“So, Grandpa, Taylor, nor I got drawn for anything, but you did,” my dad told me over the phone that late June morning. I had been drawn for a youth any elk permit. I was ecstatic! I was going on my very first elk hunt.
I had attended hunter education at the age of seven and passed, shooting a .243 rifle for first time in class. Washington State has no age restriction on enrolling in hunter education classes. I had never been drawn for anything, even though I had been putting in for draw hunts for the past five years.
Three days after the news that I was drawn, my dad and I were up in the mountains and began target practicing to make sure I was dialed in with my rifle. The wait began for my season to open. My dad had contacted the hunt manager, and we learned that the elk in that area migrate back and forth from the restricted Hanford Reservation to private land. The area is very open with sparse cover, and I should expect longer shot opportunities. He would notify us when the elk were on the ranch.
We finally received the call that the elk were on the ranch, but scheduling was a precarious act for us, trying to balance my dad’s work schedule and my extra curricular activities. Being an 8th grader and 14 years old, September and October was a busy time for me. I would have to juggle school, being the ASB president, and having games and practices in volleyball, soccer, and competitive basketball. I missed my first opportunity to hunt.
After a few weeks and speaking with Bob, the hunt manager, we were finally able to start the hunt. He said he had seen some nice bulls on the ranch, and now I was super excited. My dad and I left from my after school volleyball practice and headed on the two-hour drive. When we finally arrived at the ranch, it was already starting to reach dusk and the wind was not favoring us. We parked our truck and hiked a few miles around a ravine and then up a ridge to get a vantage point. We were following three bulls ahead of us and keeping an eye on the herd off to our left. We crouched down, focusing our attention on the herd after the bulls ahead got wind of us. We saw a few bulls, but it got too dark too fast and the night was unsuccessful. It would be a few weeks later before we would be able to return to continue the hunt.
We left straight after volleyball practice again and headed to the ranch for another evening hunt. With dusk closing in, we hiked up to the ridge to where we were a few weeks prior. We could see at least two herds off in the distance and could hear them bugle. Nothing was in range. Once we got in range, it was too dark to get a clear shot. I was again disappointed. We packed up under the light of a harvest moon and walked back to the truck for the return drive home. When we arrived home, we went straight to sleep, preparing to head out for an early morning departure.
At 3:30 a.m., with only four hours of sleep, we left the house and were headed back to the ranch. Once we parked the truck, we hiked back up the ridge and sat in the dark for about 45 minutes. The harvest moon was still shining so bright that we were casting shadows in the dark and had no need for the use of our headlamps. At first light, we saw a herd a few miles away, just specs along the brightening skyline. We hiked down the ridge and across the hills and draws a few miles until we nearly jumped another herd in a small draw. Keeping the wind in our favor, we moved into a shooting position between the herds with little cover. It was around 7:00 a.m. now, and we were right on top of two herds. Then there was a third herd about 900 yards away. All together, I had about 15 bulls to choose from, but only two of them were shooters and bigger than my older brother's bull. Bulls were bugling in all three herds, and the experience was exhilarating.
I got set up on a nice 6x6, and then out of the corner of the scope, I saw the herd bull walk out of the ravine. His body was huge, long, and tall, and his rack was gigantic. I switched my shot onto him. I could not get a clear shot to save my life. Every time I would get a clear opening for a shot, a cow would walk in front of him or the bull from before would walk behind him. Finally, after about 20 minutes of patiently waiting, they cleared and I was able to get a shot. My summer routine kicked in and I took a deep breath, steadied my shaking hands, and squeezed the trigger. He jumped and took off up the hill. I had drilled him in the left front shoulder from 321 yards, shattering the bones. He couldn’t get very far and lay down. We hiked over to him, praying that he wouldn’t slide back into the deep ravine. I finished him off with one last shot.
My dad and I could not stop smiling. I was so excited! The bull was a beautiful 7x7 with thin strands of velvet coming off his antlers. With help from the landowner, we got him out of the ravine, gutted, and skinned and packed his body with ice as the temperature outside was steadily rising. I am so appreciative of our hunt manager, Bob, for helping us out and being there for us and the landowner for giving me the opportunity to hunt on his ranch. Also, I'm appreciative to the Game department for giving youth hunters like me the chance-of-a-lifetime.
As far as family goes, I'm appreciate to my dad for doing everything in his power to give me so many opportunities to choose from and to my older brother for fueling the sibling rivalry between us. He had taken his bull eight years previous on the same hunt and I wanted something bigger to show that I can do anything he can. I proved to myself on this hunt that with determination, dedication, and luck, I can do anything I apply myself to. This hunt gave me the experience-of-a-lifetime. I’m blessed to say that my first animal was a beautiful bull and the biggest elk in our household. As a family, we decided to shoulder mount such a beautiful animal and we are leaving the strands of velvet on his antlers. The future holds nothing but positives for me and my hunting career. I’m looking forward to the draws of 2018. I thank God for everything His grace has blessed me with and one of my favorite verses, Psalm 42:1.