about on a small knoll about 50 yards ahead of us. The good news was the sage between us and our goal was becoming thicker and taller. The bad news was our curious cow was poking her head out of the sage once again.
They say the third time is a charm. We were flat on our bellies after our second crawling session over lichen covered basalt and between bunch grass and sage brush. The cow resumed feeding, once again, and we were able to finish our crawl. We sat behind the tall brush and watched the herd of, now five or six elk feed.
As an aside, two days before this hunt I received my Kuiu Guide Gloves (which are, unfortunately sold-out). We were crawling over the basalt and lava rock with cheat grass and all manner of prickly things. These gloves were fantastic. I've become a believer in this company's products. This is the type of terrain on which we were crawling (although this photo was taken three weeks earlier):
We watched the herd continue to feed and the cow that had a knack for almost busting us moved ahead with the group. As we watched the herd, grow, we started to notice more elk bedded down in the sage brush. Then my buddy put his index fingers up over his ears to indicate he could see a spike. I looked through my binoculars in the direction he was looking and saw him, too.
He was bedded down in the tall grass behind some sage brush. Like the curious cow, he was looking right at us with his ears pointed straight in our direction. We still had the win on our side, but soon the lead animals in the herd were going to continue moving and they would wind us. We needed this spike to stand up before that happened, and he was awfully content, lounging behind the sage in the grass.
I was continuing to watch the lead animals feed into the wind, nearing the crest of the hill. The third member of our group was near the top of the hill. I watched him, binoculars up, doing the same mental gymnastics I was currently engaged in trying to determine when the lead animals would get a little swirl of scent which had our names all over it.
The spike didn't care about our problems. He was joined by several other animals who bedded down ahead of him. More elk were coming up the hill and bedding down as well. This was getting complicated. If he didn't move soon, he would be surrounded by cows offering us no shot. This was complicated, of course, by the fact if he didn't move soon we were going to be winded.
Mother Nature was not worried about our problems. What was an already miserable day was starting to get worse. The wind was picking up, and rain drops were starting to fall. This was elk hunting, pure and simple.
Just as I was beginning to cuss the rain, I changed my tune. Those few drops and the uptick on the wind gage signaled change, for the better. The lead animals quit moving in formation toward the spot where the wind would be carrying our scent. I thanked my lucky stars for that. The cows near the bedded spike moved up the hill, and he was soon clear of any obstruction.
Our 300 yard crawl was starting to wear off my old knees. Put the binoculars down and got my shooting sticks into position, slightly in front of my hips. I placed The Big Dog in the "V" of the sticks and moved the crosshairs toward the resting spike. As the scope came to rest on his nose, I turned up the dial to 12X. The vividness of the spike's brown mane was quite a sight. I continued to watch the spike lie in the grass hoping he would get up soon and present a good shot for me.
I lifted my head from my rifle to look downhill at my fellow hunter and belly crawler. At the same time he looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "Looks like we're waiting here for a while."
As I turned my gaze back toward the spike I noticed he was beginning to move. I looked to the rest of the herd to see if they had caught our scent, but they seemed very calm. As the spike lumbered to get his legs under him, I slowed my breathing, anticipating he would present a shot. I slid the bolt back on The Big dog and loaded a cartridge in the chamber. The elk was now standing looking directly toward me. I slid the safety off as quietly and carefully as I could, thinking somehow the spike was going to run off at my slightest movement or flinch. Instead, the spike turned up the hill, presenting a broadside shot.
I exhaled and slowly squeezed the trigger. The Big Dog barked as the 180 grain bullet flew free of the case and careened toward the elk. I wish I could say I saw the bullet traveling or saw it hit, but the truth is I made a huge mistake. I pulled my head off the scope, immediately. I did not hear the confirming THWAP come back at me from the sound of the bullet meeting the rib cage of the elk. I was sure I had missed because I watched the elk trundle off ten yards behind disappear the taller sage brush and, what I thought, run up the hill and down into a small swale on the hillside. What I didn't know is that both my biddies heard the impact of the bullet and were completely dumbfounded as to how I could have missed him fall after traveling about fifteen yards.
While skinning the elk, we were surprised to find the Remington Core-Lokt had given up all its energy potential inside the spike's vitals. We found it on the opposite side between the hide and the rib cage.
