tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34836074523896405642024-03-13T00:36:53.761-07:00RMSGear Blogtlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-18905593271413263942016-09-30T12:06:00.002-07:002017-05-20T16:50:42.052-07:00The Ghost of ***** - 2016 Elk Hunt<div style="text-align: left;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuADqRjaDEfG102jMBjZrCvbl50BdvWjbL5HPzXDcCDsyq7-zNBELb6dRY-N4ImYVAIXHJvKjn3ciGtiTA1WJnBWuV2NSBruWmI9DI9k7NwLqS2BSRrTeDEGjfMX3dbn3VHZDTd3YZRO4/s1600/2016elk-61.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuADqRjaDEfG102jMBjZrCvbl50BdvWjbL5HPzXDcCDsyq7-zNBELb6dRY-N4ImYVAIXHJvKjn3ciGtiTA1WJnBWuV2NSBruWmI9DI9k7NwLqS2BSRrTeDEGjfMX3dbn3VHZDTd3YZRO4/s640/2016elk-61.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/arrows-accessories/broadheads/cutthroat-broadheads/" target="_blank">Cutthroats</a> got some good action this trip!</td></tr>
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Man, I'm trying to think of how to start this article. I just got back from an elk hunt in the mountains with my brother, Dan, and my cousin, Chad. We had the hunt of a lifetime. How can I possibly write an article that does justice to all the inside jokes, laughs, falls and crashes, cuts and bruises, and to the wonderful experience that we had? We didn't know that elk hunting like this existed on public land. I think back on my elk hunting career and remember those few special days where a ton of bulls were bugling all day...well it was like that, every day.<br />
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Too good to be true, you ask? Kinda... This is not normal elk country. We gained and lost a minimum of 4,000 feet a day, closer to 5,000 many days. Grizzly bears and wolves roam these mountains, and the hills are rugged. Like super steep, brush choked, downfall laden, nasty rugged. The sheer distance in, and deep river crossings, which would require waders, make backpacking into here nearly impossible, and not at all practical. It would simply take a guy too long to pack an elk out on his back. The river eliminates llamas or goats. This is horse country, that's all there is to it.<br />
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This was a tough hunt. It was hard on me. The long hikes gave me a lot of time to think about the physicality of the hunt. There will come a day when I hang treestands a 1/2 mile from my truck, but right now the adventure is part of the fun for me. The "mental" aspect of elk hunting has been beaten to death everywhere you look. But I commonly see only one side of the "mental" coin. The side that says you're weak unless you pack your bull out yourself and kill it 15 miles from the truck. I enjoy a hard elk hunt, but that's not the only way to elk hunt.<br />
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People will tell you that you can buy all sorts of things to give you the "advantage". Whatever. I don't believe it. Powders aren't the secret. Paying a guy to give me the secret work out regime isn't the answer. You know what I think the secret is? The secret to spending two weeks in a crammed shelter with two other dudes; going from freezing cold to sweating like a mule five times a day; sleeping on the hard ground when your pad goes flat; and walking with wet feet when your boots spring a leak? The secret to doing all of this, while hiking up infinitely tall mountains that are impossibly steep, day after day? It is simply - cheerfulness.<br />
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I searched for the secret in my mind for two weeks, and that word is all that kept coming to me. I'm not a big guy, I'm not crazy strong, I don't have legs or lungs that can carry me for days. I'm not like Dan or Chad. Those guys are tougher than me, stronger than me, and they can do more than me. I watched them closely and tried to find out what made them keep going. No matter what I saw about their physical abilities, I saw a thankful and grateful attitude - all the time. A true love for what they were doing. They were <b><i><u>cheerful</u></i></b>. I was cheerful. We were just willing to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, especially when we didn't <i>feel</i> like it.<br />
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We never crossed words, never had a fight, never got discouraged or had a bad thing to say about anything. If the weakest in the group (me) needed help, then the strongest in the group sacrificed whatever he had to in order to help. This was the type of hunt that required a team effort, in the hunting, the preparation, the work, and the encouragement. We all knew, after growing up together and hearing our dad's tell us what a good hunting partner was, that we had each other to rely on. If one guy killed an elk we all killed an elk. We were, in every way, a team.<br />
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I see the Cameron Hanes shirt all over the place, the ones that says "It's all mental". But it's usually in the context of, "it's all mental, so suck it up". And I disagree. It should be in the context of - "it's all mental, so soak it in". Be thankful, be grateful, be cheerful. And yeah, obviously get in shape. But a strong body always crumbles with a weak mind. Where as a thankful mind keeps a depleted body moving forward.<br />
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Cheerfulness. That's all you need. You'll go as far as you need to go. And you'll be a better hunting partner. Don't let anybody convince you otherwise.<br />
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When one of my brother's best friends from college told Danny he just found some of the best public land elk hunting in the West, we jumped on the chance to bowhunt in this new area.<br />
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We've hunted with Carter quite a bit in the past when we were just college kids looking for fun. Carter grew up taking huge horse trips into many of the most remote mountains in the west. Elk, deer and bear hunting, with lots of fishing trips in the summer. Carter grew up on a large cattle ranch, and after his college wrestling career he trained horses and rode bulls professionally. Carter is a true to life American cowboy. He's been doing this stuff since he could walk. He's good at it, and his animals are good at it too. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carter and his dad, Hardy, getting the packs ready.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt like I was doing the splits on this big horse. Should have stretched before I jumped on!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chad is ready to roll.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan</td></tr>
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We spent quite a bit of time looking at Google Earth before we came in. The mountains looked steep, and we knew we were in for some hard hikes. When Carter dropped us off he was super confident that we would find elk. He didn't really give us much info. He just pointed to the hill and said "There's a game trail that runs up that spine, go up there, or go up the creek, you guys will find 'em. Good luck." He was pretty confident in us, we hoped to not let him down!</div>
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It didn't look like elk country that we have hunted before. None of the hills were necessarily speaking to us, they all looked the same, they all looked dry, they all looked like places I would normally skip over. We got the Kifaru 8 Man Tipi up and I was putting in the last of the remaining stakes when I heard that first bugle of the season. Jackpot! We didn't even have camp set and the bulls are bugling. It's 2:30pm and I just want to go!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XgUyonrbsHuk86SLDdo-zb3cdWd_gyTnIj8os-whxQhKI_jgdpT8AubojD-JKEZt0yLqxFQsOPcjP6ccuILAo2VBdfUl_Qc5P_m70ZCnubwVKJ4pWDgT97slSUyXt_vsVmZTtadYJ5M/s1600/2016elk-85.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XgUyonrbsHuk86SLDdo-zb3cdWd_gyTnIj8os-whxQhKI_jgdpT8AubojD-JKEZt0yLqxFQsOPcjP6ccuILAo2VBdfUl_Qc5P_m70ZCnubwVKJ4pWDgT97slSUyXt_vsVmZTtadYJ5M/s640/2016elk-85.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We got super close to the bull that evening but didn't let go of any arrows. We were very encouraged to say the least. We started to get a feel for what kind of physical hunt we were in for. After two hours of moving straight up hill we were only .6 miles from camp. What the heck?!</div>
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After the first evening we knew why Carter didn't give us much info. It's not that he didn't know, it's just that there are elk EVERYWHERE! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big mountains all around us, and not a single bowhunter anywhere. Unbelievable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kifaru tipi is down there in the bottom (zoomed in pic below)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zoomed in from the picture above.</td></tr>
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The rain came down for most of the first night. The first morning out was spectacular. We had a huge bull in range but couldn't get an arrow off. The only flat spot we could find to rest and dry up was an elk bed. The smell was so strong it gave me a small headache, but at least it was flat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4D5L2Sdwtt1amtBKkfl5Dq0Wv2FEfTMAQ_AbDRQtPOkymYqoGJHR6Anzw6rpoy_FjJ2UGkeBew19KfwSp0OZj0mfnThyphenhyphenOKue_T_sV_OjFdDMoRNEEvmvZakDeGSWnNKkCvSc5ua-pees/s1600/2016elk-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4D5L2Sdwtt1amtBKkfl5Dq0Wv2FEfTMAQ_AbDRQtPOkymYqoGJHR6Anzw6rpoy_FjJ2UGkeBew19KfwSp0OZj0mfnThyphenhyphenOKue_T_sV_OjFdDMoRNEEvmvZakDeGSWnNKkCvSc5ua-pees/s640/2016elk-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chad's boots sprung a leak right off the bat, here he is drying off his socks with his stove.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrmFbx4KBVWYgkseyAKrPgb36Wl1AHVmM5JNmDobjKOb56HzrPh9yOui0GK4Mt7dqU-rKeCGlBwq6peyT65W8OPZCvRqh3aUaUjKhCQk8OYHVHA1srip1JhrK_gQAYhh9pSfqfG2WL-Q/s1600/2016elk-18.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrmFbx4KBVWYgkseyAKrPgb36Wl1AHVmM5JNmDobjKOb56HzrPh9yOui0GK4Mt7dqU-rKeCGlBwq6peyT65W8OPZCvRqh3aUaUjKhCQk8OYHVHA1srip1JhrK_gQAYhh9pSfqfG2WL-Q/s640/2016elk-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEl1uMXi_YwnGB7abgGnOoFerYuShZ87Iv7aHDbvDRNgbuPUTUFrwO-j592jGHDCTHUIwZv53kr7iYYzeZNnaVd0fUAbAYxzemYr_XOOlTV5qQ1fADoY80o7maR7iJ6SySEb7V2g8ORQ/s1600/2016elk-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEl1uMXi_YwnGB7abgGnOoFerYuShZ87Iv7aHDbvDRNgbuPUTUFrwO-j592jGHDCTHUIwZv53kr7iYYzeZNnaVd0fUAbAYxzemYr_XOOlTV5qQ1fADoY80o7maR7iJ6SySEb7V2g8ORQ/s640/2016elk-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Airing out my pants. I was super impressed and happy with the <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/first-lite-first-lite-boundary-stormtight-pant.html" target="_blank">First Lite Boundary Stormtight Pants</a>.</td></tr>
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We hiked to the top of the first hill by camp, not really knowing what was up there but counting on at least glassing something for the following day. There was no need for that, the elk happily told us exactly where they were. We looked across the basin and watched a massively big 6x6 come out of the trees and into an avalanche chute. His body and his rack were caked with white mud, and his bugle must have lasted for 10 seconds. Chad called him the Ghost of ***** (insert national forest name). The Ghost, and his unmistakably long bugle, haunted us for the next four days.<br />
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The Ghost was less than .5 miles from us as the crow flies, but over 2 hours of walking. Luckily for us there was a pile of bugling bulls on the hill below us. We started creeping closer to the elk but got held up by all the cows feeding in the trees. Danny dropped back to call while Chad and I stalked forward. The elk completely drowned out Dan's calls, there's no way he could make as much noise as the real cows and the real bulls. <br />
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I kept watching bull after bull move across a small knoll down the hill from me. I knew I had to get to that knoll, as more elk were bugling from below and I thought that they would also move across that knoll. As I moved down Chad motioned that some elk were headed my way. I heard them crashing so I found a tree to stand near and got my bow pointed that direction.<br />
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The bull bugling from over there had the nastiest bugle on the mountain of a thousand bugles. My heart started to race, I thought I had King Kong coming my direction.<br />
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The hill curved away steep enough and the trees were positioned so that I couldn't see the elk coming. All the sudden a bull walks around some trees just ten yards away from me. He stops, tilts his head back, and cut loose a furious bugle. At that distance the high pitches made my ears ring and the low grunts vibrated through my feet. The rack did not match the bugle, but I had already made up my mind - a 5x5 was getting an arrow, period.<br />
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I was frantically trying to figure out how I was going to draw my bow when the bull started moving again. Lucky for me he cut between two trees (pictured below). When he walked behind the close tree I RIPPED my bow back as fast as I could. The bull kept angling towards me so I had to wait for him to turn broadside a little bit. When he did I tucked my arrow as far forward as I could and let it go. At just 3 yards my arrow smacked him hard. He jumped in surprise and turned his head to look at the few inches of feathers sticking out of his side. He hauled the mail but before he got out of sight I watched him go down in a little patch of aspen trees.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaq8qtc2XBx4l1ObU46-5eE4RznQZqt_iL5Iy61Wfnep0QmlBegnQYZiunQ7JYSQC__i13M2FgKz1Al1kZ21Cxc9hRj7RiBSNk5-6HlrrY5bttcoIHymtNopa5w_5IPYOj1iU5O8DUrk/s1600/2016elk-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaq8qtc2XBx4l1ObU46-5eE4RznQZqt_iL5Iy61Wfnep0QmlBegnQYZiunQ7JYSQC__i13M2FgKz1Al1kZ21Cxc9hRj7RiBSNk5-6HlrrY5bttcoIHymtNopa5w_5IPYOj1iU5O8DUrk/s640/2016elk-32.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tree at the center of the frame provided me with a half second of concealment to yank my bow string back. The tree is 5 yards away, he walked closer before I shot him at just 3 yards.</td></tr>
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We didn't bother following the bloodtrail, we were a long ways from camp with a long night ahead of us so we just walked straight to the elk. Little did we know, we got extremely lucky that his rack got stuck in a bent over aspen tree. Before I freed him I tied his rack to the tree, and it was a good thing I did!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAmG43Bz8Q1f4TD1JCN2RJ-78Gms3FzjFPo6xJifjKr_KyGLsfuTURfRto5rHpW4mc6GZRI1S62O05fVrMUaQUqnCJ3DDuA7kNsR_78sQUbUfYJDoVIEWm5F6xEAHdMXdI-O5KOkyo8L0/s1600/2016elk-21.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAmG43Bz8Q1f4TD1JCN2RJ-78Gms3FzjFPo6xJifjKr_KyGLsfuTURfRto5rHpW4mc6GZRI1S62O05fVrMUaQUqnCJ3DDuA7kNsR_78sQUbUfYJDoVIEWm5F6xEAHdMXdI-O5KOkyo8L0/s640/2016elk-21.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyAK-pDJU0ecSVpy0mNWBq978fXja4-kVNFn3b3Yr1WykEqtATk65W1t_CaXcLGTuMUkzUTLkaruWD-JlOWAzcTuZgTobQZRu-eo6wzjVtTmBmWBstF12k4U4Ap4RweJp67zxLYFqxNk/s1600/2016elk-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyAK-pDJU0ecSVpy0mNWBq978fXja4-kVNFn3b3Yr1WykEqtATk65W1t_CaXcLGTuMUkzUTLkaruWD-JlOWAzcTuZgTobQZRu-eo6wzjVtTmBmWBstF12k4U4Ap4RweJp67zxLYFqxNk/s640/2016elk-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Everybody knows that pictures never do justice to terrain, and this is no exception. After freeing the bull's antlers from the tree he slid down and pulled that rope TAUGHT in a milisecond.</span></span></td></tr>
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Danny was upset at how the pictures turned out, but I told him it was part of the story and that they were good enough! After completely de-boning the elk, I cut the head from the carcass and it started to tumble. We listened in awe as it crashed down the hill until we couldn't hear it anymore. Then five seconds later we heard a huge crash, another five seconds and another huge crash. I have no idea how far that carcass went down, but it had to be 500 ft. We were very happy that his rack got stuck in the trees, it could have been a much longer night.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHpbbsRZx5XXWJaQvBfCXvjqgqnvP6290_Pg-vBuwri1b0dhdXx9iwAKVz70uhOIwIxmCO47qj8kOKTWV2c2sycUkkxc3QfWEw5pZwJLr1fQjI7SbxIm5H2Jm-vbFRortAxPWHVpuW0U/s1600/2016elk-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHpbbsRZx5XXWJaQvBfCXvjqgqnvP6290_Pg-vBuwri1b0dhdXx9iwAKVz70uhOIwIxmCO47qj8kOKTWV2c2sycUkkxc3QfWEw5pZwJLr1fQjI7SbxIm5H2Jm-vbFRortAxPWHVpuW0U/s640/2016elk-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I killed this elk with a <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/brands/wapiti/" target="_blank">Wapiti</a> recurve, <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/carbon-express-carbon-express-maxima-blu-shafts.html" target="_blank">Carbon Express Maxima Blu</a> arrows, and <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/brands/cutthroat/" target="_blank">Cutthroat Broadheads</a>.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDE4Swpm4XghW9WF9-0Ibm4EIuFUT0xrOGiJBk1kJrK3nPsJXivr0bzFR6DcONjSmLb6BYgQNsuOBU5Dl9EPTr9o6u0TF-QQrhBf88FV6uGZnX7_LyyEjosQtUvh0yAS2t0Mt-_bR9Lw/s1600/2016elk-24.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDE4Swpm4XghW9WF9-0Ibm4EIuFUT0xrOGiJBk1kJrK3nPsJXivr0bzFR6DcONjSmLb6BYgQNsuOBU5Dl9EPTr9o6u0TF-QQrhBf88FV6uGZnX7_LyyEjosQtUvh0yAS2t0Mt-_bR9Lw/s640/2016elk-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We got the meat hung up on the top of the mountain as quick as we could. As we headed down the mountain that night, every time we stepped on a branch a bull bugled at us. If we made a lot of noise the elk bugled harder. At one point, in the dead of night with no moon, a bull cut the distance to us in half and started to rake a tree - all because he heard us walking. These elk don't see human beings, so any sound in the forest they assume is another elk. We got back to camp at about 2am and decided we'd sleep in the next morning. It was a very fulfilling first day of hunting.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_XKcJ9ivl5guJF2-BctUH19o-O-EtUyYl3w3iHB487U296IcDzNya-rOoZhQqBT-UqO4Ksa2liXg0TFes7DXERwKrHtRRUg7w2KVEsSFIuS_2ZpvV1Y8gxaafbbR71BJTZ-ptf44rnY/s1600/2016elk-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_XKcJ9ivl5guJF2-BctUH19o-O-EtUyYl3w3iHB487U296IcDzNya-rOoZhQqBT-UqO4Ksa2liXg0TFes7DXERwKrHtRRUg7w2KVEsSFIuS_2ZpvV1Y8gxaafbbR71BJTZ-ptf44rnY/s640/2016elk-34.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Getting horses to the top of the mountain was an absolute NO. So we returned to pack the elk down to the trail.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3YtVfpGkmCJ7NEHHydkgL0vthYy0F0pj1s73-8Ke292FhHZFKnIvz2IsAc79Nx30Mv6gBX1x3Nq_5Oi1yldhRhEC_NEkHejPb88diyC0Uddviv8DDlZXy_cKqugo9FnPGdvkv1I4peg/s1600/2016elk-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3YtVfpGkmCJ7NEHHydkgL0vthYy0F0pj1s73-8Ke292FhHZFKnIvz2IsAc79Nx30Mv6gBX1x3Nq_5Oi1yldhRhEC_NEkHejPb88diyC0Uddviv8DDlZXy_cKqugo9FnPGdvkv1I4peg/s640/2016elk-35.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A quarter and the rack is about as easy as it goes on my Kifaru Duplex Timberline 2.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwLoCE6c6Rh7t3RDPiK1HiHXCeL6_Wi-_R_YlNnTV17J-4ygCzJS4AvFuCXGZzejSigcFbgaJwTQE80v22HM2m00vh-i1g9LRFo1MinDbE-v2qPnu327_yMAU0DH_S9XXIrIG5-mJnLI/s1600/2016elk-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwLoCE6c6Rh7t3RDPiK1HiHXCeL6_Wi-_R_YlNnTV17J-4ygCzJS4AvFuCXGZzejSigcFbgaJwTQE80v22HM2m00vh-i1g9LRFo1MinDbE-v2qPnu327_yMAU0DH_S9XXIrIG5-mJnLI/s640/2016elk-36.jpg" width="636" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXMAFqL4U9GSbNyIR203IURkxTnmf1ejKsyhwnDsDRpPHiVHJjQGggfB2u_MeQBhNUFXfWQGvKvj0nMKZ76MBQgTqNYorGwTUrmK23hv8tXtMu4pmBhI6gmg7SFUNBMIv_Mi-c_Tq9Yo/s1600/2016elk-37.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXMAFqL4U9GSbNyIR203IURkxTnmf1ejKsyhwnDsDRpPHiVHJjQGggfB2u_MeQBhNUFXfWQGvKvj0nMKZ76MBQgTqNYorGwTUrmK23hv8tXtMu4pmBhI6gmg7SFUNBMIv_Mi-c_Tq9Yo/s640/2016elk-37.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The next few days were full of close encounters with huge bulls. Dan had the Ghost at 23 yards raking a tree. As happens too often while hunting, the bull would have offered Dan a shot with one more step, but the bull chased a cow up the hill and out of our lives before ever exposing his vitals.<br />
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We learned how to go up and down these hills after a few days of hiking the wrong paths. The brush at the bottoms was so thick that navigating through it was a bear. Throughout the next few days we listened to an elk symphony happening on one of the mountain sides. Even though we were close enough to hear all the bugles, we never got in position in time to make a go at this mountain. On day 5 we got up early and tried to get up there in time to hunt the morning. The hike was further than we thought, so we still didn't get there quick enough to make a move in the morning. We positioned ourselves for that afternoon on the same hillside, but far enough away that our wind wouldn't reach the elk. With the elk serenading us, we took a nap and waited for the evening.<br />
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When the sun got lower and the elk started bugling hard again we began to move in on them. We got as close as we thought possible on this fairly open hillside. I backed up as Chad and Dan got into shooting positions. I pulled out all my calls and gave them everything I had. A big 6x7 came in to 80 yards, but in this open timber he would come no further without visual confirmation. He headed back up the hill and stayed there bugling at us until we left late that night.<br />
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During the commotion a bull up the hill lost his mind. He bugled so hard that his voice lost all volume. The middle of the bugle came out as a raspy, low, scratchy growl, or something like that. That bull came down charging. I saw him coming, waited until he got behind a group of trees, and ran as fast as I could to get into cover where I could better call from. I tripped and fell hard on my face, catching my wind I figured I had run far enough and got my bugle ready. Every time I bugled the bull ripped back, the nastier I bugled the more murderous he responded. I knew this bull was coming, and with both Danny and Chad waiting for him, I also knew that his time on earth was limited.<br />
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When the bull came into my view I slithered over some logs, low enough that he couldn't see me, and re-positioned again to a spot where the bull couldn't see me. He needed to come just a little bit further, which I heard him doing after another bugle. I started to wonder why he was still alive when I heard Dan's bow thump, followed by a loud crack. I got real excited but heard no thundering of hooves, no running. Did Dan miss? He doesn't miss often...that crack could have been his arrow hitting a tree but it sure sounded like it hit the elk. Then I heard a loud cough, and another. Oh yeah...if that elk is coughing after five seconds then it is all over. Another few seconds and I see the bull's body rolling down the hill.<br />
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After Dan's shot, the bull just jumped a foot. He stood there licking his lips as blood poured from his mouth. The elk literally fell down a step from where he had been shot, and less than 10 seconds later.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXShdo756-QIv7-i_GG-L3rSYC-Xgphg5MtudObPcIZYZiKm9wJn3MUpfvSR2M442M65Qhj2EyBY-LqJDsEjPcIDlejzQdq86lexqygoLYPb_jEQ4G1AWJ83tW-m1dLVPDFW4u59Zaqxw/s1600/2016elk-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXShdo756-QIv7-i_GG-L3rSYC-Xgphg5MtudObPcIZYZiKm9wJn3MUpfvSR2M442M65Qhj2EyBY-LqJDsEjPcIDlejzQdq86lexqygoLYPb_jEQ4G1AWJ83tW-m1dLVPDFW4u59Zaqxw/s640/2016elk-39.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture is Dan's view of the shot. Enlarge the picture and you can barely see the elk where he ended up after rolling down the hill.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYQo9XtZ72XLQ59oWMd_3ZDKwlkWrzN9_hFOvPZwzgFctadyjHUShRM0_B-Ugcm4G8OryZ2hSgZQV9-zxlSDIT56IFhJNA-kdD-Z9WlcTIT6hMr9jvaGTrUHY2v7wibxA-1OHXCceJmA/s1600/2016elk-40.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYQo9XtZ72XLQ59oWMd_3ZDKwlkWrzN9_hFOvPZwzgFctadyjHUShRM0_B-Ugcm4G8OryZ2hSgZQV9-zxlSDIT56IFhJNA-kdD-Z9WlcTIT6hMr9jvaGTrUHY2v7wibxA-1OHXCceJmA/s640/2016elk-40.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOr-JtUCllM6DzJvnrG1MqCjsTvpivoQD6uNC7i8fYnbm9BGC-9YzRaIm0C0ZiR8r79jcX3ylFDfpe6QiwPvGrE7CSwhQ_YiVhTbtyaY040uQ4jydfMT2UfPqeHuvHCUUt5plPBPJObs/s1600/2016elk-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOr-JtUCllM6DzJvnrG1MqCjsTvpivoQD6uNC7i8fYnbm9BGC-9YzRaIm0C0ZiR8r79jcX3ylFDfpe6QiwPvGrE7CSwhQ_YiVhTbtyaY040uQ4jydfMT2UfPqeHuvHCUUt5plPBPJObs/s640/2016elk-43.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan killed his bull with a Bowtech Experience, <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/carbon-express-carbon-express-maxima-blu-shafts.html" target="_blank">Carbon Express Maxima Blu</a> arrows, and <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/brands/cutthroat/" target="_blank">Cutthroat Broadheads</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPreEnlKHHiXBMed1IgaMrvWxfsjDKQs6tHn4OaCuW2_85sYy38unoaY7izxghlY3Syamm8vl3ajPH95KfTxm_VF-Fv-AuF0kWA8_zpa7BR50Wbf6CyHtT6xPgMw-GwNeMOjooZBjgG4/s1600/2016elk-42.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPreEnlKHHiXBMed1IgaMrvWxfsjDKQs6tHn4OaCuW2_85sYy38unoaY7izxghlY3Syamm8vl3ajPH95KfTxm_VF-Fv-AuF0kWA8_zpa7BR50Wbf6CyHtT6xPgMw-GwNeMOjooZBjgG4/s640/2016elk-42.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4R2LZmonWyMMFqI0stLFbDMJAX_sdAU-Y1XSZd0P6IrIeqMuNNjXMXmxC1GEgIOWtH4sPMpwJChtE8XVd5n2J8mqUdbK9dLKLsMV1UF2RhTZ4ccf3Cai8Y4GzwdKaSN4Oj-m9_UfokE/s1600/2016elk-44.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4R2LZmonWyMMFqI0stLFbDMJAX_sdAU-Y1XSZd0P6IrIeqMuNNjXMXmxC1GEgIOWtH4sPMpwJChtE8XVd5n2J8mqUdbK9dLKLsMV1UF2RhTZ4ccf3Cai8Y4GzwdKaSN4Oj-m9_UfokE/s640/2016elk-44.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
We were a long ways from camp and we knew it was going to be another long night. No big deal, there isn't a place in the world we'd rather be.<br />
<br />
I made the mistake of bringing grizzly bears up. I asked what we should do with a dead elk in grizzly country at night. Danny mentioned that most of the advice is to gut it and come back in the daylight. So we started to share bear stories and got ourselves a little worked up about bears.<br />
<br />
Just before midnight, and long after ignoring the advice of the experts, we started looking for a tree to hang the bags of meat. We got about 100 yards away from the carcass, which is where we had our packs and bear spray, when Danny saw eyes down the hill. I am not at all afraid of black bears, but I have a healthy amount of respect/fear for grizzlies. We had already worked ourselves up about grizzly bears over the last few hours, so when Danny saw eyes we all switched on our high beams and started looking around. Then Danny said something that made my stomach hit my throat! He says, "Oh **** guys! It's on the carcass!"<br />
<br />
My heart rate JUMPED as I whirled my headlamp around. If this bear is bold enough to go the carcass, with us talking and making noise just 100 yards away, then it cannot be a black bear. It's got to be a big ol' hungry grizz. We instinctively got close together. The tension in the air went through the roof. Our packs are over there, everything I need is in my pack, and my bear spray is at the carcass. I'm nervous as hell, I see the eyes on the carcass and I'm waiting for the mother of all grizzly bears to bust out of the bushes and come grab me by the throat. Then it jumped up on top of the carcass, and my absolute fear turned into out loud laughing when a pine martin went running off and disappeared into the night. If I wasn't laughing I would have been crying. Such relief.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEike772YFHzmue1DjGZrHVT_Axf8OzT4-Ya4wyZBKo9G7xtOTBWI-Hi8iZFrocwWzoT97clzSbGta-mWRhYDGzt3edKERLBPj09siJBizC683L4bO6gwaZGbb9_jYVx4eqLfx90Ab8EsUg/s1600/2016elk-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEike772YFHzmue1DjGZrHVT_Axf8OzT4-Ya4wyZBKo9G7xtOTBWI-Hi8iZFrocwWzoT97clzSbGta-mWRhYDGzt3edKERLBPj09siJBizC683L4bO6gwaZGbb9_jYVx4eqLfx90Ab8EsUg/s640/2016elk-49.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This hillside gave me the willies. One misstep, with meat on your back, and it could be hard to stop rolling.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXIJvjuCD1FDhWLa7aqCbFlUoMsR8hQ9pjZia_cGkfzKysGT_QB6hMkd2cB7Ib903whCXP-u575VozwU740Fy3iXJ7BolBGp8K7DL6Ox4gahp0fFV7U1BCgl1ewjyldIknOzpbXhsS9g/s1600/2016elk-48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXIJvjuCD1FDhWLa7aqCbFlUoMsR8hQ9pjZia_cGkfzKysGT_QB6hMkd2cB7Ib903whCXP-u575VozwU740Fy3iXJ7BolBGp8K7DL6Ox4gahp0fFV7U1BCgl1ewjyldIknOzpbXhsS9g/s640/2016elk-48.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan is carrying a prototype centerzip Kifaru. This pack is AWESOME! Me want.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMvXj31VWqxNXARxHzVmMYtdLMyPbbgOPCkLh4YYY_qxKv5jCr2EsSxRjYXA-UgOaHtA7pTDJ_zNLB_S_5VNY2pdepiTne0_7LmrknAsUasyRcmhXhkntBKzDGuRgVt1n6pmPTRj1P-o/s1600/2016elk-50.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMvXj31VWqxNXARxHzVmMYtdLMyPbbgOPCkLh4YYY_qxKv5jCr2EsSxRjYXA-UgOaHtA7pTDJ_zNLB_S_5VNY2pdepiTne0_7LmrknAsUasyRcmhXhkntBKzDGuRgVt1n6pmPTRj1P-o/s640/2016elk-50.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyNvCbz3y-5c-_xdOlFxOUmmBa7flF4KE-LUQtja7EX6GanHCzDWpk6E2ZOjuQ6XIbiKyy5wx6FPPnieFSSPYUNmrTtAH2JERk9TmCDfA6nyuGSmsb0zzta060pF6tGRTfniFxwdSF-c/s1600/2016elk-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyNvCbz3y-5c-_xdOlFxOUmmBa7flF4KE-LUQtja7EX6GanHCzDWpk6E2ZOjuQ6XIbiKyy5wx6FPPnieFSSPYUNmrTtAH2JERk9TmCDfA6nyuGSmsb0zzta060pF6tGRTfniFxwdSF-c/s640/2016elk-51.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We took our time and got Danny's meat hung up proper to keep it safe.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2dO_QW8vj2LQ4e_Yzire7b0vpz6rwG_kEeBetgRHVbU2bjftndHBkrzA4thIdLQknrPjFOdwPbI-gvDw2FuyV-gvLsLiuQfq-jf8-i-Qa2vP19o_ur9O4fXIxz8usfM0m9ssFcJ5XJw/s1600/2016elk-77.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2dO_QW8vj2LQ4e_Yzire7b0vpz6rwG_kEeBetgRHVbU2bjftndHBkrzA4thIdLQknrPjFOdwPbI-gvDw2FuyV-gvLsLiuQfq-jf8-i-Qa2vP19o_ur9O4fXIxz8usfM0m9ssFcJ5XJw/s640/2016elk-77.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chad stayed super happy and positive even though he was the last one with a tag in his pocket.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
After we got Dan's bull down the mountain we pulled out the topos. We needed some fresh elk. There were some close benches in flatter ground that I thought looked outstanding. But when hunting with Danny and Chad you can usually count on going to the furthest, highest, toughest possible spot to get to, just because. So that's what we tried to do. We walked down the river to try and find a crossing where we could access a big canyon. After spending all morning contemplating all the different ways we could cross this deep, fast river, we decided it wasn't worth it and headed back to camp so Chad could get some fresh socks and dry out.<br />
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We started a little fire in our tipi stove and got warmed up and dried off. A little before noon we got moving again and headed towards those benches. The topo showed some nice steep north faces that butt up to the top of the big bench, and possibly some open meadowy areas.<br />
<br />
At exactly noon Chad said, "You hear about guys calling in midday bulls, why don't we try a set up?"<br />
<br />
I wasn't thrilled at the idea, but what do we have to lose? I threw out a bugle to see if anybody wanted to play. The second I got done bugling we got a bugle in response. Hey, how about that? We circled up hill to get level with the elk and get the wind where we wanted it. Chad moved close to the bull while Danny and I found a good place to hide and call.<br />
<br />
I bugled. The bull bugled. Danny raked a tree, the bull bugled. I broke a branch, the bull bugled! This might happen! Danny started to get after a tree, he'd point at me, I'd bugle, and every single time the bull hammered back. His first few bugles sounded weak. I thought for sure this was an itty bitty raghorn, but as we got to working him he started to sound better and better.<br />
<br />
Finally, after about five minutes, the bull answered me again, this time like he meant it! He ended it with some savage grunts. Danny and I agreed that he must be super close to Chad. A minute later the bull goes sprinting through the trees. Danny and I run down to find Chad and see him give us a fist clench. It was 12:30pm and the sun was out in full force, the bull still came in as hot as they ever do. He only stopped trotting towards us to tear up a tree or to bugle.<br />
<br />
As we approached Chad I saw his quiver half empty. What the heck is up with that? Chad told us that the bull stood still for him at 25 yards. The first arrow was a great shot, but the bull did absolutely nothing. He didn't flinch, just kept looking towards our raking and bugling. Since the elk was just standing there Chad took out another arrow and zipped him again. Again, the bull did nothing. Arrow #3 was on the way. Chad was a little rattled by now and the third arrow hit the elk in the leg bone, that got him going.<br />
<br />
Chad was very relieved and super happy to walk up on his bull. Heck, we all were. It was now day 10 - tagged out!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMftBgR8zqoX75jaOStreBhLrVTuBi-MkjHbhnmqY-1Lv5O6UO5KkgZRnKHj1WTfImSCJSNcglAEsmohNnyv1j19LyTtCCs6samHJVaKv5sk0-POuMtfeFOhsKkTy9QyI80b3HnA47RXg/s1600/2016elk-54.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMftBgR8zqoX75jaOStreBhLrVTuBi-MkjHbhnmqY-1Lv5O6UO5KkgZRnKHj1WTfImSCJSNcglAEsmohNnyv1j19LyTtCCs6samHJVaKv5sk0-POuMtfeFOhsKkTy9QyI80b3HnA47RXg/s640/2016elk-54.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NwD65CaOiPhPtK2RcmnvEUt7M8X0_CnQNsQRLWgks9mJx1bq3PIomQa8Pv1hpLKHb8UyAsVMSBdm3bqPsKsC2Uofa15RNvD6gOBBQektEtXi5WXUgTiNkx2JPYl9CyRWv1ZFmDM9kU8/s1600/2016elk-56.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NwD65CaOiPhPtK2RcmnvEUt7M8X0_CnQNsQRLWgks9mJx1bq3PIomQa8Pv1hpLKHb8UyAsVMSBdm3bqPsKsC2Uofa15RNvD6gOBBQektEtXi5WXUgTiNkx2JPYl9CyRWv1ZFmDM9kU8/s640/2016elk-56.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsW-7MJYTyMzzy8UbrMfqvS8OMNA1t0yuzUOyj5se74aBet6uHQS1RBB7CWtRLWN9llUUZmlYplWGxp4dLV_aueEUZ_7PsNrMsBMrKxcoJPO-omhc4kTfubw3zvQWq0Dr0dpBGqnQU5a8/s1600/2016elk-62.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsW-7MJYTyMzzy8UbrMfqvS8OMNA1t0yuzUOyj5se74aBet6uHQS1RBB7CWtRLWN9llUUZmlYplWGxp4dLV_aueEUZ_7PsNrMsBMrKxcoJPO-omhc4kTfubw3zvQWq0Dr0dpBGqnQU5a8/s640/2016elk-62.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4otKKqOF8FdFaNnyW3BayxbdJgiWE4fzMu4WfyG2D_SIYa972eR_1O_DmifQF672RW2IcwpI_8UYPIvy3eyk-0X3Bwp42WLR5chIrqG45KfDa_G-dnp21fr8kZShOZhc6yh4sA1KtOk/s1600/2016elk-59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4otKKqOF8FdFaNnyW3BayxbdJgiWE4fzMu4WfyG2D_SIYa972eR_1O_DmifQF672RW2IcwpI_8UYPIvy3eyk-0X3Bwp42WLR5chIrqG45KfDa_G-dnp21fr8kZShOZhc6yh4sA1KtOk/s640/2016elk-59.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chad killed this bull with a Bassett recurve, <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/carbon-express-carbon-express-maxima-blu-shafts.html" target="_blank">Carbon Express Maxima Blu</a> arrows, and <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/brands/cutthroat/" target="_blank">Cutthroat Broadheads</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfTNSa4qjMVPLk7j1Vf5wly3u312J2Itn5N61qbo5WdEdA8T05UmlbB94PNBOrwIXe4lgUCp20S3ZEvn-z37DB9uxXjWGkJ4lMYSRWW_YR9r8QMYliuHYu9hYZSGvm4AYsr1WxkJvYYU/s1600/2016elk-60.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfTNSa4qjMVPLk7j1Vf5wly3u312J2Itn5N61qbo5WdEdA8T05UmlbB94PNBOrwIXe4lgUCp20S3ZEvn-z37DB9uxXjWGkJ4lMYSRWW_YR9r8QMYliuHYu9hYZSGvm4AYsr1WxkJvYYU/s640/2016elk-60.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
It was nice to be fairly close to camp and work on an elk in the daylight. I think we spent more time hauling meat on this trip than we did actually hunting.</div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV3LCecf3qB7ratMR575ji-mqgmhfFRqZCmA5QxyYGswBD9x2QXXQVt0BKUYTFiBezKhv1i5bF7x7zlKrkvCbfRcE5ne3b6qLTNMf7HBdmYe-2SCLoWn_52bbi4rcawHOsgg33SlS75Ec/s1600/2016elk-63.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV3LCecf3qB7ratMR575ji-mqgmhfFRqZCmA5QxyYGswBD9x2QXXQVt0BKUYTFiBezKhv1i5bF7x7zlKrkvCbfRcE5ne3b6qLTNMf7HBdmYe-2SCLoWn_52bbi4rcawHOsgg33SlS75Ec/s640/2016elk-63.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
We were supposed to leave on Saturday, so we still had a day to hang around camp. I busted out my packable three weight fly rod and we had a blast catching little cutthroats on the stream by camp. </div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtZqYAW-ZNBaQ1m_zkUk6Fjga7m5ycejI5inV0AX_ONVW9mqzuU4Cp0QkJ3uj3AEKXDQfVaH9-gvQ1jIRpVphkS7BNx4g71sHaq2U743Parsyo1Ci8zkmaIMMkW43nbVIQOROa8PCKrc/s1600/2016elk-70.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtZqYAW-ZNBaQ1m_zkUk6Fjga7m5ycejI5inV0AX_ONVW9mqzuU4Cp0QkJ3uj3AEKXDQfVaH9-gvQ1jIRpVphkS7BNx4g71sHaq2U743Parsyo1Ci8zkmaIMMkW43nbVIQOROa8PCKrc/s640/2016elk-70.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVsl2Cu0V68foO-kIZ6I8r9BIah8nKXQkPYpuHOuMSbg_GK6Jy5ek4lMfSkoANWYqimlMeT2YWDt0flyPEKoOM3dwe3gSJ9hzog3jA1lAphgmnZOa3G3K-04fv9XCI6UAN4ftwJyqdjw/s1600/2016elk-69.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVsl2Cu0V68foO-kIZ6I8r9BIah8nKXQkPYpuHOuMSbg_GK6Jy5ek4lMfSkoANWYqimlMeT2YWDt0flyPEKoOM3dwe3gSJ9hzog3jA1lAphgmnZOa3G3K-04fv9XCI6UAN4ftwJyqdjw/s640/2016elk-69.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
I brought olive oil to add to my food and tinfoil in case we needed to cook anything. Chad had steak seasoning, and Danny brought bagels for just this occasion. We cooked some fish, some tenderloins, and a pack of instant mashed potatoes.<br />
<br />
Rich people and kings have never eaten as good as we did on this afternoon.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLqmU-i3ewcGTAmYfoG6Q03-f-bgCypPyWcXg4G9V68OfiQyJ-ldHDTdvoMpNJhKxeCT6xCVWZ_pWwR-yB762DmOANVFKvXrj-WdNotdfKn2OfwKg28wqiBrcOZH9XZC55a5DMNgomnM/s1600/2016elk-76.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLqmU-i3ewcGTAmYfoG6Q03-f-bgCypPyWcXg4G9V68OfiQyJ-ldHDTdvoMpNJhKxeCT6xCVWZ_pWwR-yB762DmOANVFKvXrj-WdNotdfKn2OfwKg28wqiBrcOZH9XZC55a5DMNgomnM/s640/2016elk-76.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the picture we dreamed of taking. 3 for 3!</td></tr>
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I think Carter did find some of the best elk hunting in the West. There were absolutely great bulls in there. If I had access to a horse every day I would have tried to hold out, even though I am not a trophy hunter. But because of the amount of effort and time it took to get to the elk every day we decided that a 5 point or better was getting an arrow.<br />
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I think the three of us are completely spoiled on elk hunting now. Chasing elk in our normal spots will definitely leave something to be desired. But that's okay, it'll make our return trip in a few years all the better.</div>
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-71782253326877179212016-09-20T12:12:00.001-07:002016-09-20T12:12:43.089-07:00Blog UpdateIt's been a year since I wrote a blog post. Not because I don't enjoy writing them, but with the growth of our store I have felt guilty about writing stories when actual real customers were waiting on me to do things for them. We have gotten over a few of those growing pains and I will try to resume putting up hunting stories and pictures throughout the year.<br />
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Here are a few critters that we got to hunt since last year. The store has kept us grounded more than most years. If you are on the social stuff I am putting up pictures on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/rmsgear/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> and our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/rmsgear" target="_blank">Facebook Page</a>.<br />
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Stay tuned, I'm working on an elk hunting story that will show up soon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our good friend, Malcolm, killed this bull on the last day of the 2015 archery season.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I brought my buddy turkey hunting for the first time last year, he shot a jake...</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHao1y5dZasUfku5SkDDyQypYbjQqoMPtFe2oLbyRxSGK2H1FjVzAp1ojacwjJ7OfMIJ5UBDjNgTSu5DSyDmmmT_S8W9KFhDbg0_mWVH0rJjf8f8gC4ZDX5WpeoIAw8gsZm2Zs-uW4S3Q/s1600/edit-7.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHao1y5dZasUfku5SkDDyQypYbjQqoMPtFe2oLbyRxSGK2H1FjVzAp1ojacwjJ7OfMIJ5UBDjNgTSu5DSyDmmmT_S8W9KFhDbg0_mWVH0rJjf8f8gC4ZDX5WpeoIAw8gsZm2Zs-uW4S3Q/s640/edit-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-17801141278934661462015-10-19T16:33:00.001-07:002015-10-19T16:33:04.377-07:00Coming out HeavyDanny spent the first two weeks of the season working his butt off without hardly a sniff at an elk. It was an odd beginning to the year. So a few weeks into the season Danny and Kelly packed in seven miles. They set up a base camp in a fairly central location and then spiked out a couple of miles from there. They wanted the option to be able to restock on supplies and then head to a different location if they could not find the elk.<br />
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Ten years ago my brother-in-law, Kelly, used to tease me for getting so excited about hunting (elk hunting in particular). If you are reading this blog and you are a hunter then you know why we do it, which is what I told Kelly. I said, "You oughta come with us, you will not be bored and it will be one of the hardest things you've ever done". Well fast forward to present day, and Kelly is as excited about September as any of us. He's turning into a great elk hunting partner too.<br />
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Our elk hunting buddy, Del, hiked up on his own and was also hunting the same general area. Del is a lone wolf and even though he makes a great partner, he has his own hunting method that is really only applicable to a single guy hunting alone. With Del's llamas at base camp it didn't matter where they killed an elk.<br />
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Danny and Kelly hit the motherload. Three or four big herds came together in the same wide drainage. We've hunted this drainage a lot, it has become one of our favorite elk hunting areas, anywhere! Danny had a great idea on the movements of the elk and he knew where to position himself in order to be the most effective.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danny was wishing I was there (so was I!!!). On the pack out they had elk filing past them. This bull was about ten yards away but they were already tagged out.</td></tr>
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With elk screaming in every direction and hardly a ten second window without a bugle in the air the guys were able to pick the elk that best suited the wind. Working their way to the head of the drainage Danny locked-on to a bull who was responding to every cow call he made. Kelly slipped forward as Danny kept calling and moving around behind him. Kelly made a great quartering away shot.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kelly killed this bull with a 64@28, 62" Wapiti recurve. He was using Carbon Express Heritage arrows and Cutthroat Broadheads.</td></tr>
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Danny and Kelly spent the rest of the day getting Kelly's bull cut up and hung up. They stored the meat on a shady hillside so that they could continue hunting. The first night in the drainage the guys could hardly sleep because of all the bugling throughout the night. But the next night was silent. The elk move great distances in these mountains on a daily basis, and just because one mountain is hot one day, it doesn't mean anything about what might happen the next.<br />
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Danny and Kelly snuck their way onto a bench that sat at the top third of the drainage. As they were still hunting their way through they spotted a small bull ahead. Danny took out an arrow and crept towards the bull. Kelly was behind him and unsure of whether or not he should call. He decided to throw a bugle out to see what happened.<br />
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Danny had been within distance of a couple of very large bulls on this trip, including one that would be a huge bull in any unit in Colorado. Danny was really debating about whether or not to try for this small bull. But flashbacks of the previous two weeks of hunting kept flooding his mind. Day after day of long, hard, hot hikes without even seeing fur. The debate was settled, kill the bull in hand.<br />
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Up ahead, and out of sight from Kelly, Danny was desperately hoping that Kelly would call. He couldn't go any further without running out of cover. Kelly's bugle garnered an immediate response from the small bull. The bull started working towards the call but he wasn't too sure about what he wanted to do, and he had yet to give Danny an appropriate shot angle. Kelly grabbed a big branch and started to lightly rake a tree. He didn't want to scare off the young bull by intimidating him too much. Well, Kelly played it just right. The bull was officially committed to seeing who/what was making that noise. As the bull snuck towards Kelly he walked into a shooting lane. Danny was already waiting for him at full draw.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danny shot this bull with a Carbon Express Maxima Red arrow and Cutthroat Broadheads.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">200gr Cutthroat Broadhead</td></tr>
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Two days, two dead bulls, two hard hard days of work ahead of them.<br />
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The guys took care of Dan's bull and hiked out to base camp that night. They were praying that Del didn't take an elk out with two of the llamas and leave them at the trailhead. Danny and Kelly were very happy to pop over the hill and see four happy llamas. At camp they found a few charcoal scribbled notes on pieces of bark. Del had as much action as they had, and had to go home a little early. Del might have ran out of arrows, but he did leave a half a cow for the guys to pack out for him, which they were happy to do.<br />
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Danny and Kelly got up early the next morning, dropped into the drainage they were hunting, packed up the two bulls, hiked out to base camp, packed up camp, and hiked out to the truck. It was a long and very rewarding day.<br />
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The elk had gone silent by the time my Dad and I returned to the same area, four days later. We had a close encounter with a real nice bull. The elk was under 20 yards for about ten minutes and miraculously never offered either of us a shot. But that was about it. The elk shut up and disappeared.<br />
tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-7747796004365567102015-09-30T17:08:00.002-07:002015-09-30T17:09:13.436-07:00Paul's First Elk<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul's first elk</td></tr>
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I've known of Paul Cleland since we were little kids. We always saw each other at the CBA Jamboree or some other archery shoot. But we did not get to know each other until the last 7 years or so. I was thrilled when Paul started worked with us at RMSGear earlier this year. Not only did I think his traditional archery knowledge would be a huge benefit to our store, but I knew that I would enjoy his company on a daily basis. </div>
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Paul is a fine hunter, but the elk have eluded him up until this year. Paul drew a tag in a unit that my Dad, my brother and I know well. Since I had a few problems with my feet I committed the first few weeks of the season to hunting with Paul in the milder terrain. But it didn't even take that long.</div>
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Paul and I hunted a few days before he finally connected on an elk. The first morning we went out we called in a couple of cows and a spike. Paul would have shot the spike but it never offered a shot. Paul's a little pickier than I would be having never filled an elk tag, and he passed up on a real big cow that fed right to him. The season hadn't even been on for a week but we were into about five bugling bulls on the same big aspen ridge. My hopes were high and a few of the buglers sounded pretty gnarly for being so early in the season.<br />
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Paul came close to killing an elk on Thursday night while hunting by himself. The elk were bugling their heads off and the herd bull was running around his cows while glunking. The next afternoon I drove up the mountain to hunt with Paul, we decided to hit the same area. We hoped that all the previous night's activity kept some elk around.<br />
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We spent the entire evening still hunting through some beautiful elk habitat. Only one bugle rang out and we disagreed on which direction it came from, so we continued our hunt as if it never happened.</div>
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As the night waned we found ourselves in a very likely spot for an elk to appear. Thinking that the night was a bust I threw out a couple of bugles. I was hoping that something would respond and tell us where to go the following morning. A minute later we heard a loud thump. Paul took an arrow out of his quiver and turned towards the noise. No sooner did he get situated than an elk appeared. A spike with long tines was feeding right towards us. When the elk turned broadside at 30 yards Paul pulled his bow back in such a fluid and smooth motion that I hardly noticed. I had full confidence that Paul was going to kill this elk, he is a fantastic shot with his Wapiti recurve. </div>
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After the shot Paul and I gave our thanks and started to get pretty excited when we heard a crash. A 75 yard bloodtrail led us to Paul's first elk. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul shot this elk with a 55#, 58" Wapiti Recurve. He was shooting Beman ICS arrows and 200gr Cutthroat Broadheads.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I was fully confident that Paul was going to kill an elk this season, but I must admit, I was a little bummed that I did not get to spend more time hunting with him. That's alright, I think we have many elk hunts together in our future.</span></div>
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<br />tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-29933085408804568502015-08-14T10:21:00.000-07:002015-08-15T10:22:14.818-07:00Danny's Ram Hunt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's hard for me not to brag about my little brother. I am pretty proud of him. Last week in some of the most precipitous mountains in the state, Danny got within shooting distance of big rams every single day of his hunt. </div>
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Danny chose to hunt an area based on the physical challenge only and knew that the trophy potential was extremely limited. In spite of this, in just four days, he pulled out a ram that will likely miss the all time B&C book by only 6 inches or so. That is in no way meant to be taken as a proclamation of grand hunting prowess. Only to put the animal into perspective.</div>
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Everybody wants to be Cameron Hanes these days. I don't want my readers to think that I'm trying to bill my brother as the "hunter athlete". I don't even feel comfortable with that term or that movement. Danny's not like that. He's a regular guy, dedicated to excellence in his business and his life. He constantly seeks the hardest challenges and the biggest adventures. That's it. Danny didn't draw this tag to try and be something he is not or fit in with a current trend. He drew this tag precisely because it is who he is. If I didn't write about it he wouldn't tell anybody.</div>
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Two weeks before the season, Danny made his way to this remote basin. Every time he went out, he found good rams. But this close to hunting time, he wasn't finding the numbers he was hoping for.</div>
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<i>This ram is as far from the trailhead as one could get. He is not the biggest ram on the mountain by any means, but Danny would have been thrilled to hunt him. </i></div>
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The week before the season, Danny hit the jackpot. Harold Fahrenbrook, the best bowhunter that nobody has ever heard of, took Danny to one of his honey holes. Harold has taken two bighorns out of these mountains with a recurve (a feet that him and Rick Duggan can both claim). Harold and Danny are cut from the same mold. The two of them set out for four days, and they planned to keep walking until they found sheep. And find sheep they did!<br />
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<i>These three rams made Danny's decision on where to hunt an easy one. He didn't need to spend any more time on the mountain. He knew where he would be on opening morning. </i></div>
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<i>This lone ram was hanging out in a large basin all by himself. This was one of the most huntable locations that Danny saw on his scouting trips. He did not find this particular ram again.</i></div>
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I am still recovering from two reconstructive foot surgeries that have kept me off the mountain all summer. It really sucked watching Danny go on so many scouting trips by himself. Having a buddy to do these tough scouting trips with makes it so much easier and more enjoyable, I felt terrible that I couldn't be there for him.We hunt together. It's what we do. It's what we've done since we were 4 & 5 years old. I can clearly remember the first squirrel that either one of us shot with a bow. Of course it was my brother, but I was right by his side when he shot it, and I was right by his side when the squirrel bit his finger.<br />
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Luckily, our great friend Del was game to hit the mountains. Even luckier, Del brought three of the best llamas in Colorado. Danny and Del have packed out more than a few big bulls on just two of these bad boys. The llamas aren't quite in hunting shape yet, but they were still nice to have.<br />
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Our cousin Chad also drove out from Nebraska to give Danny a hand.<br />
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Chad is a pleasure to have on trips like this. There has never been one time in our lives that he has been discouraged, not once has he had a bad thing to say, quit, pulled up short, or done anything other than be completely enjoyable. Chad has always, and will always do whatever it takes. He is just like Danny in that there is never a hike too far or a climb to hard. Not only does he have the physical ability to breeze through a tough hunt, but way more importantly, he has the <u><i>attitude</i></u> and <i><u>mindset</u></i> to welcome the work and revel in it! That's probably why he has gone into new areas that he has never visited and pulled elk out on a regular basis over the past 10 years. Chad loves a challenge, he loves a new experience, and he has the work ethic to be successful when the odds are not in his favor. He is the perfect guy to rely on.<br />
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Del routinely makes deep packs and long stays into the mountains by himself, and he usually comes out heavy. He's a true woodsman and a good friend to have on a hunt like this. Del returned to town after the first two days because of work obligations. I could not tell if he was joking or not, but he said that he felt sorry for Danny every time he left camp to go on a stalk. Those words coming out of Del's mouth are pretty funny and I took them as a sign of respect for the kind of stuff Danny was doing every day. When Del wants to have an easy day of elk hunting, he takes a route that knocks me on my butt!<br />
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<i>This gnarly hillside was home to a big group of rams. Danny was approaching from below on his stalks. Chad and Dan worked out some hand signals so that Chad could communicate to Danny where the sheep were. They had names and signals for rock outcroppings they named the Upper and Lower Pinnacle, Stegosaurus, The Dome, and several more. The ability to communicate like this was the difference in the hunt.</i></div>
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<i>Chad on his glassing perch.</i></div>
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<i>Danny's home for the hunt.</i></div>
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<i>Getting dried out after some nasty storms rolled through.</i></div>
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<i>A sheepy hillside that Dan is ascending in the following picture.</i></div>
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<i>Dan is on the edge of the left shoot, making his way up the mountain after a big ram.</i></div>
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<i>One of Dan's stalks. You can see the rams pretty easily but you might need to click on the picture in order to see Dan. He was about 35yds from the rams in this instance.</i></div>
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<i>The final approach. You can see the rams sky-lined in this picture.</i></div>
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On the fourth morning of the hunt, Dan set out before the sheep bedded down. The plan was for Chad to keep an eye on the sheep and then do his best to communicate to Danny where to go.<br />
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After he got to the bottom of the drainage, Danny sat down to pull some food out of his pack. Four days of intense work had finally caught up to him. He looked back to find Chad. Chad was waiving his hands frantically. Chad gave him the Stegosaurus signal. Danny pulled a tortilla out of his pack and kept going without rest. He knew what that meant.<br />
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The rams had bedded in one of the best possible locations. Danny picked up the pace. There are deep cuts in the rock outcropping that they named Stegosaurus. Danny could creep through those rocks without being seen and get on top of the sheep without problem. He knew that there were three big rams in the group, any of which he would be an absolute fool to pass up.<br />
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Chad never had a dull moment. He was positioned with a Swarovski spotting scope on both sides of himself so he could keep tract of all the sheep. He had to be sure that he didn't miss any that would bed down in a spot that could blow the whole hunt.<br />
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<i>Waiting for the wind to switch gave Danny a chance to take some pictures of the rams he was stalking.</i></div>
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<i>Little guys figuring out who the future king will be.</i></div>
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<i>And the big guys showing them how it's done!</i></div>
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Getting to the top of Stegosaurus was more like rock climbing than stalking. Danny had to set his bow on a ledge above him, wedge a rock in front of it to keep the bow from falling, and then crawl his way up to it. He repeated this for at least 150ft of the final ascent. As Dan peeked his head over the rocks he saw horns all around, just 15 yards away. Danny knelt back down to take his quiver off. He had a very narrow slit to shoot between rocks, and his bow wouldn't fit with the quiver attached. When he started peeking over the rocks again, he saw all the sheep on their feet. The wind was swirling terribly and Dan assumed that they smelled him.<br />
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These bighorns were arrogant about their physical ability to evade predators. They weren't spooky in the same way that elk and deer are spooky. Their senses are just as good, but instead of running into the next basin they would just scale a couple hundred vertical feet in a few seconds. Then they would pompously look back down at whatever puny threat groveled below. It's like the sheep had an "I dare you to chase me" attitude.<br />
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Their haughtiness worked out for Danny in this instance. Having smelled him the sheep just stood on alert, unsure of where he was, but confident that they were safe in their craggy precipice. Danny drew his bow behind cover and then slowly rose. They named the biggest ram Shaggy, the old ram hadn't rubbed off all of his winter coat and long strips of hair hung from his body. Danny spotted Shaggy first, but the big ram was in the middle of seven other smaller rams, making that shot not an option.<br />
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Dan quickly scanned the rest of the sheep. All the way to the left stood one of the three big rams, all by himself. In less than 20 seconds the hunt was over.<br />
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Danny was shocked at the sadness he felt as he approached the dead ram. Walking up to an animal that you have just killed is always bittersweet. This time, in this country, with this view, and with the immense respect for how these sheep live, the feeling was more intense. Dan spent an incredible amount of time in these mountains. Every day these rams are in the middle of the most hostile natural forces in this part of the state. Mother nature isn't more intense anywhere around here. She also isn't anymore beautiful.<br />
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Hunters know this, but to kill an animal is not drawn from a desire for blood or death, it is quite the opposite. Immersing yourself in their world, learning about them, studying their movements, and ultimately taking their life, provides the hunter with more appreciation and thanks than can possibly be understood - unless you've done it yourself. That is the precise reason that hunters are the best protectors of wildlife and wild places. They partake in that animals life and death. Hunters love the creatures they pursue in a deeper way than the non-hunter can ever know. And they prove it with their money and with their efforts. There was no fist pumping on this hunt, no childish actions or celebratory dances. Just a lot of time alone, long sits, and hard walks.<br />
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After killing the ram, Danny had a long time to wait for Chad, who made his way over to take a few pictures and help take care of the meat.<br />
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<i>Colorado Parks and Wildlife aged the ram at 12 years old.</i></div>
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<i>Three hours after the shot, Chad finally showed up. </i></div>
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Not wanting to make a trip all the way back into this mountain, Chad and Danny took the ram back to base camp in one trip. I asked Danny what that was like. He said it was work. That's the only way he could explain it to me. Work.<br />
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Writing about the physical experience could hardly do it any justice so I didn't really try. Mountain hunters know what this hunt entailed. The mountain was constantly beating on Dan and Chad. The strong winds never stopped. Daily rain showers that turned into hail and snow almost turned the hunt into a survival situation several times. But Danny never stops. He doesn't get even slightly discouraged, he doesn't sleep in, he doesn't look for an easy way. He goes hard all the time in everything that he does. There is no mountain too tall, no stalk too far. He will always keep going and he will always be happy about it.<br />
<br />tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-43738654903004972492015-07-09T14:36:00.000-07:002015-07-09T14:36:10.041-07:00Rain and FogDanny returned to the hills this weekend to look for more sheep. His trip was totally stymied by fog. He only got a few brief moments until the clouds burned off, around 11am. The high country was totally socked in during the prime hours of the morning and evening.<br />
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That's alright, there's still plenty of time. Danny is about to get serious with his scouting, he'll be spending a lot of time up there real soon.<br />
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One of the brief moments in the evening when it wasn't hammering rain.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpeZNtVDbpYwiHPj9aw7ESXjJ33skCyFgseBdaFaWAv1Q46D_8k32ZD3MK_-JYKDtP3ljy3KHavtWiLnLBnkA-oI88gXnUIj_mGeeVKtE67GrxF8LGFqD9laWxi-Lv8Jok32cSbIQ3Go/s1600/edit+%252811%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpeZNtVDbpYwiHPj9aw7ESXjJ33skCyFgseBdaFaWAv1Q46D_8k32ZD3MK_-JYKDtP3ljy3KHavtWiLnLBnkA-oI88gXnUIj_mGeeVKtE67GrxF8LGFqD9laWxi-Lv8Jok32cSbIQ3Go/s640/edit+%252811%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Danny watched these clouds roll up the valley and then hang out around 11k ft...not an ideal elevation for glassing sheep.</div>
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The best it ever got during the prime scouting hours.</div>
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Sydney's eyes and nose got crushed by mosquitoes.</div>
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Tough to spot sheep though this.</div>
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Most of the trip was spent under shelter. The creek that Danny camped near was at least three feet higher on his way out than it was on his way in.</div>
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More to come!</div>
tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-32758806534588917272015-07-03T12:41:00.004-07:002015-07-03T12:41:55.245-07:00Danny's first scouting trip for BIGHORNS!Danny has a weird way of thinking about hunting. He gets satisfaction from physical exertion more than nice scenery or relaxation. Don't get me wrong, I like to hunt hard. But Danny is the modern day living example of the mountain man motto: "I wonder what is over that mountain?". He can be a real pain in the butt to hunt with (except when it's time to pack something out).<br />
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So naturally when he started to build enough bighorn sheep points to have a prayer of drawing he picked a unit soley off of what would be the most physically challenging hunt. Forget trophy potential or population density, Danny is seeking a challenge. His first scouting trip after drawing a ram tag for the 2015 season confirmed that he is getting into exactly what he wanted.<br />
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I'll keep the blog updated with pictures of his scouting excursions, and hopefully some great hunting pictures once his August season rolls around.<br />
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Follow us on <a href="http://facebook.com/rmsgear" target="_blank">Facebook</a> for picture updates as well.<br />
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The first rams Danny found were on top of that pointy peak in the center left. Three rams on top of the world.</div>
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Sydney doesn't have many scouting trips left in her. She's been a good scouting companion over the years.</div>
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Danny took cell phone pictures of this ram from 2.38 miles away with a Phone Skope attached to his Swarovski spotting scope.</div>
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Cow elk Phone Skoped from 2.98 miles.</div>
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-36302274633476907602015-04-14T11:50:00.003-07:002015-04-14T11:55:50.157-07:002015 Nebraska Turkeys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIL6lyUcwnh_XCFLcYLYf-48LmwnI0SnjKfyLWiic2s7ACYs1RnZGMEcP-VDYbwWuINTZiPJxfnl1zDbLKV64bZ-Utsm5w5DLDlD4AnXHeu9UBB7I_GM3y3Q_eFi3p2KVBBdflGBA7sA/s1600/2015turkey-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIL6lyUcwnh_XCFLcYLYf-48LmwnI0SnjKfyLWiic2s7ACYs1RnZGMEcP-VDYbwWuINTZiPJxfnl1zDbLKV64bZ-Utsm5w5DLDlD4AnXHeu9UBB7I_GM3y3Q_eFi3p2KVBBdflGBA7sA/s1600/2015turkey-9.jpg" height="400" width="640" /></a></div>
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The last few years we have kind of started a tradition for the opening weekend of the Nebraska turkey season. My cousin's good friend, who happens to farm some excellent turkey hunting land, treats us all to a good steak before he lets us hunt on his land. How's that for being spoiled?</div>
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Years ago my cousin and I were looking at a few strutting toms as we sat on the public side of a fence line. Chad leaned over and said, "What would you give to be able to hunt <i>that place!?</i>". Wouldn't you know that <i>that place</i> is exactly where we hunt now?</div>
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Heath, the farmer, sets up a few tables in his barn where he grills everybody an unbelievable steak.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinlg__O8bSSDrHvxiaXIGBt8tQV7ONWS_c7WFmUzmW9yuk-B8n9O3LtHjITRkEQzp1HU18bR8jJJFVhAOWKhsF0dN4RGT1FsK9zsZhnzooSzXFuHNa7Es8f9YZq7QyzakM0dASrPAYH_A/s1600/2015turkey-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinlg__O8bSSDrHvxiaXIGBt8tQV7ONWS_c7WFmUzmW9yuk-B8n9O3LtHjITRkEQzp1HU18bR8jJJFVhAOWKhsF0dN4RGT1FsK9zsZhnzooSzXFuHNa7Es8f9YZq7QyzakM0dASrPAYH_A/s1600/2015turkey-2.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5pn_b0lEefAxma3UeGuHaKYlpgZGgFiw4Cg0gtO1M-PZ3_k_fk0Evc6A901rMAINDO9hdqFVp1ZJkegtvIS6WOMRigOMY55wJxSlxj0if5nCvR69g3jXc8sEZCE_difZBig7zf6lZUQk/s1600/2015turkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5pn_b0lEefAxma3UeGuHaKYlpgZGgFiw4Cg0gtO1M-PZ3_k_fk0Evc6A901rMAINDO9hdqFVp1ZJkegtvIS6WOMRigOMY55wJxSlxj0if5nCvR69g3jXc8sEZCE_difZBig7zf6lZUQk/s1600/2015turkey.jpg" height="408" width="640" /></a></div>
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The turkey numbers in much of Nebraska are down. We still had a good number of birds filing into the field we were hunting.</div>
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Danny and my brother-in-law Kelly were both inundated with hens Saturday morning. No toms came close enough to shoot. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOVDNrZC_gQPUJk-sQqyVuUNvFydGh3N_yLk1yk23fNXkHxFoKXRsk5Jkn_mP7Nxgssz4sIv2feW57pdD-CFLO_JDUIexVATtwODBygaO-s3qI5aEs-a3jINdj8NDfgTQHskTiUeN0U8/s1600/2015turkey-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOVDNrZC_gQPUJk-sQqyVuUNvFydGh3N_yLk1yk23fNXkHxFoKXRsk5Jkn_mP7Nxgssz4sIv2feW57pdD-CFLO_JDUIexVATtwODBygaO-s3qI5aEs-a3jINdj8NDfgTQHskTiUeN0U8/s1600/2015turkey-3.jpg" height="336" width="640" /></a></div>
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After the turkeys moved off Danny jumped in Chad's pickup to go hunt another creek. They barely drove a mile before spotting a turkey walking down a cedar row. Danny jumped out of the truck and headed towards the bird.<br />
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Chad just had time to turn the truck around when he looked up and saw Danny be-bopping down the cedar row with a bird over his shoulder. Danny put the bird in the bed of the truck and jumped in the passenger seat like he just got done answering a call to mother nature. Leave it to my little brother to treat a spot-and-stalk turkey like just another day in the woods. He creeped down that cedar row until he thought he was within 50 yards of the bird. Danny eased through the dense trees to get an idea of where he was. As he peeked out he noticed the turkey slowly meandering away from him at 30 yards. Danny nocked his arrow and eased out just enough to send an arrow on the way.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwFjrCmBH8Zgyk0unKZRNdYdGjw7KaZfK3P3AVp1950kC5r3kd7wBZvCJrMVfis5X_RNYV2WnEczwS3JZtN08HOcwIpbH-9POurn_YyUv8vCvj97HxKcwH7vjKjnVPh9dxl8DjTpMNWRI/s1600/2015turkey-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwFjrCmBH8Zgyk0unKZRNdYdGjw7KaZfK3P3AVp1950kC5r3kd7wBZvCJrMVfis5X_RNYV2WnEczwS3JZtN08HOcwIpbH-9POurn_YyUv8vCvj97HxKcwH7vjKjnVPh9dxl8DjTpMNWRI/s1600/2015turkey-4.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Chad, and former RMSGear employee Andy, had already had a great morning by the time that Danny was putting the sneak on the bird above. They both decided to take one for the team and go to the "bad field" with not as many turkeys. Chad and Andy are both known for their generosity. It was swell of them to be so self sacrificing. If you read some sarcasm in the last few sentences, good, I'm glad it came across. But in all honesty these two really did choose to hunt an area with fewer birds. They were the only ones that had a chance to scout it, there were less birds, and their chances were not as good. They really did "take one for the team". All that doesn't mean much with Chad and Andy. They are both great shots, great callers, and great turkey hunters. No surprise that four of their arrows resulted in four dead toms. You could put these guys anywhere and you'll probably still see red on their arrows when they get back to camp.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVbwSaAu8H-U9INrHU206udH8ds1Mq3EeJLywUqn3cmV_PGcTL5nhDY6jqG2-RtSNgJN57Hrfopai34UIQy7JgtpA7-W7XFTwn3xC0vkkmSO82S_XJkWE1VQAw79HBrMnFrjSgBzagl8/s1600/2015turkey-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVbwSaAu8H-U9INrHU206udH8ds1Mq3EeJLywUqn3cmV_PGcTL5nhDY6jqG2-RtSNgJN57Hrfopai34UIQy7JgtpA7-W7XFTwn3xC0vkkmSO82S_XJkWE1VQAw79HBrMnFrjSgBzagl8/s1600/2015turkey-10.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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I missed the big steak and the good times this year. I had to stay and watch the archery store. Which is okay, I got there late but I hunted more days. Trade-offs.<br />
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Kelly and I adjusted our first morning set up because we noticed the turkeys moving in a different pattern than years past. We brushed our blind in as good as possible and held tight. I am still coming off of a major foot surgery, so I couldn't walk that well or that far. As bad as I wanted to be out of the blind, that's my only option for the time being.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNeoW0lMsrEVplO2ioW9CFmywNBLproxG_GefrVYd1jYyLLI7reXJtKtGjF8OBRGZUgoeSErWyvL6OJXN1FAUTrikoSE5HCaIlV9cvW11TvkqVnFyzSXwqdJeqycJQsCExOKgpGng5YM/s1600/2015turkey-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNeoW0lMsrEVplO2ioW9CFmywNBLproxG_GefrVYd1jYyLLI7reXJtKtGjF8OBRGZUgoeSErWyvL6OJXN1FAUTrikoSE5HCaIlV9cvW11TvkqVnFyzSXwqdJeqycJQsCExOKgpGng5YM/s1600/2015turkey-8.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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Kelly shot a nice tom early in the afternoon on the first day. We were looking at a bunch of turkeys to our east when we heard the low drumming of a nearby tom. Kelly and I slowly turned around in our blind and saw two giant toms about to start beating up our decoy. The toms came to our calls from the west as we were looking at birds to our east. Kelly made a great shot.<br />
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There were lots of turkeys around, but Kelly used the creek at our backs to retrieve the bird. Nothing keeps turkeys away better than a dead bird laying in the field.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJJZq04ICvWp6RLeZi5jk4RKMsq3BPWoL_Lo6DGdZDYrJckLHvhBtOPiQfc6PqTIU0rFhQmPzwD8Z01DHqMuTL-JRw2mYCPUTOurb4j_ceNcx4yoK6trM5AtE_XJO0txy993be4es6Yw/s1600/2015turkey-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJJZq04ICvWp6RLeZi5jk4RKMsq3BPWoL_Lo6DGdZDYrJckLHvhBtOPiQfc6PqTIU0rFhQmPzwD8Z01DHqMuTL-JRw2mYCPUTOurb4j_ceNcx4yoK6trM5AtE_XJO0txy993be4es6Yw/s1600/2015turkey-5.jpg" height="378" width="640" /></a></div>
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About thirty minutes later a jake came in to check us out. I sent a Pearson Deadhead flying his direction. The jake didn't make it ten yards before dying in the field. Kelly and I let all the birds leave before getting out of the blind. By the time we got to the truck it was dark. We could hear plenty of toms gobbling from their roost, and we decided to leave our blind where it was for the following morning.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwx20oEFnhWgde5HCreLm9OozsB893ywKUgfFupEK8g16VK5rlqajmIz0NYBKLGq7rK8viTtyqwCsydz72k5FRZtOnp9Xao8ElsBQlYY8uCmYej4O9MeVvS-FGw8bxRRHH29kQ_W-IXrI/s1600/2015turkey-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwx20oEFnhWgde5HCreLm9OozsB893ywKUgfFupEK8g16VK5rlqajmIz0NYBKLGq7rK8viTtyqwCsydz72k5FRZtOnp9Xao8ElsBQlYY8uCmYej4O9MeVvS-FGw8bxRRHH29kQ_W-IXrI/s1600/2015turkey-6.jpg" height="390" width="640" /></a></div>
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The next morning was a turkey bonanza. There was a pile of birds to our east. Before the sun came up we heard one lone gobble to the west. I hoped that bird would walk towards all the commotion on the other side of us. There would be a great chance that he would swing by us on his way.<br />
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Sure enough, that lone tom gave a thunderous gobble just a hundred yards away, but on the other side of the creek. I threw a couple of yelps his direction, hoping he'd come to us before going to join the real action. He did.<br />
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I started to get my bow ready as he changed his course towards our set up. He must have started sprinting when I took my eyes off of him. Before I was fully ready I heard wings flapping across the creek. One second later he was puffed up against my jake decoy. I zipped another Pearson Deadhead his direction. The bird was all swelled up and spinning in circles when I was aiming. I did not wait to shoot. My arrow went exactly where I aimed, straight up the legs, and just below beard level.<br />
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The tom made it back across the creek, but no further.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNtfyR51LKU8tKvokZJMamWrI1GSjRod_Tu6P2O9RrwleNFVq63_WME3dcABy2w6O34DMDOcGrqr6IoPEWNjuOz5CAeV-mKv06qyefcq2KW7Bz-3gwo-7xReqNA-aj-HZI3etMoyzJLg/s1600/2015turkey-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNtfyR51LKU8tKvokZJMamWrI1GSjRod_Tu6P2O9RrwleNFVq63_WME3dcABy2w6O34DMDOcGrqr6IoPEWNjuOz5CAeV-mKv06qyefcq2KW7Bz-3gwo-7xReqNA-aj-HZI3etMoyzJLg/s1600/2015turkey-7.jpg" height="398" width="640" /></a></div>
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My brother has spent many miles of walking to locate a few mountain birds in an area where they are quite sparse. My biggest goal in turkey hunting is to get a mountain bird without a blind. After three years of scouting, and hundreds of miles of walking, there's a chance that Danny's hard work will finally pay off. Hunting those mountain birds is nothing like hunting the creek bottom toms in Nebraska. It is lots of walking, lots of days without a peep. When you finally find a tom he is as surprised to hear a hen yelp as we are to hear him gobble. So when we find one it will most likely happen pretty fast. I'll let you know how it goes!<br />
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Good luck, turkey hunters!tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-30521257850012188752015-04-13T11:27:00.000-07:002015-04-14T11:57:08.654-07:00Commemorative Bow A few years ago our good friend and employee, Brock, was looking for a bowyer that could build a special bow. Brock wanted to commemorate his friends the he served with in the 2nd Battalion 8th Marines. Joseph Garrison, Xhacob LaTorre, Donald Vincent, and Bruce Ferrell.<br />
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After a pretty extensive search Brock settled on ordering a bow from Mike Hays of Black Canyon Bows. We all agreed that Mike's bows are hard to beat. His craftsmanship is top shelf and his bows are unbelievable shooters. Even though we all figured that Mike would be the man for the job, none of us could have guessed how spectacular this bow would actually turn out.<br />
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The riser is dymondwood with birdseye maple accent lines. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh8nWw9YT3lwaAI1nMbEeUGXvhEz2A6qmOPJvWrPhKhJiR1O__z74rgrnqw2Ef1RTvO4RT98GfEQtCP0Wya7-3afymHo-qzXwczGLqsED4g2pKThpDP4sRzImIdT69L-VvxU-zgjnKyc0/s1600/DSC012731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh8nWw9YT3lwaAI1nMbEeUGXvhEz2A6qmOPJvWrPhKhJiR1O__z74rgrnqw2Ef1RTvO4RT98GfEQtCP0Wya7-3afymHo-qzXwczGLqsED4g2pKThpDP4sRzImIdT69L-VvxU-zgjnKyc0/s1600/DSC012731.jpg" height="640" width="442" /></a></div>
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Marv Clynke donated a scrimshaw button for the riser. I have 20/20 vision, but I cannot read the detailed letters without a magnifying glass. Marv is a true master. The intricate letters and other fine details are nothing short of amazing. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8Mw7UWrfRovgLDKCePa2ExqZM6gvuNuPgUX9AyhjNRQljeI3rM_KVTrgBzNvGyyGwlOrA2OCsBftUrPkgqUwXEn_0NxR-dQCp-kI13KDqnzg80lVZwTe17-e968KKyPOox6HTUtLkq0/s1600/DSC012761.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8Mw7UWrfRovgLDKCePa2ExqZM6gvuNuPgUX9AyhjNRQljeI3rM_KVTrgBzNvGyyGwlOrA2OCsBftUrPkgqUwXEn_0NxR-dQCp-kI13KDqnzg80lVZwTe17-e968KKyPOox6HTUtLkq0/s1600/DSC012761.jpg" height="444" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Let me reiterate, that you cannot read this with the naked eye.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH-3MDaSdqMzeeDzzFodsaRzB3eCa7MskNfVJnvc4Z-MjhUFjbUmsoFrD32NeGM1TXuxzdq0bL-U7r4so8G_9XK33nV_7Pm-oaQvBk2eRD7q0S5thYRO7Nd5YkqJO9IJ6fK50MocTkLFM/s1600/DSC012771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH-3MDaSdqMzeeDzzFodsaRzB3eCa7MskNfVJnvc4Z-MjhUFjbUmsoFrD32NeGM1TXuxzdq0bL-U7r4so8G_9XK33nV_7Pm-oaQvBk2eRD7q0S5thYRO7Nd5YkqJO9IJ6fK50MocTkLFM/s1600/DSC012771.jpg" height="610" width="640" /></a></div>
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The limbs are bacote with birdseye maple spliced on the belly. The lighter colored wood showed off the writing that was laser engraved before laminating.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRl98erWZNfTavQ2qc8FuphdXf9W3hodAjXeoHnrrtpQNLKFZUd4wglr8mohRKFjAViy5lP6n1Pq1O2cNOJP6s-jMTnIWOh4R417JyOAfYPEvWhkYu_zby_dv4MAmCSd6Qy36fa_BM-g/s1600/DSC012821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRl98erWZNfTavQ2qc8FuphdXf9W3hodAjXeoHnrrtpQNLKFZUd4wglr8mohRKFjAViy5lP6n1Pq1O2cNOJP6s-jMTnIWOh4R417JyOAfYPEvWhkYu_zby_dv4MAmCSd6Qy36fa_BM-g/s1600/DSC012821.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsROmmlw-yMDlfdRYcx8fTdFhIncDwGe1BlZrkCKZR3xa73R6S1hC2AtM5nrS48HNGN9GkH9ZS8On1ZFyWcHeGrl5f-6t_Q2cWZ7uXK3CCwT6yTQi_VonzPImxt6RWHyuyw1JHgMxZR5w/s1600/DSC012801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsROmmlw-yMDlfdRYcx8fTdFhIncDwGe1BlZrkCKZR3xa73R6S1hC2AtM5nrS48HNGN9GkH9ZS8On1ZFyWcHeGrl5f-6t_Q2cWZ7uXK3CCwT6yTQi_VonzPImxt6RWHyuyw1JHgMxZR5w/s1600/DSC012801.jpg" /></a></div>
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Brad Chamberlin of Hapa Enterprises did the laser work on the limbs for free. Mike and Brad did an amazing job. They spent a lot of money and tested a few different methods before finding a method and style that they were pleased with.</div>
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All of us here at RMSGear were absolutely thrilled with the way that the bow turned out. A huge, huge thank you to Mike Hays, Marv Clynke, and Brad Chamberlin for helping make this happen. And a bigger thanks to Joseph Garrison, Xhacob LaTorre, Donald Vincent, and Bruce Ferrell and their families. A stupid bow is not enough to thank them. Their lives are remembered.<br />
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-51295540105813205492015-03-06T09:23:00.003-08:002015-03-06T09:23:44.369-08:002015 Texas Pigs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We had such a good time in Texas last year that we couldn't wait to get back into the bush. A group of us from RMSGear met at my Dad's house at 6am to start the ten hour drive. A few last minute cancellations opened the door for a few guys that hadn't been there before. Stories from previous years began immediately. We discussed pig behavior, strategy, and started to count our chickens long before they hatched.<br />
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This year was a little bit tougher. We still killed a good number of pigs, but we didn't see them concentrated in the same areas as before. The ranch got so much moisture this year that the pigs were much more spread out.</div>
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My brother didn't waste any time. He was hunting through a prickly pear flat on the first morning when he came to a little wallow. He stopped to look around when he noticed a pig snout sticking out of a bush, just thirty yards ahead. The pig snout quickly turned into a full pig, and it started walking straight towards him. The pig flopped down in the small puddle just a step away. Danny drew his bow as he was standing over the pig and pointed it at the pig's body. The pig flopped back and forth a few times before jumping to his feet and walking straight away. Danny was dumbfounded. He had a pig at his feet for ten seconds and didn't let go of an arrow. But as the pig walked away, it turned slightly broadside. Danny saw his chance and sent his arrow, a Maxima Red tipped with a razor sharp Cutthroat Broadhead, towards the pig. Danny was shooting a 500gr arrow with a heavy single bevel broadhead out of his compound bow. There ain't a pig in Texas that could slow that arrow down. The arrow entered in front of the pig's back leg and exited near the neck by the opposite front leg. The arrow buried in the dirt twenty yards beyond. The pig ran a very short distance before tipping over.<br />
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Danny heard more pigs grunting, so he walked to the dead pig and marked it in his GPS. As he peaked over the next little rise, he got his second shot of the morning. Another Cutthroat zipped through another big pig, this time broadside. That pig, too, ran a very short ways before dying. And, within an hour of the first morning of the first hunt, Danny had two pigs on the ground.<br />
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Dad didn't waste much time either. He found himself among a group of big pigs. When his hunting partner let go an errant arrow, the pigs started to trot away. Dad pulled back his Palmer recurve and followed the biggest of the group as it moved quickly through the dense brush. At thirty yards, on a trot, Dad knew that he had this pig. His arrow couldn't have been placed any better if the pig were five yards away and standing still. Dad was shooting a Beeman arrow with a 200gr Cutthroat Broadhead.<br />
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<i>A pig rib is no match for a Cutthroat Broadhead. The broadhead didn't just shoot through the rib, it split it in half. The arrow ended up lodged in the pigs off shoulder, and put him down in under 50 yards.</i></div>
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On another part of the ranch, my brother-in-law, Kelly, was still hunting on top of one of the big bluffs. He spotted a bobcat through the thick bush moving right towards him. With some quick calculations of where the cat was moving, Kelly positioned himself and got his bow ready. He saw the cat moving through the trees and pointed his full-drawn bow at the opening the cat was about to walk through. When the cat stepped out, Kelly shot. The shot was spot on. The cat jumped and looked around. Kelly had a follow up shot on the way immediately. The second shot was a little further back than the first. With two arrows through the cat Kelly followed a short blood trail.<br />
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I was super excited for Kelly. That's one of my biggest bucket list critters, but Kelly didn't seem to care that much. He'd rather shoot a pig! We had to convince him that what he did was quite a feat.</div>
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So, the hunt started as we expected - fast and furious. The action slowed down over the next few days though. Most everybody got shots as the days went on, but the sightings were fewer and further between. </div>
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Chad always has a knack for finding animals. He was still hunting down a creek when he caught the scent of swine. Their odor is...their own. Chad slipped into stealth mode and started moving even slower. He lost the scent, so he changed course until he was back on the trail. Moving slowly through the grass and cedar trees, Chad finally spotted his prey. There, ten yards away, sleeping on his side, was a little black pig. Chad creeped a few steps closer before sending an arrow into the snoozing hog. Pigs started jumping up all around him after the shot, and though he trailed the herd for a little while, his sniffer wasn't good enough to keep on them. Circling back to the place of his shot led him to his dead pig.<br />
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Our good buddy, Dave, came with us for the first time this year. We built up his expectations a little too much before the trip, but Dave still killed a couple of pigs.<br />
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On the second day of the hunt, Dave was creeping over a big hill when he heard a noise below him. Slowly glancing down the hill he saw a nice sized sow. Dave has become one of the best shots around in the past few years. The pig's demise was imminent as Dave eased his bow back to anchor. Our other buddy, Blake, was watching the events unfold through his binoculars on an adjacent ridge. The sow ran 50 yards before reaching her final resting place.<br />
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<i> Dave was shooting a Wapiti recurve, Maxima Red arrows, and a Cutthroat Broadhead.</i></div>
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On the final evening of the hunt, Dad was making his way towards a few smallish hogs that were feeding on a road. It was getting pretty dark and hard to pick a spot. Dad's arrow hit the pig with a loud crack, and it fell where it stood. The pig was spine shot.<br />
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<i>Dad's Cutthroat was undamaged and shaving sharp, even after punching through the spine.</i></div>
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The rest of our group killed a few other pigs and had a fantastic time.<br />
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As for me, well, I wasn't much for hunting on this trip. I was two weeks out of a pretty major reconstructive foot surgery. So, I was acting as the chauffeur, driving the guys to their hunting spots, dropping them off, and picking them up. I went for the laughs and camaraderie more than anything. But I cannot conclude this story without my own confession.<br />
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The pigs had been coming by the house every night. The last night of the hunt I sat in my blind under the full moon. Around 10:30pm a group of decent sized hogs surrounded me. I have been shooting out of a longer hold these past few years, and it has been serving me well. As I anchored my bow I could feel my hand drifting off of the pig. Now why is it that I didn't just let down on my bow, and restart my shot? I guess I am not that disciplined yet (but I will get there). Trying to force my aim back on to the pig proved as fruitless as any experienced archer would know. I let go of the string out of habit, not under the controlled aim that has served me so well this past year. My arrow sailed over the pig's back, and away they all went. But I'll be back. Next year...</div>
tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-4577744511929681212014-11-21T11:50:00.000-08:002014-11-21T22:36:39.035-08:00A few weeks with Cutthroat Broadheads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4dK3ONHlcaQr-ewtBF1Iifj_zUGxBPRj886xoqdFRP4WsP7XHUB7uJIMW5QmH_CGtV4qMWF4PP1AYchpc6C0itgm3Ni3-G7oyq8fxZqkk9ICusXTsF5jPApPqTyMU3-Kw4GQNhx-TnY/s1600/DSC06130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4dK3ONHlcaQr-ewtBF1Iifj_zUGxBPRj886xoqdFRP4WsP7XHUB7uJIMW5QmH_CGtV4qMWF4PP1AYchpc6C0itgm3Ni3-G7oyq8fxZqkk9ICusXTsF5jPApPqTyMU3-Kw4GQNhx-TnY/s1600/DSC06130.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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This year's deer season was extra exciting with the arrival of our new broadheads. We were anxious to get them into the hands of our family and friends and take them to the field.</div>
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None of us here are marketers. We aren't "salesmen" as most people think of it. I have a hard time putting a spin on something or making large claims about a product. I don't like to be sold that way, and I don't like to sell that way. So, if you asked me how the broadheads did, I'd say that they performed like I would expect any good broadhead to perform.</div>
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The bloodtrails were consistent with what I would expect from the shot placements. Some were absolutely humongous, and some were just average.</div>
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No large bones were encountered upon entry. Ribs that were hit were splinted into many pieces. The big whitetail at the top of the page was killed by my cousin, Chad. His arrow hit the deer's far leg bone, putting a hole in it and literally splitting the bone vertically.</div>
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We are going to beef up the tips. They are too thin for our liking. Once we are happy with every aspect of the broadhead design, we'll start to market them a lot harder. For our initial roll-out though, we remain as excited as ever. There are no solid piece options on the market in single bevel (at a decent price), and none in a glue-on option. In a market where everything under the sun has been tried, thought of, produced, marketed and sold, this one design was missing. It's the simplest design, the most obvious. Isn't the simplest option usually the best option? One piece. Single bevel. It doesn't get any simpler. It doesn't get any tougher.</div>
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Brock and I each killed a doe, Brock used the 160gr glue-on head, with a 125gr steel broadhead adapter. Brock has become a heck of a shot, and when this doe stepped into his opening at 28 yards, Brock's arrow struck her right behind the elbow.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkJFOQv5fV7QnfyV2dX1Cm6JBheKHqklrH79erqCS5DS65-VGCvSx2FG0Ic0zxfIPPrtpLQUXJexLbYtcojPwEvurbG4SRZ4P_YQJXr-1Nc-GswpanoBCsd8FTpbI_GJtH-OkyyJfhkw/s1600/DSC00838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkJFOQv5fV7QnfyV2dX1Cm6JBheKHqklrH79erqCS5DS65-VGCvSx2FG0Ic0zxfIPPrtpLQUXJexLbYtcojPwEvurbG4SRZ4P_YQJXr-1Nc-GswpanoBCsd8FTpbI_GJtH-OkyyJfhkw/s1600/DSC00838.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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I also killed a doe, but I used the 200gr screw-in. I took a 30 yard shot. The doe ran into the creek you can see in the picture but never made it up the far bank. She died in the creek, five yards from where I shot her.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOwvdeCuBDuc16cujhmGyK0hy2LgPyfhyphenhyphenbKMqEd9fU4eE1StTQiDws1-K74CQkHmHNawqXkt-K1k2wbMP29mciqxU8gwuiYUZHL_B-VCkvEYxQKkNfiGDw-fmPz0HHIUCd2sB_rQPQy0/s1600/DSC01180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOwvdeCuBDuc16cujhmGyK0hy2LgPyfhyphenhyphenbKMqEd9fU4eE1StTQiDws1-K74CQkHmHNawqXkt-K1k2wbMP29mciqxU8gwuiYUZHL_B-VCkvEYxQKkNfiGDw-fmPz0HHIUCd2sB_rQPQy0/s1600/DSC01180.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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As much as I enjoy whitetail hunting, neither Brock or I took a single step towards those animals. Ground hunting is where my heart lies, pursuing an animal, stalking it, or calling to it. I went out with Brock to look at a nice muley buck that he had spotted.<br />
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Brock and I watched this buck chase a doe all morning. They covered some ground before they finally found their afternoon resting place. We watched them bed down in a patch of tall weeds. Brock knew the land owner, so I sat behind the spotting scope and kept an eye on the deer while Brock found the rancher and got permission to stalk this buck. Brock filmed his good friend kill a 200" muley in this same pasture last year, so even though he knew it would be okay, he asked anyway.<br />
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The adjoining property was standing corn. As Brock was sneaking towards the buck, four whitetail does came barreling out of the corn field a half mile away. The buck was bedded at the far right hand side of this picture. My heart rate started to increase when these deer came running by. Brock was barely in shooting position, and I worried the muley would spook. He never stood up though.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPow6WY8huV6nQIh5-rzGLFscJfMHngqty96BK8s7Z6uqGmxdYi_896MgTTNmNz_dTw7YpeKs9vd9qoXWYKiAY6pk9Lk-CmJGgXcPaMMY9rYmV708gWXaLUc8CvIsUsvSqMehSjKev-vw/s1600/DSC01141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPow6WY8huV6nQIh5-rzGLFscJfMHngqty96BK8s7Z6uqGmxdYi_896MgTTNmNz_dTw7YpeKs9vd9qoXWYKiAY6pk9Lk-CmJGgXcPaMMY9rYmV708gWXaLUc8CvIsUsvSqMehSjKev-vw/s1600/DSC01141.JPG" height="406" width="640" /></a></div>
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Four hours into the stalk, the wind almost picked up a little bit. Brock took off his shoes and started inching his way through the weeds. He could hear the buck's antlers hitting the dry weeds, so he had a good idea where the buck was, but he had no idea where the doe was laying.</div>
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Brock shifted the weight to his front foot when he heard a slight rustling in the weeds. He looked up to see the doe staring at him, only yards away. If he had been moving any faster, the jig would have been up. The doe stood up to her feet, which brought the buck to his feet as well. The buck stretched out his swollen neck and trotted over to the doe, passing Brock within three yards. They trotted out to thirty yards. Brock came to full draw...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYdw7qheFK40jlzMmJ5PONtz4edu4pmU5ayXeaqO8waTYMfpxVzMpM-m11XbqGfpgwF-FkO-llyKzmDCS-3KFKG1-3EXif01mSHRXyjfGCJhyphenhyphen8hyphenhyphendpIxZaICRLx6QS6HFtqt_XZ6xvCAs/s1600/DSC01151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYdw7qheFK40jlzMmJ5PONtz4edu4pmU5ayXeaqO8waTYMfpxVzMpM-m11XbqGfpgwF-FkO-llyKzmDCS-3KFKG1-3EXif01mSHRXyjfGCJhyphenhyphen8hyphenhyphendpIxZaICRLx6QS6HFtqt_XZ6xvCAs/s1600/DSC01151.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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My heart was absolutely racing. I was watching the events through a spotting scope from a few hundred yards away. I could see Brock come to full draw, but I was too far to see a release or the arrow in flight. I could tell by the deer's reaction that Brock had shot. I stared hard at the buck looking for any sign that he had been hit. He ran fifty yards or so before stopping. Even from my distance, I could see red blood flowing from his side, low and tight to the front leg.<br />
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<i>I snapped this picture moments after the shot. You can see Brock in the weeds, the doe on the left, and the buck, just before expiring, on the right.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B6GosArZfLwuAUh5VrkVJrNaSpOhKOKkRmjwd3_hVL3UxO37kjp1UpOwJzGvPrZ9E2CxErNw8rCafGfaZXU4VHvkLwdaBTz6RxHVevGTV2ouXyhrpcLs1U_iQ-cE5wtM4WedXTYswzk/s1600/DSC01153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B6GosArZfLwuAUh5VrkVJrNaSpOhKOKkRmjwd3_hVL3UxO37kjp1UpOwJzGvPrZ9E2CxErNw8rCafGfaZXU4VHvkLwdaBTz6RxHVevGTV2ouXyhrpcLs1U_iQ-cE5wtM4WedXTYswzk/s1600/DSC01153.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Brock's arrow passed through the deer like a hot knife through butter.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5COJZ6Wo2Js641R3wBQpKCYVNVwZTKdUbSMaOXShmQBWZtJ8xhvblpln7TMX21aeH12UJiNL4yaaXAkUbWHR7HE3sok8XfYTZ5V_H815UAvgErNcvuLd_9HRd3P73cy_vjUd6emlAei8/s1600/DSC04365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5COJZ6Wo2Js641R3wBQpKCYVNVwZTKdUbSMaOXShmQBWZtJ8xhvblpln7TMX21aeH12UJiNL4yaaXAkUbWHR7HE3sok8XfYTZ5V_H815UAvgErNcvuLd_9HRd3P73cy_vjUd6emlAei8/s1600/DSC04365.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Usually dirt on <b>my own</b> broadhead is a bad sign, but when you shoot as well as Brock, they always get dirt on them!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3kGNwG9shQgjAEJjWb850j2CmJzVHz2r3C8ykDhgFM_X2yQt1g_jzNuQJ4ApsfEislOyTikOgQABsmDAiphXUUiMHwAN7SJzD6ZR3_jzyAprHJFsnpGruGNivK7u8AqHn_DEmIGDptAg/s1600/DSC04367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3kGNwG9shQgjAEJjWb850j2CmJzVHz2r3C8ykDhgFM_X2yQt1g_jzNuQJ4ApsfEislOyTikOgQABsmDAiphXUUiMHwAN7SJzD6ZR3_jzyAprHJFsnpGruGNivK7u8AqHn_DEmIGDptAg/s1600/DSC04367.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOVBAgXex0Qz_tzX5qQFw33qMC-oXhSWWKFEXwpb02H0uzdfLC8BXV_Lo5perMfxRP9l8ACQNzAv2gI8YPlFjN14coNsjixJ-j2f3-roAwl3KP5cy5sF9LVLOFRMvKmpvqgOkysGf9ao/s1600/DSC04373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOVBAgXex0Qz_tzX5qQFw33qMC-oXhSWWKFEXwpb02H0uzdfLC8BXV_Lo5perMfxRP9l8ACQNzAv2gI8YPlFjN14coNsjixJ-j2f3-roAwl3KP5cy5sF9LVLOFRMvKmpvqgOkysGf9ao/s1600/DSC04373.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Blood gushed from the low hit. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWukkl0Om2r21-0pwUHblc0bm46j8SC_aDD0FUtKHozml-1sEOFiLtUeDhLC5BQzTPDCinalqLptLFb5cOs6O09p29c4UxdFEEa9cLomq4d_70nmM0ykY6X7unGXYUcFCwIxII1LGq-z4/s1600/DSC04392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWukkl0Om2r21-0pwUHblc0bm46j8SC_aDD0FUtKHozml-1sEOFiLtUeDhLC5BQzTPDCinalqLptLFb5cOs6O09p29c4UxdFEEa9cLomq4d_70nmM0ykY6X7unGXYUcFCwIxII1LGq-z4/s1600/DSC04392.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The buck, as he lay.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGr5tlBm5ExF4UFZuSdMcKYy9_H2NArg_LAdIjMkQIESXVVrKApYjS2OikILE7XOjjpg3A_qwgr185r2zYGxejk6FbI-nI3ktuz1szrqwJN2lIQEGGppmyrObw2dKiCA1ew-P4xPHP_20/s1600/DSC04405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGr5tlBm5ExF4UFZuSdMcKYy9_H2NArg_LAdIjMkQIESXVVrKApYjS2OikILE7XOjjpg3A_qwgr185r2zYGxejk6FbI-nI3ktuz1szrqwJN2lIQEGGppmyrObw2dKiCA1ew-P4xPHP_20/s1600/DSC04405.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Entry.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bLttjJ1zDO3Sy7EHQmZlH1PaLx3VhHclO70CFmDyFqJppjMWLEOihktUu7wYnpjNjyLaD4aGkOEM6vWikjhPoX9Hf0pWVSa_DkmNcZh3_fHPcAYxjn5sH3_bHT7eid22owtUsQANtCg/s1600/DSC04460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bLttjJ1zDO3Sy7EHQmZlH1PaLx3VhHclO70CFmDyFqJppjMWLEOihktUu7wYnpjNjyLaD4aGkOEM6vWikjhPoX9Hf0pWVSa_DkmNcZh3_fHPcAYxjn5sH3_bHT7eid22owtUsQANtCg/s1600/DSC04460.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Brock shot his deer with a Hawk recurve, 47@28, 62". He was using Victory HV arrows and a Cutthroat Broadhead. The bloodtrail was profuse!</i></div>
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I had some of the best whitetail deer hunting action I have ever experienced. The wind, my eternal enemy, really played with my emotions on this trip. I was not where I knew I needed to be. I watched four tremendous bucks walk down a ditch between corn fields in their search for does. They all passed by the same tree, the one that held my stand. The one the wind never allowed me to use because I wasn't willing to take the chance of alerting them to my presence. </div>
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I ended up having two giant bucks cruise past me, barely out of range, and drew my bow on a spot and stalk, but that was it. They eluded me this year...but not without a couple memories and experiences that will be with me forever.</div>
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<i>This great buck passed me at 45 yards, a shot I will not take.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEG-VtWNxMOKe_jdsoGKrhMSnHPkwI7BDYlkjClmOVbOB8HXQUYp05-p6nvPf07zXgcLujbqfcng6bLTJilQfJxPBOowTjuo7K2njbKBzg3iAJ8XIXvflvH63ggngMfHDU5ctHKKPPBI/s1600/DSC00851-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEG-VtWNxMOKe_jdsoGKrhMSnHPkwI7BDYlkjClmOVbOB8HXQUYp05-p6nvPf07zXgcLujbqfcng6bLTJilQfJxPBOowTjuo7K2njbKBzg3iAJ8XIXvflvH63ggngMfHDU5ctHKKPPBI/s1600/DSC00851-001.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbRIlApRcaCBq8NS8_ehoGovl_1ZWpV5tYYyfDI5YW0U6DazYrZmPy4JqYTpaTUacH5kFW2PmF5Nq9Vu2KlDbr50i59y5hi6ZqfmI5ASEyxE8Y4fHAOxzGks9OXzpAG6nJ9Xw8ats7P8/s1600/DSC01173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbRIlApRcaCBq8NS8_ehoGovl_1ZWpV5tYYyfDI5YW0U6DazYrZmPy4JqYTpaTUacH5kFW2PmF5Nq9Vu2KlDbr50i59y5hi6ZqfmI5ASEyxE8Y4fHAOxzGks9OXzpAG6nJ9Xw8ats7P8/s1600/DSC01173.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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I've only gotten out of my treestand twice in my life, both times due to weather. With 40mph wind gusts and temperatures in the single digits, I didn't want to sit in a swaying tree. I thought my chances would be better trying to sneak up on a buck, so I got down and walked to the truck.</div>
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Brock and I spotted a great whitetail bedded with a doe in the middle of a pasture, in a perfect spot to sneak up on. I crawled to within 20 yards of the buck and doe. I didn't know how to play it after I got within range. I knew I was going to wait them out and let them stand on their own, but then what? I decided to sit at the ready and draw my bow when the deer stood up. I knew that they would see me but hoped that they would give me a half second to shoot.</div>
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I could see the buck's antler tines through the grass. I drew my bow when his head dipped and his tail end came up. I got to full draw on a great buck who was oblivious to my presence. Before the buck completed his stance he glanced at the figure sitting in the grass. He was not curious, and he did not take a second to figure out what I was. He simply bolted. So close...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Z6JEvEuuQPVtwLCuKJkx0JLXgC2fBt1lR53qXsXr878v_x1lUBphrUMPmHOPtCChlQV9GKELS6bfZv0HgjOr71jAx1jyIV39a9YxDaIbjRZL01MnxB-EDrrNmv-k4ybbSZ6bhltUav0/s1600/DSC00871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Z6JEvEuuQPVtwLCuKJkx0JLXgC2fBt1lR53qXsXr878v_x1lUBphrUMPmHOPtCChlQV9GKELS6bfZv0HgjOr71jAx1jyIV39a9YxDaIbjRZL01MnxB-EDrrNmv-k4ybbSZ6bhltUav0/s1600/DSC00871.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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My cousin Chad had better luck on the ground than I did. Chad spotted this buck bedded in a corn field. Luck was on Chad's side, and he was able to use combine tracks to silently crawl 15 yards from this deer. With day light fading Chad was worried the deer might not stand up. As if by divine intervention, in the middle of a huge field, another buck happened to walk right to Chad and the big deer. The big buck sprang to his feet and aggressively moved towards the smaller deer. Chad drew undetected and shot as the buck walked by less than five yards away. The deer ran 40 yards on a hard sprint before crashing into the corn field.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzF8kXZ8axsXl8BsBuwZw5I5AZITIrUS_DgW53DAqzLUaMlneWXC6og_u8vAh36GeV_OUsITpmD9CewXGMRYmkknqXJMPV2K5OxPsIJBpUpsamdFMAc8Fv-ai_grOrdRqwiZPLkGKa4b8/s1600/DSC06135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzF8kXZ8axsXl8BsBuwZw5I5AZITIrUS_DgW53DAqzLUaMlneWXC6og_u8vAh36GeV_OUsITpmD9CewXGMRYmkknqXJMPV2K5OxPsIJBpUpsamdFMAc8Fv-ai_grOrdRqwiZPLkGKa4b8/s1600/DSC06135.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Chad used a 55@28, 60" Chargin' Bull bow that he built and an adapted 160gr Cutthroat Broadhead.</i></div>
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My brother's girlfriend Ashely got her first big game kill. She has been a dedicated shooter and bowhunter. She has put on more miles in the mountains than most men I know. Ashley made a great 25yard shot on this little doe, who only ran 20 yards before falling.<br />
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Ashley's arrow buried into the far shoulder, which kept the doe from running very well. The amount of blood was impressive. Ashley's arrow pierced the deer's heart and both lungs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBj1K3lJGRC9lVqHgedewzvIf7wnSeRaMOaEpH1uoWpsWV1V2ZypSXJMJZTZex2jRwmGChUX1mr4i73_ontEuRsQ6yakIWusc5_fIRMTJuFIddRVuzIYAuxdJCfH0vidurEoxlvyjxDbA/s1600/h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBj1K3lJGRC9lVqHgedewzvIf7wnSeRaMOaEpH1uoWpsWV1V2ZypSXJMJZTZex2jRwmGChUX1mr4i73_ontEuRsQ6yakIWusc5_fIRMTJuFIddRVuzIYAuxdJCfH0vidurEoxlvyjxDbA/s1600/h.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Ashley shoots a 55@28, 60" Rampart recurve. She was shooting the 200gr Cutthroat Broadhead.</i></div>
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Danny had some good action but did not kill a deer. We've had some fun encounters with this ten point over the past few years. A hunting buddy and I both had him at ten yards last season, both times in the dark. Danny had him at 20 yards this year at 1pm. He was chasing a doe and would not stop in Danny's opening. He got a little smaller this year, but he's still an impressive deer.</div>
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Danny also got to full draw on the buck below but never had an opening to shoot.</div>
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We are all hoping to get some late season hunting in. Good luck to everybody who still has a tag!</div>
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-8457659190832315082014-10-24T16:34:00.002-07:002014-10-24T16:52:56.503-07:00Broadhead ProjectI wanted to share with you guys a little project that we've been working on. RMSGear is going to roll out with our own broadhead line, we've about got the first two broadheads ready to bring to market.<br />
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There are a few hang ups in accomplishing <i><u>exactly</u></i> what we want. But we're getting close.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vIMwGoNBvMVb9p4hHHS9LpvBi7ndNU-tdAV37-cg6427GiYxOceiI5Ypou5EIWtD8f-aQwhgJgIYnuHb9Rl46E-4-BedjDgXv1jBU1e_xeQO269OOZsX6cArx-aFWz7G4qadtxF8qyo/s1600/123451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vIMwGoNBvMVb9p4hHHS9LpvBi7ndNU-tdAV37-cg6427GiYxOceiI5Ypou5EIWtD8f-aQwhgJgIYnuHb9Rl46E-4-BedjDgXv1jBU1e_xeQO269OOZsX6cArx-aFWz7G4qadtxF8qyo/s1600/123451.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Why are we doing this? </span></b><br />
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We were single bevel before single bevel was cool. We have personally hunted with this design for a long time, and we wanted to see it done in a solid piece of steel.<br />
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We want a head with:<br />
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-A single bevel<br />
-Construction from a single piece of steel (with no brazing, welds or crooked and inconsistent ferrules)<br />
-A reasonable price.<br />
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Simply put, we couldn't find what we were looking for to use for ourselves.<br />
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My first hunting season was 19 years ago. I tuned my cedar arrows to my Wapiti Spike longbow, and tipped them with a Grizzly broadhead. I was ignorant of broadhead designs back then. I just used the broadheads my Dad had laying around. My Dad only bought Grizzlys because he walked into Bob's Archery store, and Bob told him that a Grizzly would penetrate well for him and his young sons.<br />
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<i>This is one of the first days I carried a bow in the woods and a big game tag in my pocket - 19 years ago. To this day this is one of my proudest shots. My Grizzly broadhead cut this grouse's heart in half.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8a6kwn_pp_kl8B5hIbXADgCYxJO66abKwjNP_9s_EkoZxBk1CmCvVke-T7lHV_UaHkI7vsTFQHn5MUS3L-uHeoGvJi9Too1LY2UIwD72old6ACBpjC08KnzqucFat87COJQGZH7Vbt4/s1600/tc+grouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8a6kwn_pp_kl8B5hIbXADgCYxJO66abKwjNP_9s_EkoZxBk1CmCvVke-T7lHV_UaHkI7vsTFQHn5MUS3L-uHeoGvJi9Too1LY2UIwD72old6ACBpjC08KnzqucFat87COJQGZH7Vbt4/s1600/tc+grouse.jpg" height="432" width="640" /></a></div>
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Those Grizzly broadheads worked well for us. As soon as I got my driver's license my younger brother and I were in the elk woods every day. We had good grades and understanding parents, so my Mom and Dad smiled and told us good luck when we asked if we could skip school and go elk hunting. My brother was the first one to kill an elk - the holy grail of hunting in our minds. He had just turned 16, and shot a P&Y bull on a school night with me hiding right behind him. His arrow was propelled by a 47# Wapiti recurve. Danny center punched ribs on both sides of that elk, and he still got an exit hole. Could he have done that with another style of broadhead? Maybe. But the hook was set, Grizzly it was.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiugS-SND4uJYs4h800Z6cQ9ByllHy7AVy-qjQ9UTtySZiLWScpnZPRx40_rvzw275P2Iz4Rj-9UCQgx67KPz_wp8RIrdwikiHllxl0HktInvz8JhIlASn3SJz1iIIeLNOaFJxTTQy10Y/s1600/dannyelk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiugS-SND4uJYs4h800Z6cQ9ByllHy7AVy-qjQ9UTtySZiLWScpnZPRx40_rvzw275P2Iz4Rj-9UCQgx67KPz_wp8RIrdwikiHllxl0HktInvz8JhIlASn3SJz1iIIeLNOaFJxTTQy10Y/s1600/dannyelk.jpg" /></a></div>
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Danny has not killed an elk with his recurve with anything but a Grizzly to this day, and he has a nice tally of bull elk for a 31 year old kid.<br />
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So to make a long story short, we're not getting into this project because we think there is a single bevel fad, or to jump on the bandwagon. We're looking to build the broadhead that WE want to hunt with. Since we couldn't find it on the market, we decided to do it ourselves.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Why solid steel and not brazed? </b></span><br />
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Brazed broadheads in this design are common, available, and relatively inexpensive. There is no need for another brazed or welded single bevel head. We have shot them for years with excellent results. They work. But they have their draw backs. Most broadheads don't spin up true, and some take a lot of work to mount somewhat straight. They are also not as tough. You can see the broadhead in the picture below. I shot a bull moose with this broadhead. I consider this a broadhead failure.<br />
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<i>This was the final straw in our quest for something else. This is a major drawback of brazed heads.</i></div>
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We want a broadhead without braze lines. Something that mounts straight and spins true with minimal to no effort. We want a one piece, solid steel, thick, tough broadhead. And oh yeah, we don't want to skip a car payment to afford them. We want a broadhead that is as long as possible, while still light enough to meet popular weights.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Here's what we got.</span></b><br />
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We plan on filling in on weight and bevel options after a while, but for our first "test" run, we've got 200gr screw-in, and 160gr glue-on. Both in left bevel.<br />
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Screw-in 200 grain</span></b></i><br />
<i>2" length</i><br />
<i>1 1/8th" wide</i><br />
<i>25° taper, left bevel</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuMEJ1pZU-qGRSMiYJ3z2LCot1KJBzMIiWC7Ao0R2KjCAsPbDA2s6A1IXFGbfxp_lvoMDwYm1JKCZ4YUKLq5wXSXAmxgGI2kB2Y247XmCrytksBuWH2MRzzF-2X_ABigdsIZStCk_oDPc/s1600/12345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuMEJ1pZU-qGRSMiYJ3z2LCot1KJBzMIiWC7Ao0R2KjCAsPbDA2s6A1IXFGbfxp_lvoMDwYm1JKCZ4YUKLq5wXSXAmxgGI2kB2Y247XmCrytksBuWH2MRzzF-2X_ABigdsIZStCk_oDPc/s1600/12345.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Glue-on 160 grain</span></b></i></div>
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<i>2 3/4" total length</i></div>
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<i>2 1/2" cutting edge</i></div>
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<i>1 1/8" wide</i></div>
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<i>25° taper, left bevel</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vIMwGoNBvMVb9p4hHHS9LpvBi7ndNU-tdAV37-cg6427GiYxOceiI5Ypou5EIWtD8f-aQwhgJgIYnuHb9Rl46E-4-BedjDgXv1jBU1e_xeQO269OOZsX6cArx-aFWz7G4qadtxF8qyo/s1600/123451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vIMwGoNBvMVb9p4hHHS9LpvBi7ndNU-tdAV37-cg6427GiYxOceiI5Ypou5EIWtD8f-aQwhgJgIYnuHb9Rl46E-4-BedjDgXv1jBU1e_xeQO269OOZsX6cArx-aFWz7G4qadtxF8qyo/s1600/123451.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>What's in a name?</b></span><br />
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Naming them has given us a lot of fun and "spirited" debates. Here's what we're working with at the moment.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHAy1NrXsKxLmYdoMuRq1U_FxDqGi8RtWcW376l08F4X9sffNkZYdTOuInUsrW1h-Gqr8EM4hPrg9JtQaJYA1FSc3lPVik-KxMwNhAUTLOf3EAI8T25bbc4kT9usV86FmliJK3E4FVWE/s1600/cutthroat_logo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHAy1NrXsKxLmYdoMuRq1U_FxDqGi8RtWcW376l08F4X9sffNkZYdTOuInUsrW1h-Gqr8EM4hPrg9JtQaJYA1FSc3lPVik-KxMwNhAUTLOf3EAI8T25bbc4kT9usV86FmliJK3E4FVWE/s1600/cutthroat_logo2.jpg" height="506" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My Dad wasn't thrilled about the name "Cutthroat". He thought that it was too in line with the current broadhead hype marketing garbage. I think he was envisioning a logo with a bloody deer and a big slice across it's throat, with blood dripping off of all of the letters. </div>
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<br /></div>
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But that is not where the name came from. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
High mountain basins hold a special place in our hearts. Our dad took us on hikes into them as soon as we were old enough to physically be able. We have caught a lot of trout in those basins, seen a lot of big bucks and bulls, and developed some strong bonds up there. We chose Cutthroat because it is the Colorado state fish, and a fish that gave us a good reason to spend time in places that are quite special and near to our hearts. Cutthroat trout live in wild places, places I don't visit near enough.<br />
<br />
Besides, all the fierce animals already have broadheads named after them. Why not a fish with a cool name?</div>
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<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Initial Testing</span></b><br />
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Of course when we got the broadheads in the mail we were excited to see how they stacked up to some abuse. We looked around our store and found the hardest thing on hand. </div>
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<i>We didn't know what to expect when we shot into the biggest piece of steel in our store.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEHq6-DyokUwTiIM-WmnYxZ-6bFzCGt-wY5kPZwETXHO8700Z_8tBUINI97K62VZ_9drwB7pKCar7MP7tWSJqMRgFSR6xdTFaHethcq1l9FDLtXmCG57N0ARrl4O_we9cM4dQlrAr1fqg/s1600/DSC04202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEHq6-DyokUwTiIM-WmnYxZ-6bFzCGt-wY5kPZwETXHO8700Z_8tBUINI97K62VZ_9drwB7pKCar7MP7tWSJqMRgFSR6xdTFaHethcq1l9FDLtXmCG57N0ARrl4O_we9cM4dQlrAr1fqg/s1600/DSC04202.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
We had no idea what to expect. But we were pleasantly surprised to see it bury in this piece of steel. So naturally we had to shoot another broadhead that we like to see what would happen. The hole on the left is from a Cutthroat. The dent on the right is from a brazed broadhead of equal weight.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUukZhiEgvF9yPSMEncuV3Ll1lZljuN97TwAE5KC215ftdmlz9jrlblR2L29kSdiXIh7NURuANlYFHc6DkMXiNuWwKzz5qHs7XZ6U34XqScyIPjnbTjJsIAOjaUd2xLN4lgfu7PILtWs/s1600/DSC04208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUukZhiEgvF9yPSMEncuV3Ll1lZljuN97TwAE5KC215ftdmlz9jrlblR2L29kSdiXIh7NURuANlYFHc6DkMXiNuWwKzz5qHs7XZ6U34XqScyIPjnbTjJsIAOjaUd2xLN4lgfu7PILtWs/s1600/DSC04208.JPG" height="479" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
It sounded like glass shattering when we shot the steel with the other broadhead. These are literally the only two pieces that we could find.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10YIcFYrDptdfbd13-09-CSNOOoaIOKGacyvIxrG_3WbDixIHcqJQ-pXAqgdGctFvoFmNKDVaOymY7jQK6f82xSFunzQF5k3AMzO43d1b5nA4a35duC_SQSWHBBaFUQLgxR0Ns9npaQI/s1600/DSC04221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10YIcFYrDptdfbd13-09-CSNOOoaIOKGacyvIxrG_3WbDixIHcqJQ-pXAqgdGctFvoFmNKDVaOymY7jQK6f82xSFunzQF5k3AMzO43d1b5nA4a35duC_SQSWHBBaFUQLgxR0Ns9npaQI/s1600/DSC04221.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>In the field</b></span></div>
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Do they work? </div>
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The first bowhunter to take the field with a Cutthroat broadhead killed a deer on his first evening. He's still in the field at the time of this writing, and I will update this blog with a high quality picture when I get it. In the meantime, this is what I got.</div>
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<i>The exit hole from the first Cutthroat ever shot in the direction of an animal</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Ko74gVif3h6Yjochw8nKZsAsFcFQemI3jWTtdplfg442qmBVOQyxtlCdqNjoT-e2S6w53OuMbyq42-y2s-iGd5WKzNo00_bAqfp70Ap3uWsu36YSxrVd4SOYANvEYzfRKbqoI3TY2Ho/s1600/s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Ko74gVif3h6Yjochw8nKZsAsFcFQemI3jWTtdplfg442qmBVOQyxtlCdqNjoT-e2S6w53OuMbyq42-y2s-iGd5WKzNo00_bAqfp70Ap3uWsu36YSxrVd4SOYANvEYzfRKbqoI3TY2Ho/s1600/s.jpg" /></a></div>
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I'd post a picture of the entrance, but I gotta say, entrance holes have never concerned me in the slightest. Show me the exit or don't show me anything!<br />
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We haven't even had these broadheads a week, but you can bet that we're going to shoot them at a deer or two in the coming weeks. More hunting pictures to come!<br />
<br />
At the time of this writing three whitetail deer have fallen to Cutthroat broadheads. Early field testing is looking good.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Ordering</b></span><br />
<br />
We made a fairly small initial run. We are not currently set up to do large scale grinding. We have spent the last week or so trying to develop the easiest method to grind these heads.<br />
<br />
We are not the kind of people to try and rush to market with a product that hasn't been tested extensively. Heck, I've been shooting a simple tab design for over a year and I've yet to package and sell one. Nonetheless, we will start accepting orders, and we will start building a pre-order list for our next batch.<br />
<br />
This week I got these broadheads into the hands of some of the best hunters I know. I promise you that we are going to be more judgmental and harder on these broadheads than any others we've used. There's not going to be any marketing tricks here, no doctored images, no hype, no bullsquat. I'm going to be extremely nit picky so that you do not have to.<br />
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The broadhead speaks for itself. It is a time tested and proven design built in the toughest manner possible with the technology of the day. A couple hundred years ago it was obsidian, then steel, then welded, brazed, and now machined.<br />
<br />
You can order through our <a href="http://www.rmsgear.com/store/pc/viewCategories.asp?idCategory=99" target="_blank">website, at this link</a>. Orders will be slow to go out the door at first, we're still experimenting with the best ways to grind, and we are all going to be in the field over the next few weeks. We are going to let the response dictate how fast we expand on weight and bevel options.<br />
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You can follow us on Facebook. We'll be updating our customers about Cutthroat broadheads both through our RMSGear Facebook page, and also Cutthroat Broadhead's Facebook page.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/cutthroatbroadheads"><span style="font-size: large;">facebook.com/cutthroatbroadheads</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><br /></span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/rmsgear">facebook.com/rmsgear</a></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Be sure to sign up for our newsletter so that you can get updates on Cutthroat Broadheads and other RMSGear news.</span></b><br />
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-68668651673639330202014-10-21T14:49:00.000-07:002014-10-24T21:35:04.319-07:00October Deer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisKMfAiR2P2IzGwW1_8iOp20ooZK5WexAo-94GEekn4tcINIBkO_FQiAlRIC4SSw_DbAQoelRL_vKr8pEzRvZvy_tk9ts4LO4faW1lzIcoFkuHlwSEkPf_956qeDJoixa67Y0gzXuAmUE/s1600/DSC01125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisKMfAiR2P2IzGwW1_8iOp20ooZK5WexAo-94GEekn4tcINIBkO_FQiAlRIC4SSw_DbAQoelRL_vKr8pEzRvZvy_tk9ts4LO4faW1lzIcoFkuHlwSEkPf_956qeDJoixa67Y0gzXuAmUE/s1600/DSC01125.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
Brock and I made our way to Kansas last week to do a little pre-rut scouting/hunting trip. We talked to some farmers and got permission to hunt some of the finest looking whitetail land I have ever laid eyes on. Getting shooting opportunities at a buck doesn't worry me, but I don't know if I have the resolve to hold out for one of the big guys running around out there. I'm not a good trophy hunter, I'm just too grateful for any deer.<br />
<br />
Brock and I were suppose to leave on Friday night. From my treestand that evening I watched over 30 deer pass by a different trail, just 50 yards from me. I called my Dad and my wife and asked if I could stay one more day. Well, I begged more than asked, but I'll spare you the conversation with my wife. I'll just say, marrying her was the best decision of my life.<br />
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Saturday evening Brock and I got ready for what I thought was going to be an epic night. We had four doe tags between us, and I was certain we would fill them all. We found the best spot and put our stands right next to each other in the same tree. We had a big bedding area to our west, and a cornfield to our east.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The trail from the day before would have put them in a great shooting location.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKDo24R52gKFuQTVZtjJIX6_VVuF2Fb1bZ5d44G742WU2NsXMg1WcZNgrKjvngM6TJc6WS0oj8t1QIKz_GeN0iXjlOW9ZvNhXVsJXmOiSUhGXwPZ87RiIkjtxmSjAgL-1gsFzTwLoxGbE/s1600/DSC01121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKDo24R52gKFuQTVZtjJIX6_VVuF2Fb1bZ5d44G742WU2NsXMg1WcZNgrKjvngM6TJc6WS0oj8t1QIKz_GeN0iXjlOW9ZvNhXVsJXmOiSUhGXwPZ87RiIkjtxmSjAgL-1gsFzTwLoxGbE/s1600/DSC01121.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
But, of course, the deer had other plans. We saw just as many deer, but they weren't using the same trail as the previous evening.<br />
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With day light dwindling down, and all of the deer passing barely out of range, we finally caught a break. A couple does and a couple fawns were finally feeding down a path that would take them 15 yards from our perch.<br />
<br />
As soon as the first doe stepped into our shooting lane she picked up the pace and started to jog for no apparent reason. Brock was up first, he sat at full draw as all five deer ran right through his shooting lane. Brock did not lose focus. He leaned out to get a shot through the branches.<br />
<br />
I was looking at the deer when he shot, but I did not see his arrow. I heard the arrow hit, but the deer did not react. I didn't fully trust my ears and asked Brock if he hit her. He told me that he made a great shot.<br />
<br />
Not a single deer reacted to the shot. They continued walking to the corn field. About 45 seconds after the shot we heard thrashing in the corn field. I gave Brock a big high five and got my bow ready....MY TURN!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLlEywYCtW4cBzGWLO2P43xJojxCADRf9YLxMFg8mZlQlynzYdYaTsdNC1hErTG1MRDK_PdBQwUxDpYexnS7EQyilg3WAOsi63olCorgWknMCP8Tv3K7dYlOYdULiBSbbjN-_5VRnRGE/s1600/DSC00812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLlEywYCtW4cBzGWLO2P43xJojxCADRf9YLxMFg8mZlQlynzYdYaTsdNC1hErTG1MRDK_PdBQwUxDpYexnS7EQyilg3WAOsi63olCorgWknMCP8Tv3K7dYlOYdULiBSbbjN-_5VRnRGE/s1600/DSC00812.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Brock shot this deer with a Hawk recurve and an Abowyer broadhead.</i></div>
<br />
Shooting light was now fading fast, and we couldn't see anymore deer heading in our direction. All of the sudden a doe started walking towards us from the corn field. There was absolutely no reason that she should have been coming our direction, but sure enough, she was about to be directly beneath us.<br />
<br />
Of course I was ready, and when she turned broadside at 10 yards I let go of my arrow. The doe ran off but stopped about 10 seconds later, still in our view. She stood still for another second before tipping over.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpU78s0x0XboHvI-j-axPp7XwnoH5ENxuxNPXNrFXTdGx8iLkl-N-EFVZK0js8V3pyjKRIDSSAJKW7vGNuwdtlLEv4JZ15XPrlGGOlv9AuxrLILwCLKv-zU6yG3hLKYwPj0IiI0G__EY/s1600/DSC00820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpU78s0x0XboHvI-j-axPp7XwnoH5ENxuxNPXNrFXTdGx8iLkl-N-EFVZK0js8V3pyjKRIDSSAJKW7vGNuwdtlLEv4JZ15XPrlGGOlv9AuxrLILwCLKv-zU6yG3hLKYwPj0IiI0G__EY/s1600/DSC00820.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I shot this deer with my 60# Wapiti recurve, CX Heritage arrows, and a Grizzly broadhead.</i></div>
<br />
I tell you what. The drive home that night was a lot more enjoyable with two deer in the back of the truck. And I absolutely cannot wait to hunt this spot in a few weeks.<br />
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Danny hunted for a morning and evening in Colorado a few days ago. He saw a few deer and a bobcat. The bobcat cruised right underneath him.<br />
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More to come! The good stuff is just around the corner now. My Dad and brother will be hunting in Wisconsin again this year, Brock and I will be in Kansas, and we all have Colorado tags. Good luck everybody.</div>
tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-5346790819911839392014-10-17T12:52:00.000-07:002014-10-17T13:12:13.096-07:00Del's 2014 Bull<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Here's an elk story from our friend and hunting partner, Del Jolly. Del is hell on elk, and he shot a great bull this year, again, in the first few days of the season. Here's Del's story in his own words:</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0SezUaevDx_cHclVgNUZikdEcjwWl1EbYn-aUZ5sjUCie_tGbIYezNeJMrmX_7ypo88JOCMPPidkr9_JVSAQ2HN0Ek1MQcfLd4sSgcfrWCh1jg0QEzhPDUaQZ0L2tiRfSPVjVlOhRBI/s1600/IMG_3051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0SezUaevDx_cHclVgNUZikdEcjwWl1EbYn-aUZ5sjUCie_tGbIYezNeJMrmX_7ypo88JOCMPPidkr9_JVSAQ2HN0Ek1MQcfLd4sSgcfrWCh1jg0QEzhPDUaQZ0L2tiRfSPVjVlOhRBI/s1600/IMG_3051.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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This year I was lucky enough to draw a great tag. I have never had much of a desire to hunt a trophy unit, but with a large accumulation of points, and my hunting partners drawing elsewhere, I thought I'd put in.<br />
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My early scouting trips got me pretty excited. There were elk everywhere! I usually hunt with llamas, but my good friend was using them on the opener, so I was living off of my back for the first week of the season. I packed about 2 miles into the Weminuche Wilderness.
When I got to timberline I heard a big bull let out an awesome
bugle. Nothing like hearing a bugle the day before the season starts! I watched that bull come up the mountain with about thirty cows. I thought it was a bit strange that he was herded up so
early. I paid no attention and got to my pre-planned base camp.<br />
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A few elk from one of my scouting trips.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiL53inEw-qfgJ6XZK1CGitMyciqIY3do_HFb5Zu_XrgEJ_l7KmIWbZt0z7Q1Cks1P5Lbb62gwJ5ZVtlciBL_cuXgPkP_owlEGdJaOCAem2j5mP9QZFGQppxC00NOADaWl3dXzhoy23I/s1600/IMG_3037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiL53inEw-qfgJ6XZK1CGitMyciqIY3do_HFb5Zu_XrgEJ_l7KmIWbZt0z7Q1Cks1P5Lbb62gwJ5ZVtlciBL_cuXgPkP_owlEGdJaOCAem2j5mP9QZFGQppxC00NOADaWl3dXzhoy23I/s1600/IMG_3037.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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Do you know anybody who has ever found a dead mountain lion in the woods? I found this cat on the way into one of my elk hunting spots.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bl2qxc4qG9dsncZwasfi3uzVBBm4GOlJn9ovpUlAP_-4H0aRig_e-BybnEdUNJvgXIPhP2GXCbQktxktbg4n-a7dmztDl06XFMpXSDfJbqhFUD_TznPV4OnnJMWgZrsCtffwrlrCyyo/s1600/IMG_3085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bl2qxc4qG9dsncZwasfi3uzVBBm4GOlJn9ovpUlAP_-4H0aRig_e-BybnEdUNJvgXIPhP2GXCbQktxktbg4n-a7dmztDl06XFMpXSDfJbqhFUD_TznPV4OnnJMWgZrsCtffwrlrCyyo/s1600/IMG_3085.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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The next morning was amazing. I got into a ton of elk and had tension
on my string two different times. Once, I got to within 10 yards from
the biggest bull I've ever seen, up to that point. I worked very
hard to go straight up a mountain just to be pinned between two
trees and this bull. He came in bugling and stopped just ten yards away, but through a bunch of branches.
I knew he couldn't see me so I started to rake the heck out of a tree. He proceeded to do the same. I stopped, got my bow up, and waited
for him to emerge. As he started towards me, a soon to be re-occuring
theme happened - the wind hit the back of my neck. Little did I know, this would be the first of many times that I would be within 40 yards of good bulls and have the wind blow
it, literally and figuratively. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpeq4jSIB0k4n-b4DGYSzI-1XzYSCM8xl_9koX8TO2WJa08-goYEZI9gFa-12G8zGbXzXXTcVY0Qlg0WdQ1w3fEeQNyWNf5t5QT0942OoyqfSqt1TF8VcAOC-HsQ1y1_0io0vpPSmvc4/s1600/IMG_3045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpeq4jSIB0k4n-b4DGYSzI-1XzYSCM8xl_9koX8TO2WJa08-goYEZI9gFa-12G8zGbXzXXTcVY0Qlg0WdQ1w3fEeQNyWNf5t5QT0942OoyqfSqt1TF8VcAOC-HsQ1y1_0io0vpPSmvc4/s1600/IMG_3045.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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As the days passed, and the wind kept taunting me, frustration started to settle in. I decided to leave the bowl I was in and hunt another area. I went to a burn area I had
scouted earlier in the year, I was immediately into elk.<br />
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The next morning I bugled at the top of the burn and had an immediate response. It was very far off so
I started towards the direction of the bull. I had not traveled more than 100 yards when I
spotted a cow heading my way. I was in the middle of these
blackened, toothpick trees that had no horizontal branches. But as luck
would have it, my back was almost directly against a tree and the sun
was out of my eyes. A herd followed that lead cow, and a good 6X6 was in the rear. I always like it when cows
pass by first, it gives me a chance to see where my possible shots might occur once the bull comes through.<br />
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As the elk filed along I saw a small
tree that would give me the cover I needed to draw my bow. The bull followed suit, and I thought for sure that this was going to be the end of my season. I watched in dismay as my arrow flew just under the bulls chest. The herd erupted in a cloud of ash and
dirt. I believe I misjudge the distance due to the openness of the
terrain.<br />
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The next morning I was greeted with a throaty growl that only
big bulls make. I cow called and two rag horns came running right to me. The raghorns ran into thirty yards before they caught my wind. The commotion drew out a massive bull, the biggest I've ever put my eyes on, and he was MAD! He screamed and started heading straight to me. He was coming down the same line as the raghorns. I
knew I had to do something before he hit my wind. I made my move and dropped to my knees so I could shoot under some branches. Right as I reached full draw the bull pegged me.
I could feel the wind hitting my back. I knew it was now or never, and forced a shot faster than I like. I was sick to my stomach as I saw my arrow fly right over his back. In my haste I didn't pick a spot.<br />
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I was dejected. In the past 24 hours I missed more elk than in my whole hunting career (with a trad bow). Two great bulls, one of them the bull of a lifetime. I was looking for my arrow when a bugled popped off several hundred yards
away. I did my best to shake off the miss, and started working towards the bugle.<br />
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I closed the distance as fast as I could. This bull was a little bit more leery. He came to within 50 yards several times, but since he never saw another elk, he wouldn't commit to coming any closer. As he turned to leave I opened up my Montana Decoy and moved in on him, I felt I had to take the chance or the bull would be gone.<br />
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With a swirly wind, and the bull at 50 yards I held up the decoy and moved to a better position. The bull saw me moving and started walking towards me. It seemed to work!<br />
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I set the decoy down and got ready to shoot. I stopped the broadside bull with a short call and let go of my arrow. I saw my arrow in flight for a short time, but lost it when it hit an overhanging branch. Since I wasn't 100% sure of the shot location I waited a full five hours before beginning my search.<br />
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The bull was in the center of this frame when I shot.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9IMS0YNI6i9NAOekmwnWDwTOvWiXgs8Dou3oWCbpddhXAy40CHnTW0L2zBDfW8flxvu8IyxsxPSWcYh0WiCQkkn3m47mxyZgTbnPnA8uSMC8uSX50HWkXT0osjiEKJ9iN8cM8K-qagA/s1600/IMG_3056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9IMS0YNI6i9NAOekmwnWDwTOvWiXgs8Dou3oWCbpddhXAy40CHnTW0L2zBDfW8flxvu8IyxsxPSWcYh0WiCQkkn3m47mxyZgTbnPnA8uSMC8uSX50HWkXT0osjiEKJ9iN8cM8K-qagA/s1600/IMG_3056.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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I started to get a little nervous as the blood trail dwindled down. Then I experienced one of the strangest things that has ever happened to me in the woods. A small hawk swooshed right by my head, startling the heck out of me. The hawk landed thirty yards below
me and started to bob his head at me. Then he turned to his left and bobbed his head three times. The hawk flew straight at me, again, I took a step back because he was coming right for my face, only to make a sharp turn five yards from my head, and then he was gone.<br />
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As silly as this sounds, I felt that the hawk was telling me something. I walked down to the spot where he landed and looked in the direction that he pointed. Sure enough, there was my bull!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppUm1ugd1aMQy_NP-FV3KishMV30wgifqHxPnI8mTBMbs1lTj6G7_ef7MtXFf_mqdimPUvjswoezUTbO0FkRFPlMoDm-Bbm9kpS-bi4GmIT8tQTfTSsHcXOF2xOY6JoywwPpUWS0IrGM/s1600/IMG_3057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppUm1ugd1aMQy_NP-FV3KishMV30wgifqHxPnI8mTBMbs1lTj6G7_ef7MtXFf_mqdimPUvjswoezUTbO0FkRFPlMoDm-Bbm9kpS-bi4GmIT8tQTfTSsHcXOF2xOY6JoywwPpUWS0IrGM/s1600/IMG_3057.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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The bull was a decent 6X6, and my second biggest to date! I was very grateful for the experience.
The elk action, and the close encounters with big bulls, will make this a very painful 11 months as I wait to do it again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufEbp14Sh2RFGz0aulUoEwIVC41hmQs3O3fIjWQBHGgxGgyhovEoPBSYJDP8Tb_W-fdoFg70nK5uad4PV2N4BxXDJ6V1k69f2G35N5tgScl-N55q9iohBwzucRy9J_t0gGHGjmeTCvNI/s1600/IMG_3078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufEbp14Sh2RFGz0aulUoEwIVC41hmQs3O3fIjWQBHGgxGgyhovEoPBSYJDP8Tb_W-fdoFg70nK5uad4PV2N4BxXDJ6V1k69f2G35N5tgScl-N55q9iohBwzucRy9J_t0gGHGjmeTCvNI/s1600/IMG_3078.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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I shot this bull with my 48@28 Spirit longbow, Carbon Express Heritage arrows, and VPA Terminator broadheads. I do not think that I would have killed this bull without the Montana Decoy.</div>
tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-79412311924657365082014-10-01T14:48:00.000-07:002014-10-06T10:39:03.939-07:00Is It Over Already?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NXIjwzh-lz-rGhKbr_FjwH_rE0IIgvW70nFgaNdk1dZTgp9j2sqBe4wdmzoYbTsXZmCZOBPpxa3FIipFJsdZ4n-eVlwztePSHRuGbjYgIHm3KzEB9ybZQjX66Pj-IX-j-h9Z3Del648/s1600/P1040448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NXIjwzh-lz-rGhKbr_FjwH_rE0IIgvW70nFgaNdk1dZTgp9j2sqBe4wdmzoYbTsXZmCZOBPpxa3FIipFJsdZ4n-eVlwztePSHRuGbjYgIHm3KzEB9ybZQjX66Pj-IX-j-h9Z3Del648/s1600/P1040448.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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I really don't want to wait another 11 months before we can chase bugles in the Rockies again. But it's not like we have another choice. I live for this short time of the year. I'll spend the next 335 days anxiously awaiting the chance to do it all again.</div>
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My cousin, Chad, came out for the last 9 days of the season. The action started off intense. I had a number of massive bulls within shooting distance, but that always elusive shot just barely evaded me. There was always one branch, one small rise, or a bad angle that prevented me from loosing an arrow. </div>
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My brother, who already tagged out on a dandy, joined Chad and me to do some calling. The three of us snuck our way through a beautiful aspen grove on Sunday afternoon, one week before the season ended. We made our way to the top of the hill where, on the other side, it turned into a steep and gnarly north face ridge. Lots of blown down, dark timber. The perfect bedding area for elk.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ7GIqSHe-58lUblQn5sq9CdBAyv3nEJOQ7lppxMIoyfjaVofAL5SRJ6Bfn2NOgPXdtVaaEM20EFRfAnOhQa8G2BSkb1vsB5au-gL6KMpX37B_kjJ8LmMhY29JKZydOE9kKyH5Yk3nI08/s1600/DSC01054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ7GIqSHe-58lUblQn5sq9CdBAyv3nEJOQ7lppxMIoyfjaVofAL5SRJ6Bfn2NOgPXdtVaaEM20EFRfAnOhQa8G2BSkb1vsB5au-gL6KMpX37B_kjJ8LmMhY29JKZydOE9kKyH5Yk3nI08/s1600/DSC01054.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here's Danny double fisting the calls. He sounds good, but unfortunately on this set up a big 6X6 came from behind us instead of in front of us. Danny could have shot him, but Chad and I were in the wrong spot!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJNNWq6iP-Ug2sLBzcnuDfYaMqQHyUI-i3ybsrNwb8fmDqQh6NGDdedq7hhc6P3aF09BqhxBRCQK8X-Z0PouL7oeERHIVtAmdzQL32C-8PHbLpXEs457eA0nQPJ5_pXIJoyUszMRbYs0/s1600/DSC01073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJNNWq6iP-Ug2sLBzcnuDfYaMqQHyUI-i3ybsrNwb8fmDqQh6NGDdedq7hhc6P3aF09BqhxBRCQK8X-Z0PouL7oeERHIVtAmdzQL32C-8PHbLpXEs457eA0nQPJ5_pXIJoyUszMRbYs0/s1600/DSC01073.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Chad taking a peek at a group of elk who were interested in our calls, but not committed to coming in.</div>
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Five years ago I would have never dreamed that I would pass an opportunity to shoot any bull elk. But this year I was really hoping for a chance at a good bull. Several times this season I had smaller bulls in range that I just needed an excuse to let go. I probably would have shot any of them if I didn't have an excuse, but each time I let them go to my hunting partners, or got winded before I could get an arrow off my bow. Don't get me wrong, I would have been tickled pink if I ended up killing any of those bulls earlier in the season. But as we were sneaking our way through that aspen ridge, with one week left in the season, I was questioning my lack of urgency at the beginning of the year. My standards were about to get thrown on the window!</div>
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After Danny, Chad and I made our way to the top of the ridge we threw out a couple of bugles. We didn't necessarily expect anything to answer us so early in the afternoon, but on September 21st anything can happen.</div>
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As we sat there contemplating our next move we all heard a big branch break below us. Now in the old days, when we were still 'wet behind the ears elk hunters', we would not have thought twice about that branch and then been dumbfounded when an elk walked right up to us. I know that because the three of us have done that exact thing about 1,000 times in our elk hunting careers. But we're older now, better. Without looking at each other or saying a word Chad moved right, I moved left, and Danny dropped back over the hill.</div>
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Chad and I had this elk covered, no matter how he came in. I set my knees on the ground and lifted my head just in time to see antlers popping over the rise. The bull's head emerged, and his eyes locked onto me just as fast. I was wondering how he could possibly see me, and right then, Danny let out a little tiny bugle over the ridge from us. The bull immediately started walking right towards us.</div>
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I was about ten yards closer to the elk than Chad, and even though he had a shot opening before I did, he chose to let this elk walk into my opening. I pulled my bow back as the bull walked behind the double tree in the center of the picture below. He emerged on the other side, still walking, when I let go of the string.</div>
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The elk thundered off. Danny came over the hill at the same time Chad and I gave each other a high five. The shot was spot on.</div>
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Finding this elk was a lot more difficult than we anticipated with the shot placement. It had rained hard for a couple hours before I shot this bull, wet pine needles are tough to follow a bloodtrail on. We found this bull on a ground search less than 200 yards from my shot.<br />
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Danny, Chad and me.</div>
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I shot this elk with a 60@28, 58" Wapiti recurve. I was shooting CX Heritage 350 arrows with 200gr VPA Penetrator broadheads.</div>
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A bone-in hind quarter and the head on my Kifaru. Easy as pie.</div>
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The elk action slowed down for a few days before picking back up in force. The last few days of the season were everything elk hunting should be. Danny and Chad saw two different fights, tons of incredible elk behavior, and heard non-stop bugling. Chad had his chances, he's as good as anybody in the moment of truth, but it didn't happen this year. 11 more months...dang it. The pain will go away a little bit once I get into the whitetail woods next week. Good luck to everybody this fall.</div>
<br />tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-31680475523153341422014-09-17T12:24:00.000-07:002014-10-04T10:58:53.887-07:00Elk UpdateOur action has started to pick up a bit, but it is still hit and miss. We are still running into groups of cows all by themselves. I have typically found that somewhere between Sept 15th-20th the big bulls start to get real serious about finding all the straggling cows, and those days are magical when you hit them.<br />
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After those magic days, when the bulls have their cows, they don't want a thing to do with another bull. They'll bugle back until they lose their voice, but each bugle gets further and further away. Once that happens you'll need a jetpack to keep up with the herds. If you can get out now, get out now!</div>
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My brother has amazed me twice this season. I'll tell you how.</div>
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Danny, his girlfriend Ashley, and I snuck our way in front of a group of elk last week. We heard the bull bugling from an aspen ridge in front of us. We quickly hurried around them and got on the back side of the ridge, where we figured they would be going. We were right. The bull bugled a few more times allowing us to get set up in the perfect position. Danny and Ashley sat together, and I was 50-75 yards off to their right. Ashley only has a cow tag this season.</div>
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Danny and I each gave a few very soft cows calls, not to call the elk in necessarily, but hopefully just nudge them in our direction. It worked like a charm. Within a few minutes Danny and Ashley had cows milling all around them. The bull was rounding up the back, and he was a dandy. Ashley started to get out of Danny's way so he could take a shot at the bull. </div>
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This is the first time Danny amazed me. He did it with his selflessness. That bull was a stud, as big as the one my Dad killed this year. A massive 6 point. We've hunted our entire lives, and we are finally good enough to play this situation exactly right and get a bull like that in shooting distance. When Danny saw Ashley getting out of his way he instructed her to stay put and take the first shot that presented itself. The bull and a cow both started walking into an opening 20 yards away. A shot at either or both was imminent, and Danny told Ashley go ahead and shoot at the cow. </div>
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I was out of sight of all of this, so all I heard was the thundering of hooves. I waited a few minutes and made my way over to them. Ashley was visibly dejected, she missed. I got the whole story, and before Ashley could apologize again Danny cut her off and said, "Hey, it's just a stupid elk, don't worry about it". Amazing act of selflessness. </div>
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And now for the second time that Danny amazed me this season.</div>
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The following day we had some rain and fog roll through. The perfect time to get out all day. Danny was hunting by himself and planned on hitting a few aspen ridges that the elk frequent. </div>
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As he was sneaking his way through the forest he stepped on the smallest of branches. Movement from his right caught his eye, and as he looked he saw a huge rack swinging around. A big bull was bedded just 20 yards away, facing the opposite direction. Danny was pinned down, but thankfully a giant log was covering him from the bull's view. All Danny could see were two big antlers poking around both sides of the log. He was in a compromising position but he held still. Danny glanced at his watch, 5:05pm. He never really believed that shot would present itself. The wind never holds out, and the bull obviously heard him step on that small branch. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the big bull turned his head and looked the other direction. It was now 5:35pm. That bull did not move for a full 30 minutes.</div>
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Danny slowly brought his feet together and did a few small knee bends to get the blood flow moving again. He worked an arrow out of his quiver and took a step to his left in order to get a good view of the bull's body. He studied the bull for a few minutes. Initially, he didn't think that a shot was available. But after closely looking at the bulls position he saw where he could place an arrow. Ever so slowly Danny contorted his body in order to get his bow back.</div>
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I mention Danny's shoulder a lot in this blog. It's been 3 years since he has had a functioning shoulder. Twice, in his awkward position, he yanked on his bow string to try and get his light weight compound pulled back. Finally, on the third try, he painfully got the bow to full draw. </div>
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Danny shot. The bull took a long time to get to his feet but once he did there wasn't a tree or stump big enough to slow him down. The bull ran through EVERYTHING to get out of there.</div>
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Danny glanced at his watch again. 6:10pm. It took him another 35 minutes to get an arrow out, take a step, study the bull, and get a shot off. Over an hour after he first saw the animal. </div>
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A short bloodtrail later and Danny found his elk. The bull was too big to move with one arm, Danny made his way to an area with reception and called Dad and me to come give him a hand. We both left immediately. Three and a half hours after his phone call we hit the closest trailhead and started our long night of cutting and packing. </div>
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Danny's selfless act, and his ability to slip in on a big bull in his bed, have added to his legend in my mind. My little brother always blows me away in the woods.</div>
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A big thanks to Aron Snyder and the guys at Kifaru for getting Danny and I set up with new packs this year. A hind quarter never felt so easy! I still love my Hornehunter, like what my Dad is using in the picture above. But I am a small guy and the Kifaru fits me properly. I never would have guessed what a difference it would make.</div>
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I drop my wife and kids off at the airport in a few hours, they are going to visit my in-laws in Wisconsin. Since my Dad and brother have both killed nice bulls this season, and my family is out of state, there ain't a force on earth that will keep me out of the woods for the remainder of the season. Good luck everybody! I sure hope to have one more good story this elk season.</div>
tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-24738361537562461742014-09-04T20:38:00.000-07:002014-09-16T10:40:14.257-07:00Big Bulls on Opening Weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>I'm going to share my version of the events of the opening weekend. I'll try to talk my Dad into sharing his version at some point. I want to know what was going through his head, what he thought and felt, and get his story in writing. I'll leave out the details of the shot and the moment of truth so that he has the chance to write it himself.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7X3Z87QODeCTDxhM7xUQnGUhpqjK0PCa2VeMUWE-2sJl8luqFGAXyWciZ9SFoDFoahw90Wh9VK_vAcGyzdYwHUYUMOaBNq4P-2E0gARAxDf1wWRbekqSg_BQjtRrhsW01MfR6Q3XyE4/s1600/P1040340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7X3Z87QODeCTDxhM7xUQnGUhpqjK0PCa2VeMUWE-2sJl8luqFGAXyWciZ9SFoDFoahw90Wh9VK_vAcGyzdYwHUYUMOaBNq4P-2E0gARAxDf1wWRbekqSg_BQjtRrhsW01MfR6Q3XyE4/s1600/P1040340.JPG" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
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It took forever, but elk season finally arrived. Last winter my brother, Danny, made a comment that he was going to live on the mountain this summer trying to find the biggest herds of elk, and of course the biggest bulls. He wasn't lying. Danny had the elk pretty much pinned down throughout the summer. He got pictures of around 15 different BIG bulls, and countless smaller bulls.<br />
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Danny looking for elk at around 12,500 ft.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMXYboqI29soOLUVP1CKx2ZiQMAYB5zAbtBZn0ceaQSjXRKtHmZH8u4Po5RPmGa29Rr0L2uyaF4xkGuEskQlypXksq1EZ8AYy9vRWn7J-Naqn9t0pSgcPNqQwQ9k8J32MfxrODcAbQeWk/s1600/DSC03864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMXYboqI29soOLUVP1CKx2ZiQMAYB5zAbtBZn0ceaQSjXRKtHmZH8u4Po5RPmGa29Rr0L2uyaF4xkGuEskQlypXksq1EZ8AYy9vRWn7J-Naqn9t0pSgcPNqQwQ9k8J32MfxrODcAbQeWk/s1600/DSC03864.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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The mountain below is one of our favorite scouting perches. This summer we saw a lot of big bulls where I was standing when I snapped this picture.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1HWehPAwD51cGb_oIo7Rr1i4-A73YDea2Xr2XbBxemFD7M4EB4V8R_DaY70L2sM12Gp5a_4K6PERnnQx9q5gUlQn6o6W-Zf-k6kEWPFka4RHQgpWzI7jJcbpsbnwXDu6duVNNpGcggw/s1600/DSC00920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1HWehPAwD51cGb_oIo7Rr1i4-A73YDea2Xr2XbBxemFD7M4EB4V8R_DaY70L2sM12Gp5a_4K6PERnnQx9q5gUlQn6o6W-Zf-k6kEWPFka4RHQgpWzI7jJcbpsbnwXDu6duVNNpGcggw/s1600/DSC00920.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Thursday evening my cousin, Chad, our buddy Blake, and I drove up the mountain so that we could be in position to do a little scouting on Friday morning, the day before the season started. We were not let down, we saw around 90 elk between two of the mountains that we were planning on hunting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj-Fw4EGhxLxOmeVm-moNs6_I8W3bJmM8oTD6m3rdWKg8xaIcOHW-9llQN1tRpa9Pn4hE_SkuZbVz7PVgS_BRC-eiJAfWcGXIZEivSqVFsUh9CphyphenhyphenwoV9GqUBg3Fj100VRdb12ucySI_g/s1600/DSC04057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj-Fw4EGhxLxOmeVm-moNs6_I8W3bJmM8oTD6m3rdWKg8xaIcOHW-9llQN1tRpa9Pn4hE_SkuZbVz7PVgS_BRC-eiJAfWcGXIZEivSqVFsUh9CphyphenhyphenwoV9GqUBg3Fj100VRdb12ucySI_g/s1600/DSC04057.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsd8f6yFVgN6hBjSvdIU1EfcUoPYDJNWD2mQUIaoHyElb0coDCIFDJToUcHNjwqnF1Gl3xxr402f7pHjYyfGRxkBSYWc6geWcGzegXEqAk93z2m_ThqOdCBa_PThVzk7XGOy0mPX_b2uQ/s1600/DSC04052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsd8f6yFVgN6hBjSvdIU1EfcUoPYDJNWD2mQUIaoHyElb0coDCIFDJToUcHNjwqnF1Gl3xxr402f7pHjYyfGRxkBSYWc6geWcGzegXEqAk93z2m_ThqOdCBa_PThVzk7XGOy0mPX_b2uQ/s1600/DSC04052.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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One group of 30 elk was on the mountain that my Dad planned on backpacking into with my Mom. Blake had his eye on a close by spike with super long tines that he wanted to fill his tag on, but Chad and I couldn't take our eyes off of the herd bull across the valley. He was impressive. All morning he would run around the cows with his head tilted back. Of course we were too far to hear him bugle, but we watched him stretch out his neck and cut loose every few minutes. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPw68JC3G5TfJUvyG4_QFbwXmRpng0F46PW-Rb6kfoNxLIJzWX1rA-p6oG06uwjrGHMiqPg8BaqvG0XPMZAknvO9Rg6Ad7SyEY_UgKnGY3P4p8KPgkG-ysITS17P8ub00dAjosyhz-9A/s1600/DSC04041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPw68JC3G5TfJUvyG4_QFbwXmRpng0F46PW-Rb6kfoNxLIJzWX1rA-p6oG06uwjrGHMiqPg8BaqvG0XPMZAknvO9Rg6Ad7SyEY_UgKnGY3P4p8KPgkG-ysITS17P8ub00dAjosyhz-9A/s1600/DSC04041.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Chad, Blake and I hurried off the mountain so we could catch up with my Dad before he packed in. We got out our topo maps and showed him where the elk were. The cows all bedded down in the wide open, but at 9am that herd bull got them on their feet and pushed them through a saddle. Since we have hunted this area quite a few times in the past we knew that on certain years the elk get in a pattern where they pass through that saddle twice a day. My Dad knew exactly where to be the next morning. We all wished each other luck and headed out to our separate camp sites for the following morning's hunt.</div>
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Opening morning came, Danny and I headed to the drainage where we saw the majority of the big bulls throughout the summer. Chad, Blake, and two other hunting buddies headed to another drainage where we saw 60 elk the day before.</div>
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Danny and I crept through this beautiful area with that morning's elk sign all around. We must have barely missed them because we didn't see a thing and nothing bugled near us.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpqzpMzxsC1JnzdFG6n7vpRO5T63Wc6Mn4D6OosmyrsQcLjRj6QflPquA85-J4pXX6Yrr0JWMn1uQueENAalx1UNBLI-VF1eM1NLsDQ1cB_afVSaiQ5y8iFvff0EcRScJWAQlmPZm2vg/s1600/DSC00916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpqzpMzxsC1JnzdFG6n7vpRO5T63Wc6Mn4D6OosmyrsQcLjRj6QflPquA85-J4pXX6Yrr0JWMn1uQueENAalx1UNBLI-VF1eM1NLsDQ1cB_afVSaiQ5y8iFvff0EcRScJWAQlmPZm2vg/s1600/DSC00916.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZczDcj3N_HwpL_PRPRhh6TqZXnJTgh06cxB5jmR-siNXXdpsWD5cCwcPtfYJIeVpJlP0wLRvpdwfaERSNUI8l-gu_AoST_FYTLzpJnj-q7I-I0E88cObXYWQIeypqtMLa9Hs4FuWC0EY/s1600/DSC00914.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZczDcj3N_HwpL_PRPRhh6TqZXnJTgh06cxB5jmR-siNXXdpsWD5cCwcPtfYJIeVpJlP0wLRvpdwfaERSNUI8l-gu_AoST_FYTLzpJnj-q7I-I0E88cObXYWQIeypqtMLa9Hs4FuWC0EY/s1600/DSC00914.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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We all carry Garmin Rino GPS/Radios with us these days. It is fun to be able to check in with each other, or get coordinates to another's position with the push of a button. We all agreed that we would check in on the hour if it was convenient, but that we would make a real effort to check in at noon.</div>
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With the morning hunt mostly over Danny and I found a beautiful spot to take a break and eat a few snacks. 11am rolled around and I turned on my GPS to see if anybody else had theirs on. I was just about to turn my unit off when I got a half a second of static. I called back, anybody out there? A garbled message came back, something about a "bull behind the shoulder". I looked at my GPS, it was Dad! </div>
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"Come again Dad, what did you say?"</div>
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"I hit a bull right behind the shoulder. I thought it was a heart shot but I don't see any blood. I'M FREAKING OUT!".</div>
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My Dad asked how far away we were, and we told him it didn't matter.<br />
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I asked back, "Was it the big bull, and do you need any help?"</div>
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"Yes the big bull, and yes I need help."</div>
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Danny and I gave each other a big high five, we were PUMPED! Dad is color blind and cannot see red hardly at all, so him not finding blood didn't concern me. We gathered our things and started walking. We had a long, long, looooong way to go. </div>
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A half hour into our walk and we could finally see the mountain that dad was on. </div>
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Here's a zoomed in shot of the picture above. You can see the small saddle that the herd went through.</div>
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Five hours of straight walking, 1,000 ft down, and 2,000 ft up later, we walked up to my Mom and Dad taking a nap. My Dad just shook his head and said, "You guys are studs". I told him I didn't feel like a stud, and as I set my bow down I lurched to the side so I could yak in the bushes.</div>
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My Dad apologized for making us walk that far. He couldn't find any blood and spent the previous 5 hours zigzagging through the trees looking for tracks, blood, elk, anything. He said it was the biggest disappointment in his hunting career, and that he was flabbergasted. He thought that the shot was perfect, he saw the bull run away with only a small bit of his arrow sticking out in the crease of the front leg. </div>
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Even though Dad was bummed out I knew that we were going to find him. My brother is special, he has a sense, he has uncanny woodsmanship, and he's a total bloodhound on the trail. I said, "Don't worry about it Dad, you got Danny here now, we'll find him". </div>
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My Dad told us the entire story and showed us the last drop of blood, if you could call it a drop. </div>
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Danny found a scuff mark a little ways down the hill from the blood. "Here you go Dad", he says. My Dad didn't think it was from his bull and told us that the herd ran the other way. Danny insisted on following the track. He reasoned the next few steps and walked through some bushes. "Here's another speck of blood!" Danny called out. Unreal, he doubled back?</div>
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Danny finds another speck of blood and then turns the corner around some trees, and there he was. My parents were napping within 50 yards of the elk. The bull didn't even make it 75 yards from where my Dad shot him.</div>
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Talk about going through some highs and lows in the span of a few hours. My Dad went from the excitement of <i>knowing </i>that he killed the bull of a lifetime, to confused at the sign, then utterly disappointed, and then back to elation. </div>
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My Mom was 3ft behind my Dad when he shot the bull. I'm so glad she was with him.</div>
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The bull as he lay.</div>
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My Dad did shoot this bull right through the heart. You can see the entrance in the picture below, and the exit in the next. In the entire 75 yard long track we found a total of 6 droplets of blood. He just didn't bleed through the legs like he obviously would have if the arrow went through his ribs.<br />
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The tip of the VPA Terminator was just barely poking through when we rolled him over.</div>
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This guy has some great mass.</div>
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Me, Danny, Mom and Dad</div>
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Danny was within 50 yards of the biggest elk he's ever seen, twice. The season has just begun and the best stuff is all ahead of us. Good luck everybody. More stories to come!</div>
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My Mom is TOUGH. It took us 4 hours and 45 minutes to walk back to the truck that night, mostly in the dark (we walked out to call for help for the packout). We kept having these nasty little storms come over the mountain and hammer us with sideways rain and hail. She had a hard time walking through all the rock fields and busting through the stunted pine. Not one time did she ever make a comment about how difficult it was. I was miserable, so I know that she must have been too. </div>
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Here's a parting shot of a sweet 7X7. I hope we can find him again!</div>
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-25899269418158338252014-04-15T09:31:00.000-07:002014-04-21T11:52:16.507-07:002014 Nebraska TurkeysWe drove out to Nebraska for the opening weekend of the turkey season. We always get out there and invade my cousin Chad's house to chase birds.<br />
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Friday afternoon we rolled into town. The scouting report was good! There were hundreds of turkeys, still in their big winter flocks, hanging out on the property we have permission to hunt. We didn't bother them that evening, instead a couple of us built a gate and some fence for our rancher buddy, and the others chose to try and get on a few of the birds on some nearby public ground.<br />
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The only turkey we managed to call in was this hen. I could have reached out of the blind and touched her. She hung out for an hour, and I thought surely this live decoy work out perfect, but a bearded turkey never materialized. No biggie, the next morning was going to be epic...or so I thought.<br />
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We got into the field in the pitch dark on Saturday morning. We sat in the blind making coffee. I was waiting for the thunder of 100 gobbles that should have started any second. I waited, and waited, no turkey sounds. What the heck? It was finally light enough to see the main roosting area, about 700 yards away. I pulled up my binos, no turkeys. WHAT THE HECK! Where do 400 turkeys go?</div>
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Come to find out, the landowner was chasing some trespassers that he saw on his property. They must have walked right under the roosts that night, as the birds had been in the same trees every night for a few months, and were now gone. </div>
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I busted out the new Avian X strutter decoy...unfortunately I never got to find out how it worked.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Z96ZSoE9C2_-qpvdA52I28pL4W4xtN7VSCmDb9cF6KWV693N1_WQx2sf8FjV9xoTFEqxX6ReAzmZ33UdEK_X5C3QqPbA79WdyoVFgFQAHEznxEw03HpRAd87bFq4lFFJOQ37zKJYKA4/s1600/DSC00812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Z96ZSoE9C2_-qpvdA52I28pL4W4xtN7VSCmDb9cF6KWV693N1_WQx2sf8FjV9xoTFEqxX6ReAzmZ33UdEK_X5C3QqPbA79WdyoVFgFQAHEznxEw03HpRAd87bFq4lFFJOQ37zKJYKA4/s1600/DSC00812.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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My brother was set up a couple hundred yards away. At about 2pm he finally saw his first turkey of the day. The tom was not interested in his calls or his set up, but still happened to walk within bow range. Well...compound bow range anyway! ;)</div>
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That is Danny's most killenest arrow. He killed an elk, two deer, and a hog with it. He missed another hog and lost the arrow, only to have it found by another group of Colorado hunters the next week. They found it by chance on a 20,000 acre ranch. Finally, after all that action, the arrow was broken by this turkey.</div>
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My cousin, Tyler, brought his wife and two young boys out with him a few miles to the north. They had a great time, and Tyler made a fantastic shot on this gobbler. Ty's wife had to put her hand around their younger son's mouth as the turkey came within range. Good times! Ty shot him with a Chargin' Bull recurve.<br />
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Tyler's brother, Chad, was with Andy to the NW of us a few miles. Chad and Andy had a great morning. These guys are killers, two shots, two dead turkeys.</div>
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Andy shoots a Bob Morrison recurve. Chad shoots a Chargin' Bull recurve that he makes.</div>
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Here's a video of Andy's tom. Great shot! (shot at 2:42)</div>
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Now don't get me wrong, our group killed four turkeys on Saturday, but it wasn't the turkey shootathon that we thought it would be. With all of the birds gone Kelly and I drove to one of my public land honey holes for the next few days. There were lots of turkeys but they were using completely different fields and different roosts than I've observed in the past. The first day we heard them all around us, but never got anything to commit to our calls. We were always on the wrong end of the field, wrong side of the creek, etc.</div>
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Monday morning's forecast called for brutal winds. We've hunted this area enough to know where the turkeys go to protect themselves from the wind. Kelly and I got all set up on the edge of a milo field with a bluff behind us. </div>
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The weatherman was right. The wind was crazy! Our spot at the base of the bluff protected us from the hardest winds. Several hours into the morning we had yet to hear or see a turkey.</div>
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The day before, in this exact spot, a group of hens started yacking up a storm. Six gobblers coming from every direction were soon strutting in the field. That got me thinking...Ten of me couldn't make as much noise as the real turkeys were making the day before. But by God I was going to try! </div>
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I got my box call in my hand and put my diaphragm call in my mouth. Over the next five minutes I got to work! YAP! YAP! YAP! I HAMMERED AWAY, as loud and hard as I could. I had to penetrate the wind.</div>
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Ten minutes later I got bored and picked up my box call. YAP! YAP! YAP! I looked out into the field. Uh-oh. I'm calling like an idiot and there are two big ol' toms in full strut just 50 yards away.</div>
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I set the call down and got my bow ready. The two toms were perfectly content to just stand where they were. Over the next hour the toms made their way to the base of the bluff behind us. They just sat there, strutting, occasionally gobbling, but making no hint at moving towards our decoys.</div>
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The birds were only 15-20 yards away, but behind a a mess of branches. Kelly started telling me that there was an opening. I said no way. Kelly insisted that if the bird took three more steps to the left that there was an opening. I studied the branches, he's right! I got my bow ready.</div>
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The turkey took the three steps we were hoping for. As I reached full draw I completely lost focus on the bird. My eyes studied the branches, I aimed for the opening, I could still see the turkey in my blurred vision. This is going to work!</div>
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The Snuffer on the end of my cedar arrow barely fit through the tiny opening. I missed the branches completely and the arrow zipped right through the turkey. The tom ran up the bluff and out of sight. After a very short search we found him underneath a cedar tree, dead.</div>
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The turkey was about in the middle of the frame when I shot.</div>
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Chargin' Bull recurve, cedar arrow, Snuffer broadhead.</div>
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My first double bearded tom (you have to look close but that second beard is there!)</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">4 Key Strategies employed on this hunt:</span></b><br />
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This is mostly common sense, but hunting usually is. Observe animal behavior under the conditions, and use those observations to anticipate their future location/mood/vocalizations/etc.<br />
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1) Knowing an area is invaluable. Having observed turkey behavior in high winds, in this area, we had a good idea where to intercept a tom. The bluff we were set up on is long, maybe a half mile. We knew we had to be patient, they'd be somewhere along this bluff for sure, and eventually they would be near us.<br />
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2) Patience: The turkeys came to my calls at 11am. I am willing to bet that, even with the high winds, they were within ear shot of my calls before that. Toms are not going to leave their hens early in the morning. Knowing this gave us the patience and confidence to sit tight. Turkeys are quite pattern-able in this area at this time of the year. If they know you're there, they will usually come check you out at some point.<br />
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3) Make adjustments: On the first day in this area we positioned ourselves in all of the "right" places, based on previous experience. This year was different. We observed the turkey's behavior and adjusted for the following day. I've killed a bunch of turkeys in this area, but never from this spot. It is usually not a good place to be. We put ourselves where the turkeys were.<br />
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4) Calling: Everybody has their own thoughts on calling. The day before we heard hens calling IN FORCE from this corner of the field. We observed toms congregate on their calls. As a matter of fact, every single year we hear hens going crazy wild early in the season. We called like the turkeys call. Our calling was insane, loud, and long...exactly how live birds call this time of the year. Will I call that way in May? No. But in March? You bet!<br />
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I wish I was going back out this year but I've got a baby girl coming soon. It's time for me to stick close to home. I should have one or two more good stories from the RMSGear crew though. Good luck turkey hunters!tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-49751805675547830832014-03-19T10:32:00.004-07:002014-03-19T10:32:58.359-07:00Trade-OffsOne of the great parts of this business is the conversations that we get to have. We learn so much from our customers, and we are constantly immersed in our passion.<br />
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A customer recently asked my Dad, Tom, about a particular bow. I thought that his response was worthy of a blog post, because there is some good information here, but more than anything, it is an interesting read.
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Everybody has an opinion of what they are looking for in a bow. Here is a short outline of Tom's opinions.<br />
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Excerpt from Tom Clum's Email:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have been thinking about your question about bows since I saw your first email this morning. Here are MY opinions.
There are a very large number of really good bowyers out there now that are putting out beautiful and great shooting bows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Most all of the knowledgeable bowyers know how to make a fast bow. They add more reflex, they push the handle back, etc. BUT, most of the attributes that make a the bow fast, make it loud. Too much reflex and handle setback makes the bow unstable, and exaggerates your mistakes (not forgiving). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They know how to make a bow quiet. They deflex the riser, have little or no string contact with the limbs, etc. BUT the bow is slow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The great bows are a blend that keeps the bow snappy, fairly quiet, and forgiving.
I like short bows, longbows, and physically light bows, but I can't shoot these types of bows at long distance with consistency. Darn, there are always tradeoffs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have short bows for niche situations, like when I know things are going to be tight (when I am in a ground blind and will have short shots). But I now mostly shoot a 62" bow, with a "kinda" heavy riser, I am a short guy with a 28" draw. I can really put them in there at long distance with this kind of hunting recurve. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some bowyers really focus on one aspect of a bow i.e. quiet or fast, and there is a market for the guy who will buy based on one aspect. But to get a bow that is whisper quiet, super fast, and very forgiving, is in my opinion an impossible order. You can however get a high percentage of each of these attributes in the best bows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My first dis-qualification for a bow is probably grip. You just cannot have a grip where your hand slides to the side, or a grip that "makes" you squeeze in order to keep it straight. For me the bow grip has to be fairly flat so that I can line it up on the life line of my palm quickly and in the same spot every time. It will just sit there without me having to hold onto it.
I had Ben Graham grind a flat spot on my Hummingbird when I went to see him a couple years ago. I immediately shot this bow with improved accuracy. The Hummingbird Kingfisher recurve is an example of a bow that combines a bunch of great features. It is NOT like the Tree's bow in that it has a heavy riser, but it is like it in regards to speed and performance. I have Keith Chastain finishing a bow for me right now, and he has instructions to call me so that I can go over to his place to finalize the shape of the grip. I have Mike Beckwith (Hawk Bows) making a set of limbs for me now for the riser that my boy's gave to me for Christmas. Mike has the best grip in the business. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you want the best performance (speed) out of a longbow, get an A&H. As you know, Larry Hannify is a fine gentleman and builds a fine bow that will outshoot anything around, as far as speed. If your form is great, these bows will make you better, but if you torque with your bow hand, they may exaggerate your mistakes. I can get perfect hand placement on his take down bows every time. I would shoot them, but I shoot my recurves (with more mass weight in the riser) better at distance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I do think that a guy has to find that match for himself and I think that this is true if only because of the variety of size in human beings. I am short and hunt big animals, so I might look at speed a little more that a guy with a 30" draw. A big guy might focus more on a quiet bow, because he has no worries about speed. As far as arrow speed goes, an inch of draw length is equivalent to 10 lbs of draw weight, and I can prove it on a chronograph. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Denver area is the only place that a guy might be able to shoot ten different types of custom bows right next to each other anytime of the year (how is that for an un-disguised advertisement).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At one time we just happened to have about ten different custom bows of almost identical weight. We found it very interesting that among those bows, there was not more than five feet per second difference between them all. All were big name bows, including our local guys, and all except for one used conventional materials. The only design that I can prove that equates to measurably increased arrow speed is the ACS limb design, like in the A&H bows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well there you have it. I have just confused the issue, and not given you any kind of definitive answer. And, opinions are like belly buttons. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still enjoy the discussion.</span>tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-43189121376575330412014-02-20T11:23:00.000-08:002014-02-25T08:10:59.553-08:002014 Pigs: Death From Above<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I enjoy hunting, a lot. And I really like elk hunting, it's got to be my favorite. However, I'm not sure I've ever had a better time than we did in Texas last week. I was laughing from the moment the guys got in my car until the moment I dropped them off. </div>
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We returned to the same ranch we hunted last year (<a href="http://rmsgear.blogspot.com/2013/03/texas-pigs_7.html" target="_blank">story here</a>). A group of us from RMSGear headed south, met by my cousin Chad and some of his Nebraska buddies.</div>
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The weather was pretty chilly for Texas. When we got there we had a little bit of blowing snow and high temps in the 20's. The pigs moved later in the day, but that didn't stop us from getting out early the first morning. Everybody went out, but nobody got shots. We calmed down the next few days, and like the pigs, slept in a little bit before starting our onslaught. </div>
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The country in this part of Texas is made especially for bowhunters. I love the brush down there, open enough to spot the animals but dense enough to get your sneak on. </div>
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I thought that the pig sign last year was impressive, it was nothing compared to this year. The pigs are taking over, and their presence is obvious around every bush and tree.</div>
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Stalking in this country cannot be beat.</div>
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We didn't see see the sky for the first two days, but on day three we were treated with a really nice sunset.</div>
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Even though the first morning started slow, by early afternoon the arrows were starting to fly. My brother and I were making our way through my favorite area from last year when we spotted a group of pigs heading towards us. We quickly found a hiding place and waited for the pigs to come. Danny was up first. He didn't waste his opportunity. Danny's arrow hit the pig with a loud whack and dropped him where he stood. The other pigs ran up to see what was going on, and before the dust started to settle my cedar shaft was in the air. </div>
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The same time Danny and I were dragging pigs to the truck Blake was skulking towards this nice boar. Blake got a little too close, and the pig got nervous when he saw a figure in the grass just three yards away. The pig started to move away, but Blake made the best of it and drew his bow as the pig was trotting off. The big boar slowed down just enough for Blake to make a perfect shot.<br />
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Blake used a Chargin' Bull recurve. 60", 55@28. Blake and Chad started building bows a year ago, they are fantastic. He's shooting CX Heritage arrows, his quiver was a smorgasbord of broadheads. </div>
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We found three pig nests with little babies. How can something so cute turn so ugly? Mike and Tab killed a few pigs each, these guys didn't play around.</div>
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On the second evening of the hunt I discovered pig paradise. I grabbed my cousin, Chad, for the following day. We crept along the edge of a bluff above the Brazos river. Since the time we were little kids, Chad and I have always got into the animals. Chad killed his first deer with his 13 year old cousin at his side (me), and the following year I called in my first bull elk to Chad. To this day whenever we hunt together we are in the thick of it. In no time we spotted two groups of pigs below us in the brush.<br />
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We let the wind choose which group of pigs to sneak up on. These have to be the perfect bowhunting animals, good enough senses that you need to be sneaky, but blind enough that a guy has a great chance of success on each stalk. </div>
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I brought my 21st Century longbow on this trip. I've had the bow for 5 or 6 years but never took it hunting. I was a little worried about stalking with a 64" bow (I usually like 'em short). It's not a pretty bow - weird green color, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?espv=210&es_sm=93&q=holmegaard+bow+description&revid=1962028293&sa=X&ei=bSoGU5-UD8iIyAGc74CgBg&ved=0CLsBENUCKAc&biw=1904&bih=846#q=holmegaard+bow+" target="_blank">Holmegaard</a> limb profile, brush nocks, and 63 pounds. This bow only has about 8 inches of working limb, and I love how it throws my arrows fast and hard. My concerns over length proved unfounded, Chad and I were easily able to crawl on our stomachs to within bow range. The only difficult part about the stalk was avoiding all the pig poop, it felt like crawling through a dog park. P.I.G. P.A.R.A.D.I.S.E!</div>
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After I killed the first pig we wasted no time in getting back on top of the bluff. It didn't take long to find another group with a bunch of big ol' hogs. Chad slinked in, the smallest pig of the group stepped into an opening. Chad made a chip shot and the pig didn't run 30 yards before falling. It was the smallest of the group, but the biggest any of us killed on the trip.</div>
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Chad used a Chargin' Bull bow of his own making. His bow is 60" and 57@28.</div>
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There isn't anything on earth more fun than razzing the guy who has had the worst luck. On this trip, that just happened to be Del. In three days of hard hunting Del had yet to shoot an arrow, and he only got a small glimpse of a pig. </div>
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Before this trip the Nebraska guys didn't know Del other than by the crazy elk hunting stories we told about him. Del's lungs and legs are a thing of legend, and he kills more than his share of elk. On day 3 of the 4 day hunt, the Nebraska boys started to call him Tebow - all hype and no show. Del got a good laugh at himself, and being that we were pig hunting, I started calling him Teboar.</div>
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Chad, Danny and I decided to show Del some mercy and teach him how to hunt pigs. We brought him to our perch, and in less than two minutes we spotted a lone boar feeding near the water's edge.</div>
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Zoomed all the way out, the pig is in the center of the frame.</div>
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Zoomed all the way in.</div>
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After spotting the pig, Chad and Teboar (Del) got off the bluff and started their sneak. Danny and I stayed above to watch the show through our binoculars.<br />
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True to form, Del did pretty much the opposite of what I would have done, he took his boots off so he could move silently in the water. When he got close to the pig he got on shore. His bare feet falling on the mud made, quite literally, no noise at all.<br />
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Del closed the distance on a totally unsuspecting boar. Del's Spirit longbow launched a Carbon Express Heritage arrow, tipped with a scary sharp Bear Razorhead. Danny and I had the second best view of the whole thing from our vantage point on the bluff.<br />
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Internet, get ready for a new meme - Teboaring (I know, I know, that's so 2012).</div>
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We cut up the pig and returned to our outlook high on the bluff. Chad and Danny headed South, Del and I headed North. Del and I sat down to drink a Mountain Dew before searching in earnest for our next stalk. It didn't take more than a minute to spot another lone pig on the river's edge. Del and I crossed the river and made our way to the bank, directly across from the boar.</div>
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I looked over my shoulder and gave Del a droll smile before lifting my bow to shoot. He smiled back. This was serious fun. My arrow zipped through the pig in a blink but it wasn't an ideal shot. Del was Johnny-on-the-spot with a follow up shot, driving his arrow straight through the boar's chest. The boar ran down the river a very short ways before falling over in the water.</div>
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This picture is taken from where the pig was standing, looking at the spot where Del and I peaked over the grass to shoot. </div>
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The pig hardly had time to run before Del's arrow buried in the dirt, not at all far from mine.</div>
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We made our way back on the bluff and spotted another pig immediately, a true giant. With daylight running low and swirling wind, I did the best with what I had. I was peaking over the grass at the last place I saw the monster swine, ready and expecting to ease my bow back at any moment. But the big pig was gone. He must have smelled me, my only blown stalk in four days of non stop action. Not bad odds, I can't wait for next year!</div>
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Email me, <a href="mailto:tlc@rmsgear.com">tlc@rmsgear.com</a>, for the contact info for the ranch. It's 22,000 acres of pig hunting madness. You can bait roads, sit on feeders, or do like we did, and get in the pig's bedroom to stalk them. Jay runs the hunts, he's a traditional bowhunter who treats us the exact way I'd hope to be treated. Just bring a lot of arrows when you go. We put 14 pigs in the barn, and I fully expect that we kill more next year with our new method of hunting them from above.</div>
tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-23515774078765264472013-12-19T17:45:00.001-08:002013-12-19T17:45:45.344-08:002013 Mountain Lion<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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I hope everybody had a great Thanksgiving. We sure did. Everybody was around and we ate a lot of good food and enjoyed each other's company. I've included my brother-in-law, Kelly, in a lot of my hunting stories. Kelly has been a very good friend, and I'm thrilled that my sister married such a great guy. Anyway, Kelly's parents were in town from Minnesota for Thanksgiving. Kelly's Dad, Pat, usually real quiet and reserved, came by to visit us at the store. He was as happy and chatty as I've ever seen him. Pat recently bought a Flying Eagle longbow which he really loves. Pat was looking forward to building his own arrows this winter, and really wanted to try splicing his own feathers. It was exciting to see a 71 year old man's man so excited about traditional archery.</div>
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Friday afternoon I got a call from Mark Turner, owner of <a href="http://rmbga.com/" target="_blank">Rocky Mountain Big Game Adventures - Turner Guide Service</a>. Mark told me that he found a fresh lion kill, and it looked like a nice Tom. I went mountain lion hunting with Mark 3 times last year. We never treed a cat, but those were some of the most brutal days I have ever spent in the woods. Mark told me to be ready in the morning.<br />
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Of course my wife had to work the next morning, since we have two young boys at home I called my Mom to see if I could drop the off boys bright and early the next morning. With that taken care of I prepared my gear, and my mind, for the next morning.<br />
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4:30am rolled around quick. I got the boys loaded in the car and pulled into my parents driveway...but my Mom's car was gone. Weird, but whatever.<br />
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I brought the boys up into my parent's dark bedroom and saw Dad sitting up watching TV. "Where's Mom?" I asked. My Dad said in a low voice, "Set the boys down buddy, I need to tell you something." What in the world is going on?<br />
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My Dad told me that Pat had a massive heart attack and died early that morning. My Mom was bringing Kelly, his twin brother, and their older brother to the airport.<br />
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"He's dead?" I asked.<br />
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"Dead."<br />
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I must have asked five more times. I just saw Pat. He was happy as a lark. Pat was the most indestructible man I knew. At 71 he could outwork any man of any age. Pat built his house himself, he worked in hard physical labor his whole life, and still was for that matter. He didn't feel pain, didn't complain, loved his wife, and served the Lord with all of his heart. Pat produced some fine, hard working kids too. His son's have served in the military in some elite levels, earned Division I All-American status as a wrestler, and he had three boys compete in DI college wrestling in the Big Ten. To put it mildly, he raised the toughest set of boys I've ever met, and he was tougher than them all. Throughout the 12 years that I knew Pat, his sons went on and on that they still couldn't keep up with the old man. There's no way he's dead.<br />
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What is Kelly going through? Their mom? All of Pat's kids?<br />
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I didn't want to go lion hunting anymore. After asking a few questions and standing still in quiet disbelief I set the boys in bed with their Poppa and started to walk out of the room. I almost turned the car around when I was just a few houses away, but I went hunting.<br />
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I got to Mark's at 6:30am. My car thermometer said -3 degrees. Mark was waiting for me and ready to go. Mark's friendliness and good nature cheered me up, and as we drove to the lion's kill I almost forgot for a second what my brother-in-law and his family were going through.<br />
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We got to the kill. We looked around for the freshest set of tracks. There were too many and they all looked the same to my untrained eye. "We'll let the dogs figure it out", Mark said, and he turned them loose. We started following the dogs straight up the mountain.<br />
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When we got up the mountain we heard the dogs...and they were down at the bottom. We sat on the side of the mountain just watching the dogs for the next five minutes. It was a treat to watch those dogs work. Back and forth they worked the mountain side over. One dog started making fairly small circles. The other dogs were soon with him. Then a bunch of snow fell from one of the trees they were circling.<br />
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There's the lion!<br />
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From where we were.</div>
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A little closer...<br />
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A little closer yet...<br />
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We set off down the mountain with a whole new kind of excitement. In no time we were underneath the lion.</div>
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I have seen one mountain lion in my life. I was elk hunting with a buddy from Wisconsin, I told my buddy not to move a muscle because a mountain lion was walking right towards us. Of course he whipped around and the lion trotted off. It was a small lion, no big deal, a neat experience but nothing more.</div>
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The lion in the tree now...this, I wasn't prepared for. I always thought that lion hunting would be a bit of a let down. The dogs tree the cat, you walk up, shoot the cat, go home. That is NOT the case.</div>
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It took four brutal days to get to this point. I probably fell down 500 hundred times to get here. I bet I slid 2 miles on my butt. I damaged two bows, bruised my muscles, cut my face, froze my fingers, burned my lungs, lost an expensive wool jacket, and all around beat myself up. Now I'm finally there, a treed mountain lion is sitting in front of me.</div>
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Mark and his nephew Tony got the dogs chained up while I got in the best position I could find to shoot.</div>
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I took out my first arrow. The shot angle wasn't ideal, but I was 100% certain I could sneak my arrow right where it needed to be. I got to full draw and loosed the first shot. Right over his back. Geeez...what is wrong with me? I haven't had this kind of rush in years and years. Not what I was expecting.</div>
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I get the second arrow out and come to full draw. This time the shot is right where I was looking. The cat jumps around the other side of the tree. I shoot again through thick cover. That arrow missed its mark, I don't know where it went after it blew through the branches.. Now the cat is coming down the tree, I pull another arrow out and hit him again, right in the shoulder. That's two good arrows in him. He hits the ground running.</div>
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I look at Mark fully confident that I have two good arrows in the cat. Mark smiles and shakes my hand. I cannot contain myself and confess what a rush that was, I feel like such a rookie bowhunter admitting it. Mark is smiling and tells me good shooting.</div>
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Mark and I take one dog and follow the trail. The blood trail is pretty weak and we're about 200 yards from the tree. It didn't take long before Mark turns around and tells me that this is not a fatally hit cat. I was already thinking the same thing. Mark turns his dog loose and tells Tony to turn the rest loose as well. They did not want to do this. If the dogs catch a wounded cat on the ground it will not turn out well for the dogs.</div>
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Mark and I follow the tracks as fast as we can through the deep snow. My thighs are absolutely burning, I haven't been in the hills for a few months. It didn't take long before we heard all sorts of yelps, growls, barking, and total chaos going on ahead of us. "Get up there, Tommy!" Mark tells me. I'm starting to feel like a real idiot now, who knows what is going on up there, what dogs are getting hurt, all due to my poor shooting. But how? I thought my first hit was perfect, let alone the last one.</div>
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Mark and I finally reach the dogs, they have the cat treed again. He's not that high and I walk right underneath him. He's showing me his giant teeth. His intimidation tactic works.</div>
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I thought the first time was a rush, it was nothing compared to being this close. I have two arrows left in my quiver. I take my time as I aim with the first one. Bam! Perfect shot. I rip my last arrow out of my quiver. Again! Perfect shot. I take a step back knowing full well that the cat is going to fall at any moment.</div>
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Mark is digging in his pack. I see what is going on. The dogs are not chained up. The lion has two arrows in him with sharp broadheads on one end. Even if that big cat doesn't have strength to keep himself in the tree, when he falls he's going to get his licks in on the dogs. Hell, there might be a dead dog on the mountain for all I know, it sure sounded like it.</div>
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Mark hands me a pistol. Damn it. I don't want to shoot this cat with a pistol. I know he's dead. If we wait another minute he's going to fall out of that tree. I ask Mark if he thinks that the dogs are going to get injured. He does. Mark tells me that it is my choice, that I do not have to shoot the lion with the pistol.</div>
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I'm thinking about what is going on.Mark is awesome, his dogs are absolutely incredible. He is doing me a huge favor on this hunt. I look up at the lion, his armpits are both full of blood. Blood is running down one of the arrows and dripping on the dogs just ten feet below.</div>
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What would I feel like if this lion falls out of the tree and severely injures one or more of the dogs? Am I going to risk Mark's dogs for, for what? Why would I do that? Why would I risk the dog's safety?</div>
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I feel so selfish for even hesitating.</div>
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I raise the pistol and put the sights on his shoulder. Boom. The lion lets out a low growl and bails out of the tree. The dogs are in hot pursuit. Mark and I throw our packs on and slide on our butts just a short ways down the hill. The cat is dead.</div>
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Holy cow! That was wild!</div>
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We look the dogs over. Pretty much each dog hand a cut on his face somewhere, but they were all there and they were all fine. One dog had a split in his ear, another a cut over his eye. They will all heal up in no time.</div>
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The trip down the mountain was pretty easy. Mark, the cat, and I slid the whole way.</div>
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After I got the cat checked in and brought him home I got to inspect what happened with my arrows. My first two good shots, or so I thought, were both high. One in the shoulder blade and one in the spine. The shots from the second tree were both fatal. One entered the right armpit and exited behind the left front leg. The other entered the left armpit but did not exit.</div>
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My arrows would have killed that cat in a short amount of time. How they didn't sooner is a shock to me, especially after seeing the damage. I don't care, I feel good about the decision I made with what I saw at the time.</div>
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Black Canyon 55# 2-piece longbow. Arrow entrance and exit holes are visible.</div>
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<br />
Mark Turner is the real deal. He was simply fantastic. I enjoyed his company and his professionalism immensely. I have never entertained the thought of using a guide for any kind of hunting. But after spending some time with Mark, seeing him work, hearing him talk, and learning about him as a hunter and a man, I am blown away. Mark is incredible.</div>
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Here is Mark Turner's information. If anybody reading this would like to spend some time with a truly first class guide, Mark Turner is your man. Mark knows his stuff, he has guided hunters to two Colorado State Records including a mountain lion, and also a shiras moose.</div>
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<a href="http://rmbga.com/" target="_blank">Rocky Mountain Big Game Adventures - Turner Guide Service</a></div>
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I texted a few pictures to my closest friends on my way down the mountain, but I didn't send one to Kelly. I didn't know how to act or what to say. My best friend lost his Dad that very day, and here I am hunting. Kelly got word anyway and sent me a text saying he still wanted to see a picture of the cat. I sent him one. Kelly told me some nice things about his Dad. He told me how lucky he was to have spent 31 years of his life with a man like that. Kelly is right, he is lucky. Pat Flaherty was what a father and husband should be, he was a good and Godly man.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">Pat Flaherty: Oct 20, 1942 - Dec 07, 2013.</span></div>
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-77408757641403999682013-12-11T15:35:00.000-08:002013-12-11T15:35:55.220-08:00Chad's 2013 Mule Deer<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>My cousin Chad is a killer. Not only is he a good hunter, but he is a good enough shot to prove it. After killing a <a href="http://rmsgear.blogspot.com/2013/10/chads-2013-bull.html" target="_blank">beautiful bull elk in Colorado</a>, Chad devoted his time to hunting for a nice mule deer in his home state of Nebraska. Here's Chad's story in his own words...</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><u>2013 Muley<o:p></o:p></u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This year Blake and
I decided that instead of targeting whitetails, we would spend October
hunting hard for a big mule deer. On our first morning hunt of 2013 we checked in on an old haunt that has never failed to produce a handful of mule deer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As the sun rose we began to see deer, one in
particular had a much larger body than the others. It was dark enough that the
size of his rack was not obvious, so we got out the spotting scope to get a
better look. My heart began to race as the scope focused on his rack. Blake
had a quick look and said it was probably the biggest deer he had ever seen in
Nebraska. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We moved in on the deer and got ourselves set up. Long story short, the buck
crossed 50 yards ahead of me and went directly towards Blake. Minutes later I
watched the buck trot away, shortly after that I see Blake dig his arrow out of a dirt bank. His
bowstring caught his sleeve and his shot fell short. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That night I watched the
buck lay in a pocket until dark with deer on all sides. The next morning we
were back and saw the deer cross another wheat field. There was
no pattern to this deer’s movement. We decided to make a move, hoping to
catch him coming off the wheat field. When we got to where he should have been
he was nowhere to be found. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After that morning
it was three weeks of hard hunting with no more sightings of the buck. Blake
and I were obsessed with finding the deer. Between the two of us we spent no less than 25 days looking for him. We had found every other buck in the section
but not him. There were regularly several different trucks slowly driving the outskirts of the
property, I was sure the deer had been poached. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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My son helping me look for the big buck.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha2M4nuMRnAxDoriiIzPkCugXzJJ7hWo8ekJRsG-Eclq6rAM-zBfk8Jt4vrg6K7GhxqHhSm5DL6-AN40f7s3Xco0_52PLLx5tU5PgqGvknww84QJmYP0um8ltIpE2IK72_NNcWDObhppA/s1600/20131012_182824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha2M4nuMRnAxDoriiIzPkCugXzJJ7hWo8ekJRsG-Eclq6rAM-zBfk8Jt4vrg6K7GhxqHhSm5DL6-AN40f7s3Xco0_52PLLx5tU5PgqGvknww84QJmYP0um8ltIpE2IK72_NNcWDObhppA/s640/20131012_182824.jpg" width="578" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As luck would have it I had a work
appointment cancel on the coming Friday, so I went out Thursday night after
work to hopefully find the deer. I didn't see the buck we were after but I did see 20 other
mule deer. I also found the deer’s water source, a pond we had assumed was dry. I noticed a perfect way to get into the area without being detected.
Friday morning was a south wind so I made my way to the pond from the north and
set up on a hill above.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As the sun began to
rise I saw a white patch in a thicket, close to a mile south. I was watching
deer in several other areas but I had a feeling about the white patch, so I kept
panning the spotting scope back to the spot. The sun finally rose high enough to hit the thicket and, much to my pleasure, I see it is the buck we have been after. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I watched in amazement as a 2 point whitetail dogged a mule deer doe all
around the big muley buck. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I looked at another group of deer, and when
I panned back the whitetail was on a hard run, the big muley buck was now standing with the doe. The deer began to move north, in my direction, and then went
out of sight. Before they disappeared I noticed two small whitetail bucks moving just ahead of the big
muley. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hustled to the bottom of the canyon and stealthily worked my way
towards them. I slowed down as I got near the area I had last seen the deer. Good thing too, I got lucky to spot those two whitetail bucks before they saw me. They were on the same cow path
as me. If they spotted my they would surely blow back up the canyon and spook all of the other deer. The next cow path over was about a foot deep so I rolled over into it, and laid
down flat. Both bucks passed by me at 4 yards. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here is a video I captured of these two little bucks that almost ruined the entire hunt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/flwN5K-NF0U" width="640"></iframe></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Once they left I
continued up the canyon. I noticed 3 does head up into a pocket to the west,
but no bucks followed them, so I kept going. I was one ridge away from the last place I saw
the buck when I caught movement above and behind me. A 2 point muley had me
pegged. To make it worse the big buck was feeding in the field just beyond the 2 point. After a long stare down the 2 point went back to feeding, but the
other deer had moved off. </span></div>
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A view from the spotting scope the morning I killed the big buck.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0fM6N9Bvb44dobsiMWO4ElGFshDdVnR59a71NCpEXaP5nJ1NTxb3onHctt2gk9E98umkmyeunaAMqsKzMO-whdanq7iZtVzHStgJrrCEyLKpXKq5-ZFtdihPeif-HngDcncc5mQBeUk/s1600/20131013_080653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0fM6N9Bvb44dobsiMWO4ElGFshDdVnR59a71NCpEXaP5nJ1NTxb3onHctt2gk9E98umkmyeunaAMqsKzMO-whdanq7iZtVzHStgJrrCEyLKpXKq5-ZFtdihPeif-HngDcncc5mQBeUk/s640/20131013_080653.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I circled back around the hill and followed the draw in the same direction I had seen those two does go earlier. I had to crawl the
last 75 yards as I could see the backs of several feeding deer just 20-30 yards beyond the fence. I was in a good spot in a deep cow path, along the
fence and out of sight. The deer were now on the neighbors property. I figured
that I would have to come back that afternoon in hopes that the deer would come
back onto the property I had permission to hunt. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The big buck I was after was feeding just 20 yards away and I had a clear shot. As I watched the big buck I
prayed, please Lord let that buck jump the fence.
Even though I was very tempted, I made the decision not to shoot across
the fence. The second I made that decision the buck turned
and headed straight towards the fence line. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I could not believe it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As he got to the
fence, 25 yards away, he stopped and looked directly at me. I thought the
gig was up. After a long stare down the deer jumped the fence, but when he
stopped I was waiting at full draw. He was 30 yards away and up a steep hill. I watched my arrow disappear over the grass between us. Then I heard a thud.
The buck bolted over the hill and out of sight. I ran to the top of the hill to see where he went, but it didn't matter, the buck was already laying at the bottom of
the canyon. I felt blessed to have had such an amazing opportunity and to have
made a good shot.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUrTDcDObwuqeDyetiOzbm5lVxKXTqgWeNNvaDA8PvT013gm8uva22QuDbKDZgVsZj_XE-CvVgUc0_CyvnJgbohXSTJfKPvT-TCMYm9bbts3U8d1HQs7k9L_ppxnEhfIHL_LNS-mjdPo/s1600/20131025_102307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUrTDcDObwuqeDyetiOzbm5lVxKXTqgWeNNvaDA8PvT013gm8uva22QuDbKDZgVsZj_XE-CvVgUc0_CyvnJgbohXSTJfKPvT-TCMYm9bbts3U8d1HQs7k9L_ppxnEhfIHL_LNS-mjdPo/s640/20131025_102307.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5zRkeeiq0G4VuuEggABsCL5U8S48cy33WwuX1jjnnt10Acq5aNUMyNqUhy9RfYV1bOXPcH3aol0U-u2-k9BuCRAyMtW8FWnD0dJ_B4iYZArbU__EP5BRdLoWjo18jihZiB-Nkx2zQbc/s1600/20131025_102348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5zRkeeiq0G4VuuEggABsCL5U8S48cy33WwuX1jjnnt10Acq5aNUMyNqUhy9RfYV1bOXPcH3aol0U-u2-k9BuCRAyMtW8FWnD0dJ_B4iYZArbU__EP5BRdLoWjo18jihZiB-Nkx2zQbc/s640/20131025_102348.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My Magnus Stinger did a good job on this big bodied mule deer.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQswb9VNnjWqFKz4jHLXykw3rEH5AWLIc6btyJDu2xAL6OGvPnWLfrGCiJTIH6mASz9FWEyLIgRvg_GaZJkDWBhucxu_wVsvoildA8N4877ZKufZ5eNM4N9Q4zRsrYyzs5Qjopp25Rwg/s1600/20131025_102819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQswb9VNnjWqFKz4jHLXykw3rEH5AWLIc6btyJDu2xAL6OGvPnWLfrGCiJTIH6mASz9FWEyLIgRvg_GaZJkDWBhucxu_wVsvoildA8N4877ZKufZ5eNM4N9Q4zRsrYyzs5Qjopp25Rwg/s640/20131025_102819.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The second bow I ever built was a gift for my cousin Tommy. Tommy is starting to get a little weak, so he sent me the bow to have a set of lighter limbs made. Since I had the bow I decided that I might as well kill a few deer with it. I built it, after all.</div>
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Growing up as kids, Tommy and I would always make one arrow for the other. That arrow became first in the quiver. I shot my first mule deer with an arrow that Tommy made me. We have always enjoyed doing little things like that, so shooting this deer with Tommy's bow made this deer just a little more special.</div>
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Chargin' Bull recurve, 64@28, 60". </div>
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<br />tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-34143820955797220282013-11-26T12:31:00.001-08:002013-11-27T08:55:49.498-08:002013 Deer Season<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
We had a pretty slow deer season. Although I did see more big bucks than I ever have in one season, none came close enough for a shot in the daylight (more in a second). </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Tom and Dan started off their season in Wisconsin. They got there for the first week of November - prime time! Unfortunately it was the slowest hunting action either of them have ever experienced. Especially in this area of Wisconsin, where we usually see a lot of quality bucks, and tons of does and small bucks. This year they hardly saw anything. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCif6tZtsKjqvoqpQGlG-VW3c-P9kbi_9olOdJ_eDJE7eqMsXhCAzr9eTYCIKbNyTTDF0hSUGvIEw_1RpY9gtNYvxxQRHx0a_1cMLwKPr_RjJW0U9pqOzR4qcgFhlq9U2dxGHnZ584nlc/s1600/P1040060.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCif6tZtsKjqvoqpQGlG-VW3c-P9kbi_9olOdJ_eDJE7eqMsXhCAzr9eTYCIKbNyTTDF0hSUGvIEw_1RpY9gtNYvxxQRHx0a_1cMLwKPr_RjJW0U9pqOzR4qcgFhlq9U2dxGHnZ584nlc/s640/P1040060.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCwAqMJjSQ-dWBFP-GL1MP6i-W5-uDipIN6hlRf4vKaAHhKpEHLsqi62Qw3gQNKu7oneBiHym8EO2mu9LPOwt_7pb4_IvHon7hzSFmf9utcr2iay-3CqhBvGTukgGtYDK8a-ClPTSpvM/s1600/P1040064.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCwAqMJjSQ-dWBFP-GL1MP6i-W5-uDipIN6hlRf4vKaAHhKpEHLsqi62Qw3gQNKu7oneBiHym8EO2mu9LPOwt_7pb4_IvHon7hzSFmf9utcr2iay-3CqhBvGTukgGtYDK8a-ClPTSpvM/s640/P1040064.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipoM842Z1zeF1YN_k_oP7TEcDK6jZIqk9ONMWBtYu9nEBlA14YP5zGIgkf09md1gjk17k87OhDfPJXYWpuw9lH1sajHDXYqU0P2iZPt_wsRA25Z1og7Od5gMOAjSIsrndsJVe0xvRj_LA/s1600/P1040065.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipoM842Z1zeF1YN_k_oP7TEcDK6jZIqk9ONMWBtYu9nEBlA14YP5zGIgkf09md1gjk17k87OhDfPJXYWpuw9lH1sajHDXYqU0P2iZPt_wsRA25Z1og7Od5gMOAjSIsrndsJVe0xvRj_LA/s640/P1040065.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp9XMMtBzKxHiQQAf7PY47Pzoy4pH7YL7yJW3uQPnx-gx6Qo17_p32Qu34SOviFvumbAdZ5vOeobqM9z6JZEIwoEcUf9oJEb0yUfQDNzq6MGaIRbm7LbZiXHYYr2l84yspd072dF9lZPk/s1600/P1040074.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp9XMMtBzKxHiQQAf7PY47Pzoy4pH7YL7yJW3uQPnx-gx6Qo17_p32Qu34SOviFvumbAdZ5vOeobqM9z6JZEIwoEcUf9oJEb0yUfQDNzq6MGaIRbm7LbZiXHYYr2l84yspd072dF9lZPk/s640/P1040074.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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Dan did shoot this small doe on the last day of their trip.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTtT9zF_JoktYMeksl8JP2gbgvs4B5ozeLH3tPwqaIljgeZdoFmhuRrH42e5Y9lbU00oi4Bw0iNptUWIIWwYeEW5Az6RjG5Uemr1XYt51vbJgjCKksD9cPoqnGqU4NlULD_U_xvsiGII/s1600/P1040077.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTtT9zF_JoktYMeksl8JP2gbgvs4B5ozeLH3tPwqaIljgeZdoFmhuRrH42e5Y9lbU00oi4Bw0iNptUWIIWwYeEW5Az6RjG5Uemr1XYt51vbJgjCKksD9cPoqnGqU4NlULD_U_xvsiGII/s640/P1040077.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsS1QnVj8Do2is56B0lRDkWxnM2xGYUVGb082mSUtc9BlrRDeUzIO2SEvJuFqky0ZxDb8jSvBCZgGiutIMYtxvspnasELuAL0N6Gf9JVSBX15dHttzmA1kNyPFsYfZBHauPCOa3EjvfCQ/s1600/P1040084.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsS1QnVj8Do2is56B0lRDkWxnM2xGYUVGb082mSUtc9BlrRDeUzIO2SEvJuFqky0ZxDb8jSvBCZgGiutIMYtxvspnasELuAL0N6Gf9JVSBX15dHttzmA1kNyPFsYfZBHauPCOa3EjvfCQ/s640/P1040084.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVeC2yKFH8d7vBKCy2rYR_QOj3wLumLK7iPI4xA-O5oJEAtiDCjCU4-B36OpoHTfdipv6We1PSPiMv94LPoXDrF6hVjzK7jXowC1InOF9RhG3V0CP_VUBNV2GtARbtIX85Slmn2T3S5UQ/s1600/P1040089.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVeC2yKFH8d7vBKCy2rYR_QOj3wLumLK7iPI4xA-O5oJEAtiDCjCU4-B36OpoHTfdipv6We1PSPiMv94LPoXDrF6hVjzK7jXowC1InOF9RhG3V0CP_VUBNV2GtARbtIX85Slmn2T3S5UQ/s640/P1040089.JPG" width="480" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu9T-_B1Ff-fgQJz2_cYT1c_rfWdEiKVSRI8eB-YS76xCgHWh0XsLlPsFEKRaSYuUXavZSgq8XJEMcPyhyphenhyphennKYvX4OlI6MkWceIuVLbcawOkyeKUbpUd706445wk1_wsZ9-hgJZJ93tkKA/s1600/P1040092.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu9T-_B1Ff-fgQJz2_cYT1c_rfWdEiKVSRI8eB-YS76xCgHWh0XsLlPsFEKRaSYuUXavZSgq8XJEMcPyhyphenhyphennKYvX4OlI6MkWceIuVLbcawOkyeKUbpUd706445wk1_wsZ9-hgJZJ93tkKA/s640/P1040092.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
In the area of Colorado that we hunt the rut is usually kickin' a week or so later than Wisconsin. So that works out perfect for us. Danny and I hunted for 3.5 days, we each had an either sex tag and a doe tag. I wish we had more time to hunt!</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
I do not feel like I have a good grasp on how the deer move on the properties we were hunting. It is mostly sandy and filled with tamaracks. There are deer tracks scattered everywhere, with a few obvious trails. I have not observed any rhyme or reason to why the deer move where they do, and they always seemed to be 50 yards away no matter if I was set up on the best looking trail. After two years of hunting this area I already cannot wait for next season. There are several bruisers, and their chances of making it to next year are pretty good since the hunting pressure is pretty light.</div>
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Dan didn't wast any time filling his doe tag, he shot this nice big doe on the first evening of our hunt.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfJwXe9LvELbWzLYO7qpsTUhQdnXKdkROK7ortmCThZGl8hyWB-__KKF_3e14n1lwO_uACqGDoD3Luf1C2WZWNMBQqyfyAsyByjagMTvB1zqskXPHQPkrGoRuqJzSvmjR1B9LR5xCZec/s1600/P1040099.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfJwXe9LvELbWzLYO7qpsTUhQdnXKdkROK7ortmCThZGl8hyWB-__KKF_3e14n1lwO_uACqGDoD3Luf1C2WZWNMBQqyfyAsyByjagMTvB1zqskXPHQPkrGoRuqJzSvmjR1B9LR5xCZec/s640/P1040099.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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On the last evening of our hunt Dan went to a stand that was his last choice, but the best choice for the wind that we had to deal with. It turned out to be a good choice. In the middle of a yawn Dan thought he heard a grunt. He didn't totally trust his ears because he was yawning, but he grabbed his bow anyway and got ready, just in case. Not a minute later this buck came trotting down the trail. Dan was in position and waiting when the deer offered him a 17 yard shot.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV1MhGgimkCCI8Ws7kCFkH5JaL09H1SeaFLimHRyhTz-Oh77IezD0Tlt143FkxkqfltQ_GqPmRG-WyPPfwP2XTbwUEQmd9WYZ57lrpvdjshTnM4hP4d0Z4Wd0REtWKbpdNLNJC4K3Tbog/s1600/P1040106.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV1MhGgimkCCI8Ws7kCFkH5JaL09H1SeaFLimHRyhTz-Oh77IezD0Tlt143FkxkqfltQ_GqPmRG-WyPPfwP2XTbwUEQmd9WYZ57lrpvdjshTnM4hP4d0Z4Wd0REtWKbpdNLNJC4K3Tbog/s640/P1040106.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgErYUfZXN3yMuZAk2eJUOtC8xDJzEHLWsaBHb7cRhnWN3u1zGKktwLMm_RZVpt-Np6YneIcYcZnCGi26voVEefzEU94J_6KXe1okIGSEoSLorHsAfTEvV4AQ-4IyEI3pKz6I8jHPP4qr4/s1600/P1040126.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgErYUfZXN3yMuZAk2eJUOtC8xDJzEHLWsaBHb7cRhnWN3u1zGKktwLMm_RZVpt-Np6YneIcYcZnCGi26voVEefzEU94J_6KXe1okIGSEoSLorHsAfTEvV4AQ-4IyEI3pKz6I8jHPP4qr4/s640/P1040126.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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My luck wasn't quite as good. I never had a shot present itself, though I was the one who saw the most of the big bucks on our hunt. </div>
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One evening I was set up on the edge of a thick bunch of tamaracks. The light faded and I got ready to get out of my stand. I lowered my bow, and since I needed my pull cord for the stand I planned on hunting in the morning, I dropped it to the ground. No sooner did I do that than a nice buck walked out of the tamaracks and marched straight towards my decoy. He stood nose to nose with my decoy, snort wheezing and pawing at the ground for no less than 5 minutes. It was quite the display!</div>
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Since I had no way of getting my bow I grabbed my flashlight from my pocket. I was cussing myself and pouting as I turned my light onto the buck. The cussing and pouting got worse when I saw the deer. It was a buck we have a ton of pictures of, the biggest one we know of in the area. Ten yards away, broadside, and completely pre-occupied with my decoy. Why didn't he show up a few minutes earlier!?!?!? </div>
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My set up.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyuCYO_8iAz4LH0omq3S3Bp2apYGihaCXWVQNAJm6wx8uRHRUIuC0YmXhbQgWez5bgryvm2nroINudxsRfpaLEEwHY2KeQrhpM11EBcPVBZmojfeEmk-ON304S75Ozl0ympRdfbnYJyE/s1600/IMAG0375.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyuCYO_8iAz4LH0omq3S3Bp2apYGihaCXWVQNAJm6wx8uRHRUIuC0YmXhbQgWez5bgryvm2nroINudxsRfpaLEEwHY2KeQrhpM11EBcPVBZmojfeEmk-ON304S75Ozl0ympRdfbnYJyE/s640/IMAG0375.jpg" width="640" /></a> </div>
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Here are a couple of pictures we got of this deer from earlier in the season.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDjX500IveCom3OhhVS624JqXM9nZvnoQj5fu7d8sfkpFa8BplHU3SfXfCGMoZZOAIRq0gslMi_zjzKpf5CPh-AlLUNhSRqVl8KGZVK-qTSsyrn9xvbqUrCY08ch6eRFdqCnC-PzgqatQ/s1600/gardner+2013+011-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDjX500IveCom3OhhVS624JqXM9nZvnoQj5fu7d8sfkpFa8BplHU3SfXfCGMoZZOAIRq0gslMi_zjzKpf5CPh-AlLUNhSRqVl8KGZVK-qTSsyrn9xvbqUrCY08ch6eRFdqCnC-PzgqatQ/s640/gardner+2013+011-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK6j11YyfGwqbtamkH6quICEqxQnr4_4Uzc1dmoO_SaRiyat43yBSlebZsjLXxbyKd-51G6O88kDuLEba1ZGsUjzAyOeRZ8Jzm8I-t-eyFQW-Cy8QrMq87KKKQ8oj4XoDJChgy-fkqX_k/s1600/gardners+10113+215.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK6j11YyfGwqbtamkH6quICEqxQnr4_4Uzc1dmoO_SaRiyat43yBSlebZsjLXxbyKd-51G6O88kDuLEba1ZGsUjzAyOeRZ8Jzm8I-t-eyFQW-Cy8QrMq87KKKQ8oj4XoDJChgy-fkqX_k/s640/gardners+10113+215.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpKbsncBsq79n2rjEUZnknFyEfZAIBwAml8pSrrHLH9OBCmDq6wZK_HmIpZtxV8ZtzLjdUNo7sxGuWN7v0bNdAQxDaci2Ulyh3UnKd8gdvJ4xQPTvC_usJpKVBpnRtssC2Fz6_HA36xc/s1600/gardners+10113+528.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpKbsncBsq79n2rjEUZnknFyEfZAIBwAml8pSrrHLH9OBCmDq6wZK_HmIpZtxV8ZtzLjdUNo7sxGuWN7v0bNdAQxDaci2Ulyh3UnKd8gdvJ4xQPTvC_usJpKVBpnRtssC2Fz6_HA36xc/s640/gardners+10113+528.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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It was still an enjoyable year, and I passed on several smaller bucks that should turn out to be real trophies in the future. Hopefully I'll have a chance to make it out again before it gets too cold!</div>
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-24196866280422835042013-10-17T11:17:00.000-07:002013-10-17T20:54:40.541-07:00Del's 2013 Bull<i>Del is one of the elk killinest dudes I know. He has killed elk in just about every way, except by utilizing patience. Del usually runs along side the elk until the elk gets tired, and then shoots them. No, but seriously, he's got a pair of legs on him, and he uses those legs!</i><br />
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<i>The first time Del and I hunted together we found ourselves in the middle of elk mecca. Elk and Del were running all over the place. He passed up a small bull or two that day. I was laughing at the utter madness unfolding in front of my eyes. Del then told me what his plan was over the next two days. I smiled and said "Have fun!". He knows no physical limits. In a four day hunt Del survives on a couple of tortillas and less water than a camel. He is just one of those kinds of guys.</i><br />
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<i>Del has let up on his trophy hunting ways over the past few years. It used to be that the small bulls were not worth his time. He usually lets them walk because he doesn't like ending his season so soon. This year, with a wedding to attend in Italy, he wasn't going to pass up anything. A wedding in September is NOT COOL for an elk hunter, regardless of whether or not it is in Italy.</i><br />
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<i>So I asked Del to write me a story this year. Here it is, in his words:</i><br />
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<b><u>The Short Season: By Del Jolly</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiW5H8EnT1SakdD6q6h7XCYxlPFnub1vmkiaFk3HbeWm6j7Hq4YBbk13Wn2RrbKnxZymcTckzhCE_iumMZETz3hJhKVZtUz6Aq_YB-J5mISDaQrgFMfAVyOeb2YCOJIsLPoXOoLRdm0g/s1600/IMG_3015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiW5H8EnT1SakdD6q6h7XCYxlPFnub1vmkiaFk3HbeWm6j7Hq4YBbk13Wn2RrbKnxZymcTckzhCE_iumMZETz3hJhKVZtUz6Aq_YB-J5mISDaQrgFMfAVyOeb2YCOJIsLPoXOoLRdm0g/s640/IMG_3015.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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2013 proved to be a very interesting Elk season for me and many of my Elk hunting friends. I think Tommy's earlier assessment hit the nail on the head...the opener had some of the best bugling I've ever heard.<br />
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This year I was very focused on the elk season. Three years ago, Tommy, Danny and I shot daily for months leading up to the season, it was no surprise that each of us were successful that year. I am a true believer that elk season starts well before August. But life gets very busy at times. Still, I believe in starting my preparation months before the season to increase my chances of being successful.<br />
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Last year I got so busy with “life” that elk season wasn't a priority. It was the first year in my life that I didn't even shoot at an elk. I believe that it had a lot to do with the fact that I didn't train and I didn't shoot, all I did to prepare was basically schedule my hunt. I vowed that this year would be different. I shot as much as I did three years ago (the year that the Clums and I all killed elk). I worked out, and dreamed of elk both day and night. I was very excited, but more importantly, prepared for the opener.<br />
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Usually I pack in with the llamas, but this year I didn't want to be held back by anything, I would go where the elk took me. I planned on hunting with Kelly on opening day. Our only plan was to hunt the first morning together and then see what the situation looked like. We would either stick together if that seemed right, or go our separate ways and see each other at the truck in five days. However, as bad luck for Kelly would have it, he got ill the day we were to leave. It was unfortunate for him, but didn't weigh too heavy on me when I left 5 minutes after the call.<br />
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When I got to the trailhead I had to wait for a rain storm to pass before I could start. I’m sure that is a reoccurring theme for many of us Coloradans this year. Once the storm broke I was late, but on my way nonetheless. About a mile into my journey the elk started bugling, completely ruining my "plans" on where I was to camp that night. I was bushwhacking and decided to sleep right where I was rather than risk spooking any elk. Bugles popped off throughout the valley as I set up my tent and crawled in for the night. I've always thought of these kinds of nights as Christmas Eve for adults.<br />
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I woke to a bugling bull, though he was fairly far away. I instantly packed my stuff and ran up the mountain. Each time I’d think I was closing in on the bull he would bugle further away, and as we all do, I continued to go after him. He dragged me all the way up some pretty rough country and into another drainage where we frequently see elk. He was going down the other drainage and getting further away by the minute. I decided to leave him be and see if I could strike up anything else.<br />
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This year I brought a Montana Decoy. I wanted to try something new for me...setting up and calling as opposed to running down the elk. So at the top of the drainage I set up the decoy and began cow calling. Immediately a cow answered, followed shortly by another bull. I caught sight of a small bull running through an open valley about 500 yards away. I could tell he was a young bull by his eagerness to come see me. I set up about 15 yards in front of my decoy on a steep slope then called and waited. Very soon I saw a cow coming up the hill about 60 yards away. A small 5X5 was right behind her. I always like when cows lead because it gives me an opportunity to see what the bull might do.<br />
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At one point I had a fairly straight down shot at the bull, but it appeared that the cow was going to bring him to a better shooting lane, so I waited. The bull was following the cow as she passed through my shooting lane. I knew right where I was going to draw, and was already preparing my mind because this bull was certainly going to run waaaay down hill before he died. But as his luck would have it, just before I drew, the bull stopped, got that nervous look in his eye and started backing up. In the corner of my eye I saw the decoy swaying back and forth in the breeze. The bull looked right at me and bolted.<br />
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The next morning I woke to three bulls bugling back and forth. One was within a hundred yards of my tent, so I decided to leave the tent and go after the bull. This elk had a great bugle and I could see he had cows. As I tried to slip under him the wind changed and the entire herd busted out. It was disappointing to go from tons of action to none with one quick breeze.<br />
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This is the area I had the best action. There are big drainages to the left and right of the picture. You can see how easy it would be to have a straight down shot with how cliffy this area is.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgfsOA4MdpC2xh1-E92qKMrHuX0uhbpghYAFOJIiGwf7v3Zsuqftai1VAgQv-Ks0F0iISZm7HLVp3mwYDVkAoL7jZvxLMMJxL836x2AVhFJ7jnXIKCHaxXDhEo2Gz-BopEO0OjUqmgTM/s1600/IMG_1215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgfsOA4MdpC2xh1-E92qKMrHuX0uhbpghYAFOJIiGwf7v3Zsuqftai1VAgQv-Ks0F0iISZm7HLVp3mwYDVkAoL7jZvxLMMJxL836x2AVhFJ7jnXIKCHaxXDhEo2Gz-BopEO0OjUqmgTM/s640/IMG_1215.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Before I packed my tent and headed for further pastures I through a bugle down a drainage. I immediately got a response. I decided to quickly run back to my tent and pack my gear before chasing this elk. When I got back and called again I got no response. Usually I cover tons of ground until I slop into something, but this day I decided to implement a more technical approach. I sat, for the very first time in my nine year elk hunting career, and cow called and waited. I'd wait 5 minutes, cow call again, and wait longer.<br />
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When I had just about exhausted my patience (10 minutes later), I heard a pop behind me. I was sitting on my but with my heavy day pack. I could see elk legs coming my way. It took about all I had to get to my knees quietly with that heavy pack. It was fairly dense where I was. The elk was coming from my left, so I turned my head to the right and gave three soft mews. I wanted to create just a little bit more excitement since I knew that I wouldn't be able to call again (I was using an open reed cow call that required me to move my hand).<br />
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The small bull bit. He was below me and moving from left to right. I looked ahead of his path and there was only one small shooting lane. I knew that I needed to stop the bull there or it wouldn't happen. I came to full draw as the bull was walking through the lane. I mewed with my voice and the bull stopped right where I needed. him to. I let the arrow fly. It seemed to zip right through the elk. He turned and bolted down the hill. I called to stop him, it was too dense to see him so I listened intently. A few minutes later I heard a crash. And then it sounded like he got up and ran further.<br />
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My bow tip is pointing to the exact spot the elk was standing when I shot him. I had a very narrow gap between those two trees, but with all the shooting and preparation I did this year I was 100% confident in my ability to make the shot.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwepK_OGrQgg8BE4O3WXYNR6cGT4xA-t82nkAH3vNm1guPWh2NhvgiMmpVogSbYoeF4VS2OB0j-gAX-Jk4ZCwSINQjb5dwGu0J1tt6exQvzsjI5RM7-xI93_l5BXV-jHkI4BXNgMkDTUY/s1600/IMG_2972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwepK_OGrQgg8BE4O3WXYNR6cGT4xA-t82nkAH3vNm1guPWh2NhvgiMmpVogSbYoeF4VS2OB0j-gAX-Jk4ZCwSINQjb5dwGu0J1tt6exQvzsjI5RM7-xI93_l5BXV-jHkI4BXNgMkDTUY/s640/IMG_2972.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I waited for an hour. When I started to track him I found good blood right away. My arrow was about ten yards from where I had shot him. I followed the blood trail for about 100 yards and reached a point where I could see no more. I stood there trying to figure out what to do. Should I wait longer or continue to sneak along the faint trail? As I stood there contemplating my next move I looked to the right and saw the bull piled up.<br />
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The majority of the blood trail looked like this. Lots of blood on both sides of the trail.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifF0UPFa8sCkJ7S_Zej23KAvhtC8sYyxi5Ga8J5zhVb2cHxXgOYHt2u_m3CqaHXn12fXlW7U14i5VreQ7fxd_sqP8z7P1k3a9Mi0giyMnVcI1CarfaIXEEVq4g2NAyBprrNfBcdQkSVDk/s1600/IMG_2977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifF0UPFa8sCkJ7S_Zej23KAvhtC8sYyxi5Ga8J5zhVb2cHxXgOYHt2u_m3CqaHXn12fXlW7U14i5VreQ7fxd_sqP8z7P1k3a9Mi0giyMnVcI1CarfaIXEEVq4g2NAyBprrNfBcdQkSVDk/s640/IMG_2977.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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This is exactly what I saw when I was trying to figure out my next move. Did you see the bull right away?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNC-cPC1O65Pk6Td6JRFOZmgdteg1oO5uoHGt15teCgoL6CED5lI-Yyg7frpZHz6wErPUizDP4GD6Xc_ZJhwfIso8oF0FUDsdfCHPn5JjwjXJBzlAbH8qVUp3DC23r7mXpqZDRImL9AE/s1600/IMG_2978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNC-cPC1O65Pk6Td6JRFOZmgdteg1oO5uoHGt15teCgoL6CED5lI-Yyg7frpZHz6wErPUizDP4GD6Xc_ZJhwfIso8oF0FUDsdfCHPn5JjwjXJBzlAbH8qVUp3DC23r7mXpqZDRImL9AE/s640/IMG_2978.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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It was very exciting to finally bring it all together. Even though it was only the second morning, it had seemed like I had been elk hunting for months. This was the first time I killed an elk when I wasn't camping with anybody. That meant I’d be packing it out by myself.
It took me two days and three trips.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8AOseULOuq1uBeKos7Pw_OurjRjYsL5TUboD9fXBVPwSJN9eNtaAdNPpeflACIR7FFqjaPtSDyRGN5RA1H_Gs4yhqdNFW3j2SU2ikqF1_MGG2BfWTEahQFv0zDes9FDWTSvA-YgmV3GM/s1600/IMG_2988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8AOseULOuq1uBeKos7Pw_OurjRjYsL5TUboD9fXBVPwSJN9eNtaAdNPpeflACIR7FFqjaPtSDyRGN5RA1H_Gs4yhqdNFW3j2SU2ikqF1_MGG2BfWTEahQFv0zDes9FDWTSvA-YgmV3GM/s640/IMG_2988.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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I used a Spirit Longbow, 48@28. My draw length is 31". I used Carbon Express Heritage arrows with a 175gr VPA Terminator broadhead. My arrow passed completely through the bull, and he left a 100 yard long, heavy bloodtrail. </div>
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The Clum's taught me how to butcher my own meat, so I spent an evening with my wife and kids butchering the elk ourselves. </div>
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It was tough to be content in town since my season ended so early and I trained so long. I went back up a couple weeks later with a cow tag in my pocket just to sit under a tarp in brutal rain for three days. But sitting under a tarp in the Rocky Mountains with a punched bull tag isn't that bad.tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483607452389640564.post-70898963770742365982013-10-05T12:57:00.001-07:002013-10-05T12:58:44.658-07:002013 Ontario Moose Hunt<br />
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The Silver Fox (Dad) had to show us how it was done in Ontario this year. Good thing he spent a lot of time practicing his 50+ yard shots at the range this year. It really paid off...more later.</div>
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Running this archery store with my Dad and brother is really fantastic. The people that I get to interact with everyday, the conversations I get to have, the non-stop hunting stories. I don't have a complaint in life. I really have it too good. The only bummer is that the three of us do not get to hunt together very often. In the past ten years we have taken only a small handful of trips, all together. Somebody usually needs to man the fort. </div>
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This year was different. We have some excellent people helping us in the store right now, so we grabbed our wives, girlfriends, kids, bows and arrows and fishing poles and headed to Ontario. Some families take cruise vacations, we go on hunting/fishing trips.</div>
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We headed back to Wine Lake to hunt with Herb Pugmire. His operation is set up perfect for families. It is a first class camp that is completely affordable for average folks with some planning. Two years ago my brother killed a great moose here at Wine Lake, <a href="http://rmsgear.blogspot.com/2011/10/ontario-moose-hunt.html" target="_blank">I wrote a story about it here</a>. Following are some pictures of our trip, some of the fish we caught, the wildlife we saw, and a moose hunting story.</div>
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My son, John, telling me about moose hunting.</div>
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Bald eagles are plentiful in Ontario. This guy sat with his catch as we cruised by.</div>
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I caught this little frog as Danny and I were working our way into a calling position. We sat for twenty minutes, calling intermittently. As I was taking pictures of this little frog a bull moose starting tearing up the forest right behind us. I forgot about that frog real quick, and though that bull was within 50 yards I never did see him through the thick woods. I'm not sure how a bull moose vanishes in the forest without being seen or heard. Apparently he wanted to let us know he was there, but that was it.</div>
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My Mom loves the outdoors, she had a great time and hammered the fish.</div>
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John isn't quite old enough to reel in the fish by himself, but he sure loves being there.</div>
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Dad with a 25" walleye.</div>
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The past two times I have been to Wine Lake I have had a goal of catching a 40" pike. I got close in the past, but this year I finally got one. He was 40" on the nose, not 1/8" over. Mission accomplished!</div>
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The sunrises and sunsets on the lake were truly something to behold.</div>
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Alright, let's get to the good stuff! The moose hunting this year was a bit slower than past years. I would assume that it had something to do with the fact that the lows were in the upper 50's and the moon was full right in the middle of our hunt. We also experienced super high winds, which made hearing anything all the tougher. We changed our tactics to accommodate the conditions. Instead of sitting in once place and doing a lot of calling we moved a lot more and tried to spot something.</div>
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The forest is all but impenetrable. Walking around is really not an option. Our strategy was to locate a moose from the boat, either with our eyes or our ears, and then get on the shore and try to call the moose to us. </div>
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This cow was out feeding at 2pm. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPy-VppfRP58VFm41Fbg2WJtRGcGnApV__h9fjmFOR1opz6FhzBFNOD2jSdBzuZGQH0nhFN1hs1zBB1jdOKvRMyQzvOpvJdGqEsdtm7Hb1ghOoi1cxePXsKfrxWfJwh30DgilK664YjkA/s1600/DSC00433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPy-VppfRP58VFm41Fbg2WJtRGcGnApV__h9fjmFOR1opz6FhzBFNOD2jSdBzuZGQH0nhFN1hs1zBB1jdOKvRMyQzvOpvJdGqEsdtm7Hb1ghOoi1cxePXsKfrxWfJwh30DgilK664YjkA/s640/DSC00433.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX0N6A0rL4hG3TWHMelhllIOn-2RDxmNdIgPJIC4Gj-YNJszPle9kPGf-7uT8h7q75bk9zvHQJoJqu4griEYL74Hora7_OXTwj5VgkU85LpQ-_kxyww8R73-dnEPhbfpR83sRMdOTx2U/s1600/DSC00614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX0N6A0rL4hG3TWHMelhllIOn-2RDxmNdIgPJIC4Gj-YNJszPle9kPGf-7uT8h7q75bk9zvHQJoJqu4griEYL74Hora7_OXTwj5VgkU85LpQ-_kxyww8R73-dnEPhbfpR83sRMdOTx2U/s640/DSC00614.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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This bull and cow fed in place for a long time. We positioned ourselves on shore a couple hundred yards away and worked towards them as quietly as we could. We made it to within shooting range but a shot never presented itself. Calling to this bull proved ineffective.</div>
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Herb built a small platform near a moose crossing shown in the picture above. Bulls pass through this crossing every couple of days as they are on the prowl. You can see why, it's a perfect funnel for traveling bulls. Herb insisted that we split up our time and keep a guy on this stand. It's really not much of a stand, the platform only sits about 10 feet off the ground, barely above eye level with these long legged moose.</div>
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On Dad's second sit a young bull moose showed some interest in his calling. Dad called only loud enough so that the bull could hear him. And only often enough to keep the bull's interest. Bull moose can take their time coming to a cow call. At one point the little bull lost interest and starting walking away. Dad turned around and called facing away from the moose, to try and sound further away. The small bull turned on a dime, and finally committed to checking out this cow he was hearing.</div>
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The moose was coming strong, grunting with every step. When he was twenty yards away the moose had two options, walk around a willow bush and offer my Dad a 20 yard shot, or come straight to him. As luck had it, the bull walked straight to him. </div>
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When the bull was a measly five steps away, and practically eye level, my Dad slowly drew back his bow. As the moose walked by his tree, not even three yards away, Dad let go of the string. He could have jumped on the moose's back just as easily. Dad thought that the shot placement was perfect, and was 100% confident that the moose would be no further than 100 yards away. What he didn't know at the time was that his arrow glanced off of the moose's rib, angled down and back, and only caught one lung and part of the liver. </div>
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Danny and I were hunting in another location, and Dad was a couple mile boat ride from camp with no boat. So when Danny and I came to pick him up, several hours later, we were surprised to see him sitting on the shore reading a book. We figured that he was just enjoying his vacation and glanced at each other with that look that said, "Come on Dad, stay on the freakin' stand!". </div>
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As we pulled the boat up I saw that grin that people make when they are trying to hide a smile (crudely referred to as a $#!& eater). I got pretty excited, knowing what that face meant.</div>
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What was supposed to be a real short blood trail got a little longer than we were comfortable with. We backed out and went fishing for a few hours before continuing the search, just to play it safe. We grabbed Herb to help retrieve the bull. </div>
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Herb has been there, done that. He had a strong hunch on where the bull may have gone, and sure enough, he drove the boat right to it. The bull went to water to lay down, and died there right next to the shore. We drove right past him at least three times and never even thought of looking for him there. The four of us dragged him on shore, snapped a few pictures, and then got to work.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8XAyQqWEDPJYOQmX7kddpVtx7tdxYrCulRTCafTidE36UeE_cgQsh9oqFH9wREBolpV1raGdDArgDA4ZZbokFc6IIo6gMV4GmXNeJacbZTWnJz_82q5caHgso3XMfzcrvKc5b9S_-z8/s1600/1234489_10102880665150878_849856733_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8XAyQqWEDPJYOQmX7kddpVtx7tdxYrCulRTCafTidE36UeE_cgQsh9oqFH9wREBolpV1raGdDArgDA4ZZbokFc6IIo6gMV4GmXNeJacbZTWnJz_82q5caHgso3XMfzcrvKc5b9S_-z8/s640/1234489_10102880665150878_849856733_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjmGoS2LkTgySEDKU74rCrWUS_Z6i180eIZM3ugK2MA3XuMoFB5JEk7AE-ndQa9acpYZi98CYS-GhR4GPbQeWvdPuI8ZlLt2QRCSDoFNh5xMY_0n6syT5PqlX3WKuUO974046CJU_CU8/s1600/P1030971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjmGoS2LkTgySEDKU74rCrWUS_Z6i180eIZM3ugK2MA3XuMoFB5JEk7AE-ndQa9acpYZi98CYS-GhR4GPbQeWvdPuI8ZlLt2QRCSDoFNh5xMY_0n6syT5PqlX3WKuUO974046CJU_CU8/s640/P1030971.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Dad killed this moose with a Hummingbird recurve - 53@28, 62" He used a Carbon Express Heritage arrow and 200gr VPA Terminator broadhead.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcKQORXaRx2vrugBFkrfxyd6Hvr4tukyRVmOOjB64iPd-NJvZyW3at9BYEqGjYrwnkXSiNdO3urx5t3b98R7E34asjefsqgW12EmO7haO1Zzl5DI66sjF_67oTgpJ33gp_p9gbIAh2tq4/s1600/P1030966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcKQORXaRx2vrugBFkrfxyd6Hvr4tukyRVmOOjB64iPd-NJvZyW3at9BYEqGjYrwnkXSiNdO3urx5t3b98R7E34asjefsqgW12EmO7haO1Zzl5DI66sjF_67oTgpJ33gp_p9gbIAh2tq4/s640/P1030966.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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This Randall knife was a conditional gift to my Dad from a good customer. The condition: it had to be used.</div>
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Since the moose died right in the water and we could drive the boat to him I went back to camp to get the girls and the kids. I knew my son, John, would really love to see the moose. Plus, the girls wanted to see how we cut up this giant animal.</div>
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I love this picture, my wife and Danny's girlfriend grimaced a few times. Personally, I would gut fifteen moose over changing one dirty diaper. My wife on the other hand, she'll take the diaper.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGP3Y_iewj8SXSBJtPy1t2-GyUEVr7ZAQ_ZVerf82Jz96-aiEmH9ahdWZB2c9GyxkVNXTTR3dqxeLw4k0GrYY3NRpPRifiisZWYf3HnMcidAi3oFgxaIjq9bMnygefoO46RM6D7Fqrho/s1600/DSC00350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGP3Y_iewj8SXSBJtPy1t2-GyUEVr7ZAQ_ZVerf82Jz96-aiEmH9ahdWZB2c9GyxkVNXTTR3dqxeLw4k0GrYY3NRpPRifiisZWYf3HnMcidAi3oFgxaIjq9bMnygefoO46RM6D7Fqrho/s640/DSC00350.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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My Dad, my boy, and me (below). When it comes to important things in life hunting is pretty far down on the list. There are a lot of areas in life that are more important than trying to kill animals. However, there are not many things that bond fathers and sons like spending time in the woods together. What other activities make young men excited to spend time with their dads, from the time they are a kid, through being a teenager, and then as adults? Long car rides to hunting destinations provide many hours of one-on-one conversations. Sitting on a mountain, or in a boat, or even on a cabin porch, while witnessing The Creation first hand, implants memories and discussions quite deep. And if nothing else, hunting provides an excellent excuse to be with one another. My Dad used hunting with my brother and me to create strong bonds, good memories, and provide the opportunity for meaningful and important conversations. I plan on doing the same thing with my sons. This is hunting memory #1 with my son. Many, many more to follow.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK06YbhmLnmiSOINZXgbUFudx9cCNmYZucwExYRJSaB5GXSYg-CtZBUMJRKYyLcPwx9itXx2SkzZQX0m-92BMtrls3Tz3Ny-Zcy8jZX1G_z-3PCEawVqqgxnWOoMYNz7c7-MUCZz5nXr4/s1600/P1030998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK06YbhmLnmiSOINZXgbUFudx9cCNmYZucwExYRJSaB5GXSYg-CtZBUMJRKYyLcPwx9itXx2SkzZQX0m-92BMtrls3Tz3Ny-Zcy8jZX1G_z-3PCEawVqqgxnWOoMYNz7c7-MUCZz5nXr4/s640/P1030998.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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tlclumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06194943100435688532noreply@blogger.com1