The garbanzo beans are so late – the deer are in there - but no sign of elk. (Maybe the elk will be in the peas.) I brought my machete to clear some thorn bushes on one of the overgrown logging roads. In the process the blade got bent, and the handle seemed a bit non-dependable, so when done I tossed it. I would only need the trail cleared one last season (fall and spring).
On top I decided to text Michele to see if she wanted to get together for a beer. As we were zeroing in on a time – I crossed over a hill and out in the peas were a cow moose and yearling calf (moose).
But wait! – that cow moose doesn’t have a calf. (I have seen her before!) Could the other animal be an elk?
It is amazing how load a cell phone chime can be when suddenly on a stalk on elk. (Michele was texting back.)
I used cover of a single evergreen tree, scrambling to kill the master volume on the cell phone.
As I get closer the smaller animal appears to be maneuvering to suck off the moose, but not quite.
The smaller animal is also all dark, and elk have a light brown rump patch. So it can't be an elk ... But, wait! … the animal is facing me – so I can’t see the rump.
Maybe.
Closer still I look to see that they have separated. Now I am thinking instead of a yearling moose – the other animal is my prize – a mature cow elk ... a large animal on its own, though small next to a moose.
Past the lone evergreen I must get prone in the short dry, thistle-y cheat grass … my target is at about 200 yards, and I must get to the edge of a small draw to use my bipod. I am running out of daylight. It is getting dark.
As the cheat grass gives way to dry thorns and other stuff – I am getting noisy.
It is all about timing. If I go so slow as to be undetected, I will probably not reach a shooting position until it is too dark. I go at a pace at which I will probably be noticed, but not too startling to the moose and elk. Certainly I do not want to appear human. At first I will be noise, then moving grass, then ...
I must press or lose my opportunity. It seems far to the edge of the draw, but is only about 30 yards. The cow moose discovers me. And then the cow elk. The moose just stands there; the cow elk starts moving back toward the safety of the timber. Now I have their full attentions, and I must make more noise as I break thistles to clear a path for my bullet, and to also see through the scope.
The situation could decompose, but I have a sense it will not.
The elk stops at the edge of the field, broadside to look at me. I can barely see the light brown of rump. In fact, daylight is vanishing. She turns toward me. Now I am ready. I will take only a good shot with the 140 grain 260 Remington caliber bullet. I put the crosshairs dead center between shoulders. I will hit one shoulder, a lung, or the shoulder. It will kill but not anchor. At the shot she reels around and heads out into the peas and around the west end of the ridge (out of sight). I can tell by her reaction she is hit.
…
I text Michele: "I just shot an elk ... we will have to do beer another night … "
...
Daylight almost entirely gone I jump up, chamber another round, and take pursuit. The cow moose simply watches as I go by. I come around the ridge and she (the elk) is standing, 100 yards distant, in the peas, watching me. She is hurt. We are both standing. I will try the head shot.
The crosshairs swirl around her head in a pattern that is both chaotic but has pattern, and has air as background during much of the swirls. I have to try. At the shot she folds.
I have my elk.
…
Mostly dark I now walk up to her. I now have a five hundred pound animal to deal with, a mile from the nearest road, and it is August. Who can I call? Matt! I dial his number. Though we have talked only a little in the last 10 months, somehow he knows I am calling because I need help with an elk. I describe where I am – he has to finish up some work and will come help me.
She is still moving, but looks to be her last. I start down the back with my knife … starting to open her up and cool her off. As I start with the backstrap there is still a lot of blood in her body, so I explore a little. I cannot find a bullet hole, in either her front, or her head. Hmmmm … did I hit her at all? As I open her trachea I am hit with a spray of blood, on face an arm, so I obviously also hit a lung. She begins to drain out.
The cow moose, that calmly watched the ordeal unfold, now runs by in seeming panic. Perhaps at the smell of blood.
I turn the elk over - she has a broken shoulder.
In haste I get one rear quarter off, the good shoulder, the other rear quarter - about the time Matt arrives. …
I am getting tired, and thirstly. I should have asked Matt to bring ...
As Matt approaches I eat some peas ... arrives, and hands me a beer. SWEET!
...
The evening is glorious. The moon is out. The lights from town …
We work some more and take a load to the vehicles. We decide to come into town for food and drink.
…
The delight of the Palouse is that it cools at night, except for only a few nights in August, but this night is not one of them. In Matt’s open-air truck we are actually cold getting back to the hill. The climb warms us up. The moon is bright enough for navigation without our lights, but we turn them back on once at the elk. We finish with the good quarters, then salvage what we can of the front shoulder taking the hit. I get the other tenderloin, and now with saw we take the ribs. It is sweet. I hammer it home that Matt will miss this – once he graduates and leaves town.
…
It is 46 degrees and 1:45 AM as we come into town. I pull up to a blinking yellow light with blinking red on the left turn, and I am taking the left turn without stopping. A Sheriff deputy cruiser is parked next to the intersection. Halfway across the oncoming lane I realize I need to stop, and do, but it is too late. The deputy takes up chase.
He follows from afar for several blocks, and then hits the lights. I am tired. I am confident that he will only give me a warning – once he sees I am legal, not drunk, etc. And I am right. He checks my license and registration, warns me to come to a full stop first the next time, and lets me go. I waive a thanks-gooodbye. I pull into my apartment – it is 2:00 AM. LIFE IS GOOD.
Now I have taken an elk off the hill. I can move.
ENDNOTE: though I never found an entry hole - obviously my first shot broke shoulder and hit at least one lung. I could not find a hole in her head, only some bruising at the base of one ear. The shock of the bullet hitting or passing near her ear apparently stunned her - though the effects of the first shot had probably also near run their full course. I am grateful the events unfolded just as they did - I do not like trying to track a hit animal in the dark.
OTHER END NOTE: later I got a text back from Michele: "Oh, okay ... " A girl who grew up in England - had no idea what "I just shot an elk" would mean.
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