WAITING FOR THE BIG ONE
I had taken a four-point elk -- my first Montana bull -- and several small six-point elk, but then I started to pass on these smaller elk to seek the challenge of big bulls. I was ready to come home empty-handed, if need be. I had passed on five- and six-point elk before because I was set on finding the ideal trophy -- a bull in the 300- to 325-class range -- and ended up with nothing.

A good example was the year Jerry and I elk hunted in Idaho. Walking across a steep ridge, we heard an elk answer my bugle. The wind was blowing in the bull's direction, so we quickly circled around and got below him. As soon as we got into position, I let out a cow call. The five-point bull headed straight for us, stopping a mere seven yards in front of our natural blind. I never got a shot off, but ever since that elk-hunting incident, Jerry and I have referred to that spot in Idaho as the "seven-yard hole."

Another elk, which also happened to be on the first day of a hunt, came our way in Montana. Jerry, again, was with me. We worked uphill, stopping occasionally while I let out a few soft cow calls. On maybe the second or third stop, a bull answered quietly and I knew he was heading our way. Jerry and I promptly dropped to our knees, which we do almost instinctively any time a bull is near. Soon a nice, symmetrical six-point bull stopped broadside in front of me at 20 yards. Unfortunately, the bull wasn't very large. Jerry and I had not worked out any signals at that point. I wasn't going to shoot, and poor Jerry was wondering why I wasn't taking this perfect broadside shot. He could have gotten off a shot, but not knowing what I was thinking, we both just knelt there and watched the six-point walk off! You might think that we always hunt together like this, making these blunders, but we actually separate and hunt individually during most of our hunts. Jerry has taken two very nice six-pointers by himself over the years.

BACK IN MONTANA
After the bull's last response to my bugle, I knew we were headed in the right direction and would be able to get close to him. We continued toward the bull, closing the gap. I then stopped and let out a couple of excited cow calls. The bull responded with a soft and slow bugle -- he was getting closer and I knew things would happen quickly. I scurried toward the bull and found a kneeling place that had a small opening in front and to the left. Jerry knelt about 20 yards behind me. I let out another series of cow calls through the grunt tube, hoping the sound would get the bull's attention.

It worked! The bull's heavy breathing grew louder as he drew nearer. But instead of coming toward the middle of the opening, where I was poised for a perfect shot, he came in on the near side where the smaller of the two openings was located. I could barely make out the bull coming in, but I did see plenty of branched antlers coming my way. Fortunately, there was a tree between the two of us as he approached. With his head behind the natural obstruction, I decided to draw on the bull realizing that he was going to be really close, really quickly. As he stepped from behind the tree, I took a quick glance at the end of his antlers and saw that they were deeply forked. The bull then stopped with his left leg back, quartering slightly toward me and unaware of my presence. It was now or never. He was only four yards away.