ShadowCamo Story: Cortisone Bull

The Cortisone Bull
Keith Johnson

Year after year it was the same; the disappointment of the dreaded “Unsuccessful” letters from the Division of Wildlife. I figured that 2007 would not be any different. I didn’t know how wrong I was.

From April 26th on, I trained hard by running, hiking, using the elliptical - anything I could to be ready for my hunt of a lifetime! I took several scouting trips to the mountain, more so to learn the area than to find elk. I studied maps like I was getting ready for an exam, I talked to every person I could to find out info about the unit. On my first trip I was so impressed with the quality of animals that I found, that it made it even harder to get sleep. I lived on very little sleep for two and a half months. These bulls haunted my dreams nightly. Ask my wife!

On my last scouting trip, three weeks before the hunt opener, I was at my friend Mike’s house talking about the upcoming hunt, sharing stories, and even going to his friend’s homes to look at sheds from years past. I was so excited after an hour or so of visiting with him that my confidence level was soaring. Then it happened. As I was leaving Mike’s home, I stepped off of the front porch and twisted my ankle. An overwhelming feeling that my hunt had just been ruined came over me. My wife helped me to the truck and I struggled to keep the pain down while we drove the two-hour trip home. I was just sick at the thought of my hunt being over before it even started.

The next week and a half I could not work out at all, as the pain in my ankle would not allow it. In hindsight, this was good because the ankle did heal up relatively fast. That week all I did was shoot my bow. The whole summer I only missed a couple of days of shooting. I shot 20-90 yards and anywhere from 10-100 arrows per day. I felt that I was as ready as I would ever be.

A friend of mine, Adam, flew in from California to join us on the hunt. My wife went to pick him up from the airport while I put the finishing touches on our camping outfit. We left for the mountain about ten minutes after Adam arrived in town. He said that I was “tweaking” over the elk pretty hardcore. I guess he was right.

Adam and I got to the mountain with about fifteen minutes of light left to scout. We ditched the camper and hurried up the hill to a vantage point to glass. We found a couple of good bulls, but nothing special. I felt confident that we would find the big boys in the morning.

After a restless night, Adam and I were up and looking at bulls. A couple bulls were in the 370-380 class. We got a glimpse of one bull that we felt was really huge, but he disappeared into a small basin. I thought that if we went to a small point between us and the basin we might be able to get a better look at him. As we neared the top of the point, I realized that I had screwed up. There was elk sign everywhere; this was a huge bedding area! I looked back to see if Adam had realized what was going on and, just then, I heard branches snapping below us in the timber. Suddenly, there were horns everywhere. It was the big bull. We froze in our tracks and the bull came to within twenty yards before he spotted us. We had a two-second stare down before the bull trotted off into the timber. I didn’t feel like the bull had been spooked out of the area, so we backed out and headed back to set up camp and wait for our other partner, Coby. Coby would be hunting deer and helping me out with my hunt.

That night as all the guys got together at camp, we decided that I should focus on hunting the big boy who we figured was an 8×9 and around 400 Boone and Crockett.

Opening morning, I headed up the trail at 5:00 a.m. to be in position at first light. As I approached the spot where I wanted to be, I could hear the familiar sound of hooves hitting logs and branches snapping. I stopped where I was and waited for more light.

As dawn arrived, I was in position and trying to gain altitude on some bulls that were at the top of the drainage that I was hunting. I had covered half the distance I needed to when I was told the bulls had hit the timber for the day. My hunting partners also informed me of a “shooter” bull in the next drainage to the north. This bull was a long shot, but I took off as fast as I could safely go on the steep terrain. After about 1200 yards, I could finally see the bull through the trees. All I could see was a hip and his antlers. I ranged him, 35 yards, no shot. The bull began to move and I tried my best to follow quietly, but he was soon gone. After a long day of chasing the bull around the mountain my knees were shot. I hobbled my way back to camp.

The next morning found me in the same spot. I wanted to try to find the huge bull that we had seen earlier but, as the morning went on, it became painfully clear that I needed to get off the mountain. I reluctantly called on the radio to get one of the guys to come pick me up, I was done.

When Mike came to get me on the four-wheeler, he suggested that I may want to go get a cortisone shot. Mike also told me of a bull that he had
seen on his way to pick up “the whiner.” We stopped for a minute and looked at the bull which was about a 385-390 class.

After a day in town cleaning up, going to the doctor and getting my cortisone shot, I felt like a million bucks. But, as part of the instructions from the “sawbones,” I would be taking the next two days off. This gave us the opportunity to do a lot of glassing.

On the third night, I elected to disobey doctor’s orders and I headed up the mountain. Mike told me about a bull I should come around the mountain and check out. It was the 8×9! I hurried as it got darker, but there was not enough time to get in for a shot.

That night Coby and I decided that because there were other people after the bull, we should sleep on top of the mountain in the truck. This proved to be the most uncomfortable night of my life! Another one of my hunting partners, Greg, also came in that night to join in on the fun and to help out if I ever connected on an elk.

Sunday morning, Greg and Adam set up on the west side of the ridge. Mike was on the east-facing side so that wherever the bull was spotted I could drop off the respective side and close the distance.

It was not long before Mike hollered at me, “Three spikes.” There were no other elk on his side.

I hollered at Greg and Adam to find out that they had a big bull that they felt was a “shooter” on their side. Coby and I took our shoes off, lost the packs and slipped off the side of the hill for what would be the most grueling and exciting stalk I have ever been on.

Coby and I saw the first antlers at around 100 yards. From that point on, it took us about one hour to close in for the shot. At around seventy yards, the going got extremely slow. The timber we were in was dark and noisy to move around in. I had cramps in my thighs, my feet, even in my backside. We crept along at a pace that a snail would laugh at.

Finally, Coby ranged the bull and hand gestured “54” to me. I began to shake. The bull was raking his horns and feeding, but the timber was too thick for a shot. Just then, another one of the three bulls that were present came up to the big bull and they started rattling their head gear together. This gave me just the opportunity I needed to get into shooting position. Coby ranged the bull again - “48.” The bull turned a little from quartering forward to broadside and I let the arrow go through a small opening I had picked out. The arrow smacked hard and the bulls all bolted. I turned to Coby to tell him it was a good hit. He was still looking where the elk were and all of a sudden he said, “He’s rolling! He’s rolling!” Coby lost his mind right there. We hugged so hard I thought that dude would break my ribs.

After a while we had all the guys around the bull for a photo shoot. This hunt far exceeded the expectations I had for this hunt. My old friends and a few new ones helped to pack my bull off the mountain - Coby, Greg, Adam, Mike, my tracker Shandon, Walter, Cory, and Heath (Mr. Kodak).

When we got to the road there was another local waiting there to help. He hauled us and the elk back to camp where he put a tape to the bull. An unbelievable 398 6/8ths! The bull was around forty inches bigger than my “settle for” goal.

I would like to give a very special thanks to my beautiful wife. She put up with my one track mind, putting off chores, forgetting responsibilities and countless other screw-ups. I love you Amy.

Tags: elk, HI33, ShadowCamo

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