Oliver and Mary Ford have hunted together since he gave her a double-barreled Bernardelli as a wedding present in 1976. Mary soon decided she preferred deer and elk hunting to bird hunting, so the shotgun was traded for a Winchester 7x57mm Featherweight, ideally suited for her five foot frame.

Below Oliver and Mary on an early elk hunt on horseback, lots of riding and no shots at elk on that hunt…

When Mary decided to go for elk again in 2017, she opted for a Browning A-Bolt in .308 and loaded it with 150 grain Federal Trophy Copper ammunition, mainly for their reputation for through and through penetration but also because that ammo eliminated any concerns about leaving lead fragments in the venison younger members of the family would consume.

It was not until the fifth and final day of her hunt, just as legal shooting time was slipping away, that she had a chance to fill her tag with a large bull with a battle-broken antler that appeared on the edge of a mountain meadow in southern Colorado.

The bull stopped dead in his tracks at the first shot, but he managed a step forward, so she shot him again, not taking any chances. Over many hunts she had learned the necessity of well-placed shots. 

Across the mountain top, her son Ross smiled when he heard her shots, knowing what probably had happened while he and his guide, Grant Hottman, played hopscotch with an elusive bull they never caught up with. Sure enough, the cell phone buzzed, calling them to bring the trailer and help Mary’s guide, Doug Doster, Ronald and me with loading the bull.

Only Ross and his uncle Ronald drew tags in 2018, and Mary’s job as a dean required her to stay home, so I just went along for the hunt. Ross’ job required him to fly out and meet us in Colorado, so he arrived the day before the hunt began. The next morning Ross and Grant were off to the far side of the mountain again while Ronald hunted an area where he had taken a good bull previously. Noon found us all back at camp for the usual, great lunch. Ross reported he liked the feel of the pre-64 Mod 70 Featherweight in 308 and was confident that the same Federal load his mother had used would do the job when needed.

At 4 pm Ronald and Doug were situated in a high blind with a commanding view of that same meadow where Mary had been successful the year before. Ross and I were in an open blind closer to the lower end, where a small stream cut across the end of the meadow. Over the years elk had been known to move out into the meadow from almost every quarter. The previous year a herd of more than 20 elk had come out of the creek bed right at dark, following the lead cow almost all the way to the top before she spooked and they all thundered back where they had come from. There was a good bull in the middle but it was too late to shoot.

From our blind we studied the small clearing near the creek but saw nothing. We scoured the side of the mountain across from us but saw nothing but birds, We tried to determine what the wind was doing, but it kept changing directions, first in our face and then on the back of our necks and then down the length of the meadow. As the light faded and the trees were shrouded in shadows, we strained to see into the woods line, but details were slowly being erased as the end of legal shooting approached.

Suddenly I sensed that Ross had stiffened and was staring into the shadows along the creek. He had seen something move, but then… nothing.

Far away but higher, Ronald and Doug had seen the bull come up out of the creek bed, seeing his dark head, chest  and antlers and a bit of his rump, all of which was lost in the shadows from our lower perspective. Then he stopped.  All Ross had seen was movement in the shadows.  The bull then began to walk forward, slowly revealing the antlers that confirmed he was legal, even though an accurate count of points was impossible. As he emerged from the creek bed, he turned slightly uphill and stopped, presenting a clear broadside view, just as the elk had done that Mary took the year before.

Ross responded by leaning into his shooting sticks, slipping the safety off, aiming just behind the shoulder and firing, all in less time than it takes to write this. The bull stopped moving immediately, transfixed. When the bull did not fall, Ross shot again, just to be sure.

At first the bull did not respond, but then swayed back and forth, causing Ross to worry that he might lunge over a nearby precipice and tumble 70 feet into a mass of vines and sticker bushes in the dark, so he shot him in the shoulder, whereupon the bull fell over, kicked a few times and was done.

Then we could walk the 200 yards to where he lay, no more than 20 yards from where Mary’s elk had fallen the year before.

A later green scoring rated his 6×6 rack at a satisfying 309 and 7/8 points, and when he was skinned, we could see that both chest shots had left 3 inch wound channels through both lungs only a few inches apart.  The bull had been dead on its feet from the first shot.

As before, Doug called Grant to bring the trailer for us all to load the bull for the trip down the mountain to camp, where we marked a successful beginning to the 2018 hunt with a long, slow sip of Knob Creek bourbon. It had been a truly auspicious beginning and sudden end to Ross’ elk hunting season, but Grant and fellow hunter John Finch from Detroit, had taken photos that proved to be a preview of John’s hunt a day or so later.

After a side trip to Major Wildlife Taxidermy, the bull will assume a dominant position in the family trophy room filled with reminders of past hunts and fishing trips.

Hunt Info: Tim Barraclough, Kiowa Hunting Services, Raton, NM  Tim@kiowahunting.com

© 2018 Oliver Ford All Rights Reserved

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