As some of you remember last year while hunting elk, my horse fell and landed on me. I tore all the ligaments in my left elbow and shattered the bones. After a bunch of plastic, titanium and screws, my elbow is functional again. I set a goal after my surgery to be able to pull my compound bow back before the start of the archery season in September of 2014. My surgeon told me numerous times to lower my expectations for my arm and my goal may be a little too ambitious. The surgeon knew how much I loved bow hunting and suggested that I could get a disabled archery hunter license until my arm was healed enough to draw a bow. He fully disclaimed that he didn’t know if I would ever get enough use back in my arm to be able to pull back a 70 lb bow again. Since I am a stubborn person by nature, I didn’t let the surgeon’s prognosis deter me. I worked at building back the strength in my arm thru the winter, spring and summer. My elbow made a lot of progress but it was still unstable. When I put pressure on it in the wrong way it would slip and move, which is quite painful. August came and I was still unable to draw my bow back. I had put off buying a crossbow not wanting to admit defeat. Then a week before the season started I faced the fact that my arm wasn’t going to be stable or strong enough. Not having any experience with crossbows, I started doing research. Shooting a crossbow didn’t excite me until I watched Daryl Dixon in The Walking Dead. I envisioned myself taking down bulls and bucks like Daryl took down zombies. I found what seemed to be one of the top of the line crossbows, the Barnett Ghost 410. Shortly after getting my crossbow, it became clear to me this Daryl Dixon guy is a complete fraud. A crossbow is definitely not the best choice of weapons for a zombie apocalypse. I was discouraged that this crossbow was not quite what I imagined. My wife encouraged me to keep practicing. I couldn’t expect to pick up a crossbow, shoot it a couple times and be as good with it as I was with a compound bow that I had shot for 25 years. Reluctantly I practiced that week and we set out for our elk hunt that weekend.
My 11 year old son, Dayton, had recently finished his Hunters Education and this was his first year that he was going to be able to hunt. Dayton hadn’t finished the archery portion of the Hunters Education, which in Idaho is a completely different class, so he was unable to hunt archery. Dayton had hunted with me before, but this year was different. His newly acquired hunting license was viewed as a right of passage for him. He now was old enough to hunt big game like a man so he was also old enough to hike and keep up with dad and his uncles in the high mountains of Idaho.
We started early that morning. Hank, my brother, had located a 5 point bull with some cows just before dark the night before. Knowing the direction the elk were feeding, we set out that way just before daybreak. It was a long, up hill hike. As we crossed a rocky razor back ridge in the canyon, we heard a bull elk bugling. I could see Dayton’s eyes light up when he heard the bull calling. We could tell by the bugles that he was a long way off. We continued to climb the mountain in the bull’s direction. The wind was moving up the hillsides making it impossible to approach the bull from below. We strategized about how to best call the bull in, but couldn’t come up with a viable plan based on the location of the elk. As we walked out of the timber and were able to view the mountainside that we could hear the bugles coming from, we spotted an elk in a sage brush clearing. It was nearly 500 yards away so we used our binoculars to determine that it was a nice 6 point. 
I jabbed Hank, “I thought you said the bull you saw last night was a 5 point.” Hank responded, “He was a 5 point last night, maybe he grew another point over night!” As we watched the bull, we spotted at least 2 cows move in and out of the trees. Knowing that he had cows with him, we agreed that calling him away from his cows would be very unlikely. We studied other possible approaches but the open sagebrush sides surrounding the patch of timber where the elk were hanging out made it very difficult. Hank and I agreed that trying to stalk the elk would probably result in us scaring the elk and ending our chances of getting the bull. We decided that we should sit tight and let the elk make the first move. I pulled out my camera and resigned myself to a photographer for the morning. 
Dayton sat beside me watching the bull chase the cows around while I snapped pictures. As we watched, another bull came out of the trees and it was a 5 point, shooting a hole into Hank’s antler growing theory. We also spotted 2 more cows making a very interesting herd dynamic, 2 bulls and at least 4 cows. Then all of the sudden, a cow bolted from the rest of the herd surprising Hank and I. We looked at each other in a questioning gesture, wondering if somehow we caused the cow to spook from where we sat close to 500 yards away. Shortly after, the 6 point bull and another cow followed her. Confused by the elks behavior, we watched through our binoculars. As the lead cow elk reached a saddle on the ridge line, she locked up her legs and stopped. All 3 elk stopped in the saddle just as abruptly as they had split from the rest of the herd.
The elk roamed around in a circle for a short time, then without warning the lead cow started running again. This time she was running back our direction. The other cow followed her and the bull tailed behind with his lip curled and his head tucked low. Dayton and I watched the cows that started out nearly 500 yards away, run to within 125 yards from where we sat. I knew that the bull would trail directly in their tracks. Being pinned down under the only tree cover near us, I was unable to move to a position to get a shot. The bull followed his cows up and over the ridge. As soon as he got past us I took off up the ridge, staying out of the bulls view by ducking down in a gully. As I crested the ridge, trying to cut the bull off, I heard him bugle in the bottom of the next draw. 
Discouraged, I radioed Hank and Dayton telling them I wasn’t able to cut the bull off. They then walked up the hill and met me on the ridge line. In a last ditch effort, we let out a bugle in the direction of the 5 point bull we had seen earlier. When he didn’t respond, we walked back over the ridge and we let one more bugle out in the direction of the 6 point bull. The 6 point hadn’t been shy about bugling, so it didn’t surprise us when he bugled right back. I pulled up my binoculars and started glassing the mountain in the direction where we had heard the bugle. Within a few minutes I caught a glimpse of an elk walking back our direction. He was in the aspens so I only caught sight of him for a split second. I turned to Hank and Dayton and stated, “He is coming back!” The 3 of us shuffled to a better position to see the hillside the bull was now on. Hank then caught a glimpse of the same bull, confirming that the bull was now headed back our direction. The excitement level between the 3 of us sky rocketed! Not 5 minutes before we were defeated and about to give up on the hunt. Then with the glimpse of the bull moving through the trees at close to 800 yards away, we all knew that we were going to shoot this bull. Hank and I discussed strategy and decided that staying where we were would give us the best chance. Not being confident with my new crossbow, I setup in a spot where my shooting lanes were maxed out at 40 yards. Hank and Dayton moved behind me and up the ridge 75 yards to call. I setup and waited for the bull to show up. Within 10 minutes I saw the bull’s tines coming thru the timber on the trail that I anticipated him coming in on. The bull entered the edge of the clearing and let out a small bugle making the hair standup on the back of my neck. I raised my crossbow as the bull entered a shooting lane, rested my sight behind his left front shoulder and touched the trigger. The sound of an arrow that had hit its target broke the quiet of the morning. The bull jumped, spun, and ran all in one motion. Hank, recognizing the sound, began cow calling to hopefully stop the bull from running any further. Being noticeably excited and shaken, I walked back up the 75 yds to where Hank and Dayton were sitting. 
Due to the excitement of the hunt, I was a little short of breath as I relayed to them how the events had just unfolded. Dayton not fully understanding the adrenaline rush I was experiencing, curiously asked me, “Dad why are you so out of breath? Did you have to chase the elk down?” I tried to explain to him that I wasn’t out of breath due to running after the bull and taking it down by the horns, but because I was excited about shooting this beast. As we talked we heard some crashing which we hoped was the bull tipping over. With the assumption that the bull was dead, we still waited the traditional time to insure we wouldn’t chase the bull off. Dayton eagerly watched the clock, saying to me “This has to be the worst part about elk hunting!” Not being able to contain my excitement either, I agreed with Dayton that we could start working the blood trail.
Seeing this hunt thru my sons eyes made me remember being a kid and following a blood trail on a bull my uncle had shot. I remember being dog tired from hiking but at the same time feeling the rush of excitement each time we would find blood.Then having the excitement grow with each drop of blood, knowing there was a big bull elk at the other end of the trail. I remember the anticipation being almost unbearable and I could see that my son was having the same feelings I had experienced so many years ago. The blood trail was hard to find at first, consistent with a bull that had been hit high in the lungs. We unraveled the trail by the tracks, which lead to small specks of blood and then a solid blood line on the ground and brush. Having experienced blood trails like this before, I knew we would find the bull piled up shortly. I put Dayton in front of us on the trail placing him in the position to be the first one to spot the bull. His eyes lit up as he turned to me, in an almost unbelieving look, when he spotted the bull tipped over. Having shot many bull elk and having been in on many more hunts where we have taken bulls, I would dare say that this experience with my son rates right at the top of my best memories.
By Eli Grover
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