The morning started like any other, dark and me feeling like I could use 2 more hours of sleep. Kirk T. Norris and I hit the trail about 2 hours before light, hoping to make “pistachio ridge” by shooting light. The hike doesn’t seem like much when glancing at a GPS or google earth, but hiking up the steep ridge proved to be quite the challenge. It had rained the night before and the slick grass on the steep hill side put me on the ground several times on our trip up the mountain.

After the tiring hike, we had made our way to the ridge slightly after shooting light. We were in high spirits because we had made it and we had seen lots of sign, including a lone cow. We sat on the ridge and formulated our strategy for the morning. As we sat there making our plan, the elk rudely interrupted us with several bugles bellowing out of the box canyon behind us. We spent the next couple of hours playing cat and mouse as both us and the elk made our way up the heavily timbered canyon. We got several answers to our calls, but we couldn’t close the gap or turn the elk. We relocated higher up on the canyon wall and kirk set up about 30 yards behind me. Kirk proceeded to do what he does best, as he blew into his reeds and gave the illusion of several cows and small bull in the area. After about 10 minutes of calling we listened to the silence, and then “crack”. Elk? Squirrel? Moose? Me hallucinating again? Kirk continued his sequence and I could tell that the noise was getting closer. I had set up in front of an old dead lodge pole and some alders. I had about a 30-40 yard shooting lane that was about 5 yards wide. The hillside was thick with lodge pole and healthy growth of alder clouding the shooting lanes. To my surprise the elk chose not to walk into my perfectly planned shooting lane. Instead, it walked in about 6 yards from me. It glanced at me, walked straight up to a lodge pole as if it knew where it was going. Then without hesitating the bull licked the tree. I still don’t know what to think about that. I was frozen. I had no chance to draw or move as the bull was mere yards from me. Knowing better I tried to lift my bow and the bull snorted and trotted off. Stalk and Spook success! I was amazed at how silent it could move through the timber as it blasted away from us. Kirk and I regrouped, he was in awe of what he had just witnessed. He should have been proud, he had coaxed a bull to within yards of his partner. I had mixed emotions. I was so excited to be that close, but so disappointed in picking a set up that didn’t give me a chance to draw back and take a shot. I was quite certain that was my chance for 2013, and I had blown it. It was incredible, but I knew it would take me several months to appreciate it. At the the time I couldn’t forgive myself for not taking more time to set up and pick a more opportunistic spot, (lesson learned).

After several hours and miles of exploring and chasing, Kirk and I found ourselves back on “pistachio ridge”. By this point the weather had started to take its toll on us. A drizzling rain had started in the morning and by afternoon it had turned to a very heavy wet snow. The snow was now about six inches deep and accumulating by the minute. It was approaching the last couple hours of light, and Kirk and I planned to hunt back down the face as the light fell. First we decided we would warm up with a quick fire. That plan never quite materialized for us, because we managed to bring in a bugling bull with all the noise we made by snapping twigs and branches. The fire was out and the chase was back on, a chance to avenge my prior flop.

The herd of elk decided to follow along with our plan and work their way off the ridge to valley floor and river below. We followed behind, able to track the bulls by their constant bugling. Getting off the mountain was treacherous. My feet slipped out from under me several times and my Sitka pants were like a sled on the steep hill side. Kirk and I finally reached the valley floor in one piece. The snow had started coming down so hard that we had to clean our sights every 5-10 minutes. It was all worth it, because the elk seemed to be accumulating as fast as the snow. The elk were dropping into to the valley from both sides of the canyon, and there were making no secret of it as they bugled their way into us.

Our final set up was nothing more than the standard. Kirk playing his symphony of calls about 30 yards behind me, and our Montana Decoy splitting the difference about 15 feet off to my left. The call sequence produced quickly, just as earlier in the day. The advantage I had this time is I was looking out into meadow with scattered pine trees and bull approaching from about 100 yards away. As the bull passed the final tree about 60 yards out, the only thing between it and me was a 4 foot pine I had set up behind. The bull rolled towards me with no concerns at a steady pace. Before I knew it, I was at full draw. The bull was 15 yards from me. Story over, right? Had this been a TV hunt or I had no conscience I would say yes, but…The truth. Remember that snow that was accumulating? I had done a great job of keeping my sight cleaned off. This proved useless as my peep was filled with snow, and I didn’t realize it until I was anchored at full draw. I released the arrow, and it was an obvious miss. The elk jumped. Kirk Called. I knocked another arrow from my quiver, trying to be quick and efficient with my movement. The elk stopped. I now had clear shot, as the previous shot knocked all the slush and snow from bow and more importantly my peep. I held steady and released the second arrow into the blizzard. There is no words to describe my emotion as I watched the arrow pass though the bull in double lung fashion. In the next thirty seconds I was able to witness the same sequence I had seen one year ago to the day. It was the exact same day I had shot my first elk and first bull. The elk walked 30 yards, and it fell to the ground with its back legs giving out first. Kirk had handed me an elk in an area that I had always dreamed of having a successful hunt. It didn’t go as planned, but we adapted and we were successful...or as we call it a "Stalk and Spook Failure".

At the end of the hunt we found ourselves about a mile from our camp, and about 500 yards from the road with only the river separating us. We dressed the elk into quarters and made 2 trips across the mountain river. As we dressed the elk out branches were snapping in the background under the load of all the wet snow. We picked up camp that night and headed back to home base full of excitement, happiness, and reeking of a rutting bull. The hunt couldn’t have been complete without Comancho. Just as we were finished packing the elk out, Comancho showed up to lend a hand as we hadn’t yet returned to our rendezvous point. Perfectly timed arrival to not have to do a damn thing except celebrate…haha!

Shawn T. Norris

Blizzard Bull 2013 - Epic Stalk and Spook Failure

Stalk and Spook Hunting