Elk hunters come close, return home empty-handed

By Ken Pizzagoni

The alarm sounds; its 3:45 a.m. on opening morning. The temperature outside is in the low 30s, better put on an extra layer of 

clothes. It rained hard most of the night; at times the rhythmic sound of raindrops pounding on the rubber roof of our travel trailer 

woke us briefly, then just as quickly lulled us back into blissful slumber.

After breakfast, we drive off to our chosen hunting spot. As we ramble down the mountain highway, in the darkness aided 

by the car's headlights, we observe a stunning sight. The tall, evergreen trees and vegetation that line the cold, black asphalt 

are covered with a white, fluffy substance. Snow!

We arrive at our destination; step out of the car and like quicksand our boots sink into the soft, thick mud. Thankfully, I 

remembered to spray a few layers of Camp Dry on my boots prior to the hunt. My wife hasn't complained yet, so at the 

moment it appears her feet are still warm and dry.

The brisk, icy wind stings our unprotected skin. Loaded down with firearms and gear, we tiptoe carefully along the forest

road trying in vain to avoid the deep puddles and rain-soaked earth. The sun hasn't even thought about rising yet. I shine my 

flashlight ahead, and as I scan the forest I can't help but gasp at the startling beauty of the surrounding, snowy terrain. Off in 

the distance, a few deep, guttural bull elk bugles break the morning's silence.

Man, I love elk hunting.

That was an excerpt from my journal as I described opening day of last month's cow elk hunt. Here's another passage on the 

hunt:

The altimeter reads 8,400 feet. We reached the summit of one of the highest peaks in the unit. Suddenly, less than a hundred 

yards away at the edge of a ridge, a cow elk comes into view. My wife, Rena, is in hot pursuit, and I follow several yards behind 

her.

From my vantage point, the animal appears to be running away from us. To slow it down or halt its progress, I blow a few 

notes into my cow elk call. At the same time, Rena is busy setting up for a shot, but when I finish blowing the call she motions 

for me to stop calling.

Moments later, I hear the rumbling of footsteps. I turn slightly, and my friend Aaron is running toward me at full speed. I 

mumble to myself, "What is he doing?"

Aaron is waving his arms and trying to get my attention. Once he has my attention, he begins to point frantically over to my 

left. In a loud whisper, he says, "There are two elk standing right over there, a bull and a cow elk. Go, go and try to cut 

them off!"

I gaze over to my left, but can't find the elk. Confused, I glance over at Rena who's holding her index fingers above her 

head in the shape of antlers. I give her an "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me" gesture.

With a slightly disgusted look, she turns her focus to the cow elk that has finally detected our presence and is trying to 

escape. Several other elk are now in view. Rena and I follow the herd now hidden behind trees and wait for them to 

appear in the clearing. The herd refuses to follow the plan, and they scamper off into the thick timber unscathed.

After a short pursuit, we return to the car. Aaron and Ron, my father-in-law, are both wide-eyed and snickering. Ron 

says to me, "The bull elk came up so close to you, you could have hit it with a rock!" I reply, "What bull elk? I never saw it!"

As the story goes, when I began to blow the call, the bull elk, about 50yards away heard the call, was evidently impressed 

with my calling skill and became interested. In his mind, I was a cow elk in heat and he was strutting to gain a closer look.

When Aaron began his sprint, Ron said the bull elk obviously sensed danger, snapped out of his amorous mood and realized 

I wasn't his potential mate. He turned away like a frightened horse, and bolted away with the cow elk.

No elk were harvested on this trip, but it was a memorable hunt and we learned a great deal from each experience. Next 

fall, if we're once again fortunate to be drawn for elk permits, I look forward to sharing a few more wonderful memories 

from the hunt.

Kenneth Pizzagoni

kpangler@qwest.net