Jordan’s 1^st Bow Kill

It was getting late. I was tried and had seen absolutely nothing. I sent my mom a text message saying that I wanted to leave, when an eight point buck came from the brush and started eating the corn under my feeder. I quickly snatched my Odyssey II bear bow and satellite arrows with the Stinger broad head tips. I carefully aimed my shot, praying that I would hit this buck, and gently touched the True Fire trigger. It was a hit! The hit was a little high, but I knew it would kill him.

A few minutes later, my mom came to inspect. She didn’t know if I had killed the buck, but I thought it did. My dad and I went back after supper, but couldn’t find him.

The next day, my sister, my mom and I all went back to look for him. we went the long way to my feeder and on the way there, I saw him lying right beside the road! He had run from my feeder, crossed the road, run through the creek bed and made it about ten feet out of the creed bed and gave up right there. I was so excited about shooting my first deer with my bow.

I’d felt really bad about quitting hunting because of my ears always popping and ringing at the sound of the gun, but my dad had a solution. He called Bobby at Oasis Outback and asked if he had any bows available. He said yes so my dad took me up there and we picked one out, bought all the accessories and practiced with Bobby. He helped me a lot. I also want to say thanks to my mom for helping me practice at home on my Glen Del Full Rut target and my Yellow jacket target. Thanks dad for helping me and giving me tips on improving my shooting and making the wonderful blinds for our ranch. And thanks you Bobby for helping me select all the right things to go with my new bow and letting me practice with you. Thanks for all the time and effort you put in to make this happen. I really appreciate your hard work.

Jordan Hooper

12yrs

Anticipation was high on that day of October 18, 2007. My dad and I were driving straight through from San Angelo, Texas all the way up to our campsite in Western Colorado. We had discussed the two trophy mulies he had scouted back in August, and had the utmost confidence that I would take a nice buck. I had applied 10 years for the coveted tag, and all possible steps had been taken to increase my chances for a successful hunt.

Good food, company, and confidence kept our spirits up for the first three days of the hunt. After that, however, our hearts began to slowly sink. It became a group effort to strategize, to scheme, to wonder where could my big deer, or any shooter deer, be? Two of our three cow elk hunters tagged out and left, a coup which freed up my brother Luke to become my second personal guide.

Eight days of wishing, hoping, and hard-core hunting had began to take its toll on our minds and bodies. At the middle of day nine my dad, brother, and I, the remains of our once jolly camp, hung our heads in defeat after another fruitless morning hunt. Nonetheless, my dad and I shouldered our packs and set out to give it one more shotin our mid-afternoon gloom we had decided we would hunt this afternoon, maybe the next morning, and then break camp to return to Texas possibly empty-handed.

We reached our afternoon destination, and prepared ourselves for another evening of glassing the canyon below. And the words “Jenny, there he is quietly reached my ears. At 600 yards the view of the browsing buck through the binoculars was not impressive to my untrained eye. I believe my exact words were “he looks like a reindeer. This was my attempt to describe how his horns came straight up out of his head. While my dad stayed behind to glass the big buck, my brother and I snuck around to the side of the canyon to get a closer shot. The best we could do was a 400 yard downhill shot, and as I laid down to secure a rest I prayed I wouldn’t miss. I squeezed the trigger of the 7mm mag., the shot rang out and nothing happened! Shoot him again. Luke ordered. I obeyed. The deer jumped up and bounded off into the quakies. That night, an argument would ensue between the guides over whether or not I had hit the deer. Dad said no, brother said yes. However, there was no argument about how sick we all were over the deer I had let slip away.

The next morning we trudged back to the same canyon. In addition to the deer, we had seen two other bucks there as well, and we hoped we could at least find a shooter. I sat at the head, brother Luke on one side, and Dad on the opposite side of the canyon. A decent 4 by 5 was soon spotted, and I slipped around the canyon to try it again. However, by the time I got there, he was gone. My dad and I decided to follow him on around and down into a header while Luke would spot. After a 45 minute stalk and a run-in with some nosey does, we crawled in behind a rock formation to spot the opposite hillside. But what to our wondrous eyes would appear. The one that escaped yesterday, my elusive reindeer! This time he did look big, and as I waited for him to turn broadside, I admired his uncharacteristic rack. I squeezed the trigger, and at 280 yards, dropped the big buck.

As we approached him, we realized that he was a far bigger buck than we had thought. The palmated tines, the 5-inch kicker, the mass, the extreme height of his horns all these contributed to a very uncharacteristic, beautifully different deer. Even though we were tired after the 10 day hunt, the sight of that rack in the backseat kept our spirits high and our thoughts happy all the way back to Texas. I would like to thank our Creator, my Dad, my brother Luke, Shane Hohman, Jason Heabner, Bob Zagelin at SWTJC, and Colorado Division of Wildlife.

P.S.

For the record, I did hit the deer the first day I saw him, on the 2^nd shot. We were worried the 4-inch slit the bullet sliced in his neck would take away from the beauty of the mount, but after he net scored 200 and 5/8 (making the all-time record B& C book), we figured his horns would probably steal the show. I guess if someone asks, I’ll have a great excuse to tell them my hunting story.

This Story begins in Unit 61 in North Western Colorado. I, Luke Teague, was along as a volunteer cow elk guide,( and pack mule ), for three young hunters. Tell Hohman, Sackett Hohman, and Austin Heabner were fortunate enough to have privileged cow elk tags burning a hole in their pockets. This hunt would be Sackett ( age 12 ) and Austin ( age13 ) first hunt for North American big game. Having completed a successful cow elk hunt in 2005, Tell Hohman ( age 15 ) couldn’t wait to enter the woods with a rifle slung over his shoulder.

The daylight of day five found us once again straining for the sound of elk in the stillness. The silence finally broke as we heard a faint bugle echoing down the canyon. As quietly as we could we made our way around the drainage hoping to get in front of the advancing herd. Using each bugle as a guide we finally positioned ourselves across and ahead of the elk. No sooner had we sat down when Austin spotted a cow on the hillside. Jason ( Austin’s Dad ) ranged the cow at 350 yards as Austin slid his 7mm – 08 between his shooting sticks. Austin, steady on his rest, gently squeezed the trigger and the stillness broke with the report of the rifle. Watching through field glasses I saw the red patch appear on the side of the elk indicating a perfectly placed shot. We watched as the cow disappeared into the heavy spruce. Meanwhile, bursting with excitement, Tell took the shooting sticks and steadied himself. We waited as spikes and bulls moved through a shooting lane at 300 yards across the drainage. Finally a cow appeared and the 270 jumped in Tell’s arms. The cow walked a few feet and pitched over behind a tree. We weren’t certain where Austins cow had gone so we decided to wait a few minutes for the herd to move through the area.. Ten minutes later we heard breaking branches and watched as a spruce tree waived its signal that a cow elk had crashed into it. After hand shakes and back slapping the rest of the party arrived and we completed the task of packing the cows out.

The morning of the last day found Shane (Sacketts Dad ) , Sackett, and I back in the woods for Sacketts last chance for closing on a cow elk. After scouting for several hours unsuccessfully it was time to leave and start back to Texas. Every time a hunt is over, successful or not, sadness creeps in with the realization that its over until next year. However, the overall success of watching those boys experience their hunt had been a very memorable experience and thats what hunting is all about.

by

Luke Teague

It has been my bow hunting goal to take an elk (Cow or Bull) with my bow for the last five or six years. Every bow hunt for elk prior to this year has proven unsuccessful. During the third week of Colorado archery season my father and I once again drove north to southern Colorado for what we hoped would be a successful elk hunt.

We arrived and set up camp. Over the next two days Dad and I decided to explore the roads in the area. Armed with only our binoculars we set out. We drove and scouted for sign for about two hours and decided to return to camp and take a nap. About a mile before we reached camp Dad spotted something in the bottom of a canyon. After glassing for several minutes we spotted a 4 by 4 bull grazing in a clear cut. After several minutes we decided that I would go back to camp and get my bow while he would stay and keep an eye on the bull. I hurried to camp and back again in record time. Dad and I decided that I would walk straight down a draw until I was below the bull and stalk uphill for a hot. He would stay and watch the bull and signal if he left.

After 30 minutes or so of sneaking down the draw I arrived to the clear cut only to find no bull. I thought for a minute and decided to walk farther down and turn uphill in hopes of bumping into the 4 by 4. I turned down hill and walked 50 yards or so when all of the sudden I heard a noise to my left. I turned just as a cow trotted into the open and 15 yards. With an either sex tag burning a hole in my pocked I knocked an arrow. When I looked up a big 6 by 6 followed the cow. My heart rate raced as I tried frantically to attach my release to my string loop. This is usually not a hard task but today it was. I closed my release with out attaching it and then turned back the way she had come. The bull did a 180 degree turn and stopped behind a tree. I finally connected my release to my loop and raised my bow in preparation for a shot. As I raised my bow I pulled the trigger. There was just enough tension on the string to lob my arrow halfway in between me and a once in a lifetime bull standing at 20 yards. Idiot right? The bull stood still as I fumbled. Discouraged I had no trouble re-knocking and re-connecting my release for a second chance. The bull stood for a few minutes trying to decide what was going on. I figured there was a 99.9 % chance he would follow his cow to the left were there wasn’t a shot. After a few tense minutes I watched as he decided to go right. Without hesitation I leaned against the hill behind a tree and drew. As I sat up the bull came into view at twenty yards. Perfect! I touched the trigger and the arrow buried a little too high but in the right spot for a high lung shot. The bull trotted slowly to the timber and stopped. I held my breath as he looked arrowed The bull finally eased off down the draw.

I breathed a sigh of relief and started back up to Dad. We decided to wait about an hour and a half before looking for the bull. As we started down we stopped to pray asking God that the bull was down. We arrived to find no blood. As Dad looked for blood I walked slowly down the draw where I had last heard him. i had walked about 30 yards when I saw horns over a dead fall. There were moving! I squatted down and motioned to Dad. After watching him for several minutes the bull got up. I was ready and put another arrow into him. The bull trotted about 100 yards where he bedded down again. I dropped down and circled under him and came up to the downhill side of the bull. Dad crept up and put the final arrow in. The bull unofficially grossed 300 inches.

I have never had a hunting experience that ended this well. This hunt has been way beyond my expectations. Taking an elk with a bow is finally a reality and I couldn’t have done it without God and my dad.