The Hill Style Glove

The following information was provided by Nate Steen of Sunset Hill. I hope everyone finds this information as useful as I.

I prefer a Hill style glove.  I believe it's the best type of glove out there....Why?

The HH style of glove is made that way for a reason...and mostly what I hear from shooters all over the place is that how they dislike the HH glove...for the very reasons why it's a HH glove. 

 So, here goes.

A HH glove has double layer leather and inserts for the express purpose of stiffening the finger stalls  so that the fingers cannot bend too much at the first joint.  A softer glove can have a tendency to develop a groove in the leather at the area of the first finger joints because the fingers wrap around the string and the fingertips actually face back to the shooter when the string is gripped with a deep hook.  The only way to combat this is to use  an extra soft leather in the design of the glove....i.e. the deerskin style.   It's well known that a deep hook allows the hand to be more relaxed and a better release is the result.  So,  the double layer leather and stiff inserts of the HH glove allow the fingers to take a deep hook, and the hand stays relaxed but the finger tips will point more perpendicular to the string instead of back towards the shooter.  Hill's belief was that this allowed for a smoother release.  This was important to him as he shot targets off the heads of live people and he didn't want a string hanging up on a grooved leather stall.

The HH glove also is single seam style, so that the seam is on top of the finger where it can't interfere with the placing of the fingers next to each other on the string, as in a glove with side stitching like the Damascus style or the extra straps like the Stick Tite.

The thin back and straps kept the glove from getting hot and sweaty on his hand.  With a properly fitted HH glove,  there is no need for the straps to fit tight to hold the glove stalls on the fingers. The stalls shouldn't twist either.  As the stall stretches and is fitted to the finger,  small stitches can be placed on the top seam to tighten the stall for that particular finger.  Baseball rosin or pine pitch can be applied to the finger before inserting the finger into the glove, which will transfer to the interior leather and give a good grip for a good long while.  I actually moisten my finger in my mouth before it is slid into the stall....as the finger dries out, the glove sticks to my finger with enough tackiness that I have to really firmly twist the stall to get it off my finger when done shooting. (that trick is from Saxton Pope actually)

A HH glove is never "broken in" in the sense that the stalls are soft enough to "feel" the string.  It wasn't designed that way.  I would suggest that if a person wants to use a HH glove,  get one,  rub some pitch blend or baseball glove oil into the leather,  and shoot about 1000 shots to form it to the fingers, then adjust the stalls if needed by individual stitches to tighten where needed.  Most guys buy one,  they shoot about 5 shots with it, maybe 10 or 20 shots, and they say...."wow, what a stiff glove,  I can't feel the string" and they never shoot enough shots to get the glove where it was intended to be.  Sad.  Because if a guy will shoot enough shots to get the glove to become fit properly, and gets used to the glove's feel while gripping the string,  he will shoot that glove almost forever.  The gloves are phenomenal if they are used as they were designed

I see some pretty good Longbow shots out there with an old, well shot in HH glove dangling from their wrists.....John Schulz is one, so is Steve Schulz, JD Berry, Dan Berry ,Steve Turay, Joel Templin, Dave Miller, Byron Ferguson, Peter Stecher,   and humbly, myself.   Why?  because the guys gave the gloves a fair chance, shot enough arrows to condition the gloves and get used to them....and the gloves work, plain and simple.


Hill was a simple but exacting person in approaching archery.  His glove reflects his preferences.

Domino's Buck

November arrived and my excitement for the coming whitetail rut was blunted somewhat when I smashed my left foot against the coffee table one night and badly fractured the forth toe.  The injury meant I would have a harder time safely climbing into tree stands and I resigned myself to hunt from the ground.  It was just another obstacle to overcome.

I awoke as usual early Veteran’s day morning, made some coffee, and prepared to venture out to enjoy a Holiday from work in the woods.  My hunting partner Brent and I were both Veterans and we had a tradition to hunt of this day of remembrance.  He arrived on time and we were enjoying a little coffee when a loud bawl came from the foyer.  My cat Domino can wine occasionally if she is lonely or bored, but this one was a little different.   After another series of howls we went over to check on her joined by my wife who was awakened by the racket.  Something was definitely not right with Domino as her head lay down and she was having trouble breathing, coughing up fluid occasionally.  We called the emergency vet and prepared to take her over when she moved to the hardwood and her bladder let go.  I knew this was not a good situation.  I placed her into the cat carrier and rushed her down the road but her howls and scratching noises stopped after the second light during the ten minute drive.  Rushing back to the carrier to get her I noticed my little girl was already gone.  She died within minutes and I spent the morning burying my beloved pet next to her male counterpart that left us a few years earlier.  She was the sweetest little lap kitty and daddy's little girl.  Now the house was quiet and empty and I was left to reflect on the transient nature and fragility of life.  I managed to muster up the will to hunt that bright and windy afternoon, but my mind and heavy heart were not really there.

 

The forecast the following Saturday was identical to Wednesday; bright, blustery, and cold.  In addition, it was now the opener of the junior firearms season and hunter orange was a requirement.  I knew my time in the woods this day would still be heavy with thoughts of life and death, and the loneliness left by the loss of our pet.  I figured my best shot at a deer was at dawns early light before they bedded down in a secure place out of the wind. 

 I chose to sit in a sharply angled wooded corner, bounded by a meadow to one side, and a steep short rise and a trail above on the other.   The wind was gusting from the trail downhill toward the field.  I was nestled against the 10 foot stump of a huge decaying poplar tree in the edge of the thick briers.  The trails were leading from the open main woods below, up into the thick corner and hedgerow I was at the entrance of.  The strong wind was making hearing difficult approaching animals difficult.  Two grey squirrels chased each other within five feet in back of my position, but I could not turn around and get a shot at them before they got nervous and left.  Settling back down I was focused on looking for movement to my front, when glancing back over my shoulder again I noticed a doe nosing in the wind not more than 15 yards away.  Dang! How did she get to the strip behind me without me spotting her?  She would have had to come from downhill in easy bow range before getting to where I saw her.  I should have been paying better attention. Now she was directly downwind though she had not spotted me.  She nervously stepped forward behind some brush and I positioned myself for a shot.  If she continued out again on the other side I would have an easy 15 yard shot.  The seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes, when I saw a distant deer bounding through the open meadow tail wagging.  The slick old girl winded me and had enough!  I had to laugh a little.

The wind kept blowing and terrain was shifting the wind 90 degrees back and forth making my ground position tough.  It was time to move somewhere else.  If I was to get another opportunity it wasn’t going to be here this morning.  My broken toe and I painfully hobbled up the rise onto the trail and skirted an overgrown meadow thickly choked with persimmon tree juveniles and briers.  The deer loved to bed in this area as it was virtually impenetrable and impossible to move through without noise. Slowly still hunting, I made my way up hill of the patch just inside of the wood line.  Suddenly I was startled when a doe exploded from about ten feet in front of me in a briar patch.  The wind allowed me to get very close before she had spotted me.  The does were around and I knew the bucks might be along shortly as well.  I set up my stool overlooking the edge of this bedding area on a little knob.  I was slightly uphill, but the wind would still gust slightly into the edge of the bedding area from time to time.  I was again beside a huge walnut tree trunk I hoped would obscure my silhouette.  I cleared any leaves around the base of the tree area so I could noiselessly adjust or shoot on either side of the tree if needed.  I sat down on my stool began to eat an apple and wait. 

The time was almost 10 am and I was a few bites away from the core of my apple when I saw the buck emerge from the thicket.  He nosed around a lone mature red oak for a few moments about 60 yards away as I dropped my apple to the dirt and slowly rose in shooting position.  I noticed his thick neck and impressive rack as I had hoped he would close to within comfortable shooting distance.  This was a really nice buck for the highly pressured area I was in.  There was a small window to shoot through as he skirted the edge of the bedding area and stopping every few steps to sniff the ground or lick an overhanging branch.  He stepped into my shooting window and stopped, seeming to look directly at me just for a moment.  I remained composed and he soon glanced back forward and immediately continued to move through in a direction that would eventually wind me.  I knew it was now or never as I smoothly drew back the slender elegant longbow and released the arrow all in one motion.  In my haste I short drew a bit, and the arrow struck higher and farther back then I would have liked.  The shaft was half out of the buck’s side and I immediately saw blood as he bolted forward through the brush.  He rumbled about 20 yards before disappearing in the persimmon thicket, but in that short time I saw red all down his side!  That was the only bright spot in an otherwise dismal shot.  Not confident of that hit, I eased out of the woods quietly and went back home for a nervous lunch.   The area was dense with coyote activity, and I had lost a good portion of a doe the previous month.  I did not want to wait too long before picking up the trail.  Calling my hunting partner Mike, he agreed to help me track the deer about two hours later.  I was contemplating the possibility of a follow up shot if we pushed the buck. 

The trailing job went quickly as the broken arrow was very near the site of the shot and good blood highlighted the deer’s departure route.  Mike continued to trail as I circled around the thicket in case the buck was pushed scanning the escape routes as I worked around the thicket.  That precaution however proved to be unneeded.  The buck lay down and succumbed just beyond where I had lost sight of him running only approximately fifty yards total from the arrow impact point.  The shot distance was paced off at approximately 25 yards slightly downhill.  The wounds confirmed my suspicion that the amount of blood seen instantly and the short blood trail was the result of a main artery hit.  Contemplating the shot scenario over again, I think that if I had been elevated in a tree stand I may not have recovered this animal based on the wound trajectory required.  I was lucky and I couldn't help but think a higher power may have played a hand in this message to me. Enjoy each moment of life, because you never know what each day will bring.  This accomplishment against much adversity was in honor of my sweet Domino. She was "just a cat", but she gave our family so much love. 

My Broken Toe Deer

Well after my radiology appointment and xray confirmation of a broken little toe, OUCH! I decided to not completely waste a sick day and headed out to the woods.  I walked very slow and sat a lot LOL.

I settled for a sit up high but the wind was not good.  At sunset I started down the hill.  The squirrels were going nuts with the rain coming. 

It was starting to drizzle and starting to get dark so I was moseying down the hill and stopping to listen after a few steps.  Going slow because of the toe but heading out.  As I reached the crest of a drop off I head footfalls coming up the hill toward me.  Here comes this spike….I had a good sized tree about 10 feet in front of me and he was heading directly for me.  I thought for a minute he may end up too  close and head on, but he took a right and stepped in the clear and stopped.  He had is left foot back to I tried to avoid it and shot all little farther back than I wanted….and lower than I wanted.  Watched him run with my arrow up to the fletch.  He went about 20 yards and stopped where I could not see behind 2 big trees.  The I saw a piece of a white tail and then nothing. 

So here it is getting dark, starting to rain…coyotes are howling all over the place.  Not sure about the hit really though I knew it was fatal at some point. 

I decided to text Mike and go immediately after it.  I went right toward where I saw it last going very slowly.  After a few steps I hear crashing far off in the laurel…..wrong decision I thought….dang!  Just jumped him?  Then as I eased out around the trees I see him bedded there with his tongue hanging out…

After a few more minutes I watched his head go down for good....10 minutes total and 20 yard run.

Nicked the bottom of the heart.

4th deer of the year so far with my Sunset Hill...Did I mention I love this bow!

Ace standard, Cedar Arrow, no camo, from the ground. 

Trophy to me!  Yum!

Coffee Table attack!

Maryland Bear Hunt 2015

I was lucky enough to draw a Maryland Bear tag in this year's lottery.  My first in 5 years of applying. 

Despite a healthy population of deer in my backyard woods, I was forced to hunt in our western most 2 counties as hunting is not yet allowed in other parts of MD.  Also, MD does not allow baiting or scents of any kind.  This really puts the bow hunter especially at a disadvantage. 

I have never heard of someone in MD successfully harvesting a bear in MD with a traditional bow so I made it my quest.  My 2 hunting partners were invited to join my hunt as sub-permittees. 

We scouted 2 large public areas in Allegheny County and found some promising bear sign in one area in particular.  I had no idea how much hunting pressure would be applied by the other 499 permit holders and their designees in the state.  I also did not know if the wild grapes and berries we saw would still be a good food supply at that time of year.

The season runs for 4 weekdays and we were excited to set up camp and get to it.  Filled with anticipation we set up my wall tent in the campground as the height of the fall colors provided the perfect backdrop.  In addition, there was mild temperatures and a full moon.  We were not sure if the latter would hinder our bear efforts.

The three of us hunted hard.  We tried stand hunting, calling, and still hunting.  There was little other hunter pressure......but little fresh bear sign and no sightings either.  The DNR officer stopped by on day 3 to chat and told us one bear had been harvested in the area we were hunting.  Also gave us a few places to hunt that had historic bear signings.  We tried those places as well, but had no luck.

A double front moved in Wednesday and provided 24  hours and 4.5 inches of rain.  Still we hunted hard between lulls in the rain. 

Finally time ran out with no bears seen. 

Still it was a great camp and good company.  Maybe next time one of us draws a tag it will be different, but we can say we gave it our best try.  The weapon made no difference this time. 

The Longbow and Treestand Shooting

Since I have been away for a while, I thought I would post an update.  I was actually a bit hesitant to recount some of my successes with the hope that the good fortune would continue.  After coming home with some small game success, and no elk on my western trip, I have begun to focus on the whitetail deer population.

A late September evening  hunt brought about an interesting opportunity.  Heading out to our stand trees my hunting partner Mike and I bumped into 2 bucks.  I passed up an iffy 50 yard shot at one larger buck that was facing away.  Soon they both headed out for the hills and we set up our stands about a bow shot apart.  Mike up high on an oak flat, and I below on the filed edge.  We were not on stand long before deer started to show, and the show continued for some time as deer passed just out of range.  A horseback rider actually spoiled one approach for me.

At dark Mike scores a hit on a smaller deer he assumes is a doe in the fading light.  His shot was good, though a little farther forward than ideal on a quartering away animal.  The Ace head struck forward into the base of the neck.  Butchering revealed a carotid artery hit.  The deer ran down and around to the left of me at a sharp angle and stopped seemingly unhurt as it stood.  I released the string striking the deer high severing the backbone and dropping the animal on the spot with a cedar arrow and bear razorhead with bleeders installed.  Even with the bleeders, the penetration was almost total on the spine.  A quick follow up shot ended the drama quickly.

We caught this spike in a Sunset Hill sandwich with a rare 2 hunter follow up shot.

Later in the early parts of October we returned to the same oak flat.  This time I was set up about 100 yards away from Mike on the same elevation.  A doe and yearling came in and fed behind me before bedding down directly behind my stand tree.  They stayed there until dusk when the small one decided to stretch and start to feed.  Mom followed and after the yearling passed behind my tree I readied the shot as the big doe approached.  The shot was tough....almost directly behind my stand and I needed to hold the bow perfectly vertical.  My shot was again a bit high and to the left.  I watched them both run about 65 yards and stop. 

Darkness came quickly and as I attempted to quietly ease my climber down the tree I heard a tremendous thrashing.....then again.....  Even Mike heard it from his stand. 

The arrow indicated a paunch hit....no blood.  We both decided not to risk an immediate trail despite the crashing sounds.  We went out for a quick meal and pondered the evenings events.

When we returned after several hours we immediately found the big doe.  She had fallen down into a ditch.  What we heard was her trying to scratch her way out before succumbing to her injuries just a few minutes really after the impact.  The cedar arrow and Ace standard head severed the liver and major arteries on the way through the paunch.  Left a huge hole in both sides.  Really started to have confidence in the Ace standard!  The large doe had little fat.  Unfortunately the foxes got to the deer while we were tentative and ate a few pounds of meat out of one hind quarter.

Finally, a Saturday morning hunt had me in a small persimmon grove.  Shortly after light a nice doe passed by under my stand and I waited hoping the deer would pass out in front of me for a better shot.  It did not.  It passed under and through to my right with no shots.  After the deer departed I contemplated how I could have made that shot despite the severe angle.  Several hours later a deer appears from where this doe went and assuming it was the same doe I readied the shot.  Focusing hard as the deer passed over a log I released an arrow striking the deer and embedding the Ace head in the log on the opposite side.  The deer immediately ran and broke the arrow off.  I could see the top part of the arrow sticking up to the fletching in the deer's back as it ran only about 35 yards and stopped.  Soon I heard thrashing and a last gasp.  I could see the deer's eye through my binos and climber down after a bried calming period.  The deer was a small one.  This years.  I made a good shot and received some very tender tasting meat in return.

Hopefully there will be more tales of success this season as the rut is fast appoaching here!  Until then, I am pondering these 3 hard angle shots and the forgiveness and quietness of the Hill style bow.  A longbow is a disadvantage from a tree stand????   HARDLY.

Squirrel In The Rain

Saturday's deer hunt had me wishing a fat doe that appeared 35 yards behind my tree would eventually feed up hill closer.  No such luck.

After they filtered away I noticed the squirrels were quite active as a rain storm closed in.  One large individual too to taunting me directly below my stand.  I fired a cedar just barely missing and curling my bear razorhead on a rock like it was made from aluminum foil.

The rain got heavier and I checked the weather radar.....it was NOT going to subside.

I climbed down and packed up deciding to look for squirrel on my way back to the truck.

I was on my knees climbing through some multiflora when I noticed a grey squirrel chasing this larger fox squirrel around a tree to my front.  The fox stopped leaning out on it's front legs but completely broadside on the tree.   I leaned forward, drew, and all in one motion released.  My arrow hit with a thump and the squirrel took several bounds up the tree before releasing and falling to the ground dead.  Perfect heart shot behind the front leg.

I piled him into my back quiver as the rains started really coming down.  What a great way to save a rainy hunt.  This guy will be added to some future stew yum!

CO Elk Hunt 2015

In a scene that has been replayed since the dawn of primitive man, the hunter bids farewell to his wife and sleeping toddler son.  Leaving in the early morning darkness, he is headed on an extended journey to hunt the reclusive wapiti.  The uneasiness of leaving his family behind is offset by the exhilaration of the chase and adventure that is to come.  Meeting up with his elder brother and another local, the  hunting party begin the journey with all the requirements of an extended wilderness excursion.  Their equipment is composed of only the essentials. Their hunting tools are the simple and ancient longbow with wood arrows.  The coming week will test their physical endurance, mental patience, and decades of hunting experience...................

 Flew into Albuquerque, NM on Friday August 28th.  After a quick stop at Wally World with the rental truck we headed North the 3 hours into Colorado.  So far everything had gone relatively smoothly with the exception on my cheap China made hockey bag having a blow out in the airport.  I had to repair it with some 550 cord and packing tape, but all gear made it in one piece.  My brother lost a pocket knife when the TSA jokers opened an outside pocket on his bag and did not close it properly.  I had an extra gerber I lent him for the trip.

We made our way to the trailhead I had scouted out on the maps.  First real setback.  The dang Forrest service had the trail gate closed/locked.  The gal at the nearby campground said the funding was cut to maintain the road, but it would be open a little later in the season for 4-wheeller use.....  Well that does us a lot of good!  Now we were faced with the prospect of either 5 more miles of hiking before getting to the real trailhead and heading up the Mountain, or going back to the trail of death by switchbacks!  I guess we were meant to suffer!

We immediately loaded our gear and headed up the mountain.  Dave and I had about 50-60 pounds of gear.....I should have checked on my older brother Chris though...he ended up carrying probably more than 70-80 pounds!  I guess he forgot, or did not learn from the last time.  He would remember shortly.

Up and up we headed from 9,000 feet up to 10,000 and then 10,500.....  No time to acclimatize for these flat landers.  Straight up the mountain.  By turn 7 of 27 Chris was really suffering.....had to flop and rest.  He went through his gear and buried about 15 pounds of crap by the side of the trail.  The only flat spot for camping was another 7 switchbacks up and it was starting to get dark.  He would never make it.  I scampered ahead with my light pack and tried to dump gear and come back to carry some of his stuff.  But when I came back down the mountain Dave was heading up...Said Chris was done...exhausted.  He would camp just off the trail tonight and we would come back in the morning to get some of his gear. 

 

Ok, so which one of these hunters is a little overloaded?  

The only reason there are smiles there is that was the hike down the mountain.....Chris was no way carrying all that crap up!  It is amazing he made it as far as he did.  The guy is an animal!

The next morning we got up and repacked.... as soon as Dave and I headed back down toward Chris, he was already on the way up.  He did not sleep well as we got rain and he was hunkered under a small tarp.  He got up to our halfway camp and buried another 5-8 pounds of gear.

Next we finished hiking up to the plateau, and were ready to make camp and then hunt the evening!  The meadows were a little dry and we started to notice a lot of the standing timber was dead.  We found out later the pine bark beetle was the culprit.

 
We were full of anticipation.  I still hunted that evening and saw promising sign.  A large number of elk had been in the area, or moved through.  Found fresh day-old scat and many matted down beds in the meadow....maybe from that rain event on the way up the previous night. 

We set up camp and had a nice Mountain house meal for dinner.  We all had plans to get after them early.  I wanted to set up in the wood line adjacent to all those elk beds I saw.

I got up at 5am and huffed and puffed up the and over the terrain trying to get up high and feeling the thin air in my lungs.  The moon was bright and full...crazy bright. 

I set up in a natural funnel with a ton of day old elk sign.  The funnel was edged by the meadow on the low side and a rock slide up higher.  I was feeling deadly.

There was a small depression, wrinkle valley, and I set up in some deadfall.  elk would not see me unless they climb over the rise and that would put them in shooting range.

I let things quiet down, and gave a series of soft cow calls......the air was heavy with anticipation....and I waited.  and waited....  finally I decided to ratchet up the calling a bit and my cow calling became more excited...then I threw in some raking brush and stomping feet....that aught to get some attention.....waiting again...

Beautiful morning.

I headed back at lunch and saw this large bear track on the trail.....also bumped a mule deer in velvet.  Wonder how the other guys did?


I got back to camp and crossed notes with Chris and Dave.  Their reports were also pretty dismal.  They had not even come across and fresh sign.  The consensus was to hunt the evening and the following morning and if nothing proved promising, pick up camp and drop into the next meadow valley about 3 miles further and deeper.
The evening proved uneventful and Dave and I planned to team up and do a little caller/shooter set up in the top meadow that had yet to be investigated.  There were heard some repeated and suspicious bugling up there and we wanted to see if this was another hunter or a really rambunctious bull with laryngitis. 
We set out early after morning coffee and “business”…..the moon still bright and we were beginning to curse it.  Wind in our faces we skirted the tree line heading up the meadow.   We made our way around a bend and spotted a makeshift camp on the edge of the meadow.  The water filter and bottle hung by a branch though no tent or sleeping bag could be found.  We were not alone.
Back on course, we headed up the meadow again. Suddenly we heard a challenge bugle a few hundred yards up ahead.  Our pulses quickened and we formulated a plan to close the distance as we had terrain and the wind in our favor. 
As we closed the distance bugling continued.  When we were within 80 yards or so of where the sounds came from, something happened…..!

We heard the worst bugle with chuckles we had ever heard.  I mean it sounded like a guy playing his 4^th graders recorder for music class.  Toot toot tooooot…definitely the other hunter.   We approached hoping he would show himself so we could convince him to tone it down and shut the heck up, but he was too shy to come talk.  WTF?!  The only other guys up here and he has to act like that and hide/run away.  After we left the area to try to find more real elk we heard him continue bugling again.  REALLY.
We started calling him “Bugle Boy”.  Later one evening Dave saw him climb atop a huge boulder at the head of a meadow and start tooting again.  Dave stepped into the open and tried to get his attention with the universal hand signals for STOP….He finally saw Dave who was trying to approach the guy to talk and he just runs away again.  Nice!
We continued on and walked a good distance searching for fresh sign.  Nothing promising.  It was time to move and go deeper!  The full moon, being early, and the unseasonable warm weather, were keeping the elk down low.  We knew f another hillside that had elk in the past...time to ruck up and hike again.


The new area looked immediately promising as well approached our new camp.  The meadow contained a wallow that is obviously out in the open and used at night.  But there was some activity around it. 

 
We camped a mile away from our North-facing hill where we had encountered elk and bedding areas in the past.
Another bonus was that the meadow contained a nice little stream which probably held trout.  After camp and a rest we broke away to explore and look for promising areas. 
 
 

I had bought my brother Chris a Tenkara fly rod for his birthday and it arrived just a few days before we left MD.  I gave him a quick lesson on how to set up the line and cast.  To our happy surprise he came back to camp with these nice cutthroat trout!  No freeze dried meals this night!  YEAH!
 
 The morning again had me huffing and puffing up high to above the elk and await the switch over of the thermals.  This would allow me to creep downhill with the wind in my favor.  I jumped a portion of the small creek on the way up and it was teaming with trout activity.  I’ll remember that spot!

In the meantime, I entered the woods and found a spot atop the ridge where a finger jutted out.  The area had fresh elk sign and a tree that had been thrashed by a bull in recent times.  The first good fresh bull sign.  Several trails including the one that had the rub circled a thicker area with 2 huge boulders.  I set up in this area and could cover several approaches. 

I stayed quiet for some time before starting with some light cow calling. I could picture that bull coming over the ridge at any moment. 

Eventually I started to ratchet up the calling again.  I decided on some re-gathering sounds as this could bring in a cow or bull…..then interjected some tree thrashing and light

stomping which should have gave the impression of a bull trying to hook up with one of the cows.  No takers.
 
The wind shifted after full sun and I slowly still hunted downhill on the finger.
I was still feeling deadly and the elk sign was fresh and continuous.  The finger dumped into a small dell that had lots of green lush vegetation that was nipped off….lots of poop and lots of tracks.  Looked like a good area to set up, but I wanted to see how far this little stretch went, so I continued through still hunting. 

All at once I felt something and simultaneously heard something behind me to the left.  I turned my head back instinctively and saw/heard 2 cow elk which had crested the depression  bust me and bolt back the way they came.  DANG!  If I had waited to gone slower they may have passed right in front of me.  I tried to stop them with a nervous grunt and began a re-gathering sequence of calling….but I know they saw me move and they were slightly downwind as well….Gone.
 
No luck, but I now had renewed optimism for this area and found a good couple spots to set up.  After making it to the bottom, I decided to head back up the mountain via the creek bed and check out that trout steam!  
 
I took the telescoping tenkara rig out of my back quiver and put on a small black ant fly I had tied.  The first cast in a deep pool brought e this beauty!
 
 

Two more smaller ones  would follow, enough for lunch for 3 hungry hunters back at camp.

This little guy was at the other extreme, so I let him back to grow.



Back at camp the other guys had promising sign also, and my brother spotted an elk fawn still in spots but the Momma was nestled in the timber and never seen.  Things were looking up.
After lunch I decided to hike back about 3 miles where we jumped a group of blue grouse on the way in.  I hoped they were still there after that long hot hike.  I was not disappointed.  As soon as I approached the area I had seen them in previously I spotted a large bird on the ground.  It started to nervously cluck as I drew back and fired.  I plucked badly and the arrow impacted about 8 inches to the right of the bird but he did not take flight.  I immediately cursed under my breath as I withdrew another blunt arrow and as the bird was now trotting from right to left I loosed in coordination with the bird.  This shot anchored it on the spot.  Another smaller bird exploded from cover and lit in a tree about 20 yards distant.  Despite the distance, and the fact if I missed my arrow would careen down the canyon, I also loosed at this bird.  The result was a puff of feathers and a squawk as my arrow sailed into oblivion.  Just a graze, but almost two birds. 

The following day the three of us hunted that Mountain and surrounding area.  The entire north face of the mountain was covered in fresh rubs.  One tree was near 3 inches in diameter and was completely pushed over after being mauled.  Amazing animals! 

We were starting to get frustrated with the lack of elk activity.  The full moon was really limiting daylight movement, there was no bugling, most of the trees were dead, and we were beginning to wonder of the majority of the elk had not moved up from the valley yet as it was early in the season and still warm. 

Our afternoon hunt was cut short by an approaching thunderstorm.  Temps dropped about 10 degrees almost immediately, the winds picked up, and things got dark.  One by one we filtered back to the cover of camp as the clouds thickened and thunder/lightning kept closing in. 

 

The sky was looking ominous and we started to worry about all the standing dead trees that were killed by the bark beetles.  One lightning strike and we may need to try to get out with our lives.  We were camping in a tinder box, let alone the potential of a few of them falling in the high winds.  Lightning was starting to strike nearby, but luckily the rains started....  We hunkered down in our tents as the storms raged.  After a few hours we all finally all drifted off to sleep amid the natural chaos outside our thin shelters. The storm subsided by morning and over coffee the hunters talked strategy.  If the morning hunt proved uneventful, we would pick up camp and hike out the 8 miles back down the mountain to the valley and try to hunt there. 

It took us the better part of the day to make that trip,  but soon we were back at our truck and headed to a small restaurant for dinner.  The place was run by a couple of southerners from South Carolina and boy could they cook!  Their BBQ was heavenly and we happily ate our fill.  Two other groups of hunters were there and they relayed to us some of the same frustrations with lack of elk movement.  The warm weather and moon was really putting a wrench into everyone's plans. 

Drunk on southern cooking, we stumbled back to a state campground in the valley and racked out for the night.  We had one more day to hunt the valley....and we hoped we could get it done down low.

At first light the parking area had about 7 trucks already there.  We scoped out a likely looking bench halfway up a north face of the valley and started up.  The hill was steep and though we were weary from a week of mountaineering, we made short work of the climb and eased up onto the downwind side of the bench.  The aspens were sweet and it looked like quintessential elk habitat.  


We set up on either side of the bench and began some light cow calling....it was now or never and we were feeling deadly!

The feeling did not last though.....neither did our time in CO.  Another uneventful morning brought the hunters back to civilization with renewed anticipation for applying our latest lessons toward next years elk tag.

Deer season awaits back home.