Over the past 17 years, hunting season has gone from a few months in the fall to one perpetual round. There’s winter range looking, filming, shed hunting, scouting and more scouting, naming the favorites, and finally, the hunt, all to start over again the next year.
This season officially started in March while at the local bowling alley while we were having some family time. I saw Spencer and his brother, Tyson, quietly step outside on their cell phones. I knew there was an SFW banquet that night, and Spencer had a particular elk tag in mind. After about 20 minutes, I saw them walk in, high fiving each other with grins on their faces a mile wide. Spencer had bid on the tag and won. He said he would take me to Hawaii if he killed a 400" bull. Maybe he said that because he knew there was one out there, or maybe he said it just so he didn’t have to sleep on the couch the next few nights. This wasn’t the first expensive tag he’d purchased, so I knew the drill. There would be many weekends he would be gone, and work vacation days would be saved for hunting season.
Scouting began, and it was a little worrisome. I would often hear, “There are no elk out there.” However, people had told Spencer to be patient, the elk would come. He was gone almost every weekend for several months but with little success. Our girls had been asking to go camping, so we joined him over Labor Day weekend, hoping to bring some good luck. It was miserably hot at 98 degrees, and I questioned whether I would ever go on another camping trip again. Spencer would return from scouting each night with basically the same story, no elk. Where were they?
The week of the opener, the hunting group consisting of family and a few great friends packed up and headed out. I knew I wouldn’t see Spencer for at least four or five days. The day before the opener, he called me and said they had finally seen some elk. He told me that one they had seen was all right and probably a shooter. Little did I know that it was the one he had seen the year before, the one he had purposefully bought this tag for.
Opening morning came, and I had my phone with me constantly so as not to miss a text or phone call. No word from Spencer, and by mid-afternoon, I figured he had not tagged out yet. Later that night, he called and said he had seen the bull but couldn’t ever get in a spot to take him. He and the group devised a plan for the next morning, and I eagerly awaited his call.
Mid-afternoon came again, and my phone rang. I answered, and in a very humble voice, Spencer said, “Honey, I got him.” I could tell by the emotion in his voice that this was no ordinary elk, it was not just all right like he had said, it must be really big. To be honest, my first thought was that we already had two elk in the house, so where was this one going? While I was on the phone with Spencer, his brother texted me one word, “Hawaii.” Yes! Now I knew this was a big bull, and I couldn’t help but feel so proud. He had scouted so hard and given so much time and effort, and it had all paid off. The trip was just a bonus.
The next several hours were almost painful waiting for him to come home with his trophy. The first thing I did when he got home was hug him, and then I watched the video. It was around 6:30 a.m., and the bull was walking with about 20 cow elk. Tyson ranged it as it made its way up the mountain. Tyler had the spotter on it while Spencer set up his custom .300 RUM. He took a deep breath, and bang! The elk was hit but ran for a few hundred yards and stopped. I could hear Tyson telling Spencer to take his time as the bull wasn’t going anywhere, “… relax, breathe, and put another bullet in him.” Tyson checked the yardage, and another shot rang out. This one hit the front shoulder. The elk tried to take a few steps, but one last shot put him on the ground. He did it! The guys cheered and high fived. I think I even saw some watery eyes. This was an elk-of-a-lifetime. Many family members and friends had helped Spencer. He gives credit to the group effort, especially his brothers, Tyson and Jared, his father, Jim, his cousin, Abel, and his friend, Tyler Pugsley.
For the next few weeks, people were at our house almost steadily. I am pretty sure I could have paid for his tag if I had charged an admission fee. Friends, neighbors, family, and people we didn’t even know came to see the elk. Spencer measured the antlers and figured the score almost daily for weeks. The official score came in at 426 3/8" gross and 414 2/8" net.
I would dare say it was the best day of Spencer’s life. One may wonder how I can say that, wouldn’t the best day be the day he married me or the days our children were born? Yes, those were wonderful days, but our family and hunting are not in competition, they are intertwined. Hunting is family. It’s creating memories, and it’s our way of life. Life is good.
Login