22 November-December 2008 Applegater
APPLEGATE OUTBACK: MY OPINION
Elk hunt
BY BOB FISCHER
It was early November and the tree leaves had
turned brown. I could feel a sharp bite in the air as
it blew across the mountaintop that I was sitting on.
I could see an eagle soaring beneath me looking for
a meal.
I was on the Montana, Idaho border in the
Selway Bitterroot Forest in the Clearwater area. My
hunting partners, Gil Smith, John Kilroy, Dick Pearce
and I were elk hunting in an area called, “Death
Creek.” In this area deep in the forest live, black
bear, mountain lion, grizzly bear, elk, deer and an
abundance of other furry creatures, some dangerous
and some not so dangerous.
It was four in the morning as I made my
way across the Clearwater River. I could hear in the
distance the haunting call of a bull elk. Th is was the
same elk I had been tracking all week. Gil Smith and
I called him “Hank Aaron” because he was batting a
thousand with us. Every time we would get to within
shooting range he would suddenly disappear, then
reappear about a thousand yards away on the next
mountain top calling his ladies to him.
Th e rifl e I was carrying could reach him, but
the accuracy at this extreme range is questionable,
one mistake could cost you a loss of the animal. So I
continued each day to try to get closer to him.
Th e day before, Dick Pearce had spent the night
on the trail in hopes of fi nding him before he went
deep into the woods.
Dick had returned to our base camp the next
day a little quiet, not wanting to talk about where he
had lost his sleeping bag.
A grunt and a growl snapped me back to reality.
A small black bear plunged through the brush off to
my right side. He probably was just as scared as I was,
suddenly coming across each other.
I continued hiking up the trail, which leads
to a small saddle between two mountains and on
to the area where old Henry Aaron hangs out. As I
approached the saddle I slowed and looked around at
the blanket of feathers covering the trail and foliage.
It looked as though a large bird had put up one hell
of a fi ght. Th en I found Dick’s sleeping bag behind a
downed tree. Th e bag had this large hole in the bottom
of it. Later I would fi nd out Dick had shot his down-
fi lled sleeping bag.
I left his bag there to be picked up when I came
back and continued slowly working my way into
the valley. I found myself partially surrounded by a
small elk herd feeding and unaware of my presence.
I saw small spike bulls and females, but no big regal
bull elk. Th en I heard him call from about 200 yards
away in some deep brush. I started working my way
towards him.
Th e herd became aware of my presence and
suddenly elk were plunging through the trees and
brush in every direction. In a matter of minutes
they were gone, and then I heard the call. I got to a
clearing looking up on his mountain to see old Hank
come trotting out of the forest about 500 yards away
into a clearing. He stood broadside to me, his head
held high looking down on me.
His herd? They were slowly trotting out
towards him. I sat down near a tree stump and
watched him through my scope. I adjusted my scope
for 500 yards and set the cross hairs on his chest. I
watched him for several minutes marveling at this
magnifi cent animal. I lowered my magnum rifl e
and smiled.
Old Hank had earned the right to live out his
life with his ladies. He had found an area that most
hunters would not attempt to climb through the
30-foot deep brush and fallen trees that surrounded
his mountain. It acted as a barrier of protection for
him.
I sat and watched him for about a half hour,
then slung my rifl e over my shoulder and headed
down the mountain with Dick’s sleeping bag.
Back at camp Dick told us that he had bedded
down in his sleeping bag and was putting his rifl e
inside it. Dick said he pointed it down the path in
case a bear was coming up the path. In putting the
rifl e into his bag he accidentally pulled the trigger.
Feathers went everywhere.
I spent the next week chasing elk across the
mountains and valleys. It was turning cold and snow
clouds were moving into the area. Gil and I had been
out about three weeks now and decided to head back
to the big city. Although on this trip all I was bringing
home was one deer, this trip, as most of my hunting
trips are, I never came back empty handed. Seeing
the country and being close to the wild animals is
enough to make it all worthwhile.
Bob Fischer • 541-846-6218
Bob’s hunting tip #101
Always leave the tailgate down on your pickup truck. When the deer jump in, sneak up
on them and shut the tailgate real quick before they can jump out.