Guidance from
above and below
HER FIRST BULL ELK WAS A UNICORN
Story by Richard Hanners of the Blue Mountain Eagle
Chelsea McDaniel with
boyfriend and hunting
guide, Butch Goslin.
Chelsea reloaded and fired,
dropping the elk under 50 feet
from where she stood, after
dancing around screaming and
hollering in excitement, she went
to check out her prize. That’s when
she saw the unusual antlers and
knew she’d shot a unicorn.
14 • GRANT COUNTY HUNTING JOURNAL 2018
Chelsea McDaniel thinks
the unicorn bull that came
running right at her last year
might have been a sign from
heaven. She had hunted elk
for 18 years without
success, and now a big bull
was running right up to the
juniper tree where she was
resting.
“It had become a family joke,” she
characterized her lack of success.
Drawing first season Northside Unit bull elk tags three years
in a row was unheard of, she said. The first year, she went with
her father and returned empty-handed.
“Dad got me into a pretty nice bull, but I was shaking so bad
I couldn’t get a shot, and we ended the year unsuccessfully,”
McDaniel said.
The next year she went with her boyfriend Butch Goslin and
was skunked again. Like her father, Goslin had convinced her
he was “practically a professional hunting guide.” They finally
got into the elk on the last day.
“On top of a ridge, we can hear them all around us,”
McDaniel said. “We sit down, and I get ready. No sooner than
I load a bullet into the barrel, and we hear a gunshot directly
below us. Then two more to the right of us.”
They were so close but never saw a thing.
She and Goslin had met at the Mountain View Mini Mart in
Prairie City, which McDaniel owns.
“He was a big coffee drinker,” she said. “That’s how we
met.”
Six weeks after their hunt together, Goslin was diagnosed
with Stage 4 esophageal cancer. He’d had trouble swallowing
and was in Boise, Idaho, when he learned he had terminal
cancer. More doctor visits followed.
“While traveling back and forth from doctor to doctor, we
were on our way to Idaho the day the 2017 draw results came
out,” McDaniel said. “My dad called me, and to my utter
disbelief I drew for the third year in a row.”
When she got off the phone, Goslin had tears in his eyes.
“He told me he wanted me to have the .257 Roberts rifle
that I hunted with the year prior,” she said. “He said he knew
that gun would bring me all the luck I needed.”
McDaniel sighted in the rifle with Goslin’s daughter Lacy on
Oct. 9. Two days later, Goslin passed away.
“He’d fought it for 10 months,” McDaniel said.
McDaniel told her father ahead of hunting season that she
wanted to hunt the same place where she went with Goslin —
and she wanted to go alone. On opening day, two weeks after
Goslin died, she headed out with tears in her eyes.
“I did find a nice bull shed horn, however no fresh sign or
tracks at all,” she said. “It was a very emotional day.”
The next day, McDaniel didn’t want to go back out. As
everyone in camp arose excited to get started, she growled that
she’d rather stay back in camp. Her father insisted and laid out
a plan of attack.
“With no enthusiasm whatsoever, I throw on my clothes,
skip the makeup and jump in the pickup,” she said.
When they arrived at the drop-off point, she carelessly
slammed the pickup door, drawing a blank stare from her father.
“Don’t matter – ain’t nothing up here anyways,” she
whispered to her 6-year-old nephew.
Dispirited, McDaniel had decided to find the perfect juniper
tree, climb under it and catch up on some sleep. About 10
minutes after leaving the truck, she heard the sound of
something big charging through the timber.
“Struggling to get to my gun, which I had carelessly laid
against the back side of the tree, I finally see him,” she said.
“Only he’s running directly at me. Scared to death, I grab the
gun and pull the trigger.”
The bull kept on coming. McDaniel reloaded and fired again
without putting her eye to the scope, the butt of the rifle against
her hip, dropping the elk less than 50 feet from where she stood.
Her brother later told her as soon as the echo of the second shot
cleared the air they heard her screams from several draws away.
“After I danced around screaming and hollering in
excitement, I went to check out my prize,” she said.
That’s when she saw the unusual antlers and knew she’d
shot a unicorn.
“I pulled out my phone to call Butch and tell him the news
when the bitter truth of reality came crashing down upon me,”
she said. “Tears filled my eyes, but immediately knowing that
this bull was more than a reflection of Butch’s personality. I was
filled with a sense of acceptance and reassurance that although
he may have not been there in the flesh, he was by my side all
along.”
As her father and nephew approached, her father hollered,
“Where did you hit him?”
MyEagleNews.com
The skull
shows the unique
location of the
“unicorn’s” left
antler.
McDaniel looked and saw a clean shot to the chest that had
instantly killed the elk. When her father finally got close, he
studied the bull.
“I will never forget the next few seconds of this whole
adventure,” she said. “As I watched my dad stare at this beast
before him, he looks at it, cocks his head a little to the left, then
a little to the right, turns to me and says, ‘You killed a unicorn!’”
All she could do was smile and watch his smile match hers.
She recounted the whole story, and he just grinned and shook
his head.
“Good work, Chelsea,” he said. “Now the real work
begins.”
After hunting since she was 15 without bagging an elk,
McDaniel finally had her prize. It was sometime later she
learned from the bull’s teeth that he was a very old elk.
McDaniel credits her father for supporting her through
the hunt, but she also recalled how Goslin had promised her
she would receive a sign from him after he was gone.
“After 18 years, it took the guidance and the gun of a man
up above, a man on the ground and one very old suicidal
bull, but I finally harvested my very first elk,” she said.
MyEagleNews.com
Chelsea McDaniel poses with the
“unicorn,” her first bull elk kill.
GRANT COUNTY HUNTING JOURNAL 2018 • 15