This story, Double Hassle, initially appeared within the September 1998 problem of Outside Life.
SOMETIME EARLIER that afternoon I had given up. My aching muscular tissues and discouraged spirit signaled the tip to the hunt. Oh, I’d maintain my eyes open on my approach again to camp, however that may be about it. As I approached the ridgetop, I discovered myself on the actual location from which I had first bugled that morning. An omen? No, I don’t imagine in them. Nonetheless, my legs wanted a break, so why not bugle whereas I rested? I slid the grunt tube round to the entrance of my physique and positioned my favourite diaphragm name in my mouth. The clear, clear, four-pitched melody echoed again down into the valley.
This explicit space was referred to as “The Gorge,” appropriately named for its steep slim canyons and deep-cut ravines. The mature lodgepole pine forest contained “dog-hair” thickets, small quakey benches, heavy downfall and thick undergrowth. Winds repeatedly filtered downhill from all sides carrying any scent to the valley’s inhabitants. The very circumstances which made this space tough to hunt have been the first explanation why the elk have been there within the first place. It was a few of the most interesting elk habitat I had ever encountered, a veritable “bull gap.”
Though I completely get pleasure from all features of being an elk information, I used to be significantly having fun with this hunt with out a shopper. Seldom can I get out on my own and hunt the way in which my father taught me-tracking alongside at my tempo, as quick as potential; figuring out simply when to decelerate or cease; conthe stantly learning the forest round me for ears, legs, horns, something which may materialize into an elk; making an attempt bugling and calling methods, a recreation of balancing aggression with warning, silence towards the bellows of problem; sneaking right into a bedding or feeding space. There’s something about doing this all on my own that fulfills and satisfies a really particular want.
After quarter-hour of full silence from my spot atop The Gorge, I stood up and ready to supply one other problem. Fog had moved in, remodeling The Gorge right into a sea of haunting vacancy.
My piercing name appeared absorbed by the heavy moisture, trapping even the echo I’d been accustomed to listening to. I resumed my place, then stretched out flat to alleviate the assorted again and shoulder pains that had amassed in the course of the lengthy hunt. Snowflakes settled on my face. Snowstorms in Colorado’s Rawah Wilderness may be anticipated nearly year-round, but it surely had been a bit uncommon in that it had snowed 7 of the 14 days this muzzleloader season. I couldn’t complain, although; the storms appeared to encourage the elk to make use of their full vocal repertoire.
One other quarter-hour handed, and with it a 3rd unsuccessful try and deliver forth a response. My fingers saved busy tracing the design of recent scars within the inventory of my .54-caliber Hawken. A fall had flawed the end I had labored so lengthy to attain. I ought to have recognized higher than to leap onto that moist rock on such a steep grade. It actually didn’t matter now, and my carelessness solely served to remind me simply how rapidly and simply issues can flip surprising out right here within the woods.
I attempted to think about different locations to hunt, however simply couldn’t get enthusiastic about shifting wherever else. The Gorge was the one place I’d discovered Solomon that 12 months, and I had spent all the muzzleloader season searching particularly for him. The opposite guides and I had given this bull the nickname after years of being humbled by his knowledge. Residing with elk every day, three months a 12 months, develops an intimate relationship between hunter and quarry. One of many outcomes of such prolonged time in one another’s presence is the privilege of coming to know the person animals—their habits, patterns, sizes and even their offspring (in case you’ll permit for just a little hypothesis). But, geared up with all these benefits, I used to be nonetheless unable to get shut sufficient to Solomon for a shot.
Solomon often separated himself from any herd within the space. This can be typical for many huge bulls after the taking pictures begins, however Solomon held to this routine in the course of the rut, all through winter and ( so far as we guides may determine) even by means of the summer season months. Periodically, he may very well be discovered retaining firm with one different bull. Earlier than you begin pondering too laborious about sexual orientation, let me counsel an inexpensive chance for such a bull pairing, which is uncommon however not distinctive: As a crew, two bulls can watch one another’s again when feeding, bedding or shifting from space to space, whereas their probabilities of being seen or heard. Throughout the six years that we had recognized these two collectively, they might invariably mattress roughly 100 yards aside, positioned to observe reverse instructions. We additionally discovered indicators of the place one appeared to “stand guard” whereas the opposite would nuzzle within the snow for little stems of “kinik-kinik” (an area delicacy of elk), which I’ve found to be just a little bitter and never very filling.
Solomon’s accomplice was named “Damaged Toe.” He may very well be recognized by his observe, displaying a outstanding crooked toe on his proper hind hoof. Though Solomon was bigger, I assumed Damaged Toe to be the elder, as a result of he all the time led the escape at any time when we had an in depth encounter. Hypothesis led numerous guides, together with me, to imagine that Damaged Toe may also be Solomon’s father, or maybe simply one other bull who had raised him after his mom was killed. If this have been true, Solomon would study all of this elder’s secret hideouts and survival methods, leading to a formidable pair for any hunter to tackle.
A clap of thunder rolled previous me and I instinctively bugled on the sound. I had heard elk do that and thought it’d add credibility to my solitary calls. A barely audible response rose from the depths of The Gorge. It was tough to chorus from answering instantly, however usually it’s best to begin off sluggish.
A couple of minutes later I inquired once more, this time stimulating a fast, unmistakable rebuttal. With every successive trade, the replying refrain added one other member, till the air was crammed with a steady melody of bugles, grunts, cow/calf calls, whistles and chuckles. This uncommon show was the results of two separate herds mingling, significantly complicated the already bewildered “raghorns” that have been so quite a few that 12 months.
It was getting darkish and time was working out. I chanced one other bugle, figuring out full nicely that it’d merely scare every thing away.
Making an attempt to establish all of the members was unattainable. I listened intently for Solomon, however to little avail. Glad that his distinctive voice was not among the many refrain, I used to be completely content material simply to hear for the final hour of the season. I bear in mind pondering how nice a hunt this had been, and the way applicable this rousing ending.
As I relived the occasions of the previous two weeks in my thoughts, an unmistakable scream introduced me to my ft. After replaying my recordings of Solomon so many occasions, I assumed I’d have the ability to choose him out wherever, however now there have been so many bugles that perhaps I’d twisted the sounds into what I so desperately needed to listen to.
I eliminated my hat to higher distinguish the assorted calls, however with every passing second I turned extra satisfied that what I had heard had solely been Solomon’s voice echoing in my thoughts.
Then, together with his second bugle, there may very well be no mistake. I discovered myself working and sliding down the steep hillside. Did I bear in mind my gun? Sure, it was in my hand. My grunt tube? Nonetheless round my neck. Someway I’d managed to maintain every thing I wanted with me. Besides maybe frequent sense.
The thickest space of downfall was straight under. Realizing I wouldn’t have sufficient time to work round it, I bulled straight forward on the right track for the supply of that particular bugle. flanked Any try and be quiet could be futile. As I emerged from the darkish timber, the bugling was charging ceased. I estimated the elk’s location and now proceeded cautiously. If even one cow noticed there was me, hope of discovering Solomon could be misplaced for an additional 12 months.
My tempo slowed as my senses centered on the aspens round me. There have been freshly rubbed saplings, and the sickening-sweet aroma of elk stuffed the air. Dropping to 1 knee, I scanned the world once more from a special perspective. As ghostly shadows of elk appeared by means of the timber, I managed to hide myself behind a close-by rock. It was getting darkish and time was working out. I chanced one other bugle, figuring out full nicely that it’d merely scare every thing away.
Deafening screams vindicated my choice to bugle once more and all resumed as earlier than, save that the refrain was much more intense. Being in the course of it this time, I may really really feel the calls-their sound penetrating my clothes and flesh. An uncontrollable trembling started deep inside me, a sense I had not skilled for a few years. A number of bulls have been now inside vary, disappearing then reappearing within the fog. I couldn’t probably compromise my quest now with a lesser animal, not with Solomon someplace in vary. I continued to reply every of Solomon’s challenges with a precise imitation, hoping to annoy him sufficient to make a mistake.
I used to be making an attempt to maintain observe of all of the elk, however too many issues have been going down. One bull chased one other, or maybe it was a cow he was making an attempt to maintain to himself. The horns of two others clacked within the distance—it didn’t sound too critical, most likely simply a few younger bulls sparring. A lot of the elk have been simply standing round listening, a lot the identical as me. All of the sudden, there he was. Solomon’s heavy horns swayed forwards and backwards as he approached. I squeezed the set off and slowly cocked again the hammer, avoiding the same old “click on” of a muzzleloader. My left leg was doubled beneath, so I moved it barely, making ready to rise and shoot.
A crash behind me commanded my consideration. Damaged Toe had flanked me and was charging. His thick, large rack was distorted and damaged, most likely a mixture of extreme age and his decided preventing nature. He was already inside 15 ft, leaving me no time to deliver my gun round. I pushed backward and fell to the bottom, simply managing to keep away from these lengthy tines by inches.
The enraged bull spooked as he thundered previous. He was bolting away by means of the timber whilst I received the gun degree at my shoulder. Regaining my senses, I turned and checked for Solomon. He was strolling away, however most likely nonetheless inside vary. Nonetheless, the timber have been too thick for a shot. I surveyed in entrance of Solomon, looking for openings. As his light-colored physique entered the slim hole I’d chosen, tree limbs I hadn’t observed got here into focus. And now his physique was angling away, leaving few important areas uncovered.
“Don’t all the time depend on a wide-open broadside shot … generally you must take what’s out there.”
Over time I will need to have stated that to 100 shoppers. Effectively, generally you additionally should cross on a nasty shot. I pulled up and positioned my thumb beneath the hammer. The one factor extra disheartening than letting him go was the considered a wounded Solomon working off to die, solely to be eaten by coyotes, his stunning antlers gnawed away by porcupines, squirrels and mice. That is most likely what is going to ultimately occur to him anyway, however a hunter can solely do what his requirements will permit. In stately, unhurried grandeur, Solomon moved off. I can solely assume to fulfill up with, and to thank, his bodyguard.
Epilogue
Just a few years after my encounter with Solomon and Damaged Toe, we did lastly meet up with the latter. Judging from his tooth, Damaged Toe was roughly 15 years outdated on the time. One in all my archery hunters claimed him as a trophy after one more two-hour bugle session.
What I had mistaken to be a deformed and damaged rack turned out to be probably the most distinctive heads I’ve ever seen. The proper facet was a traditional, heavy, typical 5-points, however his left facet sported a complete of three separate bases and antlers. Damaged Toe’s entrance two have been full-length beams with 4 and three factors, respectively; nonetheless, the third antler was nothing greater than a hook that curled again into the hair close to the ear.
Solomon was by no means seen or heard once more. Because it’s most unlikely such a bull may have been taken and never recorded, I’d moderately imagine that he continued to outsmart everybody for the rest of his pure life. In both case, Solomon and Damaged Toe reside on as huge as ever (perhaps even just a little greater) as we recount our experiences with them across the campfire every searching season.
Jim Tschetter is the pinnacle information for North Park Outfitters in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. He has been depicting his experiences on canvas for many years.
