Longbows, Llamas and Lady Luck
Written By Mark Normand

Our elk adventure began at the southern Colorado trailhead the afternoon of Saturday, September 20, 2003. Friends, David Hanson and Jeff Davis had spent almost two weeks in the mountains fighting bad weather, but had seen plenty of animals. After two years in a row, I just couldn’t get away this year. Their initial trip ended with no shots, but in chatting with David Thursday, September 18th; I could tell he wanted to go back. I looked at my calendar and thought, “Hmm, next week looks clear.” We got the okay from our wives, bosses and started packing. This hunt week coincided with the final archery-only week, as the muzzleloader season ended that Sunday.

Drinking Gatorade nonstop, I left Lafayette at 2 p.m., drove to Shreveport, hopped in David’s truck at 6 p.m., and we drove straight through, trailering two llamas. We met Jeff (who lives in Denver) near the trailhead on Saturday afternoon. As I was somewhat out of shape, I had concerns about the 2-4-mile pack-in at 11,500’. We had David’s two llamas, Elvis and Andy, both relatively young and only trained to pack during the last month. After loading up, I was left with about 40 lbs on my back. We took it slow and arrived with no problems, set up camp, and Jeff and I took off separately for a quick look around, as this spot was new to us.

The view from elk camp.

Sunday morning dawned clear and cold. We split up, agreeing to meet back for lunch and updates. Over the next two days, David twice called in bulls that somewhat surprised him and missed twice on less than perfect shot opportunities. That guy can nock an arrow on his longbow faster than anyone I know, but just couldn’t connect. He still was upbeat and pretty happy about finally having had some action. I was very excited for him, and this did nothing but fuel our fires to hunt even harder.

Tuesday morning found David heading out, and Jeff and I hiking out together. We spotted another bowhunter while crossing a huge meadow, heading in the same direction, so we split up, with Jeff falling down into the dark timber and I circling high above it, intending to move 1-2 miles farther out and then dropping down. The morning proved uneventful, as I made 3-4 calling setups. But as I still-hunted my way back through the dark timber, I found some green marshy areas. The sign looked good, then better as I found a large, recently used wallow. Wow, this is great, so I proceeded to throw sticks and leaves in it to check for activity later. All this time I moved slowly, quietly, and eased out into the small opening to save a GPS waypoint. While I waited for the lock, something caught my eye 20 yards away – a cow elk rose from her bed and stood broadside in a tangle of blow-downs. Slowly, I let the GPS dangle from its tether, got the longbow loaded up with my cedar w\Wensel broadhead and waited. I stood there, somewhat hidden by a small fir between us. All I could see was her back, as tall grass and brush stood between us. Then a large yearling popped up behind her, and looked right through me. There was a shot window about three feet wide right ahead of the cow, and as she slowly moved to the left, her head hit that opening. She looked right at me. But again, brush concealed most of her sightline, and finally, her ears dropped from alert to normal. Then her body filled the opening, framed by two large trees. I drew back, released and watched in slow motion the arrow’s flight, but it seemed the arrow hit too far back. She whirled and crashed away, and the arrow fell out. As I listened and marked her exit route, I was elated and crestfallen at the same time, as I wasn’t sure of the hit. It was just too dark to tell in the shadows, and I never could see the legs behind the brush.

Jeff and I had heard each other call earlier, so I knew he wasn’t too far away. Sure enough I heard him cow call minutes later from downhill, so I called back and he came in quietly. Together we surveyed the shot area, and immediately found my arrow and a blood trail. There was no doubt we needed to back out and give this some time, so we decided to go back to camp and return about 4 p.m., a five hour wait. I would have liked even more time, but that would have put us too close to sundown.

Jeff examining the wallow.

Killing time before picking up the trail.

After bringing David up-to-date, we had a good meal, rested and chatted. It was somewhat a chore to keep those guys in camp; they were raring to go. I had to pull the choke chains a few times! But being the good hunters they are, everyone understood the necessity of waiting this out. Finally, we saddled up the llamas, hiked back in and staked them out at the shot sight. We started working the trail. I’m a little red-green colorblind, and after 30 years of bowhunting, I still envy folks that can walk a slight blood trail that would keep me patiently crawling forward. I just loaded up and glassed ahead, as David and Jeff worked it. After about 100 yards, our spirits peaked as we found a large pool where she had lay down. I distinctly remember Jeff whispering, “Start looking for an elk ahead.” Twenty yards later, the blood stopped, so we fanned out. David circled to the left. He was out of sight quickly and then shouted, “Elk!” He saw one cow run off and then spotted another cow standing 20 yards to his right, hunkered and ready to bolt. Now, when things start moving quickly, this is one guy you always want on your team. He quickly pulled his longbow and put a laminated birch through the lungs. The cow spun and ran right by me wide open at 20 yards. I’ll always remember that elk galloping nearby and away from me. I watched her through a gap in the trees for about 60 yards. She seemed to lose her balance, and I expected her to go down. Instead, she disappeared.

We gathered up, examined David’s arrow, and my adrenaline peaked when I saw blood from end to end. There was no doubt now, but we waited about 10 minutes anyway, and moved to where we last spotted her. A small pond split us up, with David and Jeff going one way and I the other. Something told me we were going too fast, so I stopped and scanned all around. There in the pond and hidden by the grassy edge, she lay – lights out! High-fives, yahoos and laughs filled the woods. We savored the moment, the finest in my hunting career for sure, and I suspect theirs as well. I am the youngest at 45, two days before my birthday; Jeff is 50, David, 56.

Jeff, David and Mark.

The cameras came out, followed by knives and game bags – we had come prepared! They skinned, quartered and I de-boned – everybody worked efficiently. David had a short rodeo with the llamas, as the smaller one, Elvis, didn’t much like that swampy ground. But we got them loaded and piggybacked the bagged meat and gear out to a larger meadow, then loaded up everything and made one trip to camp. Elvis and Andy were overloaded, so we took it slow and even, with no problems. That was about the coolest thing I’ve ever seen: walking those animals through that tilted, busted timber directly to the kill site. Hauling them 1000 miles one way made everything worth it. A day earlier Jeff had found an unopened can of Coors Genuine back on the trail, and saved it in case we needed to celebrate – another fine moment!

David and Andy with a load of boned meat.

That night the bagged meat cooled with near freezing temps. The next morning we elected to make the hike out in one trip, so we loaded up the backpacks, overloaded the llamas again, and eased out the mostly downhill trail. A few times the llamas balked at the load and kushed (laid down) along the route, so we took our time. When we arrived at the trucks, we had a letdown as someone had smashed David’s Tundra passenger window and had stolen various items. He lost a large cooler with expensive Hidden Wolf woolens, and my small fanny pack, a small cooler, and hard arrow case with spare arrows were also gone.

We bounced back, cleaned up, loaded up, and headed to town for a well-deserved Dairy Queen meal. We split up the meat, said our goodbyes and headed home with a cardboard window, nonstop 1000 miles. I hope I can speak for David as well, but the break-in was nothing compared to finally killing an elk. Upon arriving home on my birthday, I cleaned and packed my share of meat, and was tickled even more when my new Krupps grinder worked flawlessly with the trimmings. One episode with the “silver skin” then I got things adjusted, and it worked perfectly.

You may be wondering if the cow we found was the one I’d originally shot. We were skeptical till we hauled her out of the water and rolled her over. It was. You may also be wondering where my original hit was. This is the hardest part for me to write. My arrow hit the rear ham from broadside, probably went through, and she kicked it out while running. Didn’t seem to hit a major artery, but the arrow creased the large bone, since two of the three blades were bent. There was major blood loss and clotting inside the skin and muscles, basically a huge mess, and we felt it would have eventually been lethal. I’ve replayed that shot a thousand times since then and have come to the conclusion that she moved at or near my release. This was at a totally relaxed animal at about 20 yards and with good cover. Ironic since recently my brother and I had discussed wait times after shots and agreed we would put into better practice this year what we discuss around the campfire. It’s easy to say what you would do in that situation, but to walk away from a fresh blood trail and wait five hours is not easy.

We were all shooting one of David’s longbows, and Jeff and I were using tapered cedars that I made up, while David elected to use heavier laminated birch arrows for a harder punch, especially since he can handle the added bow weight. My setup was somewhat lighter at 52# with 540-grain arrows, but a combination that can be shot all day under any conditions. Jeff had been practicing relentlessly and was in good form, his arrows flying like darts.

Well, sometimes the moon and stars line up to give your team the home field advantage…but only if you do everything else right.