Sunday morning, October 15th, the hunt started like all the other times. We loaded up all the gear, packs, coats, binos, spotting scope, and a warm mug of hot chocolate and coffee to start the journey out. It was a cold morning as frost covered the frozen ground. We saw a few bucks outside of a huge herd made up of about 150 elk, and we decided we wanted to get on the bucks to get a better view of them.
After about 20 minutes of glassing the deer, they got ahead of us and were gone in the thick trees above us. Just then, three bucks were standing broadside, watching us. We got set up on one, and I stood there with the buck in the sight of the gun, just waiting for him to take a step or two to give me a clear shot. I thanked God for this chance, this opportunity, the buck in my scope, the fresh, crisp air, and the ability to be here in this moment, a blessing we all might take for granted. The buck took a few steps and came into a clear shot, which I took. At the shot, he took two steps and fell down. One of the bucks that was with him waited about 5-10 minutes and then walked over to the lifeless buck. We stood there and watched the other buck try to push his lifeless buddy up. He horned him in the side for at least 30 minutes. Finally, he realized the fight of life was over.
Hunting alongside my mom and grandpa is what makes any hunt worth the time spent, even without a fresh kill. Being outside, feeling free and blessed, with the fresh fall weather and clear blue skies makes anyone feel lucky.
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