6th Prize
Hunting Journal with Weatherby Logo (100 awarded)
Nolan Davenport, Texas
“Every fall it starts, I guess we humans have an instinctive clock that tells us it's getting time to go hunting. I don't know what it is, maybe it's the hunters in my town rolling down the roads in their pickup trucks with hunting gear in the back of their pickup beds, or just the coolness in the air or the moon phase, but it sure gets me dreaming about hunting.
I have always been a whitetail deer hunter and maybe it's because I live in Texas and have never been outside the state to hunt. Don't get me wrong, I love Texas and could not think of a better place to hunt deer.
The last couple of years I've been dreaming of going elk hunting and not just on some high fence ranch that offers a guaranteed hunt. My mind takes to remote places such as Idaho, Montana, Wyoming and Colorado. I dream and imagine my self sitting on the top of a high packhorse walking through meadows and valleys and up through hills of some remote wilderness.
My mind often takes me to spike camps that are so far back that the only sounds you hear are from wildlife and uncontaminated wilderness winds. I think about what it would be like to wake up the next morning and open the door from the wall tent just knowing I was going to go elk hunting. I sometimes picture myself sitting at the top of some ridge with the puffy grey clouds above me looking through a spotting scope just to get a glimpse of nice trophy bull elk. I often wonder what a challenge it might be of spotting my trophy bull that is two to three miles away.
Sometimes in my dream, I can hear elk bugling and I can only imagine that I'm getting closer, closer and closer. My dream takes me back to the two mile stalk from when I first got the glimpse sitting so high on top of the hill and realizing that it's not just a dream, I'm actually there. The thoughts race through my mind of a 400-plus 7X7 trophy bull walking through the trees looking for a cow elk. I imagine the bull stopping and shaking the morning rains from his back that fly off of him like millions of drops of rain. I can see him with his neck stretched out scratching the top of his head from some underlying tree branch and the whole time, I'm just waiting for the right moment.
I look back to my guide and whisper to him this has got to be the one and wait for his okay. I can still see my elk as he gets closer the background behind him is made of tall and thin undergrowth brush. I can see another hillside behind the trees, the moment in time is perfect. My elk is now only 100 yards away and he doesn't even know I'm there. My guide whispers this is a great bull and I should take him. I look for a bench that I can get a solid rest, there's a nice tall pine tree next to me that has a low limb that is broken off that makes for a perfect rest. I'm finally ready...I practiced shooting for months at shooting range back in my hometown and my 7 Mag is up for the job. I got him in my scope now when he just walks behind some brush. I'm thinking I waited too long and he's walking away. I'm so nervous and scared my hands are trembling. I can still see him; he is still just behind some small trees. I can see him scratching on the ground. My guide is carrying a cow elk call and he softly blows the call. My bull just stands there, I don't know if he hears it or not. He blows the call again and my elk turns towards us...he takes a few steps and stops again. It seems like slow motion, it seems like a lifetime. He continues to walk towards us as if he looking for the cow that he heard. He now has finally cleared the brush he had been behind for so long. I've still got him in my scope; I'm just waiting for him to turn broadside. I take my gun off safety and stare down the scope waiting for my opportunity. POW...THUMP, he jumps and turns back the direction he came from. I load in another shell to take another shot when I see him stagger and stumble. My guide tells me you made a great shot, and then I see him fall. The excitement is all over me...I can't wait to see and touch him. I look back at my guide and I tell him, your the greatest guide in the world, we high-five one another in celebration.
We gathered our gear and went to go see my bull elk, he had not run far and I could see one side of his tall rack sticking up over his brown coat. As we got closer he only got bigger. The antlers were dark in color with white colored points on the end.
I approached with caution making sure not to make a mistake. I pointed my rifle down and touched him on his haunch. He didn't move. I checked my rifle and put it on safety; I laid it down across the side of his back. I climbed over him and straddled my legs behind his shoulder and grabbed one side of his horns. I could not believe they were so heavy. I could barley reach across to the other side. I started to count points, one, two, three, four, five, six and seven. I counted the other side, one, two, three, four, five, six and seven. He's a 7X7 I yelled out to my guide. My guide said, ‘Yep, what a trophy!’
I then climbed off the elks back and went to get my camera from my backpack that I had laid down on the ground next to an aspen tree. I pulled out my camera and started taking pictures. I first took pictures of the elk as he laid there. We then pulled his head around so that we could get his antlers to stand up as tall as possible for the pictures. My guide took several pictures of me and my 7X7 Trophy. I then set up my backpack laid the camera on it and fixed it to take pictures of both us together. I'm so excited and there's no comparison of a bull elk in size to a Texas whitetail deer.
What a dream hunt, maybe I'll go soon. Until then; I hope next year's fall season will bring back another dream.”