GROWING AN ELK HUNTER

  Sitting atop a grassy knoll, the setting sun soothed our cold bodies.  Peering through binoculars and spotting scopes, my 8-year-old son Braxton and I eagerly searched for elk.

   Braxtons job was to look at distant tree lines for elk emerging to feed; it didnt take long to find a herd.  For Braxton, it was the first time hed watched elk through a spotting scope. 

   Wow, they look so close! he whispered.

   There was a good bull in the herd, just not quite the caliber we were looking for. 

   It was early in our mid-October rifle hunt, and I explained to Braxton that though this was a mature bull, we were looking for something bigger.

   By 4 the next morning we were up and rolling.  Heavy clouds and high winds replaced the clear skies wed had the evening prior.  Six inches of fresh snow blanketed the ground.

   Do you still want to go out? I offered Braxton, not wanting to force him into an uncomfortable situation. Da-ad, its snowing helloooo!  We dont get much snow where we live in the Willamette Valley and Braxton couldnt wait to get out.

   I didnt tell him the thermometer registered 18 degrees.  Bundled up for the walk, soon we hunkered behind a fat pine tree, glassing for elk.  Over the next hour we watched two different herds from that spot.  Then we started getting cold; it was time to move on.  We walked more than three miles that morning, through incessant snow that was knee-deep to Braxton.  He didnt complain once.

   By mid-afternoon the snow had melted, and we enjoyed a stunning sunset.  The next morning was cold and clear, but Braxton was ready to get after it.

   By daylight we reached our first glassing point, and getting there wasnt easy.  Watching elk from a distance and discussing their behavior was a thrill for Braxton.  With no shooter bulls in sight, we kept hiking.

   One of my primary goals on this hunt was to call in a bull for Braxton.  Though the conditions and waning rutting activity were not in our favor, still I felt confident we could call in a bull.

   Setting up on a point overlooking a vast valley, I cow called.  When three bulls answered back from the below, Braxton couldnt contain himself.  Thats just like the sounds you make at home all the time!

   Then we saw a lone bull, well over a half-mile away, chasing a single cow across a ridgeline.  I called, he stopped.  I called again, he bugled.  A third cow call got him excited.  He bugled, left his cow and barreled downhill on the run.

   It took the bull 20 minutes to close the distance and he bugled at every sound

we made.  Braxton even blew a few notes on the open-reed call and got the bull to respond as it moved through the rugged terrain.

   When the bull bugled at 10 yards, the look on Braxtons face was priceless.  When the bull emerged from heavy brush and stood broadside at eight yards, Braxtons eyes grew even larger.  Then the bull winded us and took off.  Though we could see the bulls face, I had no shot through the thick brush.

   The next morning came early, and getting setup on a herd with a pretty good bull in it, we decided to go for it.  After several minutes the bull waltzed into range, and a single shot from the .300 Winchester magnum dropped him on the spot.

   Approaching the bull, Braxton was amazed by its size.  Braxton helped in the quartering, skinning and caping, like hed done on other big game, but never elk.  Once we got the meat home, the entire family took part in the butchering and packaging festivities.

   We, like many hunting families, depend almost exclusively on wild game.  Its the way we choose to live, both for the gratification it offers and the quality nutrition it provides.

   Braxtons first elk hunt was about more than putting meat in the freezer.  It was about forming bonds, shaping character, learning responsibility and pushing his physical and mental limits to achieve goals.  When Braxton heard that first bugle, it changed his life.  Thats what elk hunting is about.