DAY1- My son Pine, turned 16 in January right after the Denver Market Show which JWP always attends. And since Dad is almost always in Denver on his birthday, we decided to do something just a little different for the 16th birthday of this fine young man. At the invitation of a long time friend and guide out in New Mexico, we decided to take in a cow Elk hunt out on the plains of the Vermejo Ranch.
Right after we were done with the Denver Market Show, we tore down the display booth and once packed we were on the road south to Gene & Nancy Klein’s in Miami New Mexico. Now I have told you here that he is a friend and a guide, but many of you may also know of him as one of the finer Bit & Spur makers out there today, and his silver work isn’t too bad either. We arrived at Genes rather late, like 1:am late. I sort of half expected that the next day was a recupe day, but after arriving Gene then informed us that a large storm was moving in and we had better get to hunting that morning by 5am.
JW is not a morning person, and due to genetics it seems that Pine got my morning welcoming abilities. But boy howdy, he and I can sure stay up with the Owls when needed. So 5:am it was, rolling out, dressing warmly and wondering all the while why we didn’t just stay with our diet of wieners………………which by the way can be eaten in bed.
With the sleep rubbed out of our eyes, a cup of coffee down the gullet, I kissed my wife and told here with any luck we would hit an Elk with the truck and be back in an hour. From Gene’s house we headed sort’a north and west to a place called Ponil Creek which lays due west of Cimarron. Cimarron is also know for the largest youth camp in the world, which is based out of the Philmont Ranch.
The sky was just beginning to realize it also needed to accept the arrival of the impending morning, and from the farthest reaches in the east you could see first light creeping in to invade the darkness which had rested for the night. Edges of clouds were being tinged with red and orange as we unlocked the gates that received us into the fold to hunt for that day. The ice slicked blacktop gave way to the dull crunch of gravel, as I swung the gate aside and allowed the red hunting truck its entry, the wind blew and cut my Canadian skin like a knife, my bare fingers turned to bowling pins………….all this in mere seconds and I am wondering, “what sort’a wieney am I, shoot, I am from Canada from a land where even the women have a healthy mustache………..dang, I grew up in this sort of cold, yet I cannot by my will turn it away?”
I thanked God right there on the spot when I climbed into Genes old red hunting truck, as he began this short dialogue that explained his heater was broken, as a matter of fact it was stuck on high………..There is a God…………and that if we got too hot we were welcome to roll the windows down. I noticed that day, that not Pine nor I ever touched our windows…………….further genetic proof of my Fatherhood. The gravel road turned to a path, and then a trail and then a guess at times as to exactly where it was. Our first light eyesight needed some fine tuning, Pine and I had trouble differentiating between trees and Elk, between a willow clump and a mountain…………Gene seemed to be acting quite normal, so we drank some more of his coffee hoping for a cure to our problems.
The creek bed, was also the hot bed for the Elk we intended to hunt and on that we kept at least one sharp eye as we slowly drove out thru the flats of Ponil Creek. To our far right side we spotted what looked like maybe 50 -75 head of Elk attempt to cross a far distant road. Each time the Elk herd got started over the fence, a car would come along and divide them into smaller groups, until at last there was a small group of maybe 10 cows left on our side of the fence, these began heading for shelter amongst the willows that line Ponil Creek. We started with that small group, taking our time to wind our way over towards their last location. The warm red truck came to a stop down in a small arroyo (for folks back home in Canada and Rio Linda CA, an ARROYO is like a small gulley or wash). We talked about the battle plan, the sneak and the tactic once we spotted the Elk, and with that clear we stepped from the cab. Each of us had left Gene’s house that morning with 2 jackets on, I noticed when we got out now that I had 3 jackets, Pine had 3, and gene had a good heavy Tee-Shirt………..Pine and I both smiled………..we felt good about the prospects, and the added warmth. The wind didn’t seem too bad while we remained low in the arroyo, but the moment we rose above its protective banks and out into the wind it cut thru us like a sharp Saber.
We walked as far as the frigid wind would allow, our cheeks burned, and our fingers numb, we finally turned and headed for the shelter and warmth of the truck. It was 10 below zero, and a 25 mile per hour wind, no matter what we wore it cut strait to the marrow. The willows that day proved to be too thick, I walked them several times attempting to chase the Elk out towards the unprotected margins, and each time I failed as I could hear the Elk circling behind and in front of me, but never within eyesight. We did see Elk, but we never got close. The further along the day progressed the heavier the sky became, and the duller the afternoon sun as it struggled to overpower the lead grey clouds which skudded by on the ferocious winds. The closest we got to a cow Elk that day, was the white scut of a cow as it sought refuge amongst the thick red willows which cloaked Ponil Creek.
We retired that night to a warm house and a fine meal of Elk Tenderloin and good company of Gene and Nancy, we opened a few presents with Pine and gladly ate his birthday cake. Nobody refused the bed early that night, and both of us were eager to start our hunt early the next day.
DAY2- began about the same time, the day would prove to be clear and sunny, even thought the morning sky was heavy with cloud from the storm of the day before. We unlocked the gate to Ponil Creek at almost the same time, the headlights were turned off and we rolled quietly along the then gramma grass covered flats of Vermejo. Interspersed amongst the gramma grass and abundant ground cover type Cactus were large groups of Antelope and Buffalo, which placidly grazed as we drove past. The Buffalo seemed impervious to the cold wind that tore at their long brown hair, they looked to be as content as if they were grazing in the Bahama’s.
“Right there” said Gene, as a large finger pointed to our right out on a distant flat. We could all see three cows walking up out of the bed of Ponil creek and up onto the immense gramma grass flats which make its closest topographical neighbour. The Elk, some mile or so distant to us, walked in what appeared to be a parallel path to our own, what made it even worse, was they knew of our presence as soon as they arrived out on the flats. It was Gene’s suggestion, that he and Pine try to put the sneak on this group. Out in front of our location some 200 yards was an old ditch which had been dug decades before and for who knows what form of irrigation project. With the ditch as cover, they felt they would be able to move along and intercept the Elk on their present route. My job, since I was not shooting, was to stay with the truck and move along if it looked like the Elk panicked and decided to run off before we could intercept them.
The sneak, was long and slow, taking some 45 minutes to get to within maybe 200 yards of the Elk. Now, from my position back at the truck, looking thru a pair of binoculars, I kept wondering why Pine did not shoot. I would later find out that neither Gene nor Pine could ever get a clear sighting of the Elk, due to some heavy weed cover that blocked their view. The Elk, finally realized that something was afoot, they decided to run for a little more protective cover.
With Pine and Gene back in the truck, I heard all about how close they actually were, but how poorly they could see the Elk. We had a little coffee and a little of the sausage that Gene had cooked that morning and talked over plan B. The sun was breaking out in large scale, the day warmed to maybe 25 degrees and the wind began to abate, all while plan B came to life and we drove towards Cedar Hills. The hills lay to our north, and were a well known hang out for Elk during the winter months along Ponil, we no sooner but got to the foot of the hills and we jumped about 50 Elk which promptly broke into two groups and took flight in opposing directions. The herd of Elk that we chose to follow headed almost due north towards the snow capped Gallina’s mountains that form a barrier between the last of the big 14,000 foot mountains and the continuation of the continental divide as it menders south in its diminished capacity.
Our Elk as we came to call them, made their way to a small creek bed whose course wandered aimlessly amongst the almost imperceptible topographical changes to this plains area of Vermejo Ranch. Our only hope it seemed was to get down into this shallow dry creek bed, and use both bank and Willow, when present, affording us scant coverage to close the distance between ourselves and our prey. For almost 2 hours we trailed along behind the multiple foot prints of the Elk we had spotted earlier, each opportunity we found, we would scan the horizon for the cows we had set our hopes on. At one point in our approach, we arose from the coverage of the creek bed with stealth, only to be facing 3 nice bull Elk not more than 50 yards and totally unaware of our presence. What a site, what an awesome experience for a young man to be so close., and yet held back from that which he desired to do. To be able too do no more than admire the hand of creation……………….someday, came a low murmur…….someday.
Finally the dry creek bed came to its feeble end, as if all Gods creation were poured down into a humble rabbit hole at the base of a squat salt cedar our here on the plains amongst Cactus and Gramma grass. A bright blue expanse of sky and sunshine rienged over the 1500 yards between us and the cows we had been following now for some 2 hours. While a snipers “Gilly Suit” may have offered us the camouflage we would needed, nothing short of a Kevlar crawl matte would protect us from the constant presence of Cactus spine which paved the flat geography between us and the cows. Not to mention that the cows had our scent to their noses, they knew we were present and had chose to laydown with that advantage in their faces.
We slowly, and somewhat disinterestedly made our way back to the truck, all thoughts were on how we should or could close the gap to the cows without giving up our location. The scent carrying wind, and the flat terrain all seemed to be working against our best intentions and attempts. We had a coffee break, and ate a little sausage to give us time to gather our thoughts and compare our plans. Finally, it was the local knowledge of our friend and guide that won out over Pines idea of an aerial bombardment of sometype.
Gene placed the truck some 1000 yards due north of the now laying Elk herd, and with the heads of the Elk completely hidden from our view by a 20 inch swale in the ground, we commenced our surreptitious approach. Bent at the waist, and carrying our gun and pack, we made our way ever so slow and quiet, each few hundred yards we would check on the only evidence afford us of the Elk’s presence, that being the twitching tips of their ears when we raised to our knees to view them. And again we would crouch low and move in their direction……………our panting breath disappeared into the warm afternoon air not too belie our approach. That dreaded time arrived, when the low ground swale would no longer mask the approach of a man’s intent and we would have to resort too a belly crawl amongst the cactus if we would close that last 500 hundred yards to a vantage point from which we could get a shot. Inch by inch we made our way, with each squirm of our bodies we could see more and more of the exposed Elk, soon the time would come to mount the gun and take our shot………300 yards gave way to 250 which gave way too 200, and now the Elk are agitated and on their feet.
They cannot tell what we are, but they do seem to understand it is not a good presence.
Under Gene’s quiet tutelage, Pine slowly pushes a small back pack up and under the fore-stock of the custom built 308 caliber gun, it’s sleek silver barrel projects forward like a muscular arm which reaches out for one of those cow Elk. Pine’s breathing slows audibly, his youthful bright eyes focus on the nervous Elk, his hat brim set low to block out anything that would run interference and commit confusion with the shot. Take your time came Gene’s voice, and very slowly squeeze the trigger on the last cow in the group, its some 225 yards out Pine, when she turns broadside slowly squeeze while holding about 8 inches up under her front leg. I have shot thousands of rounds out of guns, and done so for better than 40 years now. Maybe it was my location to the right of Pine by some four feet, maybe it was the cool air which we were hunting in, I am not sure. But I distinctly heard the entire searing flight path of that shot thru the chill air, and then the resonant “THUNK” of a confirmed hit.
The Elk staggered, made a few more missteps but did not go down as we had hoped and expected. Instead she simply walked straight away from our location, and she did so being drawn by the remaining cows which had run some 200 yards distant from her. Slowly one step at a time, she walked as if along a tight rope, strait away from our sequestered location. “Lets just wait a minute”, came Gene’s reassuring voice, “She will soon present herself for a second shot, so Pine get mounted behind your gun, and be ready for that moment when she turns”. Gene then blew a low plaintive call from his mewing cow Elk call. Our subjects ears wiggled back and forth, she knew we had called but gave no profile shot of herself………….now some 400 yards distant from our location, and Gene gave Pine the go ahead shot from directly behind, place it just below her tail scut and right between her hams………………..a second shot broke the sound barrier on that crisp clear day in New Mexico. Only this time, our Elk took a heavy fall and lay with her head only partly raised. We waited, and Prayed that she would be at her end there in the dry Gramma grass of the infamous Maxwell Land Grant. A mew, then another from the herd of elk out in front of her, and she was soon on her feet and once again walking directly away from us, being drawn as if by magnet towards her kin and her Cedar Hill refuge. Now 500 feet pass us by, then 600 and on out to 700 yards distant from us……….We need to put a kill shot into her Pine came Gene’s reassuring voice, she is close but still has the strength to run if we give her a reason to do so. That last shot came at just over 700 yards, and was finally the clean heart stopping shot required to bring this wonderful hunt to an end.
We Prayed a Prayer of thankfulness, we rejoiced in the friendship we all had the chance to share, and we watched as the rest of the Elk seemed to stay just distant enough to be safe, yet close enough to take in all that happened. Call it anthropomorphism, call it curiosity, I am not real sure, but I do know that they took in every movement we made in our preparing of the cow to be transported home.
So came the end of a great first hunt. The elk was hung, and allowed to freeze solid and then we packed and headed to sunny California. To Gene and Nancy, we are forever thankful for their friendship and generosity. And, to the Lord for his creation and Blessings in all our lives. Pine’s birthday came to pass, it was a great 16th.
Good night and God Bless
Jeremiah
NOTE- I should make it known that my friend Gene is what is called a Master Marksman, regularily shooting in 1000 yard competitions around the USA. The gun that my boy shot, was entirely handmade by Gene Klein, it is a 308 caliber mounted with a Leupold Scope. Gene builds these rifles as a custom item from his shop. You can contact Gene & Nancy Klein at 505-483-2922
