Here we go again, making political hay out of a tragedy, a tragedy that likely could have been averted. We blame an inanimate object and not the perpetrator, nor the societal change that has spawned an increase in violence and a lack of concern for human life. Having lost a son, I know well the heart break being endured by the families of those killed in this heinous crime. I grieve for them and know that their pain will be ever present. Blaming a non-thinking, non-acting object will not enhance our safety or stop the increase in violence we are seeing. Blaming the gun is the easy way out and fails to address the root cause what is happening in our society. Unfortunately looking at the root causes would make us face the fact that many of us and our government have embraced programs and values that have degraded our respect for human life and brought many in our society to see violence as a means to an end that is acceptable. So lets look at some of the root causes.

The glorification of violence in our world is as common as a sunrise. We watch movies, television, hear music and use other media that highlights violence and glorifies those who commit it. Those who create our entertainment present us with repeated acts of violence in ever increasing volume and graphic detail. They then are some of the first to decry the need to blame the object when some miscreant acts out on what he or she has been watching for thousands of hours. They insist on the importance of disarming the public while they are protected by men with the very weapons they vilify. It seems as though Hollywood has run out of ideas. Any socially redeeming programming is either a remake of someone's old idea, or is so infused with political undertones designed to influence us to their set of values, that many of us find them offensive. With no fresh ideas, their plot then becomes a hail of bullets, explosions, four letter words, or sexual acts. Then they wonder why some in society act out. Maybe its because it's encouraged by images glorifying violence and portraying the perpetrators as fashionable, attractive heroes. Maybe it's because for hours on end the miscreant has been killing human like images, or watching them be killed, to the point that he or she becomes desensitized and life losses its value. Maybe we need to begin to look at what we are showing our children and quit providing them with visions that demonstrate the rewards they can earn using violence. But wait that would take someone in our entertainment and gaming industries to have a unique idea that would teach respect for human life and simple positive values. Maybe we should turn those images off in our homes and quit supporting those who are turning us toward violence.

The decline of respect for life in general is also a significant contributor. In a society where it is common place to allow the taking of the life of an innocent child in one circumstance and then claiming wrong doing in another is confusing at best. Life is either precious or it is not. Each year we allow the killing of thousands of babies in the womb in respect to the will of the mother and somehow think that it does not have an impact on societies view of the importance of human life. We now, in may areas, allow the killing up to and including at birth because of a woman's right to choose. We ignore the fact that she had a choice, in most incidences, to refrain from having unprotected sex, or to use protection before another life was involved in her decision. In today's world with the availability of modern contraceptives it is hard to see how an abortion can be justified when all that is needed is to choose to prevent the pregnancy before its inception. I find it interesting that many of those who vocally object to the killing of animals and would hang those who abuse them, find it easy to allow the killing of a human heart beat in, and now sometimes outside of, the womb. I find it hard to understand how you can decry violence and embrace abortion, and think that it sends no mixed message to those in our society who struggle with questionable values.

In our society we have drifted to a position where one is no longer responsible for his or her behavior. We see this repeatedly as those who commit acts of violence which result in their death are glorified, in spite of the fact that had they not been violent they would still be alive. We see those who violate our laws released back into society without consequences. We even witness criminal behaviors in the highest levels of government as our politicians enrich themselves and their families, using their positions to sell influence for profit, without consequences. I watched as one judge lectured an offender telling her he would not tolerate her illegal behavior, and he fined her two thousand dollars. She was leading a gang selling meth which had been netting thirty thousand dollars a week in sales in a small community. His sentence was not a deterrent and she was back in court within weeks. I have seen federal and local prosecutors refuse to prosecute or enhance prosecution of violent offenders in possession of firearms, and plea bargains which release gun offenders without consequences sufficient enough to have any deterrent affect. In spite of these situations many would have you believe that the solution is to take guns away from everyone, an act which will have little or no affect on those in our society who ignore our laws on a regular basis. To do this would only leave all of us at the mercy of those who have no respect for the law and no mercy for those who do. Could it be that holding one responsible for their criminal acts and removing them from society, might send a message to those inclined to commit violence. In our current environment we are sending the opposite message. If you fight with police, you are not the problem, police are, and if you are hurt or killed then you are the victim and you and your family are enriched because of your violent resistance to the enforcement of the very laws which keep us safe. When a public authority commits crime they should be punished, but that punishment should come after the same due process afforded others in our communities. No one should be tried in the press or the court of public opinion before all the facts are known. When we villainize those who are empowered to protect us, we welcome violence into our communities.

Our society is headed down the same path taken by so many societies before us. The values which made our country great have been replaced by the same hedonistic values which have destroyed many past cultures. Money is the primary driver in our country. Instead of asking what can I contribute to our society we ask, What am I owed? What do I get? The basic values historically accepted by Judaeo-Christian cultures have been set aside, and even blacklisted today. Thou shalt not steal, or kill, or commit adultery, or lie are looked upon as obsolete suggestions rather than commandments. Love they neighbor has been replaced by what can I get from my neighbor. Respect for authority, love of family, commitment to each other, have all been replaced by selfishness, arrogance and self importance. These changes have been influenced by many in high positions of government, entertainment, sports and even in our educational institutions. Until we recognize that moral values are an important part of a thriving society we are destined to continue to suffer the wages of moral decline.

Inanimate objects are not the problem in our culture. Instead a lack of moral values, a lack of accountability, a lack of respect for life and a societal change which has embraced violence, profanity and other uncivilized behaviors has prompted the changes we are seeing today. It is unfortunate that we will likely continue to blame the availability of guns as the problem. Our current debate will continue to focus on gun control. The powers in government, the elite in our society and those who would like to see us disarmed for political or surreptitious reasons will continue to guide the focus of the discussion away from the true reasons for our current problems with societal violence. Until we stop and face the root causes of our current situation, and work to correct them, we are destined to continue down the path taken by cultures before us and continued violence, social decline and eventual destruction lie ahead for us and our children.

 

The Race of the Rats

I look across, and see him there, he seems a lot like me.

Dropped in the maze of life, are we, to see who first will be.

I scramble forward, down the hall and quickly turn a right,

But as I sprint, ahead with haste, I find a dreadful sight.

A wall before, impedes my path. I’ve found around this bend,

What every rat here, views with fear, the fatal maze dead end.

I turn and run, retrace my steps, a right, a left and then,

Inside I scream, as up ahead, my path, it’s blocked again.

I spin and sprint, but as I do, my thinking tells me that,

No matter how I finish here, I’ll still remain a rat.

So maybe I should slow my pace. I’d probably reach my goal,

And as I did, I’d see the view and own a rested soul.

But somehow, I can’t pull the plug. I scurry, race and run,

As if inspired by fears unease, beneath my mind’s own gun.

And so I’ll finish life’s long race in harried, haggard form,

Because for rats, it’s just the pace, that seems to be the norm.

P. F. Kuhlmann

16, February 1997

 

A Shadow ‘Cross Our Land

Our world was full of light and truth, of joy and children’s smiles,

And then it breached our borders fair with stench, grotesque and vile.

In first our cities tall and strong, where scrapers reached the sky,

A wave of darkness pressed along which would our metal try.

It crept along suburban lanes where families played in peace.

Until their joy was turned to fear, as parent’s trials increased.

It’s moved across the deserts low, passed o’er our mountains grand.

It threatens every girl and boy, each woman, every man.

It turns men’s hearts as cold as stone, makes foes of cherished friends.

As mothers, dads, our youth and mates fall to it’s wicked trends.

It creeps along a solid front, which closes on our time.

Producing naught of helpful gain, promoting filth and crime.

It’s time to stand against it’s wrath. We must press on the fight

If we intend to make a stand as beacons in the night.

If we, at heart, still hold the good, of what our lives stood for,

We must in strength refuse to give when darkness fronts our door.

We must unite our beacons bright and light the shadow’s front.

Reach out to clutch the many souls for whom the shadow hunts.

We must, the saved, their beams enhance and add them to the fray,

So others wandering lost inside can see to find their way.

And though it may appear at times our battle may be lost,

We must with sword, concern, and truth, fight on at any cost.

For if we stop to rest awhile, though weary is our band,

Each moment which we’re from the fight, the shadow crosses land.

The land which we hold near our hearts, for which brave men have died,

Will be entombed in evils black, affecting all inside.

So stand for good with strength and pride in hopes that those who see,

Will join the battle, full of zeal, and fight to keep us free.

Free from the shadow’s drugs and hate, from evil’s gripping hold.

Until as was in early days we stand upright and bold.

Until we push the shadow back and fill our land with light.

Renewed in strength, America, reflecting all that’s right.

P. F. Kuhlmann

23, March 1997

 

Living In the Interface

The view from outside my window for the past several days has been dull, hazy and gray. Everyone in our family has a dry throat and several have a coughs. For the second year in a row we have been subjected to the smoke being belched into the air by uncontrolled Wildfires burning in the great state of California and this year in Oregon too.

We live in a rural valley where the wind blows regularly and the air was clear. The night sky, once dotted with thousands of stars and a view of the Milky Way is now a nondescript canvas of dark gray. The view is not my concern.

The local news reports “As of noon time on Monday, The Utah Department of Environmental Quality (UDEQ) says Davis and Carbon Counties are listed as unhealthy for sensitive groups and Salt Lake, Tooele, Uintah, and Cache Counties have moderate air quality.The DEQ says folks with asthma or heart disease are advised to limit time outside.”Most of the smaller Utah counties, like ours, do not have monitors so UDEQ's warnings rarely list us as problematic. While we have in fact been under a blanket of smoke for weeks, and were in a similar situation last summer. Their warning misses those with emphysema, allergies and other conditions that can be immediately affected by increased particulates in the atmosphere. While I am concerned about those with immediate impacts, that is not my only concern.

The Federal Government owns overly large tracts of land in the west. Those tracts have been mismanaged for decades and even now the BLM and Forest Service would rather spend millions fighting wildfires than invest those funds in mitigating fire in our forests. States like California would rather we spend millions fighting wildland fire, while they gain millions in tax money and handouts, bowing to developers high density plans in unsuitable areas. They are slow to adopt and enforce wildland codes that prohibit construction in the interface, or enforce codes which require adequate safe space between the wildlands and buildings, or adopt and enforce building set backs to limit fire spread between structures. The result each year is hundreds of homes being burned to the ground.

Yes we are in a drought. I have lived in drought conditions more often than not since I moved west. During times of drought wildland mitigation becomes even more urgent. In our area it is not uncommon to see prescribed burns as a means of managing wildfire. These may
work to an extent, but at what price for those forced to endure the multiple days of smoky skies that attend such activity ? There are other ways.

In the 1950's as our government tested nuclear weapons in the Nevada desert. Southern Utah citizens watched unaware and uninformed by their government of the hazards. Soldiers stood in the desert to experience the affect, oblivious to what the future would hold for them and their posterity. Decades later thousands began to show the affects of those tests, even though their government lead them to believe they were safe. My greatest fear is this; what affect will inhaling all this smoke have on my grandchildren? Are they destined to be the next down winder generation ? I am sure the powers that be would tell me that is not a concern even as they tout man caused global warming as a threat and prohibit cigarette smoking in public establishments.

We need a study, conducted by someone other than, and not funded by, our government. How much particulate and CO2 are put in the air by our uncontrolled forest burns ? How much does it contribute to man made global warming ? How safe are our children living under the gray cloud of Federal Forest mismanagement ? What are the likely long term results of exposing western children to the volumes of smoke being generated each year ? Without answers the future of our western children and their families remains in doubt.

 

A rich man stood atop a hill

And looked across his land,

He sat inside his mansion grand

And judged all at his hand.

For all his earthly wants and needs

Were more than satisfied,

Except he had no family here,

No friends, no kids, no bride.

Well if you did compare my wealth

With all he could display,

I think that from a worldly view

You’d find to your dismay,

That I could not produce the total

Cash or land or jewels,

To match the many valued things

o’er which the rich man rules.

But I don’t measure what I have

By standards set by men.

And I would not trade mine for his

Or even his times ten.

‘Cause I have comforts in this life

Which can’t be bought or sold,

They’re treasures which I’ll take from earth

And will forever hold.

They are my loving parents

and the family I have known,

The wife who warms me night and day

And children small and grown.

The memories of times I’ve had,

There’s no way you can tell,

Just how much They’ve enriched my soul

Their warmth you can not quell.

The many blessings I’ve received

In life I can not count.

There’s no way with earths worldly goods

Their value you’ll surmount.

I can’t express my thanks enough

To God high up above,

For all the spirits sent on earth

That share with me their love.

So though he may have millions

With his jewels, his land and gold

I don’t think I would trade him, not

For all his wealth untold.

For when my time is over

And I answer to God’s call,

I know I’ll find that here on earth

I’m richest of them all.

P. F. Kuhlmann

Everyone needs something to provide a guide in their life.  Some call those guides, Mission Statements.  Here's Mine.  It is my daily reminder of what should be important throughout my day.

My Prayer

The wisdom to discern my path is not all that I ask,

let strength of purpose lead me on 'till I complete my task.

Help me to see another's needs, to aid each time I can,

to learn to question only deeds and not condemn the man.

Suppress my tongue, alert my ears another's song to hear.

Teach me to lead with patience long and not compel with fear.

If men offend me by their acts, help me their good to see,

so if in turn I make mistakes, they'll suffer long with me.  

I pray Dear Lord, I'll live content until this battle's done.

Then I and those I knew in life would join Thee and Thy Son.

 

2019 Elk Hunt

I don't know why I put in to draw for elk this year. I have applied several times before when I was younger and prompted to do so by my son and/or brother. Both were avid hunters who passed away in 2016 and 2018 respectively. Perhaps it was habit, or some prompting from beyond, either way I knew my chances were slim. I didn't expect that with only eight preference points I would draw a tag in one of the most coveted areas in southern Utah. The Utah Division of Wildlife Resources allowed only 64 resident and 7 non-resident permits for the early season hunt on the Plateau, Fishlake/Thousand Lakes unit that year. The hunt takes place in mid September during the rut. Fifteen preference points give one a good chance of securing a tag, but eight gives you slightly over a 10% chance of success. Somehow I drew one of the two tags issued to someone with only eight points.

As I planned and began to prepare, it was with mixed feelings. Over the past 20 years my hunting and fishing companions had been my younger brother, Gary, and my eldest son, Tony, and neither would be hunting with me this year. It was an emotional time as I planned and scouted the area. Each trip to the high country brought back so many memories. Memories of times spent on earlier trips, hunting elk or deer, fishing Seven Mile creek, the beaver ponds and Gates lake. In earlier times we would spend a week or two camped on the Fishlake hightop, hunting elk or deer. We would hunt morning and evening and play cards, nap or fish in the heat of the day. On one trip I hunted in the morning with my oldest son, Tony and Gary Simonson, a close friend. As the day wore on and the elk bedded down in the thick timber we made our way to the beaver ponds. It was one of those rare times when it didn't matter what you threw in the water. We caught brook and cutthroat trout one after the other until the cool of the evening breeze got the elk up from their beds. My son was 14 years old and the memories we created are memories that will last me forever. It was that memory and so many more like it that would make this hunt an emotional roller-coaster.

I got a call from my brother-in-law Dave. He asked what I was planning for the hunt and told me that he and two of his sons, Chad and Jason, were planning on coming up and joining me. They did not have tags but wanted to join in and provide the hunting companions I was missing. Dave is a compassionate, caring man who, with my sister Cathy, cared for my dying brother for the last several months of his life. Chad and Jason are avid hunters who have hunted in Africa and other areas of the world and would be excellent companions who could add not only companionship, but hunting expertise. Their offer was welcomed. Dave and Chad would come up Friday evening and Jason would join us Sunday night. I talked to each and was grateful for their offer to join me and for their excitement in spending time together and enjoying the outdoors. They were positive about our chances of success and repeatedly told me we would find an elk to bring home.

I started by scouting the areas on the hightop where I had hunted in the past. My first scouting trip was to Neals Flat with Tony's two young sons, Tony and Sam. The high mountains had been blessed this year with an abundance of moisture. The meadow was painted in shades of white and lavender by blooming Columbines. The wildflowers were stunning. We parked at the end of the road and began the hike in to the flat. It started with a mild uphill climb but the altitude took its toll on me and the young boys who live on the coast of Texas at near sea level. Pacing ourselves we worked our way to the tree line
. I was surprised by the lack of elk sign as we continued to the upper meadow. The boys were excited and it showed as they talked almost continuously as we hiked on. I explained that talking would limit the number of animals we would see and they quieted down until they saw a doe and fawn. The excitement took over again and the continuous conversation began anew. The excitement was heightened when they found a cow skull, bleached by the weather and sun. Tony spotted it, Sam collected it and carried it all the way back to the truck. It how hangs on the fence at the ranch, a reminder of a scouting trip where the priorities changed from scouting elk to enjoying time watching the excitement in the two young boys as they discovered the wonders and beauty of the mountain landscape.

I continued scouting during the next few weeks, and was disappointed in the amount of sign and the elk I was seeing. It wasn't until the fifth trip to the mountain that I saw my first elk. We had scouted near Two Ponds, Brown's Hole and Cold Springs without seeing or hearing anything. We were approaching what should have been the start of the rut, but to date all was quiet; the elk weren't talking. On our way off the mountain we passed a truck parked along the side of the road, and Ian, Tony's 16 year old son, spotted the elk that the truck driver was looking at as we passed. We stopped up the road and walked back to get a better look. When the elk came into view there was a young four point bull and a cow on the edge of the trees. Ian swore that he saw a bigger bull as we drove past, but it had apparently gone
into the trees by the time we got stopped. Still no bugling or cow talk.

The next day I continued the scout hiking from the spot where we saw the elk the evening before to Salina Reservoir, beautiful country, but no elk and still quiet. I Checked around Farnsworth, and Harves reservoir and Two Ponds and Cold Springs with similar results. The lack of elk sign and absence of vocalization was beginning to concern me. I returned to Neals Flat, hiked in and checked for sign. The absence of sign and the eerie quiet failed to produce any assurance of success in the coming hunt, now only three days away.

On the morning of the Thursday prior to the hunt I set out early to scout new areas. I drove to Oak Ridge and atop the high ridge at the end of the road I stopped and walked to the east rim. All was quiet. The forest floor spread out below me, covered with thick aspen, oak and brush. I sat listening and nothing. I pulled the diaphragm call from my pocket and cow called. Instantly I got an answer, a mild bugle. It was followed by a deep, bellowing bugle from farther away. As I continued calling my calls were responded to by no less than three bulls. One sounded substantially larger than the others. My spirits were renewed. Perhaps there was hope of seeing a bull in the coming days. I decided to set up camp that afternoon at Cold Springs. The calls were coming from Brown's Hole so I decided that would be the starting point opening morning.

After setting up camp at Cold Springs, that night I returned home. The plan was to return to camp Friday afternoon after Ian got out of school, cook dinner and prepare for the arrival of Dave and Chad. With my wife, Susanne's help, we gathered the necessary food and supplies, I touched base with Dave and his boys to let them know we were set up at Cold Springs and that I would have dinner ready when they arrived. Friday afternoon Ian and I headed to camp, set out the cooking equipment, the camp chairs and got things ready to start dinner. We then went fishing at the small pond at the end of the Cold Springs road, where we caught several rainbow trout prior to starting dinner. The weather was warm for the mountain in September, in the 60s. The leaves weren't changing yet, but the shimmering of the green leaves on the aspen as they reflected the evening sun in the cool evening breeze made me glad I was taking the time to get away and enjoy nature's beauty.

Friday night we made the traditional Dutch oven potatoes and added hamburgers to top off our pre-hunt dinner. Dave and Chad arrived towing Jason's side-by-side. We got set for the night and prepared for the morning's early start. As the sun set a full moon rose over the eastern horizon. Its glow radiated through the trees, casting eerie shadows around the camp. The bright moonlight made me wonder what affect the increased visibility would have on the behavior of the elk. Would they feed through the night? If so, what impact wound that have on their behavior tomorrow? Would they bed down at sun-up? We would see in the morning.

Five o'clock came early Saturday morning. Ian decided he wanted to stay in camp and go fishing so he slept in. Dave, Chad and I loaded into the side-by-side and headed to Brown's Hole. We drove through the dark until we reached the lower area of the valley and stopped the side-by-side. We sat in the dark listening to the silence and the wind blowing through the trees waiting for sunrise. Suddenly the quiet of the predawn was broken by the sound of a bull elk's bugle. It sounded like a good bull located some distance above us. My spirits soared knowing that we were at least in one bull's terrain. Just before first light we got our things together and began the stalk toward the last bugle. The valley was thick with aspen, oak and brush. It made for a difficult stalk as we moved forward stepping over dead fall trees with minimal visibility through the brush. We went farther and the brush and trees became more dense. Over the next rise, I thought, maybe it will open up. It didn't. We heard a single gun shot, and Chad struck out to see if he could find an opening in the brush. He did and saw a cow and six point bull moving through the brush away from the shot. They were heading our direction and his hope was that we would get a shot but they never came into view. We moved to the opening Chad had found and watched the hill across the ravine where the elk had run. Nothing else was moving so we decided to take the side-by-side and try to get in front of the elk. Our strategy didn't work.

Later in the afternoon we returned to Oak Ridge, above Brown's Hole. We called from the ridge and got an answer from below. Again the brush and trees were dense and visibility was limited. We walked the Oak Ridge Trail and listened, trying to pinpoint the location of the bull. He was well down the draw in the valley, the day was wearing on and after careful consideration we opted to call it good for the morning. We headed back to camp and had lunch. Ian wasn't there. When I checked he was still at the pond and was successfully fishing having caught several rainbow trout.

That evening we went back to Brown's Hole and decided to hike in on the opposite side of the draw we had been on in the morning, the side where Chad had seen the elk. The evening was beautiful but the wind was swirling. We hiked in to the area below where we had heard the bull from Oak Ridge. Nothing was moving or talking. Just before sunset we headed out cow calling periodically as we went. Half way back to the side-by-side an elk began to bugle. He stopped halfway through the bugle and we couldn't get him to respond back to us. As we made our way back, coming out, we spotted a couple of hunters hiking in. Likely they got too close and the bull quieted and noiselessly made his way away from us and them.

I left Saturday night after dinner to take Ian home so he could make school Monday. My plan was to get him home, attend church and return early Sunday afternoon. We paused on the way home repeatedly and listened for any elk sounds. All was quiet. The moon was full making it easy to see along the way. We didn't even see deer on the drive, which is quite unusual. We arrived home safe, while Dave and Chad stayed in camp, spending some dad and son time together.

When I arrived at camp on Sunday afternoon our prospects were looking up. Chad had texted me that the elk talk had increased and that they had heard elk in several locations near camp. As the evening sun dropped low in the sky we climbed the hill above camp, binoculars and spotting scopes in hand. We hadn't been there long when the first elk bugled from across Nioche Creek. As we sat and listened there were at least two larger bulls and several smaller ones along the ridge. The larger bulls seemed to be separated by about a mile, one right across from camp and the second further to the south. The deep tone and distinct growl lead us to believe they were worth pursuing. We listened and glassed the area. A lone cow came to water in the creek and a single 5 by 5 bull worked down by the creek through the timbers. As we discussed the plan for tomorrow we decided that in order to have a chance at seeing one of the bigger bulls we would have to go where they were. We would pack lunch, hike into the area from the bench to the north of the ridge and spend the day, hoping the wind would be in our favor and that the bulls would continue bugling in the morning. Jason arrived at camp and joined us on the hilltop. It was his birthday and Dave and Chad had picked up a cake in Richfield. We celebrated, got prepped for the morning and turned in.

The anticipation was high as we got up and moving. Old bones can take some time to get rattling before sunrise, but we were parked and headed to the north bench just as light was beginning to illuminate the terrain around us. As we moved toward the creek the silence was broken by a bugle. It was followed by another. We stopped and listened as bugles continued to echo from the very ridge we had decided to hunt as we listened to the elk the night before. Then a big, deep growling bugle came from the ridge. We looked at each other, acknowledging that he sounded like a big one. We worked our way across the bench and once on top headed toward the elk. He continued to bugle periodically as we hiked along. Once on the bench , the wind which was supposed to be blowing consistently from the south, began changing direction, first one way then another. The sky was overcast and sunlight filtered through only for short periods of time. We continued working toward the sound of the elk but it seemed that each time we crested a rise, he was bugling just over the next rise. One rise after another, the same scenario repeated itself, until we decided to take a break, have lunch and see if the wind would settle down. We dumped our packs, crashed out on the forest floor and waited.

If you have never laid down on the forest floor you might think it comfortable. It's usually not. It seems that you remove one stick or rock only to find another just in the small of your back, hip or some other uncomfortable location. With the overcast the ground was cold. Rest didn't come easy. The cold can filter through multiple layers of clothing, packs and even sleeping bags quicker than you would think, transferring the heat of one's body into the cold earth. I tossed and turned, moved locations, moved debris, all to no avail. I just couldn't get comfortable. I suspect the others were similarly affected because it only took about 40 minutes and we were ready to get moving.

The wind had shifted, coming down hill so we decided to go up. We had barely gone 300 yards when the elk bugled again. We pressed on in the direction of the sound and again the loud, growling bellow broke the silence. This time we seemed to be closing the gap. Dave and Jason decided that it would be best for them to hang back to lessen the noise and give Chad and I a better chance of getting close enough for a shot.  Chad and I talked and decided to try cow calling, to see if we would get a response. Chad sat just left of the game trail we were on and I put my back against a tree to the right and forward about 5 feet. Jason and Dave were behind us on the game trail standing separately and watching.  Chad let out a chirp, nothing. We waited and called again and waited. Eventually we heard a single cow call. We discussed whether to challenge the bull with a bugle, instead Chad cow called again. As we sat waiting, Chad whispered there's a cow. I couldn't see her. “She's by the Christmas tree” He was referring to a large fir tree in the midst of all the aspen. I still couldn't see her. As she walked past the tree she came into view, but if she had been a bull, I wouldn't have had a shot due the density of the trees. “There's a calf” Chad said. He could see a calf following the cow. I couldn't see it yet. Then excitedly, Chad announced “He's coming in.” “I can't see him” I whispered. “He's by the Christmas tree. He's Big” I didn't dare move too much, but I slid slightly to the right and leaned to that side. I still couldn't see him, but I could see the cow and calf through an opening in the aspen about 100 yards away. “He's following the cow” Chad reported, and just as he did the cow and calf moved off and the bull stepped into the opening. I shot and he humped up. I was pretty sure I had hit him in the chest, low near the shoulder. Then I though “You have a semi auto.” I was hunting with my old .30-06 Belgium made Browning Automatic Rifle. I squeezed off another shot and he humped up again. My third shot dropped him where he stood. Chad jumped up shouting, Dave and Jason joined him and it was high fives all around.

When we got to him I was in awe at his size. He was a typical 6 by 6 with a slight wave in one antler. Until that moment he was a survivor. As we approached I noticed a wound high on his back. It was a shallow puncture which lined up with one of the points on his rack. It was obvious that he had been fighting and another bull had turned his head far enough to drive the point into his upper back.

After photos were taken, I commented on how much my brother Gary would have enjoyed this moment stating “I wish he could have been here” It was then that Dave responded, “He is here.” He then told us that while he and Jason were back trail, he was standing alone leaning on a tree.  He said he felt sharp taps on his shoulder. They were distinct enough that he turned to see which who had snuck up on him and touched him on the shoulder, but no one was there. After realizing where we all were he got the clear impression that Gary was there and was letting him know he was with us. Gary would have let Dave know if he were around before he would have let the rest of us know. Dave provided end of life care for Gary and the two became very close. No one would have enjoyed our success more than my brother. As the elk was approaching Dave could not see it and did not know if we would get a clear shot so in his thoughts he was encouraging Gary to push the elk our way.  He heard my first shot and wondered if his encouragement to Gary had worked.  When I fired follow-up shots and he saw the downed elk, he was sure Gary had pushed the elk to me.

When we skinned the elk there was another puncture wound on the opposite side of his back. The wound channel was about 3/8” in diameter and about 14” long. It went through and through his back strap and had healed. There was another puncture near his shoulder on the side opposite to my shots. I wondered if it was an exit wound but it was rather small, perhaps a fragment. I stuck my finger in the wound to see if it penetrated and found a broadhead embedded in his shoulder. He was a survivor, at least until he walked into us. We dressed and quartered him and I packed his head and rack, while Chad and Jason each took quarters and Dave carried packs and my gun. We made it back to camp around 4:00 and caused quite a stir. After stopping at camp we were immediately set upon by several hunters in side-by-sides. The questions flew for several minutes. “Where did you get him”, “Is that the bull from this place or that place.” “How many preference points did you have to draw this hunt” When they left Dave commented that they too might be successful if only they would leave the seats of their side-by-sides to hunt. During the hunt we had seen several hunters seated in their vehicles watching a hillside and while we were stalking the elk we could hear the almost continuous drone of side-by-sides running the roads and trails. Chad and Jason hiked back in for the other quarters and were back in camp by 6:00. I volunteered to help but they let me know that I would only slow them down. Their youth and energy was greatly appreciated. I was beat.

If there is one thing I learned on this hunt is that to see big elk, you need to go where they are and be persistent. Fortunately on this early hunt, they were talking, and talking loud and often. That allowed us to know we were working an area where our chances of success we better than average. It let us continue to follow the sound until we were fortunate enough to see a big bull and get a shot at him. The value of family was reinforced as Dave, Chad and Jason took time out of their days, shared equipment, and expertise to help me complete a successful hunt. I think they knew I was struggling with the emotional impact of loosing my two hunting companions. I had been riding an emotional roller-coaster loving the opportunity to hunt but fighting memories of past hunts. Their help made this adventure possible and I will be forever indebted to them for their sacrifice on my behalf. One bucket list item down, hopefully, more to come.