The figurative dam that held back a flood tide of adrenalin, wavering and creaking and even straining at it's metaphorical seams, finally burst under the strain. I was momentarily in a daze. That feeling you get when you know that there is some task of urgency that you need to tend to, but you're unable to muster the wherewithall to do it. Very quickly, I came back online and dug into my possibles pouch. With a surprisingly steady hand, I poured a powder charge down the bore, careful not to lose a single grain in the process. I pulled out my ramrod and punched in another 270 grain powerbelt, and then lastly, slid a 209 primer into the breech plug hole, thus priming the rig. Thankfully, I didn't have any redcoats coming at me. I was now ready for a follow up, if needed. I looked to the right and saw a grin on the face of the man next to me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dad had given me some of the meat from this animal, and I was ready for some more. If successful, we'd expect to garner around 180 lbs of meat apiece.
Back before this Covid mess began, Dad had approached me about doing a late season Cow Elk Muzzleloader hunt in New Mexico. I'd never hunted in New Mexico before, and it had been years since I'd hunted Elk, back when I lived in Montana. I know that I love New Mexico and just about everything about it. The skiing and mountain biking are incredible and the scenery is as spectacular as it gets! Sign me up for a hatch green chili burrito anytime!! We thought it would be a great way to spend some time together, and hopefully to harvest some incredible meat.
Dad and I have hunted together for 40 years, but it had been since the Fall of 2017 that we'd had a chance to go together. I'd been battling a health crisis during the fall of 2018 and 2019, so we had some time to make up for. I didn't even have to think about it. I was in.
Dad's harvested Pronghorn buck from our last hunt together, a 2017 Wyoming Antelope hunt.
Dad had given me some of the meat from this animal, and I was ready for some more. If successful, we'd expect to garner around 180 lbs of meat apiece.
As soon as we had a plan in place, I began to dig out my gear. I got out the old smokepole and decided I was ready for an upgrade. Technology had improved quite a bit since I'd last used old smokie, so I decided to get a new CVA .50 cal. Soon enough I had my new gun and had done the research as to what projectiles and propellant I wanted to use.
I went to the range as many times as I could, firing as many rounds as I could. I began to develop a level of comfort with the gun. I knew that I could drive tacks between 100-150 yards. I was still confident out to about 200 yards. Any elk beyond 200 yards would not face any harassment from me. With the area we were headed to reputed to have wide open expanses, I knew that close in shots would be unlikely.
As the big day approached, Dad was fortunate enough to christen his new muzzleloader during Vermont's muzzleloader whitetail season. That had given him a lot of confidence in his setup. My first shot at an elk, would be my first time firing the gun in a hunting situation.
The weekend before our trip, Dad flew into Sky Harbor. I picked him up at the airport and we headed to Desert Monks brewery. We hoisted a couple of beverages while we talked about the upcoming hunt.
We'd drive up to Springerville, AZ on a Thursday afternoon and meet up with our guide for dinner Thursday night. We'd hunt Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. We'd be hunting at approximately 7500 feet, so we could expect some chillier, snowier weather. We'd be hunting on an approximately 2000 acre ranch, so we had plenty of ground to cover. We'd travel by truck to get to different areas of the ranch, and then burn some boot leather in a spot and stalk method. We'd spend a lot of time staring through binoculars and spotting scopes.
The big day finally arrived. We went to the car rental shop and picked up our van for the trip. We had a ton of gear, so I wanted to have plenty of room for that, as well as a half dozen meat filled coolers, we hoped. We loaded up, picked up some lunch food to eat on the go, and set sail. It's hard to beat that feeling of heading out on a hunt.
Within a few hours we made the approach to Salt River Canyon. Wow. What a view. Dad had never seen it, so we stopped at the rest area and took a break. We took a few pics and continued on.
Within a couple of hours, we pulled into Springerville, which is pretty close to the New Mexico border. It's a nice little Western hamlet, with most anything you need, and not much else. We had a room in a nice lodge, right off of Highway 60, which is the main drag in the town. We checked into our room and then went for a walk around the town. For such a small town, they have an incredible general store. Western Drug and General Store has more stuff than a typical Wal Mart. I digress.
Eventually our guide tracked us down and we went across the street to one of the local restaurants, which was purportedly pretty good. The burrito I fired down was pretty solid, as was the rest of the food. The beer was cold. We talked about the details of the hunt, as well as the forecast. There was a pretty good snow storm in the forecast for that night, so we'd get on the road at 5:00 AM in order to allow us enough time to get there safely and still be early enough to be there well before sunrise.
After a short walk, we were back in the hotel. After a few minutes of watching the remnants of a sub-par football game, I entered a burrito induced coma.
 |
Sleep came fast and furious! |
After what seemed like only 15 minutes, it was 4:00 AM. Dang! A quick look out the window of the hotel room, revealed a chillingly uninviting looking landscape! As an old friend and hunting buddy used to say, "Well, you ain't gonna get an Elk, laid up in bed". I got up and grabbed my trusty French Press, some dark roast, and my big glass pitcher. 3 minutes in the microwave later, we had some nice boiling hot water. I primed the French Press and then powered down a bowl of granola with fresh blueberries while we waited for the coffee to steep. I had a butter spackled slab of pannetone that Bianca had thoughtfully bought for us for the trip.
The drive to the ranch took about an hour or so. It was slow going over frozen mud covered county roads. The area was covered in a few inches of fresh snow. As we made the approach to the ranch, we could see that the entire area was covered in heavy fog. You couldn't see a thing. We made our way out onto a ridgeline that enabled us to glass a majority of the Southern portion of the ranch. We kept waiting for the fog to burn off and it just didn't want to. Not ideal!
Finally, at about 9:30, the fog started to burn off. We immediately saw a large herd of Elk. There were maybe 50-60 animals in the herd. Since the breeding season was over, there were lots of cows and calves and a few immature bulls sprinkled in, but no mature bulls. That was fine by us, as we only had tags to harvest cows.
 |
Not the best pic, but you can see the herd way out in the field. |
 |
The last vestiges of the fog burning off on our way to the Northern part of the ranch. |
Unfortunately, there was little that we could do with the large herd. There was no cover or any ridges anywhere near where they were, so we were unable to stalk close enough for a shot opportunity. Eventually, we lost track of them and headed back into Springerville for lunch.
We returned to the ranch area around 3:30 and had over two hours of light left to hunt. We were unable to get on any Elk until there were about 15 minutes of light left. We began a stalk of two cows that were up on a wooded ridge, getting ready to head out into a large grassy field to feed. By the time we got to where we'd last seen them, they were gone. We called it a day.
We arrived back in Springerville, starved and exhausted. It had been an awesome day. The scenery in the mountains and in the basin where the ranch was located, was spectacular. Tons of pines, spruces, firs, and any other kind of conifer you could imagine abound. With 6-8 inches of snow at the higher elevations of the area, it was just beautiful. We quickly went to our rooms and changed. We then headed to the restaurant for dinner and beers.
The chimichanga with hatch green chili sauce was spectacular. If you ever happen to be in Booga Red's place, I highly recommend it. You won't be disappointed. Great service too. As I staggered out of the joint, I noted that the weather had changed a tad since we'd gone in to eat.
We'd gotten a couple of inches of snow while we were eating. It would snow off and on throughout the remainder of night. There was not a tremendous amount of snow in town. We knew there'd be a lot more in our hunting area.
After some deep sleep interrupted by a 4:00 AM wake up call we were up and at em! We had breakfast, coffee and got on the road a few minutes before 5:00. There was a decent amount of snow, and as we gained elevation, there was quite a bit of snow. It appeared to be 6-8 inches of relatively fresh snow at the higher elevations. After what seemed like an eternity, we got into the area of the ranch. No fog! We were psyched as the snow would make it much easier to find and track Elk.
The sunrise was beautiful. The morning was exceptionally cold, at approximately 10 degrees. Despite our best efforts, we were initially unable to locate any Elk that we could get on, and stalk. Fortunately, we were able to move around, scanning for fresh tracks in the snow.
Later in the morning, we found quite a few sets of fresh tracks heading up onto a heavily wooded ridge. This was definitely a bedding area for the Elk. They'll typically feed in the fields all night long, unless the weather is just miserable, and in the morning they'll bed down for the bulk of the day, only to repeat the cycle in the evening.
We put together a plan to approach the ridge and slowly move along it's edge, in the hopes of catching any animals moving around. The strategy paid off when I eyed a pair of cows much higher on the ridge, in a small clearing about 200 yards away. They were eyeballing us, but didn't appear to be alarmed.
Dad swung into action, as I wanted Dad to get the first crack at an Elk. He fired and as the smoke cleared, I could see the Elk standing there. She literally hadn't moved a muscle. She had a seemingly non-plussed look on her face. I don't think that she had a clue as to what had happened.
With a muzzleloader, you can't just jack another cartridge from the magazine into the chamber. There isn't a magazine, and there aren't cartridges. You get one shot, and then you have to reload the gun through the muzzle, as was done in the 1700s and 1800s, musket style. It can take a minute to reload.
As he was reloading, the Elk casually sauntered off. I went up the hill to where the Elk had been and looked for any sign that they'd been hit. I found no blood, despite an extensive search. Given that we had found no evidence of a hit, and our observations of them as they left, we concluded that we had a clean miss and moved on. Bummer. That's why they call it hunting, and not killing.
Later in the morning, we once again spotted several Elk high up on the ridge. They were once again standing in a nice clearing. Dad, his rare earlier miss having now faded from memory, got into position.
As Dad gently squeezed the trigger, a 300 grain projectile was sent on it's way. As it left the muzzle, it's protective sabot dropped away. It would now travel to it's destination all alone. The projectile traveled at about 1900 feet per second, thus ensuring that the journey would be a quick one. I had my eye on the Elk and saw it drop in it's tracks, immediately.
What a great feeling that was! Dad quickly reloaded in the event that a follow up shot was necessary. It would not be necessary for Dad to shoot again. We had a dead Elk! We'd soon have a full freezer!
What a beautiful specimen. Our guide estimated that she was about 550 lbs or so. Dad was elated, and I was elated for him. I enjoy seeing my boys and my dad harvest just as much as I enjoy harvesting my own animals, if not more.
We lingered for a while, enjoying the moment. We took a few pics and then field dressed the animal. Dad filled out his tag.
The state of New Mexico has sure got it figured out. All tagging is done electronically. We didn't have to mess around with paper tags or going to a check in station in order to have the animal checked in. Very handy.
Talk about a slick setup. Loading that carcass into the back of the truck by hand would have been a back breaker. As we departed the area, we decided to hunt on the way out of the area, as I still had my tag.
About a half hour later, our guide saw a cow standing in a wooded area. I couldn't see her. It was in an area that had a few trees, so she was standing in the shade. She was at about 200 yards.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I think you got her"!! "It looked like you hit her pretty hard"! The man to my right, with a smile on his face, was our guide Jeremy. He seemed confident that I had harvested the cow. As I hadn't seen anything after the shot, due to the smoke, I didn't know. I was cautiously optimistic, but I'd had a few occasions where the animal had reacted as though it had been hit hard, but wasn't. I'd also had animals that I'd harvested that I was sure I'd missed based on their reactions. Animals are like people. They react differently. One size, does not fit all.
A shadowy clearing near the top of the frame was where the Elk had been standing when I fired. It was an approximately 200 yard shot.
As we approached the area where the Elk had been standing when I fired, we saw no Elk. Well, Crud! We were unable to find any blood. We thoroughly searched the entire area and followed several sets of tracks that went back out into the field on the other side of the ridge. It was definitely a clean miss. I was bummed, but what can you do? I was glad that it was a clean miss.
The day soon came to an end. We returned to town and dropped Dad's Elk off to be skinned and quartered. It had been another incredible day, albeit long and exhausting. We grabbed some dinner and a few beers and talked about the next day, which would be the final day of the hunt. I was hopeful of getting another chance, but it had already been a great hunt, and since Dad had succeeded we'd have plenty of meat!
We awoke the next morning to the coldest weather yet. There were gale force winds and blowing snow. As we were well prepared, the cold didn't bother us at all. We made it to the ranch and began glassing the area as the sun rose.
We spotted a large herd that was quite a ways away. We decided to try to sneak into the area that we felt that they were headed to. We began a long sneak across a wide open grassy expanse. We'd hoped to gain a particular fenceline and follow it down into a fairly deep creekbed. From there we'd hope to sneak close enough to get a shot at where we thought the Elk would cross the fenceline.
As the sneak concluded, we looked and were not able to find the Elk at all. While we had been down in the creekbed, we'd been unable to see them, and in that time they'd seemingly vanished into thin air. Bummer!
We shifted gears and decided to make our way to another part of the ranch. We had one more opportunity, but I'd been unable to ultimately capitalize on it. It seemed as though the heavy winds had kept the animals bedded down and thus we were really not blessed with any great opportunities.
Later on in the day, reluctantly, we went back into town. We picked up Dad's Elk from the processor, and loaded up the rig for the long drive back to Phoenix. Although I was not ultimately able to harvest, the trip had been successful. We had a great time in some beautiful country. The forests and mountains in those parts of Arizona and New Mexico are really something to see! I can't wait to go back and do some hiking and camping in the area. I'd definitely love to go on another Elk hunt as well.
I can't thank my Dad enough for these trips. I'm so grateful that Dad raised me to be an outdoorsman and a hunter. Some of the best times we've ever had have been on our hunting trips! I can't wait for more.
