As we squinted through binoculars the elk herd appeared in a high meadow. It was the second to last day of our archery hunt in the mountains of northeastern New Mexico, near Las Vegas. The week-long effort to arrow my first-ever elk was proving to be exciting, yet very difficult. On this particular cool, rainy morning, Gerald Ortega led me and his cousin, Louie, higher into the mountains, generously acting as our guide, using his elk-hunting savvy to bring us closer to this wily herd of wapiti that ranged out of national forest and onto adjacent private lands each fall.

Gerald directed me left and ahead of his position, while he sent Louie ahead to set up above me, perhaps 100 yards away. I scampered ahead on hands and knees through the tall, wet grass, using a thin finger of piñon pines that extended into the meadow as cover. The elk fed and engaged in age-old rutting rituals oblivious to our lethal intentions. I could plainly see a trophy bull chasing another bull, just as impressive, forcing him out of the far side of the meadow 300 yards away. Gerald had planted a pop-up decoy well behind us; a photo-realistic cow elk seen from the rear. He then produced a couple convincing cow elk calls. The bull immediately took notice. I was amazed and excited to see that behemoth bull turn and start in our direction without much haste, jogging across that meadow and headed toward our position as if on a string. “Wow!” I thought, “Gerald’s call is really working.”

But I’m getting well ahead of myself…. First there were turkey and the beginning of a blossoming friendship. Turkey hunting was how it had all started.

A Fateful Phone Call
Since the debut of the Gobbler Guillotine broadhead, my phone often brings invitations to hunt with people across the nation. Early in the spring of 2006 one of those calls was from a gentleman named Gerald Ortega, who I’d never met. However, like all archery hunters who share that common bond of experience chasing critters with bow in hand, once all his questions were answered to his satisfaction, Gerald invited me to visit his New Mexico stomping grounds to hunt Merriam turkeys and put my broadhead through its paces. We hunted those crafty birds diligently for a week, but we also spent as much time talking about elk. Archery hunting elk was Gerald’s passion, something that paralleled turkey hunting in many key elements, as I would soon learn. Although we had many close encounters, neither of us was able to arrow a turkey but did discover a developing friendship of Pope and Young proportions. Gerald and his family were a pleasure to spend time with and I relished every moment shared with them in and out of their Northern New Mexico mountains.

It was at the conclusion of our archery hunt for turkey that Gerald mentioned that he might be able to secure a landowner permit for me to hunt cow elk during the upcoming September hunt if I would be interested in returning to give it a try with him. Having never been elk hunting and wanting badly to field test a new broadhead on big big game I wasn’t only interested, I was chomping at the bit. He promised to give me a call if a tag cropped up. I returned to Texas, knowing, somehow I would be hunting with Gerald again in the not-too-distant future.