"Mr Majestic" - Elk 2022 By Tyler Lawrence

Last year I started my elk adventures. Hunting the Lakeland area I had a nice 5x bull come out at 84 yards at last light. “Too far for me with the bow.” I thought to myself. I appreciated seeing his magnificence. He moved through the bush with grace and silence even with his large antlers. I couldn’t have imagined shooting a bull the first time I saw one in the wild. Besides, I had already filled my over-the-counter bull moose tag in August, so the pressure to fill my freezer was gone.

Later that season I had a chance to accompany some work friends to the north of Grand Prairie. Like most public land in northern Alberta, the terrain was dense bush regularly sliced with oil exploration cut lines and abandoned oil pads. Parting from my group members I left the ease of getting around in the truck, staying on the beaten path opting for boots and sweat. I remember clocking 30km one day. Dissecting cutlines, getting trapped in thick bush, and yes, having to check my google maps at 3 min intervals, I had an idea of how these animals eluded sight. They stay in the thickest bush. If you approach, they hear you coming at least 200m away. There were approx 3 times that I had to question if my eyes were deceiving me, ‘Were those tines moving briskly away? Or is that just a bush?’ definitely the tines of the ninja elk. With all this scouting, I found it. Even the most amateur hunter could tell where the congregation was held. In the middle of the entwined willows and spruce trees there was an opening about the size of a hockey rink. The towering trees encircled like the boards. In the center? A mud hole, smelling of urine and testosterone fueled sweat. Another section where there was a clear puddle; obviously a drinking hole. The perfect scene: a spring wallow, atop of the steep hill, the forest floor looking like a cattle pasture.

This. Is. The. Spot.

I could only think how a stand or a saddle could be the best way to hunt this area. The 2021 hunt was over and the group ended up coming home with moose meat. Was it shot within the vicinity of a bush road? Yes. However, I was the only one who saw an elk. I was also the only one to leave the truck. Coincidence? I think not.

For an entire year I thought about that wallow. How it was the perfect spot. How it couldn’t be matched with all of the scouting we did. I thought to myself ‘I am definitely going to go back to that area.’

Fast forward to this year. (2022) I tell the group I’m heading back. No trailer, no quad. Just my truck, and tent. The rest of the group wished me luck. They had their doubts that “My dream spot” would even be there this year. They don’t bow hunt so they were out regardless. I convinced my friend Josh from work to come. He’s a brand new bow hunter. I tried getting him a spring bear and a fall bear without luck. Although he saw some, he had never released an arrow. This should be an excellent experience I thought to myself. The entire drive I bring up this spot at minimum -  5 times.

Once we completed the 7+ hour drive we set up camp and went off to set up trail cams and sit until dark. We set up a cam at a beaver pond and another in a clearing where there were lots of tracks. On our way to my dream spot we heard a bugle. “Cut the distance!” I said to Josh, and we rushed closer. Confident with my calls, I gave a couple cow mews. He bugled back! Game on! I sent Josh ahead to intercept. A couple of exchanges of mews and bugles and I let big bugle with chuckles go. All of a sudden the response didn’t sound quite right. We played for another 15 minutes and the bugles started sounding worse. Josh emerged from the timber, “It’s a dude. And his calling is starting to sound like crap.” “Sounds good, let's head to my spot.” I replied.

Guess what was still there? Guess what still smelled of fresh elk and looked like a cow pasture sans the patties? I put my cell cam facing the wet hole. This way I will be able to see everything going on in relatively real time.

Due to the overlap of general tags, we had a bull moose and bull elk general over-the-counter tag in our pockets. The next morning we set up at the beaver pond and tried to call moose. The classic sounds of public land hunting ensued with an approaching truck to do a brief wildlife check of a local oil pad followed by a u-turn and on their way to the next pad. We sat till mid morning and headed back to camp to have a proper breakfast and make a game plan for the rest of the day.

After we ate and packed up we were on our way to an area uncharted by myself. We bushwhacked and walked cut lines for a solid 5-10km, finding the largest black bear tracks I have ever seen. When we were getting close to camp we ended up  staying out of the bush and on the main cut line to save time. As we were walking, we saw what looked like a rough cut quad trail without the tire marks. But we could tell it wasn’t man made. I looked at Josh and sighed “I know we are almost back, but I think we have to check out this trail.” He agreed and we headed back into the bush.

ANOTHER elk oasis. A spring fed pond, a wallow and grass laid down from large animals bedding. All with the ground completely dimpled from hooves. “Josh, this is your spot!” I exclaimed.

My spypoint cell cam has gone off three times in the past 12 hours. All pics including a cow and calf moose. “The bull can’t be far” I think to myself.

Around 3:00pm we head out from camp full of excitement and anticipation of the night to come. Josh is going to set up a pop up blind and I have my climbing stick and saddle in my pack. I want to know how long it takes in the daylight so the next morning I have an idea of what time to leave to set up before daylight. 4:07pm - awesome, only an hour. I am set up and slung 25” in the tree overlooking the rink. I mean right over top of the wettest spot. I settle in and let some soft cow moose calls out every 15 minutes or so. I hear scratching at the base of the tree. The loudest animal in the bush, a red squirrel. He ascends the tree to investigate “CHIRP  CHIRP CHIRRRRRRP!” for such a small animal they make such a noise. The anxious alarm clock of the bush that something is not quite right. For fun I pull some spruce cones from a neighboring tree and start lightly throwing them at it. It worked! He took off and I have solitude in the woods again. As I begin enjoying the quiet I see them. Tines.

These are towering tines, not the tines off a paddle of a moose. These are the majestic white-tipped-dark-brown elk tines making their way into the arena. Before he fully emerges I already have my bow in hand. I draw as he finishes appearing from the dense timber. He is majestic. “Edge of the clearing, 30 yards. He’s still coming, wait.” I say to myself, with the yellow 30yd pin locked onto the base of his neck as he makes his way towards my trail camera. I think to myself ‘At the cam will be 20 yards. That’s go time’. Without even having to make a noise he stops dead in his tracks at 20 yards. I can tell he is confident in ‘his’ clearing. He looks around with the utmost confidence - almost as saying, “This is my house, I am the king of the woods.” I do a mental check of my anchor points, verify my bubble and float my pin in the center of his chocolatey brown mane. I squeeze my shoulder blades together, causing greater tension on my hands and the bow explodes.

I watch the arrow bury itself, eroding any confidence the king has of his home. He turns and falls to his knees. He stands only to stammer into a local tree, crashing into anything in his way, and taking the path of most resistance through the woods, the majestic beast’s grace is broken. I hang my bow on its hook and pull out my phone. Time to allow the animal to perish. I phone my wife, my dad, and Josh. Josh can’t believe it happened. It’s 5:07. I have been sitting for an hour. I finish my coffee and wait a bit longer - which feels like an eternity. I lower my gear and rappel out of the tree, feeling like a special forces operator with his mission complete. I go check the spot. Blood. Lots of blood. I follow it thinking he has to be close. I follow for about 50m and it starts to go down a hill. “Go back and pack your stuff Tyler. Give it time” I say aloud to myself. I pack my stuff and begin to track. I follow good blood to a pool. Then not so good blood to another pool. This happens 3 times before I see him at the base of a tree. He snorts at me as if to say “I’m not done with this fight.” Two more follow up arrows and another 15 minutes I finally have my bull. The toughest animal I have ever witnessed.

I hear bugling very close and I call Josh who was already on his way. He caught up with the bugling -  The same guy from the night before. He helped me position the animal to field dress and quarter, then he went on his way. He was surprised I was using a bow during rifle season, but understood once I told him then I have the opportunity for bull moose too. Josh went to move the truck closer so the pack out wasn’t as far. As it got dark the way out got harder to navigate. Our empty bellies didn’t help our cognition. There was a slight mix up and our phones were almost dead. We took a wrong turn into the woods. Tensions were high, and doubts were cast on each other as to which way to go. It was almost 11:00pm and we were both tired and frustrated. With a small amount of  panic setting in, luckily there was enough battery left in my phone to get us back to the trail. One more trip, polluted with flagging tape on the way in (so as to not lose our way out) and the animal was loaded in the truck.

Once back at camp, beers were cracked and the BBQ was heated. Those tenderloins and beers were one of the best tasting meals I have ever eaten. Mission accomplished - we both have meat in our freezer.