"BIG DADDY"
By Cameron Vaughan
The 2010 hunting season has been really good to me. I was able to hunt antelope in New Mexico and deer in Texas Arizona
So the hunt was on and I took 2 weeks of vacation time so I could scout and hunt. In my opinion Scouting is actually more important than the hunt and in some cases it is the hunt. Most big mature bulls will hold up in sancuataries and won’t have much movement this time of year unless there is weather, which is what I needed on this hunt to get the bulls moving. On the first day of my scouting trip, Don my hunting buddy and I found my bull. When I first saw him I said that’s an old mature 360 class bull, man I was freaking out. Don and myself still argue about who spotted the bull first it was definitely me. You see weather had them moving as we had a storm roll through the day before and the elk where moving to feed and get out of the horrible winds we were having. He was moving from high ground to lower ground going to his hideout. I watched this bull for the first day and after that he vanished. I knew he went to his favorite area where food, shelter and water would be close by but I just couldn’t relocate him. So we kept scouring the country and found several bulls that where shooters but just not what I was looking for.
On The first, second and third days of the hunt I had lots of help I was feeling really confident since my long time friend and hunting partner Scott McKinzie was there to offer his eyes, Scott likes to glass until his eyes start to bleed and when we hunt together our track record is truly awesome. Every morning as the sun came up we were sitting and glassing in single digit temperatures exactly where I spotted my bull on the scouting trip. He has got to show himself again I kept telling myself and at the same time I kept praying nobody else had seen this bull and killed it. Monday came and all my friends left to go back to work except Mel. I told Mel I was going to hunt this bull until the end even if it meant not killing one. He thought I was crazy; he kept telling me “Cameron we have seen several good bulls let’s find one and get this done, you have to fill your tag.” He was pretty convincing but I stayed the course and had only this one elk in mind.
The fourth day was now upon us, Mel and I arrived at the edge of the canyon. Nothing was different, except we had another nasty storm blow thru the day before and I was feeling very good about the days hunt. As I was setting up my tripod and glasses the sun was coming over the horizon and all hell broke loose. Mel starts yelling “shooter, shooter, shooter” he said he was whispering but in the excitement and his hearing loss he was actually yelling. So I ran over to where he had spotted him and all I could see was his back end and antlers running down the canyon and thru the trees. I have to admit as the bull was running away I wasn’t foaming at the mouth; He looked like an average bull. Mel and I made a game plan to work our way down the finger and I knew if we didn’t bust him too bad he would probably walk out the head of the canyon and we would get another look at this bull. So that is exactly what we did; we walked out on a finger that was 4 ft. wide and ¼ mile long and had drops offs that where equal to the Grand Canyon. We slowly made our way down the finger, stopping and looking wherever the landscape transitioned to open country for glassing. As soon as we made our way to the end of the finger there he was. I spotted him coming out of the head of the canyon heading for his sanctuary just like I thought. I just started yelling it’s him it’s the Big Daddy. This bull was very noticeable, He had 4ths that look like they were touching the sky and he walked with a limp on his hind end. The problem was he was already out of range about 700 yards and quickly he was over a thousand yards and moving out of sight. Mel and I remained on that ridge for awhile pondering how this bull came in and out of my life so fast as well as an occasional choice word I would shout out. I was trying to figure out the next move the elk and I would make; it was as if we were playing chess and it was my move. I calmed down, got out the spotting scope and actually started tracking the bull in the snow until I could no longer see tracks but at least I had an idea of where he went.
So back up the finger we went to the truck and to the next vantage point and I was just hoping I could see him from a different angle. Mel and I walked out to another point with even a more severe drop off and started glassing. We were actually sitting in the glasses and shooting the breeze about how the morning went and how I was so upset about losing that bull. Then all of a sudden I had him bedded right up next to a juniper I had found his safe zone. I just started hollering “I got him, I got him Mel. The problem was he was over 2 miles away and it was around 1:00 in the afternoon. I told Mel we had to get out on the next finger in a hurry so off we went again. We watched the bull as we moved and he stayed bedded. Once we were on the finger, which in itself was a real challenge, we were still out of range. We watched this big bull for what felt like an eternity and pondered what to do next; but first we had to get off this sheer canyon wall with a 200 to 300’ of steep incline. For the next two hours Mel and I watched this bull get up, feed then bed down. I was thinking to myself this is one smart old bull, he knew exactly where to be. He had water, feed and shelter on the east facing side to get out of the wind and it was almost impossible for a stalk. Except for a half crazed elk hunter like me. As I watched this bull I became more determined to harvest this animal. It was 3:00 p.m. and I decided I was going over the edge; it was now or never. Mel looked at me like I was crazy but in the end Mel who is one tough guy said ok let’s get him. Mel stayed up on the finger to watch as I made my way down the cliff. I was zigging, zagging and grabbing brush as I was sliding, and falling down the mountain, it was brutal. I finally made it down the cliffs and made my way over to the bull. He was up feeding; I kept going keeping whatever cover I could between the two of us. There was 700 yards between me and the bull. 700 yards was too far, 600 yards was too far. I got to 567 yards and decided that I could put the smack down on him. I set up on a big log with my backpack, got steady and buried my 180 grain nosler right in his shoulder and he went down. Check mate, I stood up and just started yelling. I called Mel on the cell phone and he was yelling how awesome it was as he watched the stalk and the bull in the same field of view. After a little bit of coaxing, Mel reluctantly agreed to drop off the face of the earth and meet up with me. We walked to the bull together as friends and hunting partners, that’s how it done I told Mel. We scored the bull at 357 3/8 gross “unofficial” and he is going on the wall.
Finally I had reached my long standing goal of a “350” Bull. I do have to say that bull didn’t grow old in a unit full of hunting pressure and high numbers of tags by luck. I would like to thank my wife for putting up with my hunting obsessions, I’m sorry you weren’t able to make it that day. And to my friends that hunted with me, Scott, Mike, Dillon, and Don I am sorry you weren’t there and thanks to Mel for going to hell and back and helping me put this trophy on the ground, the memories will always stay with me.
That's an awesome story!!!! Thanks for sharing!
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