Story By: Brent Gainer
Three years ago, I made a significant decision to transition from being a lifelong rifle hunter to an archery hunter. My primary objective was to successfully harvest a Roosevelt bull elk within the next three years. Several factors contributed to this choice, but the most compelling reason was the opportunity to hunt for an entire month instead of the traditional seven-day season. Additionally, my hunting party had aged out and expressed a desire to avoid the challenging conditions of the coastal rainforest in Oregon. I can’t blame them for that.
The first two years flew by, and I felt like my archery skills were improving with each hunt. However, I soon discovered that archery hunting was vastly different from rifle hunting. I spent countless hours watching YouTube videos of experienced archery elk hunters and conversing with numerous seasoned hunters to absorb as much information as possible. I particularly enjoyed the articles on archery hunting in the Huntin’ Fool magazine. I was astounded by how differently elk behaved during archery season compared to rifle seasons, and I found that close encounters were common. This newfound passion for archery hunting quickly became an addiction, and I often wish I had made the switch sooner. Don’t get me wrong—I still relish the thrill of pursuing blacktail and mule deer bucks with my rifle!
Going into the third year of my goal, I believed this was the year. In the months leading up to opening day, I intensified my training and target practice. The night before opening morning, I prepped all my gear, loaded the truck, and hardly slept a wink. As daylight started to form, I was already halfway to the spot where I had been in the middle of a herd each of the previous two seasons.
My cousin had joined me on this hunt. He was a lifelong archery hunter and one of my resources of knowledge. We walked into the area and immediately smelled and heard the elk. A group of about twenty were feeding in the brush. We had the wind in our favor for once. As the elk moved up an old logging road, chomping the green salmonberry leaves, I could tell they were getting closer. So could my heart, as it was pumping out of my chest. Nothing a few deep breaths couldn’t fix, or so I thought.
As I nestled in behind some Douglas fir trees, I saw the velvet-horned head of a nice-sized spike. He was going to pass through an opening at 28 yards. I nocked an arrow and drew to full draw. There he was, right in front of my face! I aimed for the crease and let my arrow flow. Bullseye! He stood in his tracks, wondering what had just hit him. He walked off 15 yards and succumbed to his injuries. We approached him, and I was filled with joy and gratitude for having achieved my goal. I’m now fully entrenched in archery hunting and will be for the rest of my life.