When antler tips began appearing above the rim of the draw behind the cows, I knew a bull was committed. He was heading my way, and in a moment, I could take a shot. A mature bull he was—a 7-point.
I still can’t figure out why my friends out west try to whittle down the point count as far as they can. When it comes to whitetails, they just throw away the brow tines—never mind they might each be inches long. Next they throw away the points on one side altogether. They’ll mention a 4-point, and somehow everybody knows they are talking about a 10-pointer. Talk about fuzzy math…but I digress.
The 7×7 heading my way was out of the draw now, and it was time to squeeze off. My support was solid. Take a deep breath and let half of it escape—I had done this many times before. Squeeze. CLICK!
Either I had never chambered a round, or I was using a camera. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK…it must have been the latter. The Canon was going rat-tat-tat now! We were humming.
Several days prior while I was exhibiting at a show in Pennsylvania, a gentleman who had stopped by my booth reminded me that now was the time to be photographing elk in Elk County.
Monday I did a search and found a bed and breakfast with an open night just two nights later, thirteen minutes away from the Elk Country Visitor’s Center in Benezette, Pennsylvania. We would go.
The drive was a pleasant one. We snaked our way up through some beautiful countryside in West Virginia, not once hitting a clogged interstate like I-81. Leaves were thinking about changing colors—some places more so than others.
As we entered the parking lot, there was Dana, arms folded, looking around, waiting.
“It’s too hot…I don’t know. I’m afraid they might not want to come out tonight,” Dana mused. “Maybe we can drive around and find some elk in another place.”
It was storytime with Dana, as we cruised nearby roads and scanned fields, looking for elk. He told of bulls past that made their mark by etching something into his memory. But no elk today.
Back at the visitor’s center, a large crowd had gathered. The history of the last days suggested only one thing—this meadow was the place to be. In fact, just one week earlier, a 6×7 bull was gored to death during a fight with another bull, as visitors watched.
We carried several cameras the quarter mile and found a place at the close end of the line of viewers where we could set up behind the rope.
A return trip to the vehicle was needed to get cameras for Cheryl and Adrian. Instead of setting them up beside Dana and me, Cheryl and Adrian and Bethany went to the far end of the viewing area and found a vacant spot there. This would give us two perspectives on any approaching elk.
An occasional bugle in the surrounding forest gave us hope fun things might be straight ahead. When a cow materialized five hundred yards away, the excitement began to heat up. It was 4:57 p.m. Soon more cows followed—elk were coming out!
Stately-looking, majestic, Mr. Big Horns sauntered out and surveyed his cows—this was going to be fun. Our trip was not in vain.
More elk, and still more—two bulls, three bulls—just how many bulls were there? Five, six—the number kept growing.
The bugling was constant now. Bulls walked back and forth, each hoping they were the boss bull, I suppose.
Unbelievably to me, one monster bull decided bedding down was for him, as did a number of cows and calves. I guess he figured he would save his energy for a bit.
More bulls came into the meadow, walking in from the opposite side. One bull stopped inside the tree line and raked up trees. From my position five hundred yards away, photos weren’t an option.
The cloudy evening would hasten the arrival of dark. Would the elk come close enough for quality photos before I was out of adequate light?
Cheryl and Adrian were closer to the animals than I was. However, the trees at the edge of the little draw they were looking up blocked their view to the elk where the elk first entered the field.
When the first 7×7 came through the draw to my side, I knew Cheryl and Adrian were having fun too. He would be giving them a gorgeous opportunity.
By the time darkness was licking at our heels and rangers were herding people away, practically all forty-plus elk were within 150-200 yards/meters. There were no bedded bulls now. Back and forth they paced, and their bugling was incessant—twelve bulls, nine of which were 6×6 or larger.
The most points we saw was an impressive 9×7. Thankfully, he came close enough for photos. When I first spied him 500-600 yards away, I wondered what were the chances.
After returning to the vehicles, Dana said that was the first time he has seen so many bulls just wandering around. For the past thirty years he has made the hour and a half trip to visit them, so this new record meant something. Usually his visits have been in October, and this was September 30. Did that have something to do with there being so many still bunched up together like this?
Archery season opens tomorrow. It may be that will impact visibility of the elk.
Meanwhile, a gentleman from one of the tour buses from Sugarcreek, Ohio, invited us over to share some leftover cheesecake they had pulled out for a snack. Hopefully some of them get Nature Friend and can once again accept our thanks for their kindness.