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After taking a nice cow during the last week of October, I thought I was done with elk for 2023. During Thanksgiving dinner at my neighbor’s, though, the conversation got around to elk, and when I said I was done for the year because our freezers are full, even though I still hadn't filled my general elk license, my neighbor's father-in-law Steve said he'd be glad to have some meat. Steve was a hired cowboy for most of his life, and because he has a bum knee that complicates work and hunting and is trying to survive and support his wife on a hired cowboy's retirement plan, I'm glad to help out. Besides, last year I bought my first sidelock - a .50 Renegade - so that I can hunt during Montana's Heritage Muzzleloader season (12/9 – 12/17, sidelocks, loose powder, iron sights, plain lead bullets with no skirts or gas checks or sabots, etc), and I have yet to bring anything home with it.
After talking it over with Tina, I decided to spend a week tuning up the Renegade with the Hornady Great Plains bullets I have on hand, and then hunt for a few days. I'd intended to tune up the Renegade last spring, but had to spend most of 2023 getting our remaining WA property on the market and replacing it with MT rental property. Most of January through July was spent on upgrades and renovations back in WA. So pre-season shooting focused on getting what I have on hand to work, and I deeply appreciate everybody’s advice.
You can only kill one elk in the hunting district I live in, even if you have both a general elk license and the drawing-only antlerless license that I filled in October. So I'd have to find new places and do all of my hunting in unfamiliar districts. This years’ weather made it even more challenging. During the last week of October we got 18 inches of snow in 3 days, and temps plunged to the teens and single digits. That was enough to bring the elk down to their winter ranges a month early. Then it warmed up, the snow melted, and some elk returned to their summer ranges. It's been warm ever since, and the elk are scattered out. I'm hearing that the statewide harvest is down by around 40%, despite good numbers going into the seasons.
There's a pretty good elk district south of Helena, so I located some private land that's open to the public, and provides access to thousands of acres of public land. I spent an entire day hunting there once the Heritage ML season started. It’s beautiful country that looks like great elk habitat, but the elk simply weren't there. I climbed a little over two thousand vertical feet up one canyon, investigated the tops of three other canyons, and walked out down a fourth canyon, but couldn't find anything more promising than a few old dropping piles. Late in the afternoon, I had a forkhorn mulie broadside at 80 yards, but just didn't feel like spending the next day packing him 2000 vertical feet down to the truck.
One of Montana's best elk districts is east of Helena, so I spent a day poring over satellite images and maps of terrain, land ownership, and private land that allows public access to locate hunting spots there. I zeroed in on a range of hills that's about half public and half private, with the public land completely off-limits to motorized vehicles except for a road along one edge. There’s a long canyon that leads into the hills from the public road, but all other foot or horse access is uber-steep and brushy or blocked by private land, and the area isn't big enough to attract horse packers. Because the biggest part of finding elk is getting into places that most other hunters don't - too high or too steep or too much walking, too thick with tangles of blown-down timber, most public access blocked by private land, obstacles like rivers or cliffs, and above all no motorized access - I decided to give these hills a try.
A mile and around a thousand steep vertical feet above the truck on the east side of the main canyon, I started seeing deer, and finding elk tracks, droppings, and rubs. I followed fresh tracks into some heavy timber at the top of a draw. Because the tracks were big, and were left by a single animal, it was probably a bull. The unmistakable odor of nearby elk hit me in the face in some fir sapling thickets scattered among older trees. I went into full-blown sneak mode, just as though I was hunting with my recurve, but the elk apparently caught my scent in the swirling breezes and snuck away without giving me a look. He'd bedded in a sapling thicket - and steam was still rising from the melted snow in his bed. Close, but no banana. I spent the rest of the day still-hunting the east edge of the main canyon, and glassing the draws and finger ridges on the west side. No further deer or elk action, but I did walk up on a sleeping coyote, and enjoyed watching him jump out of his bed, give me a horrified look, and hightail it out of there.
The next day I hunted the west side of the main canyon. A mile in and a thousand feet above the truck, I started seeing herds of does and finding elk sign again. A little before noon I was working my way through blow-downs and fir thickets along the steep, heavily timbered north-facing slope of the ridge, maybe 100 vertical feet below the top, when I spotted a patch of elk hide ahead and well above me, just about as far away as I could see through the timber. I found antlers with my binos, and concluded that the elk was a big 5x5 feeding among the fir thickets. Every time I moved a little to get a better look and maybe find some kind of rest or at least a shooting position other than a really awkward uphill offhand shot, something blocked my line of sight. At one point the elk apparently turned a bit and I could identify his shoulder. I was tempted to shoot, but couldn't tell which way he was quartering, couldn’t find a rest or a good shooting position, and couldn't keep my rifle steady enough offhand. After a few minutes of this, I decided to forego the shot and work my way a little closer.
In the next half hour I got about 30 yards closer and higher on the ridge, moving a step or two at a time, then pausing to relocate the elk through new sight lanes in the timber. Then I realized that there were actually two bulls, with the second being a small 2x3 maybe 30 yards beyond the 5x5. In another 20 minutes I was close enough to the 5x5 to keep him in sight full time, but his body was screened by a thicket of fir saplings, and I still couldn’t find a decent shooting position. So I slowed down even more, and moved a little higher on the steep slope. The 5x5 changed direction and started grazing towards me and out from behind the fir saplings, but just as he entered a clear shooting lane, a treacherous breeze on the back of my neck told me that it was not to be. I got ready to shoot in hope that the bull would hesitate and offer a shot upon catching my scent, but elk and deer trust their noses more than anything else, and both bulls suddenly whirled and ran without hesitation, or offering any kind of shot. VERY close, but still no banana!
I spent the rest of the afternoon still-hunting farther up the ridge, doing some scouting after I reached the top, and wondering if I should have taken the shot at the bull’s shoulder. I still wonder a little, but wounding and losing any animal is a truly rotten feeling, even when it isn't a magnificent elk. So I can't think of anything I should have done differently, and I'm glad the bull lived to be hunted another day instead taking my bullet in his belly and getting away from me – only to be eaten alive by coyotes and ravens.
On the last day of the season I hunted up the east ridge of the main canyon, scouted the tops of three canyons that are blocked at the bottom by private land, and then crossed over to the west ridge and still-hunted down it. Lots of elk droppings in all the places where I expected them, but most of the snow had melted, so it was hard to tell when elk were last there. Late in the afternoon I started down a finger ridge towards the bottom of the main canyon to see if it’s possible to pack an elk out along the bottom, and hoping to find water. A couple of hundred yards down from the top a grouse sailed past about 40 yards to my right. A moment later the bull that probably flushed it appeared in the timber, spotted me just as I saw him, and sprinted away before I could even get my rifle unslung. All I could do was chuckle: Close AGAIN, but still no banana. In failing light I still-hunted down the rest of the finger ridge to the bottom of the main canyon without seeing anything except squirrels. Below that finger ridge, anyway, the bottom of the main canyon is narrow with steep sides, some of which are cliffs, but there's a small creek, and the narrow bottom is mostly flat, grassy, heavily shaded, and free of the boulders, brush, and deadfalls which usually hinder canyon bottom movement.
Walking back to the truck along the main canyon bottom, it dawned on me that this range of hills is among the best elk hunting spots I've found in 34 years of hunting in six states. No, it's not a wild alpine basin deep in the wilderness north of Taos, or an untouched drainage in Hell’s Canyon. Unless I find money to hire outfitters with horses, my time for hunting elk in those places has passed. But these hills are perfect for hunting and packing meat, and at the very END of the season I had FOUR close encounters with bulls in just three days! That’s as well as I’ve done anywhere, and the sign tells me that in most years, there are lots of cows around too. It would’ve been nice to bring meat home for Steve, and antlers for Tina’s wall, but at least I didn't wound and lose one, and encounters with elk that DON'T end in gut piles can be more memorable than encounters that do. For me, memories and feelings are more important than antlers or meat, and getting to know a great new hunting place is the greatest reward of all.
After talking it over with Tina, I decided to spend a week tuning up the Renegade with the Hornady Great Plains bullets I have on hand, and then hunt for a few days. I'd intended to tune up the Renegade last spring, but had to spend most of 2023 getting our remaining WA property on the market and replacing it with MT rental property. Most of January through July was spent on upgrades and renovations back in WA. So pre-season shooting focused on getting what I have on hand to work, and I deeply appreciate everybody’s advice.
You can only kill one elk in the hunting district I live in, even if you have both a general elk license and the drawing-only antlerless license that I filled in October. So I'd have to find new places and do all of my hunting in unfamiliar districts. This years’ weather made it even more challenging. During the last week of October we got 18 inches of snow in 3 days, and temps plunged to the teens and single digits. That was enough to bring the elk down to their winter ranges a month early. Then it warmed up, the snow melted, and some elk returned to their summer ranges. It's been warm ever since, and the elk are scattered out. I'm hearing that the statewide harvest is down by around 40%, despite good numbers going into the seasons.
There's a pretty good elk district south of Helena, so I located some private land that's open to the public, and provides access to thousands of acres of public land. I spent an entire day hunting there once the Heritage ML season started. It’s beautiful country that looks like great elk habitat, but the elk simply weren't there. I climbed a little over two thousand vertical feet up one canyon, investigated the tops of three other canyons, and walked out down a fourth canyon, but couldn't find anything more promising than a few old dropping piles. Late in the afternoon, I had a forkhorn mulie broadside at 80 yards, but just didn't feel like spending the next day packing him 2000 vertical feet down to the truck.
One of Montana's best elk districts is east of Helena, so I spent a day poring over satellite images and maps of terrain, land ownership, and private land that allows public access to locate hunting spots there. I zeroed in on a range of hills that's about half public and half private, with the public land completely off-limits to motorized vehicles except for a road along one edge. There’s a long canyon that leads into the hills from the public road, but all other foot or horse access is uber-steep and brushy or blocked by private land, and the area isn't big enough to attract horse packers. Because the biggest part of finding elk is getting into places that most other hunters don't - too high or too steep or too much walking, too thick with tangles of blown-down timber, most public access blocked by private land, obstacles like rivers or cliffs, and above all no motorized access - I decided to give these hills a try.
A mile and around a thousand steep vertical feet above the truck on the east side of the main canyon, I started seeing deer, and finding elk tracks, droppings, and rubs. I followed fresh tracks into some heavy timber at the top of a draw. Because the tracks were big, and were left by a single animal, it was probably a bull. The unmistakable odor of nearby elk hit me in the face in some fir sapling thickets scattered among older trees. I went into full-blown sneak mode, just as though I was hunting with my recurve, but the elk apparently caught my scent in the swirling breezes and snuck away without giving me a look. He'd bedded in a sapling thicket - and steam was still rising from the melted snow in his bed. Close, but no banana. I spent the rest of the day still-hunting the east edge of the main canyon, and glassing the draws and finger ridges on the west side. No further deer or elk action, but I did walk up on a sleeping coyote, and enjoyed watching him jump out of his bed, give me a horrified look, and hightail it out of there.
The next day I hunted the west side of the main canyon. A mile in and a thousand feet above the truck, I started seeing herds of does and finding elk sign again. A little before noon I was working my way through blow-downs and fir thickets along the steep, heavily timbered north-facing slope of the ridge, maybe 100 vertical feet below the top, when I spotted a patch of elk hide ahead and well above me, just about as far away as I could see through the timber. I found antlers with my binos, and concluded that the elk was a big 5x5 feeding among the fir thickets. Every time I moved a little to get a better look and maybe find some kind of rest or at least a shooting position other than a really awkward uphill offhand shot, something blocked my line of sight. At one point the elk apparently turned a bit and I could identify his shoulder. I was tempted to shoot, but couldn't tell which way he was quartering, couldn’t find a rest or a good shooting position, and couldn't keep my rifle steady enough offhand. After a few minutes of this, I decided to forego the shot and work my way a little closer.
In the next half hour I got about 30 yards closer and higher on the ridge, moving a step or two at a time, then pausing to relocate the elk through new sight lanes in the timber. Then I realized that there were actually two bulls, with the second being a small 2x3 maybe 30 yards beyond the 5x5. In another 20 minutes I was close enough to the 5x5 to keep him in sight full time, but his body was screened by a thicket of fir saplings, and I still couldn’t find a decent shooting position. So I slowed down even more, and moved a little higher on the steep slope. The 5x5 changed direction and started grazing towards me and out from behind the fir saplings, but just as he entered a clear shooting lane, a treacherous breeze on the back of my neck told me that it was not to be. I got ready to shoot in hope that the bull would hesitate and offer a shot upon catching my scent, but elk and deer trust their noses more than anything else, and both bulls suddenly whirled and ran without hesitation, or offering any kind of shot. VERY close, but still no banana!
I spent the rest of the afternoon still-hunting farther up the ridge, doing some scouting after I reached the top, and wondering if I should have taken the shot at the bull’s shoulder. I still wonder a little, but wounding and losing any animal is a truly rotten feeling, even when it isn't a magnificent elk. So I can't think of anything I should have done differently, and I'm glad the bull lived to be hunted another day instead taking my bullet in his belly and getting away from me – only to be eaten alive by coyotes and ravens.
On the last day of the season I hunted up the east ridge of the main canyon, scouted the tops of three canyons that are blocked at the bottom by private land, and then crossed over to the west ridge and still-hunted down it. Lots of elk droppings in all the places where I expected them, but most of the snow had melted, so it was hard to tell when elk were last there. Late in the afternoon I started down a finger ridge towards the bottom of the main canyon to see if it’s possible to pack an elk out along the bottom, and hoping to find water. A couple of hundred yards down from the top a grouse sailed past about 40 yards to my right. A moment later the bull that probably flushed it appeared in the timber, spotted me just as I saw him, and sprinted away before I could even get my rifle unslung. All I could do was chuckle: Close AGAIN, but still no banana. In failing light I still-hunted down the rest of the finger ridge to the bottom of the main canyon without seeing anything except squirrels. Below that finger ridge, anyway, the bottom of the main canyon is narrow with steep sides, some of which are cliffs, but there's a small creek, and the narrow bottom is mostly flat, grassy, heavily shaded, and free of the boulders, brush, and deadfalls which usually hinder canyon bottom movement.
Walking back to the truck along the main canyon bottom, it dawned on me that this range of hills is among the best elk hunting spots I've found in 34 years of hunting in six states. No, it's not a wild alpine basin deep in the wilderness north of Taos, or an untouched drainage in Hell’s Canyon. Unless I find money to hire outfitters with horses, my time for hunting elk in those places has passed. But these hills are perfect for hunting and packing meat, and at the very END of the season I had FOUR close encounters with bulls in just three days! That’s as well as I’ve done anywhere, and the sign tells me that in most years, there are lots of cows around too. It would’ve been nice to bring meat home for Steve, and antlers for Tina’s wall, but at least I didn't wound and lose one, and encounters with elk that DON'T end in gut piles can be more memorable than encounters that do. For me, memories and feelings are more important than antlers or meat, and getting to know a great new hunting place is the greatest reward of all.
