Bulls, Bears and Rattlesnakes
By Bob Skove

After failing to draw a tag for the 2000 Montana Elk season, it was a happy day this past summer when my 2001 tag arrived in the mail. I was going to be able to hunt again with my longtime friend Frank Nowakowski, a Montana State Trooper and former cop with me in New Jersey back in the 1970s. This trip was also important to me because it was to be my first Elk hunt with a bow.

I prepared for this hunt by walking a few miles everyday and shooting my Massie Longhorn longbow 4-5 times a week throughout the summer. I had all my gear, treated myself to a new pair of boots and I was ready and anxious to leave.

The World Trade Center attack happened just a week before I was about to fly from Tampa to Great Falls, Montana and there was more than a little doubt about being able to get a flight. Then of course, three days before I was going to leave, a tropical storm rolled over Manatee County and tore things up a bit and knocked out our power for 48 hours. By now I was ready to head west and after a few delays, arrived in Montana on the 17th of September for two weeks of Elk hunting. We started hunting the very next day.

Frank and I hunted the first day with the local game warden, Bruce Knutsen, who truly has a passion for hunting and the Montana outdoors. It was a good opportunity to learn a few things about Elk from Bruce, as he lives and breathes this stuff in both his professional and private life. Frank and Bruce have the run of a great ranch consisting of 80 square miles and about 600 to 800 Elk. We were into Elk within 30 minutes of that first day, though the rut had not fully kicked in and they did not seem too interested in Bruce's calling. We chased them, snuck up on them and called them all day. It was exciting to say the least, but we never got close enough for a shot.

The following morning was spent helping longtime bowmen John Rudy from New York State collect a bull he had killed the night before on a neighboring ranch. Frank told me all about Rudy, claiming that John Rudy was his secret weapon and if anyone could call in a bull for me that John was the man. John promised to do just that or eat his bugle! The next day Frank, John and I returned to where we saw our band of 30 cows and 30 bulls on the first day. We crossed some very open ground on a hillside in order to approach a stand of heavy timber where we thought the Elk would be. We were caught flat footed in the open when we spotted the small herd boiling over the top of a small hill about 700 yards away headed into the timber. The wind was perfect, so I told John I was going to sneak ahead about 50 yards and see just how good a caller he was. I inched my way forward to a very small pine tree and parked my butt right there. John bugled and instantly got a reply from about 300 yards off. Then another call and yet another reply, this time closer. I was still not convinced a bull could be sucked out of the safety of the timber and across the open so I could stick an arrow in him. Boy was I in for a surprise. The bull seemed to be about 75 yards away now and I slipped an arrow from my Cat Quiver. John then got out his cow call, which he calls "young cow on her first serious date"! That did it. I could now see horns coming straight at me. 50 yards, then 40, then 30, then he stopped, licking and sniffing the air. My heart was pounding so loud I just knew he could hear it. John gave one little toot on the cow call and on he marched. I felt like the tree I was standing behind was shrinking. This was a young 6x6 bull intent on romance and he never saw me. He had to veer off a bit to walk around the tree and I sent an arrow into him at a "long" five yards. Off he went and we collected him about two hours later, some 600 yards from where I had shot him. John not only called in the bull, but video taped the entire affair. He showed me a replay and much to my surprise, a black bear had silently plodded past me within 25 yards, just minutes before I shot the bull. Good thing I hadn't seen him, though John assured me that the bear "didn't look too hungry at the time". What a game rich ranch we were on. I saw more Elk on this trip than some hunters see in a lifetime. In as much as success rates for Elk during archery season are quite low, I count myself lucky indeed to have been able to hunt such an exclusive area. In addition to Elk and Bears, we saw Mule Deer, Whitetails and Coyotes on a regular basis.

After an evening of cigars, backslapping and hefty adult beverages, we decided to rest for a day before getting Franks bull. Frank has killed several bulls and though we were into elk everyday, his dream bull never appeared. On the second day of this search for Mr. Big, Frank set-up an ambush at a likely spot towards the end of the day. Cover was again scarce, so I decided to duck out of the wind by parking under a pine about 40 yards away. As I was bending over to sweep a few pinecones out of the way to make my seat cozier, I came too close for comfort to a four-foot rattlesnake that took about five years off my life. It was lucky for me that he was a bit lethargic after having just eaten and was not quick enough to nail me.

During the remaining days we chased bulls, photographed and video taped them, marveled at their beauty and drank in the scenery of one of the prettiest spots in Montana. At one point just after loosing any available shooting light, we had a herd of 300 elk at about 150 yards below us as we perched on a butte. The images were large and blurry in the moonlight. I imagined that this is what it must have been what it was like for buffalo hunters 125 years ago, perched above a herd, though armed with a Sharpes and not my stickbow. I am already thinking about next year and I hope I draw a tag. Nothing comes close to bow hunting with old friends, making new friends, doing it all in beautiful country and to have a little adventure thrown in to boot.