Innholdsfortegnelse for October 2021 i Bowhunter

I was already on my knees, so all I could do to get closer to the earth and give thanks was lie face down in the grass. It was cool on my face. I needed that. Sweat trickled across my pounding temples as I whispered to no one in particular, “I can’t believe that just happened.” Tense muscles began to relax, and my heart rate slowed. An amalgam of euphoria and relief coursed through my brain as my ears strained to hear a sound I’ve come to know well — that of a bull elk crashing to the same earth I was now embracing. My mind flashed back to the first time this same scenario played out. It was 1985, Day One of my third bow-hunt for elk, and I’d…

I SPOTTED A BUNCH OF PIGS, SO I CROUCHED AND SLITHERED along the edge of the dirt road while using the 18-inch-high grass as cover. I made sure the hogs were busy grazing on grass or rooting for worms and acorns before I moved forward. A coal-black boar lunged toward the other pigs, thrusting razor-sharp tusks upward into their sides and scattering the now squealing target pigs. On hands and knees, I slowly crawled closer, only moving when the pigs’ heads were down, or their bodies were turned away from me. After 10 minutes, three pigs entered the road. Two crossed and went up a hillside trail, but a young 40-pounder turned and trotted directly toward me. When he was within two yards, he stopped, looked up at me, made…

THE BIG WHITETAIL was cruising across a freshly cut soybean field roughly 100 yards away when I first spotted him. I could tell right off from his demeanor that the rutting deer wasn’t on the trail of a hot doe. The buck had his head up, and he was moving along in that familiar “search walk” that’s so common to a whitetail on the prod. Earlier that morning, I’d put up a buck decoy approximately 20 yards straight out in front of a large oak where my treestand was placed. Judging by the behavior the trophy deer was displaying, I figured it was a cinch that he’d come in to challenge the decoy once he saw it. Fortunately, the slight breeze that was blowing was coming almost directly from the…

WE WATCHED the large herd of elk on the alfalfa field as the sun graced the landscape. It was my last morning to hunt, and we hoped the elk might retreat from the private field toward an area we could hunt. The elk slowly filtered off the lush fields, but they were going the wrong direction. We were about to give up hope when rifle shots rang out from the field, sending the elk running! I had big plans for the spring of 2020, with an Alaska black bear hunt and a trip to Texas for exotics. Like the rest of the world, my well-laid plans imploded. I didn’t apply for any of the early draws for Western hunts, because I thought I would be short on leave from work.…

SIMPLY AWESOME! Dear Bowhunter , Your August/Big Game Special issue never ceases to blow me away, and this year’s was nothing short of astounding. Pedro De Ampuero’s article, “Beyond Your Limits,” stuck out in particular (much like other articles from him in past August issues). For starters, his photographs are beyond words. I’m not too shabby with a camera, but good grief… my stuff is nothing compared to his. Second, I know some hardcore, adventure bowhunters, but what Pedro did on that particular hunt not only to put himself in position to get a shot but then to recover his chamois? All I can say is, “Wow! I’m not worthy…” He’s either not married, or his wife is the most understanding woman on the planet! Great job, Pedro, and the…

It was shortly after daylight when I found the track. I had already been hunting the Wyoming wilderness for five days, tramping across the frozen October ter rain in search of what I had finally just discovered It was the huge, boxy hoof-print of a mega bison bull. I pulled out my pocket tape to confirm what I al ready knew. The track was just over six inches wide; the edges still not melted in the skiff of snow that had fallen during the night. The wild, free ranging bison is one of my all time favorite North American animals. Unlike “farm buffalo” some times harvested on large private spreads or smaller high fence operations, a truly fair chase bison recognized as such by the Pope and Young Club is…

ALTHOUGH COLORADO feels like home, since I have lived there the past 34 years, I actually grew up in northern Florida, where I hunted whitetails, hogs, Osceola turkeys, and myriad small game. I also enjoyed catching fish in the brown, tannic stained rivers like the Suwanee and the Santa Fe. Florida also had, and still does have, a lot of great bowfishing opportunities, and I spent many a day in my youth bowfishing for sharks, stingrays, gar, and tilapia. One of my jobs as a young man was working at Bear Archery. They had moved from Grayling, Michigan, to Gainesville, Florida. I worked there in the pro shop and Fred Bear Museum under Frank Scott, who helped fuel the passion I already had for bowhunting. As a kid, I learned…

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The loss of a best friend is never easy, but memories of shared camps and unforgettable hunts live on with the hope that our trails will cross again one day. early MORNING DECEMBER SUNLIGHT glinting on moving antlers snags my attention. A handsome wide and tall tined eight pointer, with curving beams and tips that nearly touch, is just stepping into view atop the wooded rise that slopes gently into the brushy creekbottom timber behind me. The big deer pauses on a well tracked game trail that winds its way within 20 yards of my portable pop up camo blind. And, after scant seconds of surveying his sur roundings, the buck begins slowly picking his way toward where I wait. But I don’t bother reaching for my bow. I’d already…

“Things won are done, Joy’s soul lies in the doing.”— William Shakespeare EDITOR’S NOTE: Sometimes the best way to celebrate where you are by taking another look at where you been. So, n that n, we bring you this absolute classic piece f writing from ur longtime Contributor and current The Quest Columnist Randy Ulmer. We hope you njoy it as much now as we did 15 years ago. THIS HUNT, ALTHOUGH just beginning, has a history. Two years earlier, while hunting elk in Nevada, I found a world-class typical mule deer. This type of discovery is most precious, and is not to be shared without careful consideration. Thus, I entrusted this information to only one person I deemed worthy — my longtime hunting companion, Greg Krogh. Since neither of…

THE SOUND OF MY BROADHEAD sliding along the whetstone brought a familiar anticipation to the upcoming hunt. Although I had performed this pre-hunt ritual thousands of times over the past five decades, I felt the same youthful exhilaration I had known as a young teenager sharpening broadheads in preparation for my first whitetail hunt. The Snuffer held a special place in my heart, as it was one of a set given to me by its maker and one of the all-time whitetail-hunting legends, Roger Rothhaar. Having looked forward to this hunt for two years, my intentions were to spend two to three weeks hunting public land in Roger’s old stomping grounds. I planned to hunt prior to, during, and after the peak rut. Hopefully, an opportunity would present itself at…

The blazing Texas sun was finally dipping in the west, creating a kaleidoscope of orange and red and yellow as it neared the horizon. Another day was slowly coming to a close, and unfortunately my hunt with it, as this was the last day of a week of chasing hogs on the Martin Family Ranch near Mason. The trip had been a good one, with great camaraderie, awesome scenery, and lots of close encounters, but I had yet to ease my longbow to full draw on one of the ranch’s many wild pigs. I was sitting on a folding stool in the middle of a hollowed-out clump of Texas brush, a task that I performed very carefully earlier in the week since seemingly everything in this state is intent on…

QUESTION I’m really getting into bowhunting, but I’m a loner. From both a physical and mental perspective, how do you deal with hunting wild places alone, and how do you get used to being in the woods in the dark? Cliff W., via e-mail ANSWER I get asked this question often. What has helped me when hunting solo is my early experience backpack bow-hunting in the Western states. Back then, I ventured out to Colorado to hunt elk and deer. When I finally arrowed my first elk, a 4x4 bull, on a remote backpack hunt, I proved to myself that I could do it. It was during these early excursions and first backpack hunts that I built a basic framework of knowledge, experience, and self-confidence, that still gets me through…