Elk Hunting the Oregon Coastal Forest

Introduction: The following story is the first in a series of informative articles Blacktail Bow Company will be posting during the year 2017. Whether hunting adventures, 'how to topics', tips & observations, or points of view, we hope these varied articles will be both entertaining and educational for the reader throughout the coming year.

Successful Oregon Roosevelt Elk Hunt - taken by author

---

---

There's no place like home
​By Norm Johnson (Founder, Blacktail Bow Company, LLC)

That obnoxious alarm came all too early, following several hard days of hunting and hiking the Oregon coast range for Roosevelt elk. Tired sore muscles, and physical fatigue made it real tempting to push the button, roll over, and get some well needed rest. But, this is what I love to do each fall! So it’s a quick cup of coffee, a light breakfast and out the door for another day in the mountains.

I think just about all of us (who love bowhunting) relate more to the hunting we do close to home. Sure, those out-of-state (or even out-of-the-country) hunts leave memories that last a lifetime; yet, it is what we do close to home that probably was responsible for getting us hooked on bowhunting in the first place. It is at home that we accumulate (year-in and year-out) the memories that not only fill our freezers, but result in trophies for the den and photos for the album. For most of the hunting population, the goal is most definitely whitetail deer, after all, it is the most popular big game species on the planet.

Living on the Oregon coast, my bowhunting from home is a little different. The steep Oregon coast range, sometimes called the “Pacific Rainforest”, is home for Roosevelt elk, Blacktail deer and an abundance of black bear and mountain lion. Bowhunting Roosevelt elk has been literally my backyard bowhunting now for 36 years. As I have gotten older I realize just how much I took for granted the scenic views and the yearly opportunity to hunt one of the most beautiful animals that all of hunting has to offer. Over my 36 years of bowhunting my out-of-state and in-state travels have made me realize there’s no place like home. ​

On the morning of September 18th , 2009 I left home at my normal time of about 2 hours before daylight. I would be driving a short 10 miles northeast of my home, then hike about 4 miles into the heart of the coastal mountain range. I would be hunting privately owned timber company land that allows "walk in only" access during the late summer fire season. The timber companies use railroad iron gates to block all access points to prohibit the use of any motorized vehicles on their lands during the dry summer and fall seasons. These tracts of land or “tree farms” (as we locals call them) can be a few thousand acres, to hundreds of thousands of acres in size. With the distance I need to cover (many miles) and rugged terrain, I travel very light. My gear consists of my bow, quiver, four hunting arrows, a small fanny pack containing bare essentials along with a quart of water, binoculars, and grunt tube.
 
The elk rut was now in full swing and the morning hours give a short window of activity before the elk head for thick cover to bed for the day.  With the aid of a headlamp, I utilized the cover of darkness and an old abandoned logging road to hike to an area I regularly hunt by daylight. My morning hike would also be a climb of an additional 500 feet in elevation as well.

As morning began to bring huntable light, the foggy damp marine air began to warm and slowly lift out of the steep tight canyons. With a little patience to let the morning air clear, I took full advantage of my elevation to glass across canyons and draws into some of the recent clearcut loggings looking for the unmistakable blond hides feeding in the young replanted timber. “Reprod” short for reproduction timber, refers to young replanted trees as short as 5 feet to upward of 40 feet. This reforestation age diversity creates is an essential part of good Roosevelt elk habitat. The elk will utilize reprod in its younger stage as feeding areas and in its older stages as cover and bedding areas.

I worked my way along the top of a steep ridge top glassing off both sides for nearly a mile in either direction. The presence of several large rubs accompanied by the musky smell of rutting bulls told me there were mature bulls in the area. Finding no elk with my binoculars, I decided to descend into a small hidden basin that in past seasons had proved to be a good hiding spot for a bull with his harem of cows. Skirting the timber edge next to an older clearcut, at 10 yards I interrupted a large black bear feeding in the Himalayan blackberries. I honestly don’t know who scared who the most! I am always amazed at the ability of these bears to get out of the berry vines so quickly. The thorns on the Himalayan vines are ¼ to ½ inch in length and cut through human skin with ease.  Letting my heart return to normal, I continued to move, looking and listening. But I could find no elk in the basin.

The broken, steep terrain creates many hidden pockets that cannot be adequately seen with binoculars. So, I began to "cow call" and bugle in the cool morning air. I kept moving, trying to cover as much country as possible in search of a response. With no answer coming from the basin, I felt I needed a new game plan. I began the quarter mile hike out of the basin to the ridge top where I had started my hunt. Once reaching the ridge top, I began to glass into the patchwork of logged areas some more than 2 miles away. With precious morning hours quickly passing I had to question glassing areas too far for me to hike to before the elk headed for their bedding areas. I decided to make the long trek across a deep canyon to a basin where I had a very close encounter with a young 5x5 bull the morning before. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t pulled the plug on the surrounding area too quickly, so I sent one last bugle into the morning air.

There was an immediate answer that came from behind me — further out on the ridge top at what I had guessed to be about 200 yards away. I was familiar with the area so I immediately turned around and headed up the old dead end logging road.  I had assumed the bull had cows and made the decision not to answer. Instead, I covered about half the distance before I found a spot along the road to check the wind then duck into the reprod and call again. I was careless in thinking he had cows. As I approached a blind corner in the old road, I looked up in time to see half the bull's face and left antler coming at me from the other direction. Without hesitation I jumped to my left and downhill into the reprod while simultaneously cow calling. I wasn’t sure how much the bull had seen but did my best to fool the bull into thinking he didn’t see what he really saw. Once in the reprod, my view consisted of small patches of his blonde hide. With the bull standing broadside at a distance of 35 yards he was looking for the cows he thought he had stumbled into. My eyes were fixed on a small gap in the branches that exposed the perfect spot for a double lung hit. I picked a spot and came to full draw with my 66” Blacktail Elite VL One-piece recurve. After a short hold at full draw to hit my anchor point the arrow was on its way. In the blink of an eye the arrow deflected on a low hanging branch and sailed high over the bull’s back. I made a common mistake with this shot in the fact that we see in straight lines and arrows travel in arcs.

The bull whirled and headed back in the direction he had come from. I immediately cow called and bugled. The bull ran up the old road about 50 yards and stopped at the sound of my calls. Through a small gap in the limbs I could now only see the lower half of his hind legs. I was convinced the bull could see no part of me. The standoff continued as I held his curiosity with periodic cow calls. I watched his hind legs slowly slip out of my line of sight as he disappeared into the reprod. The bull was now out of sight in the thick reprod 50 to 60 yards in front of me. My calls kept him convinced there were cows to be had. He was going to take a more cautious and hidden approach through the reprod.

I knew the bull approaching me through the small thick trees was not going to give me any shot opportunities so I quietly stepped out of the reprod and back on the logging road. I cautiously tip toed to where I had last seen the bull’s legs disappear. As I approached the spot I could see the bull moving slowly in the 15 foot trees. I cow called and stopped him. At 30 yards his face was covered from view by limbs, only his black antlers were exposed. A gap in the limbs revealed a lung shot. I drew my bow, picked a spot, and released. The arrow slipped through the gap untouched, followed by the unmistakable sound of the arrow finding a big chest cavity. The bull bolted at impact and was immediately swallowed by the reprod. I quietly listened at a few quick fading sounds of the bull leaving. I glanced at my watch and it was 7:45 am. With no sense of urgency, I decided to give him a full hour before I started tracking.

We’ve all been there with that urge to get tracking along with second guessing the shot placement. As the adrenalin began to wear off I found myself taking a moment to sit and reflect on the hunt and look around at the views of God’s creation. I was thankful and fortunate for the second chance. After sitting for a few minutes I flagged a tree branch to mark the spot where I had shot then hiked the old logging road for a ½ mile as it looped around to the opposite side of the canyon. The view from this side allowed me a great opportunity to glass the area into the reprod where the bull had run. Had the bull died before he made it to the canopy of the older timber I just might find him in my binoculars from across the canyon. This would also occupy my time for the next hour giving the bull plenty of time to expire.

While glassing I enjoyed watching a small blacktail buck and a doe feeding in the lower part of the canyon but could see no sign of the bull. An hour had passed so I hiked back up the road to my flagging and began tracking the bull. The blood trail and running tracks followed a steep side hill line for about 100 yards to the timberline. As I entered the dark timbered canopy the tracking became more difficult. The dim light mixed with bright streamers of the morning sunlight coming through gaps in the canopy make it hard for my eyes to adjust. The ground was steep and littered with blow-downs and dead limbs. Fortunately the bull’s run took him only another 40 yards inside the older timber before piling up. After hitting the ground he slid another 50 yards down the steep hillside coming to rest against a downed log. The broadhead had passed through both lungs leaving the arrow hanging by the feathers on the opposite side. He was a mature 5 year old 5x5 Roosevelt bull. His antlers were black and heavy with one broken brow tine indicating the possible reason he had no cows of his own. His total body weight was nearly 900 pounds.

Standing over the bull my emotions ran high as I began to reflect on the last two weeks of hunting. It had been an incredible season with numerous other encounters including two mature bulls at less than 20 yards (with no shot opportunity). I had pushed hard and lost 7 pounds in a two week stretch. Earlier that morning, thoughts of taking an easier hunt had crept into my mind. Funny how success takes away the fatigue, and tired sore muscles replacing it with that indescribable feeling that only those who experience these moments know and understand. I had meat that would fill my freezer and feed my family for another winter. I also had precious memories of the hunt to last a lifetime. After 36 years of bowhunting these magnificent animals in Oregon’s coastal mountains, it just never gets old.

​Yes, there truly is no place like home!