Friday
I headed down to get my quarters packed up to a nearby horse trail where I’m supposed to meet the packer on Saturday. Once again the bulls were bugling in “elk valley”, so I stayed up top to “keep them talking” while Drew and BR slipped down to hopefully sneak in on the action. I’d been sitting on the ridge being treated to a symphony for the last hour. By the sounds of things the rut was in full swing and tempers were flaring. The herd seemed to be staying in the same location and the wind was good. I thought we’d be packing more than my bull that morning.
Unfortunately the boys weren’t able to get it done. Although the goat/ninja (Drew) was able to sneak between the herd bull and two sparring satellite bulls each 30-yards away but was never able to get a clear shot.
We spent the next couple hours packing my quarters up out of the drainage onto a horse trail for the packer to find. Drew and Big Ron are champs, I wanted them to both keep hunting but they wouldn’t have it and insisted on helping.
After relocating the quarters I headed back to camp to refill our water supply and I was beat. I lied down for about 3-minutes before heading back to the drainage to help Drew locate a talkative bull. When I got to the rim of the “elk valley” I heard Drew calling on the radio, the message, “tell the packer to bring more horses”… Number two down, only one more to go.
He used his mystical skills to sneak up on a cow and put her down within 1/3 mile of where my meat was hanging, the elk gods must have been watching out for us. I felt like a loser because I had to stay up top playing phone tag with the packer to ensure our quarters had a ride out of the hills the next day. Drew quartered his cow solo and packed two quarters that night, arriving back at our spike camp shortly before midnight.