Bachelor Canyon

Bachelor Canyon

Antlerless Elk (Depredation) Hunt

Moscow, ID

2006

… “there’s some property to the north, out at the end of a dead end road. There’s a bachelor who lives out there, in a single-wide.”

We found the road, and sure enough, at the end of the road a single-wide, and with a knock on the door, we met the bachelor. We let him know what we were doing – we were looking for elk. He immediately let us know what he knew, and about how one of the guys saw the elk out in the grass field, shot, missed, (cussed) and left, adjusted zero on his gun – it got bumped or something – and came back, … and shot the elk. “As he was gutting out the elk, a “f-g” deer ran by and he shot the deer, also.” The way the bachelor told the story I think I started to fall in love with him, or at least the story, or perhaps the place.

We proceeded to the canyon, about a half mile beyond. We crossed bluegrass fields, and then plowed wheat. We found an elk leg or two, and then a deer leg, about where the bachelor said the carnage took place. The elk legs were huge – must have been a “5 by 5 antlerless.”

The hills and the canyons of the Potlatch River and Palouse are amazing. Gently rolling hills, rich for dry land farming, bounded by steep, deep, and sometimes dark, foreboding canyons. Canyons that on one side that might have cheat grass, star thistle, and rocks … and on the other … dark cedar groves, or broken pines, or dense firs, and almost a constant undergrowth of all kinds of thorn bushes, and cliffs and rocks. And for elk and deer – heaven. The canyons and woods provide safe haven, while the fields provide all variety of groceries – winter wheat and bluegrass in the winter, and as the year drags on - peas, lentils, garbanzos, to the frustration of farmers trying to make a living off the same. It was at the edge of such a canyon, and some times in, that we spent mornings and evenings of the next several weeks looking for elk, and exploring.

Each trip we explored a little farther on top, or deeper down in, in what became called (by us) Bachelor Canyon. We chatted more with the bachelor, and saw so many deer that I had to ask IFG if there were anymore depredation deer tags. But there wasn’t much elk sign. The elk had moved east, and were bunched up on some property we couldn’t hunt. So we explored. I knew at some point the elk would be back.

As the days and weeks passed we noted some great spots to hunt deer, and also noted a good turkey spot on the other side. Then, just at dusk, at the end of a hunt, I saw an elk. She was moving fast. We didn’t have much time. I headed south in what I thought might be a blocking movement. I told Dave to wait a minute, and follow. But Dave didn’t follow. He motioned me back. He had spotted three more. Range – 650 yards – too far. Daylight was fleeing. I decided to try and close the distance. The elk were downwind, acting spooky. Before they disappeared – a dozen or so had appeared, and then vanished toward the canyon.

I led us along the knolls toward the part of the canyon the elk had perhaps re-entered … subconsciously hoping our scent would block their retreat into the main canyon. Right at dark, at the last knoll, they busted around to the south. It had worked.

Elk hunting is amazing. One hunts for days and days – nothing. Then, without warning, there are too many to choose from. I had to pick an animal that did not have one lined up behind, should my bullet go through one and strike another … in what seemed to take a mini-eternity I picked an `antlerless’ in the running herd, shot, and clean missed. Dave made a cow call, and one turned around and stopped. I shot. The sound of a good impact came back, and the elk took off running, with the one I shot (at?) now at the end of the herd. I expected her to fall at any instant.

But she didn’t.

We watched them travel over a half mile over burned grass and plowed field. At a thousand yards plus, one elk broke off and headed slow to the north. We assumed it was the one I “shot”, and expected her to expire. But she didn’t, and disappeared.

We called home and said we had one hit, and would be a while. I figured we would either find the elk out in the field, or a blood trail leading into the canyon…but nothing, NOTHING!

We found their tracks, we found where three split off, we found fresh shed hair. We found weird stuff, unrelated to elk. But we didn’t find elk, or even any solid evidence one was even hit. After five hours in the fields, along the rim, and even dropping down into the canyon itself …nothing. And as we looked by flashlight and a sliver moon, about where the lone elk went into the canyon, a big, dark form came out of the canyon main, and followed in the direction of the main herd…the lone elk? A big deer?

I came back the next morning and I found where they came out of the canyon and where I had shot from; I found tracks, my spent shell castings; I found my hat (which I had lost); I found and followed their thousands of tracks for the thousand yards of their exit; I found where they entered the draw to the east…but not an elk. I had to face the possibility - maybe I missed that elk.

I guess I had to face the possibility that I'm not the shot I think I am. Indeed the only thing suggesting that I hit the elk was the sound of what `sounded' like bullet hitting body. There was a lot of mud around – did we hear the bullet impact mud?

But indeed if I had not spilled blood – they would soon return.

An old friend called and wanted to get together for lunch. In an active hunting season I don’t believe in going to lunch – I believe in going hunting, so I said I had an elk tag – let’s catch up while we look for elk. On the drive out we saw several groups of elk in an area that wasn’t open …but a good sign nonetheless … they were out and moving. I had re-zeroed my rifle in the morning – just to be sure. This time I would shoot the 30-06, with 180 grain slugs … more firepower.

We parked at the bachelor’s. I took us around a hill to see if we could diminish the range to where I anticipated the elk would come out, if they decided to show. We saw the usual hundred or so deer. With daylight beginning to flee, I told my friend Vaughn that they would appear any minute.

Then I saw it … a sliver of the light yellow-tan rump patch of an elk moving up through the broken timber of the draw leading out of the main canyon. I moved forward, got prone, ranged. Now two elk had come up into the grass. Still over six hundred yards, … too far. Ugh! I had to get closer. Shielded (hopefully) by trees, I closed the distance.

I got to the edge of the draw. Daylight was vanishing fast. I could not find them. Probably they had seen me crossing the field. I quickly walked the rim of the draw, hoping I would see elk crossing this way or that. Nothing. Nothing up on the grass. With only five minutes left of legal daylight I decided to cross the ravine and get to the side where I saw the elk. One thing I have learned is that you at least have to try.

I was somewhat noisy in my hurried entry of the timber, and two-thirds of the way up the other side I got caught in a thorn bush. I felt like I was captured by the tentacles of the villain in Spiderman 2, but not only were torso and limbs caught fast, any movement also tore fabric or flesh. Almost in a panic I tore free…spending too many precious seconds with the bush.

Just below the top of the ravine I stopped to catch my breath – something my dad taught me, `just in case’. Indeed, I had follow-up learned (supposedly) that if you do go on over without catching your breath, and if there is anything – it’s too late (to catch your breath). So I waited just a bit, but only a bit, … or, one could argue, not enough, … as I was literally in the last minute of legal shooting.

I popped up to come out of the draw, and found myself broadside to a whole herd of elk, 75 yards, on the horizon, just coming out of the main canyon into the bluegrass. I slipped and struggled to get prone with my gun barrel above the ground. I was basically still in the draw, except for head, gun, and parts of shoulders, and arms - which a few elk noticed, but assumed to be non-hostile. I picked a beautiful “antlerless” – looking right at me – and squeezed for a head shot. – I figured all-or-nothing…and at the shot – indeed nothing. Either my gun was off (maybe), or I hadn’t caught my breath enough (probably)… it was a clean miss.

At the shot most of the elk somewhat bolted, except for one or two. Discarding the head-shot idea, I decided to get serious. I picked an elk broadside to me, put the crosshairs square center behind the shoulder, and squeezed. A miss by ten inches in any direction would kill an elk. At the shot she bolted, and slightly crouched followed the other elk over the knoll. Doubtful she knew it – but she was a `dead elk running’.

I found my way back to my buddy Vaughn (Vonner). He had watched the whole ordeal from a half-mile afar. He asked me how I had missed. I said – “Oh, but I didn’t – I think I have an elk over there.” Vaughn said he didn’t see one fall. But he did say they got to the top the hill and milled around a bit. I didn’t say anything, but I suspected that they stopped where my animal expired, then they moved on.

We grabbed two packs from the rig, complete with flashlights, knives, gamebags, phone, and headed out into the increasing dark. We got to where I had shot and I broke out the flashlights. We headed up the knoll ten or so yards apart, to look for blood. We crossed the top of the knoll. In the diminished light, sixty yards ahead, I could see a downed elk. I called for Vaughn’s light – and got ready with my rifle, just in case.

What a beautiful creature, and what an occasion to thank God with loud shouts and praise. I called home and reported we were standing over an elk, and would `be a while’.

I proceeded to skin the elk and take off meat. We had a half-mile haul ahead of us. The elk must be getting ready to shed, as I could pull clumps of hair off her, to bare skin. She had a few burs in her neck fur – so they, too, suffered from `the fall’.

We looked over to the bachelor’s place – there was a flashlight “looking” this way and that – no doubt the bachelor – a bit worried about us, our rig still in his driveway, and so late – so we flashed lights back. I didn’t want the bachelor to worry.

In a minute Vaughn said he could hear a four-wheeler. I kept working – partly dismissing it. Then I heard it. He was coming our way. This would be SO good. I worked a bit more, but also realized a huge blessing was unfolding … It was the bachelor. He said arrived, saw us with the elk, and said he’d go back and get his trailer – we’d load the elk on the trailer, and drive it back to his place at the end of the road …SO GOOD!

So we tidied up our operation, collecting our stuff. I put my rifle on my (orange) pack so he wouldn’t drive up in the dark and run over it, but he did anyway, as Vaughn and I watched. Inwardly I just smiled…the tires on the four-wheeler were wide, the ground a bit soft – and I now had months before I would need it (my rifle) again. I had my elk – and plenty of months to fix it – if it even needs fixed. But definitely I would at least clean and check it.

We loaded up the elk and took it to over to his lighted driveway. The bachelor didn’t have anything else going on – so he held flashlight while I finished taking the meat off the animal -Vaughn helping with a pull of hide here and there and advisement on muscle groups. The bachelor talked on and on as we worked. Nearly every third word was a “d-mn” or a “f—k” as he talked of past hunts, events in the canyon … but despite colored language (or maybe even because of it), I somehow loved it.

I was a bit afraid to report that the elk in his trailer had not been `gutted’. The way we handle game is to de-meat the frame, without ever even spilling the guts or opening the stomach cavity. I would need the bachelor to take us back when finished. At the end I think the bachelor was a bit impressed with our method. In his flatbed trailer was a meatless elk. We had also not spilled a drop of guts, or other insides. We had clean meat, and only meat, for the take-home. I had even carefully taken the tenderloins (inside the stomach cavity). Since the intent of the hunt is to (theoretically) deter elk from getting into the fields, the bachelor and I took the half mile journey back over to the edge of the canyon, about where the elk appeared, dragged her off the trailer and rolled her over the rim, and left her there as a `message’ to the other elk. It would work for a while.

It was a wonderful evening. While we worked the cold wind stopped, and the approaching clouds retreated. When finished we shook hands and said good-bye, and then exchanged several more rounds of handshakes and farewells. The bachelor told us to come back in the fall.

As we got in my truck the cold wind resumed, and we headed out into the dark, toward civilization. I had fallen in love with the bachelor, and Bachelor Canyon.