bguitierez
WKR
I began my first elk hunt to Eastern Oregon 10 months prior to the season opener. It being my 5th year as a hunter, (arrogantly I must admit) I felt I was ready to take the proverbial leap into bow hunting OTC elk. I cannot begin to count the miles hiked, arrows loosed, and even the hours spent listening to every elk hunting podcast I could get my hands on in preparation of this huge task. I have always been physically capable, a decent shot, and halfway intelligent. After all, how hard could it be? Ha-ha. My day dreams were consumed with a myriad of possibilities that were there for the taking. And even after the epic failure this season, I still cannot get the nagging feeling of elk hunting out of my system.
Our hunt was supposed to last 10 days in a desert unit on Oregon's east side. Yet, we lasted 6 days covering almost as many units, before the frustration of not seeing or hearing elk finally took it's toll. I didn't want to leave the unit I spent months researching after our initial 4 hour hunt on opening day, but that's what happened and I had a part to play in it. The tension, lack of patience, and just flat lack of skill drained our spirits.
We started in the desert. Months prior, I had been able to conclude through conversations with BLM biologists that elk (though not many) did inhabit this arid unit covered in sagebrush, juniper, and mahogany. The single biggest draw for me was not the promise of great bull to cow ratios, or favorable harvest statistics. My focal point was that only 37 hunters attempted to harvest an elk in this unit the year prior. Knowing I would not have to share the land with tons of hunters appealed to me. I am a novice caller, and I am still learning elk behavior, so I planned to use the most effective tool I had... My glass and tripod. As we began to get our bearings on the first day, we were able to find water, recent sign, and even adjacent alfalfa fields just outside public land. I was fired up and ready to put the days in, hoping to find good travel routes, and eventually an elk to kill. However, my sentiments were not reciprocated, and after (what I thought) a productive morning we broke camp and headed to the next unit to the north.
It seemed what was dubbed "The elk hunting experience" could not be had in the desert. At least that's what I was being told. A case was made to get to the timber and try our luck calling. I reluctantly complied and we were atop the mountain next morning. As with the first day, we immediately came on recent sign, and like dummies walked straight through an obvious bedding area. I relied heavily on cow calls with sporadic locator bugles, as the biologist all agreed "Oregon elk are call shy". We played around in a nice saddle between two peaks, and though we didn't get any responses, we did stumble on a single elk. As most, if not all rookies do, the situation was botched. My bow was on my pack, and my buddy wasn't able to get eyes on as the elk took off like a lightning bolt. Hiking back to the truck for a quick lunch, it was expressed there were no elk in the spot we were hunting. Though amazed by the observation, it was clear the need to try the canyons in the low country was now the priority. Again faced with the reality we were changing spots for the 3rd time in 2 days, I searched OnX for the most likely areas to find elk.
This time we had enough hours in the day to use that evening to search for good areas in this new spot. Most of the water in this low country was dried up, but man what beautiful country! A few miles in, I noticed some good looking canyons and water from a little over a mile away. I let dude know what I was seeing, and my optimism was met with a skeptical retort. "How are we going to get there before dark?" I didn't know he was being serious. I jokingly responded, "that's what headlamps and tarps are for." Unfortunately that didn't happen. It was clear the 3 or 4 miler was taking its toll, so we headed back to the truck without getting out to really explore the canyons. It wasn't all bad, as we were able to get eyes on some great looking pronghorns and a few mule deer.
Day 3 had us waking up to another new area and a 12 mile morning. Again, I searched OnX feverishly to find good water and possible areas for the elk to hide. By mile 6 it was clear my hunting mentality and his were vastly different. Then again, that was obvious after the first morning. I wanted to keep pushing, but every step was met with some sort of negative comment. I guess I don't do well with negativity, or what Aron Snyder dubs the "Grass Is Greener Than Syndrome." We headed back to the truck, but not before seeing the biggest dam pronghorn I've ever seen (what a treat)! As we got close to the truck, I was advised we either go to unit 46 or we go home. I advocated for us to try a canyon in yet a different unit to the east. He begrudgingly agreed, and we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening getting to another new spot.
Once more, habitat was good, elk sign was plentiful, and our work stood before us. The morning of day 4 had me leading another hike into a canyon filled with fresh water and mahogany. We split up to glass, and I quickly began spotting muleys in the rim rock. I'll be getting a mule deer tag next year. We finished the morning searching the first part of the canyon for elk, sadly not finding any. This canyon was the spot we spent the longest time hunting (well kind of hunting). By that I mean we spent 2 mornings in that canyon. On the second day it seemed a demoralized spirit, accompanied by the lack of physical preparation by the other side was quickly taking its toll. As I approached my partner, I didn't see a tripod. This begged the obvious question of "where's your tripod." I learned the tripod was too heavy and wasn't worth his effort. I decided to ignore the negativity and pushed to the northern end of the canyon. I finally found what was obviously a prime area. The wind was wrong and I didn't want to get any closer. Finally feeling some excitement I hurried back to my buddy to give the promising news! All the wind left my sail when he said, "There's no elk here, we wither go to the timber (Unit 46) or we go home!"
I had no cards left to play. I love the desert, and he must have liked it thick. We arrived in the strawberries that evening. For what would be the last time of this hunt, I searched OnX for more areas. We awoke the next morning and hit some promising draws. Elk sign everywhere, and plenty of land to hunt. We decided to sit a trail for the morning to watch and listen. As the hours ticked away the contention between us was obvious. I had failed to produce any favorable results for my partner, and in turn the hunt was more of a long awkward first date that seemed to never end. The failure wasn't his fault, it was mine. I realized in that moment watching him sit in a thicket next to me, that I just couldn't adapt to his style of hunting, and he was not going to get on board with me. We were not a match, this was a kick in the nuts. He's an awesome dude, but we just don't mix well when it comes to hunting. I wish I could have done more. At this point we had 4 more days to go. But it was clear the time had come. We agreed to come home early, licking our wounds, and feeling a total loss of pride.
Months of preparation and thousands of dollars spent, we did not have a single opportunity. I don't regret the attempt at pursuing elk. I loved every minute of blood sweat and tears leading up to the hunt. I learned many valuable lessons about hunting, life, and myself. While I am not sure what my buddy is doing these days, I wish him well and hope he finds success in the future. I am certain of one thing. I will be returning to Oregon with my bow next September. This time solo with one goal in mind. Kill an elk. As I said, I still can't shake the feeling.
Our hunt was supposed to last 10 days in a desert unit on Oregon's east side. Yet, we lasted 6 days covering almost as many units, before the frustration of not seeing or hearing elk finally took it's toll. I didn't want to leave the unit I spent months researching after our initial 4 hour hunt on opening day, but that's what happened and I had a part to play in it. The tension, lack of patience, and just flat lack of skill drained our spirits.
We started in the desert. Months prior, I had been able to conclude through conversations with BLM biologists that elk (though not many) did inhabit this arid unit covered in sagebrush, juniper, and mahogany. The single biggest draw for me was not the promise of great bull to cow ratios, or favorable harvest statistics. My focal point was that only 37 hunters attempted to harvest an elk in this unit the year prior. Knowing I would not have to share the land with tons of hunters appealed to me. I am a novice caller, and I am still learning elk behavior, so I planned to use the most effective tool I had... My glass and tripod. As we began to get our bearings on the first day, we were able to find water, recent sign, and even adjacent alfalfa fields just outside public land. I was fired up and ready to put the days in, hoping to find good travel routes, and eventually an elk to kill. However, my sentiments were not reciprocated, and after (what I thought) a productive morning we broke camp and headed to the next unit to the north.
It seemed what was dubbed "The elk hunting experience" could not be had in the desert. At least that's what I was being told. A case was made to get to the timber and try our luck calling. I reluctantly complied and we were atop the mountain next morning. As with the first day, we immediately came on recent sign, and like dummies walked straight through an obvious bedding area. I relied heavily on cow calls with sporadic locator bugles, as the biologist all agreed "Oregon elk are call shy". We played around in a nice saddle between two peaks, and though we didn't get any responses, we did stumble on a single elk. As most, if not all rookies do, the situation was botched. My bow was on my pack, and my buddy wasn't able to get eyes on as the elk took off like a lightning bolt. Hiking back to the truck for a quick lunch, it was expressed there were no elk in the spot we were hunting. Though amazed by the observation, it was clear the need to try the canyons in the low country was now the priority. Again faced with the reality we were changing spots for the 3rd time in 2 days, I searched OnX for the most likely areas to find elk.
This time we had enough hours in the day to use that evening to search for good areas in this new spot. Most of the water in this low country was dried up, but man what beautiful country! A few miles in, I noticed some good looking canyons and water from a little over a mile away. I let dude know what I was seeing, and my optimism was met with a skeptical retort. "How are we going to get there before dark?" I didn't know he was being serious. I jokingly responded, "that's what headlamps and tarps are for." Unfortunately that didn't happen. It was clear the 3 or 4 miler was taking its toll, so we headed back to the truck without getting out to really explore the canyons. It wasn't all bad, as we were able to get eyes on some great looking pronghorns and a few mule deer.
Day 3 had us waking up to another new area and a 12 mile morning. Again, I searched OnX feverishly to find good water and possible areas for the elk to hide. By mile 6 it was clear my hunting mentality and his were vastly different. Then again, that was obvious after the first morning. I wanted to keep pushing, but every step was met with some sort of negative comment. I guess I don't do well with negativity, or what Aron Snyder dubs the "Grass Is Greener Than Syndrome." We headed back to the truck, but not before seeing the biggest dam pronghorn I've ever seen (what a treat)! As we got close to the truck, I was advised we either go to unit 46 or we go home. I advocated for us to try a canyon in yet a different unit to the east. He begrudgingly agreed, and we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening getting to another new spot.
Once more, habitat was good, elk sign was plentiful, and our work stood before us. The morning of day 4 had me leading another hike into a canyon filled with fresh water and mahogany. We split up to glass, and I quickly began spotting muleys in the rim rock. I'll be getting a mule deer tag next year. We finished the morning searching the first part of the canyon for elk, sadly not finding any. This canyon was the spot we spent the longest time hunting (well kind of hunting). By that I mean we spent 2 mornings in that canyon. On the second day it seemed a demoralized spirit, accompanied by the lack of physical preparation by the other side was quickly taking its toll. As I approached my partner, I didn't see a tripod. This begged the obvious question of "where's your tripod." I learned the tripod was too heavy and wasn't worth his effort. I decided to ignore the negativity and pushed to the northern end of the canyon. I finally found what was obviously a prime area. The wind was wrong and I didn't want to get any closer. Finally feeling some excitement I hurried back to my buddy to give the promising news! All the wind left my sail when he said, "There's no elk here, we wither go to the timber (Unit 46) or we go home!"
I had no cards left to play. I love the desert, and he must have liked it thick. We arrived in the strawberries that evening. For what would be the last time of this hunt, I searched OnX for more areas. We awoke the next morning and hit some promising draws. Elk sign everywhere, and plenty of land to hunt. We decided to sit a trail for the morning to watch and listen. As the hours ticked away the contention between us was obvious. I had failed to produce any favorable results for my partner, and in turn the hunt was more of a long awkward first date that seemed to never end. The failure wasn't his fault, it was mine. I realized in that moment watching him sit in a thicket next to me, that I just couldn't adapt to his style of hunting, and he was not going to get on board with me. We were not a match, this was a kick in the nuts. He's an awesome dude, but we just don't mix well when it comes to hunting. I wish I could have done more. At this point we had 4 more days to go. But it was clear the time had come. We agreed to come home early, licking our wounds, and feeling a total loss of pride.
Months of preparation and thousands of dollars spent, we did not have a single opportunity. I don't regret the attempt at pursuing elk. I loved every minute of blood sweat and tears leading up to the hunt. I learned many valuable lessons about hunting, life, and myself. While I am not sure what my buddy is doing these days, I wish him well and hope he finds success in the future. I am certain of one thing. I will be returning to Oregon with my bow next September. This time solo with one goal in mind. Kill an elk. As I said, I still can't shake the feeling.
