6th Prize
Hunting Journal with Weatherby Logo (100 awarded)
Nancy Craft, Pennsylvania
“The last of the stars are disappearing as the long violet fingers of dawn creep across the vast morning sky. The silence of the cool autumn morning is broken only by the rustling of golden aspen leaves, the jingling of the horses' bridles, the soft creaking of saddle leather, and the muffled thud of horses' hooves as we follow our guide along a steep mountain path leading to a high mountain meadow deep in the White River Flattop area of Colorado.
Riding along on my trusty bay gelding, Beau, I reflect on what a perfect hunt this truly is. I am so fortunate to be in one of the most beautiful areas of the earth, riding a wonderful horse in search of a trophy bull elk. The most important element of this hunt is being accompanied by my family...my husband, son, daughter-in-law, and three grandchildren. Hunting has always been a ‘family tradition’ for our family. This is the hunt my entire family has dreamed about for many years.
Suddenly my mind is jerked back to the present by the piercing bugle of a bull elk somewhere off to our left. Another bull answers from a clump of aspen on our right. A third bull bugles from the area of the meadow we are planning to hunt. Bob, our guide, indicates that we should continue on the trail to the edge of the meadow while he begins to ‘cow call.’. The air is electrically charged with the excitement of the hunt. My granddaughter, Morgan, and grandsons, Ethan and Dylan, are wide-eyed and grinning from ear-to-ear, their faces glowing with anticipation as we reach the meadow's edge. (This is their first elk hunt.) We quickly dismount, tie the horses, slide our rifles from the scabbards, and stealthily make our way to various positions along the meadow's edge. Ethan, my oldest grandson, is close by on my right.
Our guide ‘cow calls' as the three bulls continue to bellow challenges to each other. The bulls are definitely working toward each other and will probably meet along the edge of the meadow.
I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye and my heart rate triples as four cows slip into the meadow from my left. Suddenly the bull elk appears out of the early morniing mist and begins to follow his harem across the meadow bugling the entire time. He's a nice six-by-six. Thinking about how he'll look in our trophy room, I suddenly realize that an even larger bull, probably in the 390-400 BC class, is about to pass directly in front of Ethan. Forgetting about the bull in front of me, I watch as events seem to unfold in very slow motion. I hold my breath as Ethan raises his new Weatherby Vanguard .270, slides the safety off, and slowly begins to squeeze the trigger.
BRRINGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!! The morning mist, the high mountain meadow, and the trophy bull suddenly evaporate as I'm rudely awakened by the alarm clock just as Ethan squeezes the trigger. The alarm has ended the best hunt of my life, and I don't know the outcome of my dream hunt. Did Ethan score on the trophy bull? Hopefully, one day soon, I can actually experience the events of my dream hunt with my family and discover the true ending of this exciting hunt.
I am a 60-year-old grandmother who has hunted for at least 55 years. I tagged along with my father and grandfather when they went hunting long before I was old enough to have a hunting license. Hunting has always been a tradition in our family, and my husband, Gary, and I are actively passing on the ‘tradition’ to our grandchildren.”