Bull of a Lifetime

My hunt actually started nine years before I ever set foot in Arizona with an elk tag in my pocket. That is when I started applying for the tag. I had 10 bonus points going into the 2005 draw and my good friend Jim Worthan from New Mexico, had nine. We put in together hoping that this year would be our year. With all the controversy in Arizona surrounding the nonresident tag allotment and the higher number of nonresident tags in the quota, I knew that my chances for drawing one of the very best units in the state - Unit 3A/3C - would never be better.

When the day of the draw arrived, I remember going to the computer on pins and needles to check the results. I screamed when I saw my name among the successful. My wife and two daughters thought that I had lost my mind, and maybe I had. This was the best public land tag in all the country I had one. Then I couldn't wait to call Jim and give him the good news - we were going to Arizona in September.

I call this hunt a once in a lifetime chance because Unit 3A/3C is very hard to draw and it was very unlikely that I would ever be lucky enough to draw it again - though I would sure keep trying. I generally hunt without a guide and have 14 years of elk hunting experience. During that time, I have taken some nice bulls, but this trip was different. I wasn't going to take any chances. I wanted help from someone with plenty of local knowledge.

I have known Mick Chapel, who runs New Mexico Professional Big Game Outfitting, for 14 years and he has become a good friend. I called Mick for his advice. We talked for a long time about the unit and about who would be the best guide. Finally, he told me that if he could get Richard Owen, a taxidermist in Show Low, Arizona, he would be the best choice.

Mick called me back a few days later; he had hired Richard to guide me on my hunt. After talking with Richard on the phone many times, I knew I had found the right person to guide me. Richard not only knew the area well, he also knew everyone that lived in the area. Many local hunters stop and loaf at the taxidermist's studio to talk about elk, so Richard always knows where the biggest bulls live. Now I had the local contact I so dearly needed. Things were coming together.

The next two months went by very slowly. My eagerness for September 16 grew more intense each day. Jim was also getting itchy. He was going to hunt without a guide, and being close enough to drive to the unit, he made a few scouting trips during the summer. The bulls he saw only made us both more impatient to get started.

Finally, on September 15, I arrived in Show Low from my home in Kentucky. I met Richard and we began mapping out our hunt for opening day. Richard knew many spots where he and his friends have hunted, so we had plenty of options. The first day, we decided to hunt close to the White Mountain Apache Reservation. Richard learned that a few big bulls were living in the flats, so that is where my hunt of a lifetime would begin.

Day one

First morning was slow. There is not a lot of cover out on the flats. If the bulls are there, you know quickly. We didn't see anything and there was very little bugling.

That afternoon we moved to a new area and got into a bull that would score close to 360 inches. We were just easing through the pines and junipers when we heard a bull up ahead. One of made a cow call and the bull instantly bugled. You could tell he was heading our way fast. Richard turned and moved away from me, trying to put as much distance between us as possible before the bull showed up. That way he would be able to call the bull past me. Unfortunately, the bull got to us too quickly and Richard wasn't able to get far enough away. The bull hung up at 80 yards looking for the cow and wouldn't come any closer. If Richard could have gotten farther away from me, I think I could have gotten him.

Now I'm pumped. He was a great bull and I'm thinking that life is good. Everything is looking very promising for the next day. Spirits were high in camp that night.

Day two

It was another slow morning. We hunted near the Reservation again and apparently everything was on the other side of the fence. We didn't hear much. It was disheartening really. I thought I was going to be on bulls from dawn. Jim didn't have a good day either. It is kind of devastating when you draw what you think is a once in a lifetime tag and the hunt gives every indication of being tough.

That evening after the hunt, one of Richard's friends came over. He had killed a bull at certain spot that morning and he said there were plenty of others there. He told us that no one else was hunting that area and that we should try it. It was a very generous offer and one that I truly appreciate.

Day three

We had already made a plan to hunt somewhere else so we didn't go where Richard's friend had killed; we were going to look it over in the afternoon. It was another slow morning. The temperature was warm and things weren't cranking. I was starting to worry.

That afternoon the candy store opened. The hotspot was an unlikely walk-in area right next to a major road. A short ways into the timber I said, "There must be cattle here." Richard said, "Buddy, those aren't cattle trails." A big smile broke out across my face. Then I heard bugles everywhere. There were four bulls bugling around me. Finally, the kind of action I had dreamed about. We saw 10 different bulls that afternoon and I passed up shots at three of them. Ah, now this is more like it.

Before darkness closed the show, we physically checked out nine or ten bulls to see how big they were. One bull stood out. We heard him bugle and I snuck close to see how big he was. He had a bunch of cows with him. We finally got a look at him and the third points looked to me like they were just a few inches long.

He had three brow tines on one side, a fact that instantly earned him the name "Brow Tine". He was the last bull we saw that afternoon. We did not get a good look at Brow Tine but I told Richard that I thought he was more than big enough to shoot but had short third points on both sides. I figured he was probably a 360 to 370-inch bull.

Day four

Obviously, we went back to the same place again. You couldn't have made me leave that place. That day we checked 10 to 12 different bulls. Didn't really see what were looking for, but there was a whole lot of bugling. It was an exciting and wild day with adrenaline-packed action from daylight until dark. We were being really careful not to run anything. We never pushed them because we wanted them to keep using that area.

Day five

We heard seven or eight bulls on the fifth morning. Again, we checked them all out and again, we didn't see anything I wanted. We weren't trying to call them in really. We were just sneaking in to their bugles to look at them. We always went to the one that had the gruffest and the hoarsest bugle. They are not always the oldest but that is what you have to do. You are playing the odds when you single them out.

That afternoon we saw and heard lots of bulls again. As luck would have it, we saw Brow Tine, only this time I was in the middle of five bulls. He was the bull to reckon with and he just circled up the five cows and ran them over the mountain to keep them away from the other bulls. As he was going over the top, I realized he was a lot bigger than I had thought. His thirds weren't short at all. In fact, they were well over 20 inches long!

All I could think about was what it would be like to take a bull of that quality with my bow. Those other four bulls were in a frenzy. There must have been a cow in estrous in that herd and they were completely on fire. The best thing to do when they are in a frenzy like that is to walk right toward them. But as soon as I saw Brow Tine leave with the cows I backed out. There would be another day.

Day six

The sixth morning wasn't productive; it was kind of like the lull after the storm from the day before.

That afternoon we were trying to cut the distance on two bugling bulls when all at once Richard hissed, "The big bull is coming straight at us." We hid behind some trees. He never knew we were there but he turned toward the top of the mountain.

We tried to catch up to him but I didn't want too hard and bugger him. He was going silent and the tendency is to push too hard at times like that and spook them. I tried to bugle to get him to sound off but he never would make a noise so we backed off. It was the last time we saw him that day.

I did get within 50 yards of 350-360 class bull. There was brush between us and he never would come out of the thick stuff. I probably would have shot that bull even though I had seen the big one. I had only ten days to hunt and it was already the sixth day. We waited and then snuck out after dark.

Day seven

The seventh morning started out well with us seeing a lot of bulls, however, at about 10 o'clock we heard two bulls bugling that really sounded big. We finally eased in on the first bull and he was bedded with a few cows around him. Richard and I got to about 55 yards and glassed him. Richard estimated that he would score about 350 inches. I told Richard that I could crawl to about 40 yards and take him.

Richard looked at me and said, "I think that bull that was bugling about 300 yards over that way sounded awfully big." I decided to pass up the chance at the 350 bull for now just to see what the other one looked like. I never thought I would ever pass up a 350-inch bull in my life, but as I said, I was still hoping to shoot that monster. Like the television show Deal or No Deal, I was going to hold out in hopes of a big payoff.

We eased over toward the other bull; he was bedded a thicket too. I told Richard that I would crawl to him. The wind was good and I got to a tree about 32 yards from the bull. I was so disappointed. He probably would have been a 370-inch bull but he had five points broken off.

I signaled to Richard to call with his Knight & Hale cow call. All of a sudden, the bull stood up and started walking straight toward me. He actually put his nose on the tree I was hiding behind. I know what a bull in rut can do if he gets angry enough. I didn't want him wearing me on one of the few points he still had left so I jabbed him in the nose with end of my bow. Now both of us were scared. He jumped back and walked straight to Richard, bugling all the way down the mountain.

That afternoon I decided to hunt close the waterhole where I saw Brow Tine the first time. It was about 4 o'clock when I had heard a chuckle from 200 yards away. I thought, ‘Here comes a bull to the water.' I set up behind some pines, not anticipating what was about to come out of the trees. I could not believe my eyes. All my dreams of killing a monster bull instantly started playing through my head. He was coming straight toward me.

I have been hunting elk for 14 years and I have killed some very nice bulls but I had never seen a bull that big before. He came within 20 yards of me. Thank goodness, the wind held my way. He got to the water and stood facing me as he drank. It seemed to last forever. I kept telling myself not to look at the antlers but I couldn't keep my eyes off them. I knew when he came out of the water I would have one chance for a shot. I ranged him at 42 yards. As he turned to walk away, I whistled and drew my bow. He looked my way and stopped just long enough for a broadside shot.

In an instant the shot of a lifetime was on its way. I practice many hours each year getting ready to hunt, but I have never taken a more important shot in my life. It felt good and I heard the arrow hit him. The bull trotted about 80 yards and lay down. What a relief.

I immediately called Jim on the radio and told him what had happened. He was hunting by himself about a mile away and said he would be over in an hour. It seemed more like five hours when Jim finally came through the pine trees. In hushed but excited tones, I told him the whole story and then took him over to where the bull was standing when I shot him. We found blood immediately and arrow from my Mathews Switchback. It had been a complete pass-through.

I told Jim that I thought the bull was still lying in the same place. As we approached, he got up and started to trot down the mountain. I was stunned but decided to follow. The bull stopped again in some trees and I watched as he lay down again. I said, ‘Jim let's get out of here and come back later.' After talking with Richard, I decided to wait until morning. That was the longest night of my life.

Bright and early the next morning we were at the spot where I left the bull. He was still there, stone dead. It was cool that night and I saved all the meat. I had a taxidermist standing right next to me so the cape was perfect. Richard mounted the head for me and did a great job.

Epilogue

After getting my bull quartered and out to the locker plant, I stayed to hunt with Jim for two more days until I had to leave. We got close a couple of times. Jim finally killed a 340-inch bull on the 11th day of his hunt - the day after I left.

The antlers on the bull I shot have a gross score of 393 inches even with ten inches broken off the sword point on the right side. He is an old beast of a bull with nine to ten inch bases and heavy mass all the way through the long beams. It took nine years to draw that tag, but it was the bull of a lifetime.

Back to Top