By Dan Larsson
As a teenager, Dad let me read his copy of Jack O'Connor's Big Game Hunts. Jack's stories and information impacted my desire to hunt and be hunted. Stories of grizzly bears, sheep hunts, and African and Asian adventures fascinated my sense of outdoor pursuits. To this day, the memories and stories make me want to grab a trusty rifle and head for the hills.
Jack hunted with many calibers for all types of game. Kudu in Africa, Ibex in Asia, and countless species of sheep fell during his hunts. Reading his accounts allowed a young mind to go on hunts I would never get to otherwise. Compared to Jack's, I hope the stories of my meager hunts will offer you the same joy.
The .270 Winchester Dad and I picked up 20 years ago mirrors the favorite hunting rifle, and caliber Jack loved to use. This pre-64 Winchester Model 70 has a gun-soul that most modern rifles cannot embody. The worn finish on the stock tells of the countless hours spent afield in the hands of an adoring hunter. Blued steel and pre-CNC machining are just cool. Topping it all off, the rifle had been sent to Griffin & Howe to be fitted with a quick detach scope mount and a steel Weaver 4x scope. The dot in the middle of the crosshair is difficult to see by today's standards, but this was cutting-edge technology in the 50s and 60s.
I have wanted to find the perfect hunt for this rifle for quite some time. Upon drawing a special Western Montana cow elk license, I thought of this special rifle. I talked the idea over with Dad, and he loved it! We planned to spend time together hunting his old haunts and continuing the tradition that has made our relationship so close.
We took my 9-year-old daughter to scout and hunt on the first day. An early morning drive put us in the unit. The fresh snow was perfect for seeing what the game was doing. We found a deer kill and a couple of bear tracks that had enjoyed the deer's demise. We saw one small elk herd but could not get a shot as they took off up the mountain. Upon following them, I found where a small lion had traveled the ridge and had picked up a set of large grizzly tracks. The lion had hunted everywhere we went, and the grizzly was right behind it.
Coming around a bend in the mountain road, a flock of ravens flew up from a clearing down to our right. The lion had killed a whitetail deer and had lost it to the big bear. You could see where the bear had come in and laid in the brush around the carcass. The few vehicles traveling down the mountain road had encouraged him to get farther from the disturbances. My daughter and I hiked down to the kill site and found drag marks where the bear took the deer over and down into a ravine. These bear tracks were 12 inches long and a good 7-8" across. I had my 10mm Glock with me while checking out the kill. As we crested the ravine's edge, we heard cracking below us. Branches? Bones? Suddenly, my pea shooter seemed like they needed to be more adequate. Curiosity killed the cat? Not this cat. We backed out of there, but I would have loved to have seen the big guy!
Dad and I returned a few weeks later to spend two days hunting. We saw very few tracks on the mountain and no elk. Making a loop around the mountain, we scouted to find out if the elk were out on the rancher's fields and where they were bedding. Right after dark, we found the elk crossing the road on the edge of the hunting area. There were 300 plus or minus elk on the flats, and they spent their time feeding in the dark. Hoping they would go to bed in the timber where we could hunt them at daybreak, we slept in my Jeep a quarter mile away. We would roll down the window every few hours to hear where they were. The cow calls, and even a few bugles sounded all night long. We were awake half an hour before daylight, and the elk were clearly moving onto private land for the day. Every elk in the immediate vicinity headed off, and the light was out of sight at the first shooting. It was a bit frustrating.
We circled the area and found a handful of cows and a couple of calves a mile from where the big herd had been. They were on private land but headed onto the public land where we could hunt. We thought they would bed there for the day and circled to come in on an old logging road above them. Dad stayed at the vehicle while I hiked up to get the wind in my favor. I snuck down the hill behind where we had seen them and tried not to spook some deer that had been with the elk. I worked my way down onto a bench that had been burned by a forest fire and slowly made my way into the wind, looking for where the group of elk had gone. I was past where I expected them to be when I caught motion out of the corner of my eye. There they were; they knew something wasn't right, but not where I was.
I slid my Stone Glacier pack off my back, rested the 70-year-old rifle across the top of the backpack, and looked for a space between the trees. The elk were crossing an opening; they weren't running but not walking. I watched for a mature cow and fired as one appeared. They were 250 yards away, and I hit her farther back than I wanted to. I spent the next few minutes watching the elk run away. They were confused, and I couldn't see anyone who looked hit. Then I noticed a head and a pair of ears. One of the cows had laid down to the left where I had last seen her. I worked my way up and shot her as she jumped up to run. I would like to say that all my game harvests are one-shot kills, but life and circumstances are imperfect. Do the best you can and harvest the animal as quickly as possible.
Dad came down and met me where the cow came to rest. I used our family whistle to bring him to me. She was old. She was huge. She was also dry. I mentioned that she was dry (mammary glands), which means she did not have a calf this year or had lost it earlier. Her ivory teeth were worn down to the gums. She may have been beyond procreating for years. I hand-loaded 160gr Nosler Partitions, which are amazing when harvesting large games. While skinning, we recovered one of them against the hide on the far side of her ribcage.
It was a great experience to share with my father, as we have shared many similar experiences. Dad was with me for my 1st elk harvest, where I used a Ruger in .270 win. That was over 20 years ago. He is my first choice for hunting partners, and I am glad to share this experience with him. On the drive out, he showed me where I had used Chapstick to coat the dash and steering wheel of whatever vehicle he had when I was 2 years old. He had stepped out of the vehicle long enough for me to express my artistic talents. We've been hunting together for 34-plus years!