I had been putting in for limited-entry bull elk for 12 years. Putting in this year was no different than any other year as I fully expected to get an unsuccessful email knowing it takes 25 years for most people to draw. My husband and I were sitting at lunch together when we looked at our draw results and realized I drew the Monroe Mountain mid-season tag. To say we were excited is an understatement. My husband immediately started calling friends and family who were equally as shocked and excited. As the word got around and we would tell people we knew, and even some people we didn’t, the most common phrase I would hear is that I needed to go to Vegas with that kind of luck.
In the following months, we started planning for this hunt. What we did not plan on was that I was pregnant and going to be six and a half months along during the hunt. This was obviously not ideal, but we were determined to make it work and take advantage of drawing such a coveted tag. When the snow melted, we were on the mountain with our three kids under the age of five driving to and placing trail cameras at various spots all over the mountain.
By the end of the summer, we had spent most of our weekends on the Monroe scouting where we felt like we had a good sense of what bulls were on the mountain. We were going into this hunt hopeful, yet maybe even a little confident that we would be able to harvest a bull worthy of this unit.
As earlier hunts went on, a few of the bulls we had pictures of and planned to hunt were harvested, but we still had others and we remained hopeful we would turn one of them up. The morning before the hunt started, my husband glassed up an awesome bull. It was one we hadn’t seen before, and he quickly turned into our number one bull we wanted to pursue. That night, we made a game plan for the morning hunt with all the awesome friends and family who came to help us.
After the anticipation leading up to this, all the time spent on the mountain, hours of bumpy roads in the side-by-side checking cameras, and scouting, opening morning was finally here. We had a great plan. I was set up in the perfect spot, and we had spotters covering the entire basin. We were ready. As it was getting light, other hunters, most we assumed were spike hunters, started hunting the same basin and the elk started moving. That morning was unsuccessful, but we weren’t going to give up on that bull just yet. However, after additional attempts, we would never see that bull again. The hunting pressure and the weather had the elk moving which made it difficult to make a play on a bull. With all the help we had spotting and spending countless hours behind glass, we ended up only turning up two other bulls worthy of pursuing. The problem was getting me to them. It was a challenge. I hiked terrain that I’m not sure I easily could do not six and a half months pregnant, but I pushed through and kept telling myself this was a once-in-a-lifetime tag and all the sore muscles would be worth it. Each time we made a play on a bull, it was unsuccessful.
I was getting worn down as we had been hunting hard for five days at this point with no additional prospects. I wasn’t sure how much more I could do. I was feeling pretty defeated, and a lot of the people who came to help us were needing to get back to their families. We weren’t seeing any bulls at this point, yet we were doing everything we could to turn one up. As much as I didn’t want to give up, our two little girls who were at home with grandma were ready to have their mom back and I was so exhausted and worn out. I for sure was pushed passed my limits physically and emotionally. Before the hunt started, my husband reminded me of the hunting roller coaster. There are highs and lows, and you just have to ride them out. Even though I felt there were mainly lows at that point, I was trying my best to stay positive.
It was day six, and the morning hunt didn’t turn up a single bull. I felt like we were seeing less and less wildlife as the days went on. I told my husband I would be willing to stay for the evening hunt and the next morning hunt. If we didn’t turn up a bull, then we would get back to our daughters and cut our losses. In all reality, I don’t know if we really would have done that, but at the time, that is how I felt.
At this point, all that remained was my 6-year-old son, Briggs, my husband, and me on the mountain. We took hiking off the table as the previous few hikes proved to be too much for me, so were limited on what we could do. In all honesty, I wasn’t too optimistic about finding an elk. It was getting later in the evening, and we hadn’t seen anything other than a few deer. It was 30 minutes until sunset, and my husband got a call from two of his friends who were spotting for us down in the valley. They let us know they had glassed a bull that was worthy of harvesting and to get down off the mountain as fast as we could. We quickly got on our way down the mountain and made a plan for where I should be set up. We got to the spot and set up right as the bull bugled. He was close. I looked through my scope and could see cows starting to come out from the trees one by one. The anticipation of waiting for the bull to come was so big at this point. My heart was pounding as I watched each cow filter out of the pine trees, and then there he was! I caught a glance of his horns in my scope, set my sight on him, and pulled the trigger. He dropped in his tracks. All the hard work and time spent on this hunt, the daily roller coaster of ups and down, the pure exhaustion I felt as the days went on, it was all worth it. The main thing I remember was my husband and son being so excited for me and also feeling so grateful and relieved that we didn’t end up eating “tag soup” after all.
Walking up to the bull, it was what we had hoped for. I happily would have harvested him on the first day of the hunt. We admired him, took some pictures, and waited for our friends who had glassed him up to come get a look. It was dark at this point, but we still wanted to get pictures for memory’s sake. Unbeknownst to us, the night I harvested my elk was the same night of the Northern Lights, which would turn out to give us a picture-of-a-lifetime, a truly one in a million kind of picture.
This hunt turned out to be nothing like I expected. It was hard and pushed me past my limits, but in the end, it turned out to be so worth it with an awesome bull and memories that will last a lifetime.
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