We hike out several canyon bottoms, check nearby tanks for sign. We have invested several grueling miles, crossing several ridges and saddles before arriving atop a juniper and oak ridge to listen. About 8:30 a lone bull bugles just off the saddle. Ken stations Ben and me to each side about 50 yards ahead.

The author, Mike Andrews, VP marketing director for Scent-Lok, with his 400-class New Mexico monster. Mike's aggressive tactics and nearly getting lost earned him the bull.

Ken begins with a series of subtle cow calls and the occasional bugle. The bull begins to fire up as two or three other bulls retort. We wait, but after several sequences, the bugles grow more distant. We have been confident we might get a curious bull to move our way, but nothing appears.

Then I remember another piece of advice from Ken: "Don't react...ACT!" I decide to make something happen. I begin moving in the direction of the herd. I soon lose Ken but we've agreed earlier to rendezvous in the saddle via Ken's bugles should we become separated.

The bulls continue moving and bugling for 45 minutes. I know Ben's in hot pursuit but I'm playing it cautiously. I make my way to the bottom of the canyon where I've last heard bugles, then start climbing again. By the time I mount the next saddle, those bugles were coming from the adjacent ridge. I'm now a half-mile or more away from the rally point and the bulls are about a mile away, traveling in the opposite direction.

Where is Ken? Where's Ben? And where am I?

I think I hear Ken cow calling and I call back, but that turns into a dead end. I decide to follow my senses and head back towards the rally spot. I walk, trying to figure out exactly where I am. It's difficult to dismiss various consequences of getting lost. I bump a couple elk in the process. I might feel dismay, alone in strange woods, but instead I admit stalking alone makes me feel deadly.

I keep walking, occasionally hearing bugling from various directions. I'm not certain if these calls are from Ken, or the real deal, so I keep moving east. If all else fails, I think I can travel downhill and eventually locate the truck. I decide that's the best option. Unfortunately I'm moving away from the rally point. I start to think that if Ken's unable to find me it might ruin the day for both him and Ben, especially if they don't make it back to the truck before nightfall. Given that worry, I start uphill toward the rally point. I begin to hear bugling in that direction but only faintly. Can that be Ken? I produce a few loud whistles and it seems Ken is responding on his bugle. I continue in that direction when I hear a louder, and closer, bugle up the ridge. I stop to listen, then begin to see elk legs moving in my direction. I put my binoculars to my eyes and see a rack. A bull!

There's a lot of cover between us but somehow I believe he's spotted me. I drop my pack and nock an arrow. I slip off the top maybe 20 yards and drop to one knee. I expect to see the bull drop into the dark timber on the north side of the ridge, but through the sunflowers and oaks I see the bull advancing.