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.

Living The Good Life

Easing ever so slowly over the crest of the ridge in the smokey grey of the early morning, I sent a series of soft cuts from my box call into the heavy air and listened in quiet stillness.  Suddenly, the faint crunching of leaves was detected, I felt my heartbeat accelerate and my fingers grip the string a little tighter.  I made a conscious effort to point my shoulders in the direction of the sound in reparation for a shot, and with sharp clarity and focus I remained like a stone to the approaching quarry.  I was enthusiastically anticipating the moment of truth and the culmination of years of effort for this lofty endeavor of the meeting of wood and steel, to feather and flesh…..

I had been looking forward to this hunting trip since the close of deer season in January, and rainy and cold conditions were not going to dampen my enthusiasm.  I had traveled a day early to set up my large wall tent and wood stove for a party of nine turkey hunters that would arrive the following Friday evening and hunt Saturday morning.  My brother arrived on Thursday just as I was finishing up the last lashing of the tent awning.  It had taken me a little over two hours to set up the tent, but now we would be well sheltered from the unseasonable cold and breezy Mountain.  We managed to finish pitching camp and get a quick scouting excursion out toward my intended hunting area with hopes to roost a bird and perhaps find a few morel mushrooms to accentuate dinner.  It was early and cold, but my trusty mushroom patch came through with a small pile of lusciously fleshy fungus.  The turkeys on the other hand were tight lipped and not giving away themselves as easily.  

 

 

We turned in that night comfortable in the warmth of the wood stove, and our bellies full of one of the finest meals ever prepared in the woods.  Fresh morels fried in butter, onion, and garlic sat piled atop archery killed venison round steaks seared in a cast iron pan atop a vintage Coleman camp stove.  Man-O-Man…..does it get any better than that?  

 

In the dark of the early morning hours, we dressed and prepared some hot coffee and bagels.  The cold morning air was biting as the still bare branches rattled and brushed each other in the breeze.  Soon I would find myself easing over that ridge and listening to the crunch, crunch, crunch of the approaching animal.  Now, the sounds were getting closer.  I strained to look for the bobbing head or fanning feet of the approaching turkey.  Suddenly the movement of a form allowed my eyes and my brain to discern the shape.  It was another hunter. The air let out of my lungs and I watched the shotgun toting hunter clad in the latest head to toe coordinating realtree fashion.  Did he think his outfit would make him invisible to the bird’s ears as well?  He moved quickly by only pausing for a few seconds here and there.  I had on a grey hat, green and grey checkered wool shirt and solid green pants, yet this fellow never spotted me as he wandered through during the perfect time of the morning.  Oh well. I let him go on his way and slowly crept back the way I had arrived placing some terrain between us.  It was time for plan B.

Nary was a gobble heard that morning, so I skirted back to my mushroom hunting area passing more trucks and hunters pouring out of the woods on the access road.  This was public land hunting and the pressure was on.  I was content with the fact that I was spending some quality time with my bow and finding a fair share of early mushrooms.  These would go well with the dutch oven meal I had planned for my visitors that evening. 

I arrived back at camp and started the cooking preparations. I dug a nice deep hole and started a fire from the hot coals still present in my wood stove.  I loaded this hole with seasoned cherry firewood and created a nice hot bed of coals in the bottom.  My brother arrived later with similar results regarding the turkey despite carrying the shotgun.  It would seem that if the birds are not around, it doesn’t matter what you carry on the hunt.  I prefer my lightweight bamboo and glass masterpiece. 

I had pre-chopped onion, garlic, carrots, and had a good supply of fresh butter from our local creamery to marry with the freshly chopped mushrooms.  Two bone-in shoulder blade roasts were thawing in my cooler and they soon joined this concoction in a nice hot dutch oven for a quick sear on my trusty coleman.  I browned the roasts finally adding a cup of water along with some apple slices and carefully placing yellow potatoes in every spare space of the pan.  By this time, I had about 10 inches of hot coals in my pit.  Shoveling out half of the coals I lowered in the hot dutch and covered them with the remaining colas and dirt.  Now, dinner was prepared.  Not one to relax too much in camp, it was time to stump shoot and scout as our guests filtered in and established their tentage.  I had a chuckle at the looks from my hungry brother’s teenage son’s as I proceeded to tell him he was standing on dinner.

By 8pm everyone had arrived and were ready to eat.  Digging up the dutch was one of the highlights of the trip to our guests, especially when they tasted the fall off the bone tender venison that lay inside.  I will definitely be cooking this way again.  What a great way to prepare a meal and go off to hunt or fish as it cooks.  

 

 

Well, the hunting party did not fare any better than I did that first morning, seeing more hunters than game.  I took to the local Put-and-Take trout stream after our guests departed Saturday afternoon, as I was staying until Sunday to tear down.  I managed to wrangle up nine fresh rainbow trout and several more morels.  That evening the cold rain started again, and my few remaining buds enjoyed fried trout cooked in the iron and butter before retreating to the warmth of canvas luxury.   

 

While the birds did not cooperate on this trip, nature sure provided me with success and lots of memories.  You just can’t get adventure and experiences like this from sitting in front of a TV or by living in a sterile city world….YOU have to get out, get real, and get back to the old ways… and do it.  Live it.  This is the good life.

Review: Sunset Hill "The Legend" by Nate Steen

Bowyer Nate Steen from Idaho recently allowed me the pleasure of reviewing one of his recent creations. Sunset Hill “The Legend” American Semi Longbow (ASL) is Nate’s own take on the classic straight ended “Hill Style” longbows as inspired by the works and teachings of Howard Hill through Mr. John Schulz.  Mr. Schulz and his late brother Dan were personally tutored over time by the great Howard Hill and produced many of Mr. Hill’s personal bows.   Nate named this particular bow “Bright Eyes II”, as it’s resemblance and construction are similar to John Schulz’s personal exhibition bow used in the “Hitting’em Like Howard Hill” instructional film. “Bright Eyes II” is 66 inches long between the nocks and marked 57 pounds @ 26 ½ inches of draw.  In addition, it is my opinion that Nate has been able to successfully incorporate a few of his own improvements based on his research and passion for the legends of the longbow. I will attempt to highlight some of those aspects in this review.

Grasping “The Legend” a person is immediately struck with the light mass weight and delicate point-ability of the weapon.  The impression of fine craftsmanship is evident by the smooth graceful lines and perfect balance that one may compare to the feel of a finely constructed bamboo fly rod.  These aspects are further enhanced by the classic construction and aesthetics of the bow.  Highly marbled Mrytle wood in the handle is contrasted by the heat treated caramelized bamboo in the limb laminations. These are ultimately punctuated by the creamy milk chocolate bar colored brown glass on the back and belly.  Slightly below the dark brown dyed leather handle wrap, as well as on the belly side of the limbs, the script in fine white resembles the classic Schulz cursive lettering on the inscriptions that are so iconic to vintage longbow aficionados. .  

 Starting at the top, “The Legend” has the smallest and most slender tips I have ever seen in an American Semi Longbow. I have handled dozens of John Schulz made longbows from various time periods of his career and these tips are “the smallest of them all” comparatively.  The string grooves nearly touch on the belly side of the bow.  The limb dimensions below the tips are almost a square in cross section, as deep as they are wide.  The profile is reminiscent of the classic English longbow here.  The back and belly edges are notably rounded and much of the bamboo as viewed from above is visible on both sides of the glass.  The limb profile when unstrung is string follow with approximately 1/2 inch of follow, which after an extended shooting session can extend to an additional 1/4 inch at the tips (see pics below) before relaxing back.  This movement highlights how much of the limbs “work” is done by the core wood as opposed to the glass.  The limb width at the fades is a little over an inch wide.   The handle section from taper to taper is a few skimpy 8ths over 12 inches long, whose short length Nate says maximizes the working limb length and can allow a shorter than typical bow without stacking effects.  

The back bow below is a "back set" Schulz made Tembo for comparison:

The Handle on this particular bow is 2 1/8^th inches deep.  The thin and slightly rounded width extends to a shallow dished area near the center at 2 inches deep.   The deep sweeps in the handle taper are evidenced by the slender narrow continuance of glass extending up under the leather wrap on both sides.  This design creates a narrow wedge handle that is both naturally comfortable and easily consistent in the hand.  Inspired by several archery legends like Hill and Bob Swinehart, who had their personal bows set up without a side plate, Nate inlays a small round leather circle at the precise arrow pass before the finish is applied.  His rationale is that “shooting off the wood” allows the archer to audibly detect any mistake in release or tuning. This feedback ultimately results in improving both the archer and the symbiosis of bow to the shooter.  Another benefit of this design is that the thinning of rest material brings the arrow pass more toward center shot and helps make the bow slightly more spine tolerant.  I have found that this does not increase any noise in drawing the wood arrows I am accustomed to shooting.

Speaking to shooting, let me begin by saying that this longbow is the most forgiving and stable shooter I have had the pleasure to release an arrow from.  The string follow allows a buttery smooth  draw that does not stack at the end of the draw cycle due to the maximized working limb length. Nate is a careful study of limb tiller and provides a bow that bends more out of the handle than typical ASL designs.  These aspects also allow a lower brace height as Nate recommends around 5 7/8^th for his bows.  The stored energy in this design sends an arrow with noticeably more speed than expected, destroying any reduction in cast from the slight string follow design and all the while reducing the “hand shock” to a gentle muffled thump.  There is no need for string silencers.

All the benefits of shooting a Sunset Hill are evident when the archer utilizes the bent arm fluid style the bow is designed for.  If you are a serious “Hill” shooter and devotee you need to get behind one of these bows and see for yourself. I enjoyed the bow enough to convince Nate to let me purchase "Bright Eyes II".  We will be partners on numerous future adventures.