montana – Green Lake Chronicles

Viewers Choice Article

October 4, 2016 michaeloutdoorLeave a comment

It has been an exciting past few weeks for the Green Lake Chronicles crew and I am happy to share this first hand story about an awesome hunt Walter experienced in mid-September. Walter is a hunting veteran from Catskills, NY, who has harvested many great animals in his day, but this was going to be his first adventure chasing elk with a bow. Enjoy!

“My first elk hunt was going to be an archery season trip to the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana. Our son, Max, had taken a teaching job in Darby four years earlier and had spent many hours afield learning the ways of Wapiti , the Indian name for elk.

Recently retired, my wife, Jeanne, and I loaded up the truck camper and headed for Big Sky country. Mid-September, prime time for the elk rut, was our target date to be in the mountains. We set up camp in a valley meadow by a small trout stream several miles back in on a National Forest Service dirt road. I spent the first few days hiking ridges looking for elk sign and acclimating to the higher elevation. A freshly-used wallow presented itself on one such hike. “This would be a good place to sit,” I told myself, based on the warm, sunny days we were experiencing. I sat two mornings there in my blind and saw nothing. It was now day five and I was starting to feel a little discouraged with locating elk in the vast wilderness, though I had read that elk are where you find them.

“Tomorrow will be an adventure, no matter what,” Jeanne said, reminding me that Max would be my hunting guide for the weekend. I had mixed feelings on that. Max knew of some great spots and could “talk” elk, but his reputation for death-march hiking scared me. I slept fitfully that night, reviewing my gear and rehearsing the perfect shot in my mind.

“Dad, wake up. It’s time to go!” came a voice from the door of the Bear Den, a guest room Max had recently built. It was a clear, frosty, full-moon morning as we drove up into the mountain pass. “We’ll be hiking up this drainage today,” he said, pointing to a trailhead as he parked at the end of the gravel road. We worked our way up the trail in the darkness with the moonlight providing enough illumination to see the rocks and blowdowns in our path. A cool, balsam scented breeze down drafted from the Continental Divide above.

After almost an hour, we veered off toward the first in a series of north facing alpine meadows. All of a sudden, I felt this supernatural sense of consciousness come over me: the smells in the air stronger, the colors brighter, and a feeling of calm and heightened awareness. “Something is going to happen today. Something good, ” I thought. I have had this feeling of the presence of God in the deer woods before and knew not to dismiss it.

Max stopped, took off his pack and said it was time for us to ready our bows As I removed my pack, he hushed me: “Listen!” A cow’s mew, then another, broke the silence from the lodgepole timber above the first meadow. We scrambled to put on our releases, nock arrows, and get the calls ready. He instructed me to take a stand between him and the elk while he called to them from behind. I quietly moved up to the bottom edge of the meadow and concealed myself in the trees.

Max started cow calling and then I heard the clashing antlers of sparring bull elk. Max kept up the cow calling but, after hearing the real cows drifting away, resorted to bugling. That did the trick! I saw a bull appear in the distance at the top of the steep meadow. Another blow on the bugle call brought two bulls trotting down toward me. “This is it,” I said to myself, still calm from the feeling that came over me just a short while before.

As the first bull disappeared behind some shrubs, I drew my bow and estimated the yardage. He reappeared, still moving toward Max, and I followed him with my 20-yard pin. Just as I found the spot behind and below the shoulder, he stopped. I touched off the release. The arrow flew true and buried to the fletching in his chest. The bull ran off into the timber 50 yards away and fell.

I ran down to Max who was running to me and met with an emotional embrace.

Max expertly dressed, skinned, and quartered the 5 x 5 bull, readying the excellent meat for the two backpack trips back to the truck. By noon we were back on the road to Darby where the elk quarters would hang for five days in Max’s cooler and be butchered into fine fare for the table.

I am a blessed man!”

mt-elk2016 — Bearman and his father, Walter, with a great Montana archery bull

Thank you for the great story Walt. I welcome others to share stories of exciting memories afield. Email me at greenlakechronicles@gmail.com with your story along with a few pictures and you could be the next Viewers Choice Post! Thank you for reading. Be sure to check out our Facebook and Instagram pages for more great pictures!

-Michael

Hiking/Hunting stories/National Park/National Park Service/Uncategorized

An Adventure to Remember- Lion Attack

February 3, 2016 michaeloutdoorLeave a comment

Mountain Landscape — Rock ledge where the Lion attacked

Our Greenlake Chronicles celebrity, Bearman, called me on Sunday with a hell of a story. We talk weekly, to catch up, swap stories and 9/10 times Bearman has something better to chat about than myself. Living in Montana at the base of a mountain is definitely more exiting than a crowded apartment in Downtown Boston! Please enjoy his first hand account of his Mountain Lion attack!

“The morning started off as a normal midwinter Sunday in search of sunshine, exercise and time away from the norm. This adventure satisfied each of those needs. Shortly after sunrise, my dog Angel and I began our trek up the mountain. Two lung and leg burning hours later we reached top of the ridge where we would drop down and loop around the south side slopes in hopes of finding shed deer antlers. As many shed hunting days go, we found nothing, but did stumble on the unexpected.

To gain a better look at the terrain below I headed towards an abrupt rock outcropping. Underneath was a thick patch of mountain mahogany and tall grass among the otherwise bare sage hillside. It was almost noon and the sun beat strong enough to start melting the skiff of snow laid down the night before. Suddenly Angel hit the brakes hair on her back stood up tall. Her hears alert and tail straightened told me something was definitely up. Cautiously approaching the edge, I drew from its holster my Ruger Superblackhawk revolver chambered in .44 Magnum. I came to the edge and saw nothing below. “Maybe there is a bear den down there” I thought to myself. “I’ll sit here for a few minutes and look around, then drop down to check things out.” I’ve always wanted to see a bear sleeping in its den. Pistol back in its holster I picked up my other piece of equipment for the day’s adventure; my new 12×50 Vortex Diamondback binoculars to survey the landscape. Meanwhile, Angel had detached from my side and wandered to the left side of the rocks twenty feet away, separated by a narrow, near vertical crevasse descending to the thicket below.

In the blink of an eye, a mountain lion bounded up through the rocky crevasse towards Angel, poised to attack! With little time to think, I drew my pistol again from it holster and cocked the hammering in one motion as I watched the lion twenty feet away as it approached my dog. Lips curled and teeth showing, I knew that it one thing on its mind. The cat, now eye level to me, crested the edge within feet of angel when I fired. It quickly wheeled around and bombed down through the crack in the rocks and I fired again. Moments later I saw the cat sprinting over the ridge below. Heart thumping I spotted movement in the mahogany below. The reason for the predator’s aggression was two or three large kittens. The young cats worked their way over the hill and were soon out of sight. Looking beyond I saw the big cat working its way through the burnt timber across the draw atop hard packed snow.

The lion appeared to move along uninjured, though I always follow a trail beyond the shadow of a doubt. Sure enough, my bullet made contact. Angel and I tracked sparse blood for nearly half a mile through snow and bare ground until blood dissipated and the encounter became un-walkable for two legged creatures. Confident that the lion was not fatally wounded, and far from my location, I sat down to refuel on food and water. Sun began to peak out from behind the clouds which dusted snow on the big mountains across the valley. Elk were feeding on grasses on the adjacent hill. In that moment I glanced at my revolver and to my hiking partner Angel bedded in the snow and panting. “Guess I won’t be leaving my gun at home any more” I thought to myself. Thankful for a memorable day I stood up, gave a whistle, and said, “Let’s roll Angel, on to the next adventure!”

Awesome story Bearman! Mountain lions are tough animals and I’m sure this one will walk away with a small scratch and a bit wiser. Be sure to check out more stories and pictures on our Facebook and Instagram pages. Thank you for reading!

-Michael

Ice Fishing/Winter Activities

Ice fishing Montana

December 28, 2015 michaeloutdoorLeave a comment

Ice fishing lunch — Bacon wrapped mule deer backstrap lunch

With the busy holiday season and end of the year sales financials coming to a close, I am pumped to post this successful ice fishing article from our Montana celebrity, Bearman. Sorry for being quiet the last few weeks! Bearman has been experiencing some solid fishing action during the start of the 2015/2016 Winter. Temperatures have dropped significantly in the Bitterroot Mountain range and the local lakes have started to solidify.

Ice fishing Montana — Good day on the ice

Bearman and his local crew had success on one of these lakes in mid December. Law requires a five fish per person limit with two lines per person. Worms on tip ups , and teardrop jigs tips with worm or soft plastic on jig pole got it done. The trout were basically jumping out of the hole! Ice fishing can be a cold drubbing or a fun filled action day (pending conditions and ice). Be sure to dress for the weather and read the local regulations for every area you plan to fish. The Montana boys limited out and spent the day ice skating from hole to hole! I have personally spent many hours on the cold ice with little action to brag about, but if you prepare for a fun day outdoors with friends, you will enjoy yourself no matter the fishing outcome.

As the winter progresses, I will continue posting ice fishing, skiing, hiking and other short stories. Please feel free to share pictures or your stories on our Facebook or Instagram pages! Thanks for reading.

-Michael

Ice Fishing Bearman — Beautiful color on these winter Montana trout

Fall/hunting/Hunting stories

The Montana Success Story- Part Two

October 30, 2015 michaeloutdoorLeave a comment

Bearman with a nice Montana bull on a do it yourself public land hunt

Yesterday I posted the first part of the Montana Success Story where we read about “Bearmans” first mulie harvest. The story only gets better! Please enjoy “Bearmans” recount of this awesome Elk hunt.

“Elk season is a mythical window of time that calls to me all year. From the day the season ends until the day it opens again I am constantly hiking, scouting, and dreaming of my adventures for the season to come. This season in particular has been a roller coaster ride to say the least, and not just the kid’s roller coaster, but the really high go upside down kind of thing. September bow season is my favorite time of year without a doubt. The weather is perfect, scenery is fantastic, and the bulls are singing. As far as I am concerned there are few things more pure and exciting than a bull elk screaming at daybreak on a calm fall morning. Fortunately, I got into that familiar scenario multiple times in different locations throughout the season. Not only did I hear elk, but I had some close calls; really close; head to head at 3 yards close. Talk about an exhilarating experience. Then there was the lowest of lows where an animal was wounded and not recovered. Even after all possible efforts have been taken to ensure that the animal is not immediately dead; the possibility always exists that he will die eventually. Anyone who has hunted long enough knows this awful feeling and can just hope that the animal heals from a non-lethal shot. Needless to say, bow season ended with mixed emotions, some great memories, and lessons learned.

A week between seasons and it was rifle time. After five weekends in the bow hunting woods with no meat to show for it, I was ready. My rifle was dialed in, shooting a clover leaf at 100 yards and four inch group at 300 yards. Opening day I returned to my favorite bow hunting area and saw a few elk but from over a mile away and no way to get in on them in time. The following day I put my rifle to the test on my first mule deer buck which performed flawlessly. Very satisfied to have a buck tag filled, I felt less stress to pursue a bull until the snow started sticking. With one week between daylight savings time, coaching Junior High football after teaching Shop at the high school, I decided to take some friends out hunting and try to have them fill their deer tags. The plan was to put them on what I thought to be the better spots and I would circle below and try to push some deer in their direction. So with no real intention on hunting too seriously I set off to break in my new boots and exercise my rifle. A few miles in I jumped some does that ran back uphill towards my hunting companions. At that time I stopped and contemplated the strange gut feeling to change my course that I have felt on many successful hunts before. Without hesitation I turned off the trail and slowly wandered down through an old logged out area of timber with some old ponderosa pine trees mixed with new fir tree undergrowth standing about ten feet tall. I still hunted down through the area until I broke a stick under my boots when I stopped. Looking out about 150 yards on the edge of the cut I spotted something tan behind a small fir tree. Bringing up my scope I could see the definite outline of an elk butt and hind leg frozen in place listening to the stick I had just broken. The elk had not yet seen or smelled me so I cow called a few times to make me seem like one of the herd. Sure enough the elk turned his head showing me that he was in fact a bull. A few minutes later he started to walk again. Now I could see that he was in fact a legal bull with at least a four inch brow tine but had no shot opportunities through the timber. The first available shooting lane was nearly 100 yards in front of were the elk was headed. If he stepped out there it would be roughly 225 yards and I would be ready. Three cows seemed to appear out of nowhere right in that spot and looked very uneasy. The wind began to hit my neck and the cows must have got a little whiff of me and turned back into the timer out of sight. Meanwhile the bull was approaching the opening where I would hopefully be able to make a shot when he stopped to look at his cows. I thought, “Oh no he’s going to follow those cows and be gone for good.” He only needed to take two more steps but he looked like he wanted to change his mind so I cow called one more time to get his attention. It did the trick. I was sitting down with rifle rested on my knee. He looked back uphill out of curiosity and when he walked two more steps to get a better look I sent a bullet down range. Now twenty cows joined him and were running through the clearing. I racked a round, found him in the scope, fired and watched him drop. I could still see him alive with his head up so I quickly finished him off with a neck shot. My after work tromp through the woods had just ended with a magnificent creature on the ground.

Well it didn’t end there. Anyone who has ever killed and elk knows that the work really starts when the shooting stops. I got it gutted out as the sun finally sank behind the mountains and headed back to the truck to meet the other two and tell them the story. There’s a song that says, “…you find out who your friends are”, but I think Tracy Lawrence left out a verse about finding a pack crew when it’s miles from nowhere and dark out. Being the lucky guy I am it only took an hour and there were four of us with bikes and pack frames ready to roll down an old gated road. The date was October 27^th with clear skies, temps in the low 30s, and a big full moon. For me, the memories of the pack out have been comparable to that of some of my best hunts. Four guys brought together by the common love of hunting headed through the woods with mountain bikes and only the light of the moon casting shadows through the trees. The whole time my dog Angel running beside us as part of the team. This if for sure a memory that I will not soon forget. Tagged out and time to make summer sausage!”

Awesome story Bearman, thank you for sharing. As I said before, this guy is a great example of how to work hard, scout often and put your time in the woods to harvest some quality animals. Thank you for reading and be sure to check out our Facebook and Instagram pages for great pictures.

-Michael

Fall/hunting/Hunting stories

The Montana Success Story- Part One

October 29, 2015 michaeloutdoorLeave a comment

Bearman with his first Montana Mule Deer

I‘ve learned a lot about hunting and persistence from my buddy “bearman” and since his move to Montana, he has developed to become one of the most successful hunters I know. The guy puts in serious time and loves to walk miles in search of untouched hunting grounds. This past Sunday to Tuesday was his greatest hunting accomplishments to date. Please enjoy Bearman’s awesome recount of his first Mule deer.

Bearman Close up Mulie — Long pack home!

“It was a late start to the morning following a strenuous death march the previous day in search of elk. With high hopes I traveled from my home in Darby down the Bitterroot Valley to meet up with long time hunting buddy Mike Kaplan to cover some new country. For me, today’s mission was to find a mule deer buck in the high country for the area which I had drawn a permit for. Deer numbers in this area are low, so to see any is a success in itself, but for us the thrill of new adventures keeps us hiking on. At mid-morning on an overcast 55 degree calm day we found ourselves hiking higher and higher through steep rock, burn, and timber. Several miles and several hours into our hunt we came over a ridge to find nine mule deer does feeding across the opposite hillside about 200 yards out; but no bucks to be found. After watching them for a while, we let them feed over the next ridge before making our next move. A short trek later we were on top of some radical rock formations overlooking the same group of deer in the next draw over. With the afternoon slowly ticking away, and near to our estimated turn around location, Mike decided it was time to head back to the truck. At that point my genetically adventurous spirit took over and told me to look over just one more ridge. Many times this voice leads me to that ridge or hill, and then another, and another, and another, with an end result of nothing but an exhausted Max; but not today. Today Mike split back towards the truck as I went one more ridge over. As I crept out of a heavily timbered gully into a decade old burn and there caught the glimpse of two mule deer butts gently easing over the horizon line 300 yards in front of me. With anticipation high, my legs and lungs carried me quickly through deadfall and standing tree skeletons uphill in the direction that the deer were moving. Breathing heavy and soaked with sweat I approached a giant boulder at the edge of a sharp drop off. Many hours in the field had me prepared to be ready at an instance upon reaching the edge, so with my Remington 7mm-.08 at the ready and pack unstrapped, I peered over the edge of the large boulder. Immediately I could see ears and eyes focused on me at me 80 yards straight ahead, along with a clearly visible antler! I had one shooting lane about four feet wide with his head, neck, and most of his front shoulder visible. Although I prefer to sneak a bullet in behind the shoulder as to not waste valuable meat, at this moment I knew I had no other options. Lying down with the rifle now steadied on a large rock, my crosshairs settled on the deer’s shoulder. A split second later my ears were ringing from the shot, the empty casing was rolling down through the rocks, and the buck I had just shot at turned into two muley bucks bounding off through the burn and headed deeper into a hell hole of a canyon below.

Not knowing which buck I had shot at, or being presented another shot at the deer, I watch one bound over the hill on the horizon as the other bailed off left and crashed out of sight. Heart pounding I headed to where the deer were standing when I took the shot. No blood, no hair, and an uneasy feeling setting in, I began to walk downhill where I had heard the one deer crash through the deadfall. Within moments, my worries were turned to feelings of joy when I saw the fur on his large body piled up against a tree. My first mule deer buck had only run 40 yards with a well-placed 139 grain Hornady to the boiler maker. I quickly used my one bar of cell service to call Mike and utilize his concrete crew strength to help me with the pack out. A few hours later we were loading the buck in the truck and soaking up the memories from anther great adventure. It is not the kill itself but the hard work, beautiful country, adventure, time with old friends, lean meat, and memories that last forever that keep true hunters like us headed to the mountains year after year.”

-Bearman

Thanks for your awesome recount of this great hunt Bearman. Folks, be sure to check out Green Lake Chronicles tomorrow for part of of the Montana Success Story! Thanks for reading and be sure to check out our Facebook and Instagram pages for great pictures.

-Michael

Tag: montana