We’ve seen blog reader Laura Benjamin from Colorado Springs, Colo. with some nice animals in recent months. In July, we had a photo of her with her first elk, and in November another photo with her first muley.
_ Well, Laura just further updated the blog scrapbook by sending two more photos from her January 2008 elk hunt near Craig, Colo., during which she was the only woman among five guys. The first picture she describes as an, “elk herd posing against the horizon just as the icy fog started to burn off.”_
The second photo is the second elk Laura has gotten, which she took with her .308 at about 175 yards.
Laura’s been updating her own blog about the hunt, (Days One and Two are up, day Three is yet to be posted). Here’s a bit from her description of Day two. Congratulations, Laura, it sounds (and looks) like you had a great time! – K.H.
So there's Dave and I slogging up the hill making enough snowshoe noise to wake the dead. I'm chatting away, "Isn't this beautiful up here? Look at how the moon is shining through the mist. Do ya think we'll see some elk soon? _Are we there yet_?" All of a sudden, he grabs my arm. (An important non-verbal signal that usually means, "Please stop talking" or perhaps, "Please shut up.") "Shhh, there's elk," he whispers. "There's elk! Right - over - _there_!" Since he's taller than me, he sees them first. Being shorter, I can only see the sagebrush tops, so I grab my field glasses and quickly scan the horizon. "What elk? I can't see 'em!" I shout. Now he's tapping me on my arm. The more he taps, the more my hands jiggle and the more the horizon jumps up and down, up and down. I whisper back between gritted teeth, "Quit tapping my arm! I
can’t see a thing!”
[and a few minutes later …]
Off came our snow shoes and we dropped to our knees, slowly creeping from one sagebrush to another. With every move, I came precariously close to breaking through the crust covered snow and falling flat on my face. To avoid an accident, I balanced that rifle carefully across my arms and waddled forward, ever closer to the still grazing animals. "I can't believe they haven't heard us," I whispered. "We're upwind. They can't see you and it's hard to hear through the fog, so they'll probably smell you first." Fortunately, I didn't have time to over-think that last comment 'cause just then, their ears, eyes, or noses must have kicked in. Heads perked up and legs started moving. For such big animals, they sure can hop-to when they want to. A few careful shots and there was meat for the freezer. One tag filled and one left to go!