One morning, I had a great experience. To spoil the suspense – no, I have nothing in my freezer, and nothing for the wall, either, but I still get goosebumps retelling what happened.
As they occasionally do, a herd of elk passed through the wide open field next to where I live just outside of Okotoks. I had watched them on numerous occasions and had some idea which path they were likely to take. There is this particular spot where the fences are damaged on both sides of the road, and that’s where they usually cross. So, I had my son drive me up there, and drop me off out of sight of the herd, and crawled through the ditch and up behind one of the big round bales conveniently strewn about the field.
I sat there, watching and listening. The herd was about 120 or 150 head, with maybe 20 or so bulls among them – a few spikers, a few 3, 4, 5-pointers, a small 6x6 and a really, really nice, strong 6x6, wide spread of antlers, thick horns – clearly the herd bull. They were bugling and walking about, and the cows had their own conversations on the side. Naturally, the spectacle attracted more attention from vehicles passing on the road than I liked, and the elk were of the same opinion. They decided not to cross, but instead to retreat into the poplar stands around my neighbour’s house.
So, home I walked, all 3/4s of the mile, got my truck and drove over to Steve’s (I’m allowed to hunt on his land), rolling into his long driveway and letting the vehicle come to a stop. I climbed out, picked up my bow, and stood and listened. Apparently I had come to the right spot. Over on a meadow, I could see a few bulls fighting and pushing each other back and forth, with the cows and calves watching. And the noise was plain unbelievable. From the high-pitched squeals of the young bulls over the well-practiced calls of the mid-sizers to the dark, raspy, growling, angry bugle of the big 6x6, all of them made their contribution.
The concert increased in intensity as the fighting went on. The herd nervously watched and moved about, the cows and calves squeaking and chirping. It was wonderful – the woods all around me were alive with elk “music”. I stood there and listened and watched for quite a while. It was so exciting just to be there – right in the middle of it, with elk here and there, in front, behind, on the sides, up the hill and down the slope.
With the breeze blowing in my favour, I decided to advance and slowly crept forward to a bend in the driveway. And there were more of them, about 80 or 90 yards away – too far for me to take a sure shot – crossing over from one side to the other, out of the bush, into the bush, up the hill, elk after elk after elk. When the first ones noticed me, they just kept moving on, so I decided to sneak a little closer (I know … but I was plain taken by excitement). But then, all of a sudden, some turned around in their tracks, bolting back the way they had come, and after a few seconds of heavy commotion, I was all by myself.
I didn’t get to fill my tag, yet I had an unforgettable moment that I keep reliving. I still spent over an hour tracking where they had gone, and how some of them made a big circle around me to get to where they wanted to be. There was still a distant bugle here and there somewhere over the hill, but they were gone…
-Siegfried Honsek
Longstanding ODFGA member and local hunter