Elk camp was already in full swing by the time I arrived Sunday afternoon, the day before New Mexico archery elk season opened. A lot of other camps were there as well, since it was Labor Day weekend. The friends I’m hunting with have been coming here for ages, and camp alongside several fellow hunters, who have also been coming here for a long time, and together they and the weekenders formed a little town of tents, campers, and archery targets.
We had the space at the very end, furthest from the main road, with a little gully to practice shots into. After dinner, they introduced me to some of the other hunters camped there. One of them had his family in from the city, and they had a warm campfire going and guitars strumming. We stayed for awhile, listening to them joke around and sing Lonely Boys and Johnny Cash. I was wiped out, but the songs, laughter, fire, and moonlight were captivating. It was a perfect welcome to elk camp.
Day 1: Life on forest standard time
Up and away at elk-dark-thirty. We drove to the edge of the wilderness, and hiked the rest of the way in. Our stands are strung along a series of drainages, so we all walked in together, dropping each person off at their stand, then reversed the process coming back out.
I was extremely nervous about getting up into a tree stand in the dark, but it turns out to be far easier when you can’t see! I scrambled up like a little monkey, towed my bow up, and settled in to watch the forest wake up.
When we had set stands a few weeks previously, I wondered about scent. I’d tried to de-scent my stand and rails and all the straps and chains. If there was any scent remaining, the elk had not only gotten used to it, but come right up to investigate. They had very recently left fresh tracks around my tree, then hung out and fed within mere yards–just as we’d seen during our summer scouting. Mischief managed. Now we would just have to see how the forest cards would fall. Every day the deck is shuffled: noisy Labor Day revelers and the opening of season probably jumbled things up, but we hoped things would settle down in again within a few days.
Looking down from the stand platform, you can see tracks where the elk had recently come right up to check out the climbing rails. Only a few yards out they left tracks and sign indicating they’d stuck around and fed very close by.
That morning, things were quiet for a long time. Several times I heard something large along the ridge behind my stand, and so I occasionally gave a cow call or two, but nothing came in. Perhaps I should have tried a light bugle to arouse more curiosity. Who knows?
Later in the morning, something behind my stand started making noise, and was clearly coming near. Smaller than an elk, larger than a squirrel. I slowly turned, and was surprised to see a flock of tom turkeys wandering down the drainage. One of them had a beard that dragged along the ground. A couple of them finally came into range, but I was situated for lefthand shots, and they were to my left–a perfect righthand shot. I wasn’t sure if I could move without them seeing me, so I froze and just watched. Lesson learned in hindsight: I momentarily forgot I was up in a tree stand, and should have at least tried to see what I could get away with. A bit later, a flock of hens wandered through, following almost the same trajectory. None were in range, though.
A flock of turkeys came through during midmorning. Can you see one of them, right in the center of the photo?
The quiet resumed. Not much moving, just birds and squirrels. Late in the morning, I heard a lone turkey yelping, then saw one of the hens slowly making her way back down the drainage. Poor thing must have gotten separated from the flock, and all her kee-kee-ing had gotten no response. She crossed the drainage in a wide arc, just out of range, and bobbed up the ridge behind me.
Not long after the hen wandered off, my hunting partner stopped by to pick me up for the mid-day break. Part of me wanted to remain in the stand, not miss any opportunities, but I was still exhausted, and needed the break. It turns out he had talked with a bull from his stand, and it was likely that bull I’d heard earlier that morning, crashing around on the ridge behind my stand.
During our mid-day break, we watched the holiday campers trickle out, and soon the town shrank down to four little camps. Our fourth hunting partner also showed up, bearing green chile stew and apple pie. Perfect timing for lunch.We ate, rested, and cleaned up before heading back out.
What better way to celebrate the first day of season than with a fresh-baked, home-made apple pie? It was delicious!
On the hike in, we heard grouse drumming, so one of my friends nocked a small game head and stalked toward the little band of birds. They were unusually skittish though, and quickly scattered, so we resumed our trek in.
The rest of the afternoon was completely uneventful, but the after dark excitement more than made up for it. I got out of my stand just before full dark, and waited for my hunting partners to stop by on their way out. Our remaining hunting partner, whose stand was closest to the road, had radioed, saying he’d gotten a cow elk. We tracked her in the dark until we lost the blood trail leading down into a gnarly drainage crisscrossed with massive deadfall trees. It would get cold enough that night, and we didn’t want to spook her into running, so we decided to try again in the morning.
Arriving back at camp, we discovered a bunch of arrows tucked into the grill of my car. A fellow hunter owed one of my friends some arrows, and mistook our cars. I’d accidentally been initiated into a long tradition of pranks.
A prank and mistaken cars earned me a bunch of arrows stuck in the car grill.
Day 2: Blood, sweat, and gratitude
At daylight we headed back to the drainage we left the night before. On the way in, we saw two mule deer bucks just off the road. Since I had a deer tag, my friends insisted I get out and try stalking them. The deer were about 50 yards away, just looking at us. There was no immediate cover, yet they didn’t seem spooked, just quietly feeding. I managed to nock an arrow when they weren’t looking, then froze again. I slowly gained some ground on them, but must have spooked them anyway, because they suddenly turned and stotted off without stopping to look back, which was still fun to watch.
Back to the truck and on to the cow elk search. After picking up the trail, we found her deep in the drainage. She was a beautiful little yearling with a golden coat. We didn’t want to waste anything, so we took some quick photos, stood back and offered her a moment of silence and gratitude, then got to work. One of my partners went back to the truck to retrieve packs and the game cart. Meanwhile, I got my first hands-on course in field dressing big game, learning to skin and quarter. We got everything into game bags, and the four of us packed her through the deadfall, out of the drainage, and up to the waiting game cart. One of the other hunters camped nearby had requested the pelt if we didn’t want it, so I packed that out for him.
We didn’t want anything to go to waste, so after finding the cow elk, we skinned and quartered her, and packed her out. She was a beautiful little elk, and we are grateful for her.
We put the meat on ice, and before long she was on her way to Albuquerque for processing. I had to return to work, as well, but stayed for a bit to chew the fat and take a walk, absorbing a last little dose of wilderness therapy for the road. Although I’ll have to hop back and forth between the city and elk camp, most of my hunting partners–and their fellow hunters–will remain in camp for the full two weeks.
I was bone tired (annoying) and reeked of elk (heavenly) when I drove away, and I can hardly wait to go back. That mere day and a half stretched out like a lifetime, and indeed feels like an entire other life that part of me is still living. Perhaps after such a baptism in blood, muscle, scent, and sinew, I may never again be truly free of the glorious lure of the elk woods. Although my brain is solving problems at work and my eyes are staring at a computer screen, my heart now beats on elk time.
Calls of the Wild 