Sunday
I was working my way toward the top of the drainage I’d slept in when I spotted a bull feeding on the other side of the slope, feeding his way toward the top.
I decided to stay on my side and hopefully parallel him toward the top, although as soon as I started stalking I’d lost sight in the heavy timber. I reached a clearing at the very top of the drainage where the walls went near vertical. I thought this looked like a likely looking spot for him to cross. I gave a couple soft cow calls (lost mew) and within seconds I could hear tree branches being torn from a spruce. I looked up and at 80 yards see the tree being bent back and forth with flashes of antler. Moments later he was heading my way, as he passed behind the last tree I came to full draw. I couldn’t have anticipated him entering the clearing any better. At 40 yards I whistled to stop him and my arrow was off. I seem to have developed a bad habit of loosing my arrow in flight and that happened again. He spun at the shot and ran back in the direction he had came from, although, not very fast. I could see my arrow sticking out of the hillside but couldn’t tell if he’d been hit. After waiting several minutes I went to inspect my arrow, no blood, and the angle it was sticking out of the hillside made me think it was deflected as the bull spun at the shot. Bummer!
Thought I might see Drew today but never did connect. The plan was to try hooking up in the morning; we both carry two-way radios and can occasionally get reception depending on the terrain. I was really trying to find a decent “camp” spot for the night. Big luxurious base camps in wide open meadows seemed like a long lost memory. Since we’ve started bivy hunting most our nights are spent trying to find a spot flat enough we won’t roll down the side of the mountain in the middle of the night. I did find a nice spot to lie down for the night in the middle of a large meadow, that was a nice change of pace.