I harvested this cow during the pre-season damage just before last shooting light. After my dad and I field-dressed the cow, we agreed that I would stay on the cow with a flashlight so he could get back with the ATV, forgetting that I was soaked to mid-thigh from crossing the river. The truck wasn’t far from where we were before he moved it to try to gain access with the ATV to the kill site. He was unable to cross the river, so his return was delayed. After the whole ordeal was over we had quite a few takeaways, some affirming our preparation, others teaching us for the future.
The sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon. The vast expanse that had once been one saged hill after another had now turned to unending blackness. The adrenaline that had once blocked out the chill of the frigid water had been replaced with a gentle shivering, worsened by river-soaked gear. The cries of a mourning calf could still be heard in the distance as could the trickle of blood still running from the gaping hole just under that motionless and filmy eye of the cow on the ground beside me.
When hunting elk in the afternoon, always know that you will end up in the dark and prepare accordingly.
Always carry at least three means of starting a fire. As soon as the sun goes down, whatever heat the day had will be gone fast.
Bring a flashing light that you can leave on the kill to guide your return for retrieval. Try this flare light or this headlamp.
By the time my hunting partner’s return was an hour overdue, questions began to run through my head as the percentage of battery left within my flashlight dwindled away. Defenseless, my firearm with my hunting partner somewhere on the plains, chilled and still, I listened to the constant static. The eerie sound of the air leaving the lifeless body beside mine. How much time do I have before I must abandon hope of return and walk away?
Always have a plan B; never assume that everything will go according to plan.
Always carry extra flashlights, headlamps, and batteries.
The hole my light created in the cloud of darkness seemed to shrink, the cold of the night closed in upon me, and time was up. Before I left, I tried to align two distant lights in the effort to remember where my cow was in the darkness. I began my trek off into the distance. Each hill looked the same, the mere five feet illuminated by my light ineffective in my pursuit of a smooth walk to a barn light I could see in the distance.
Stuck in the barbed wire I had been too short to climb, I wondered how I would find my hunting partner, the plains extending infinitely. The worry that my partner now had no light beacon to guide him, nor any knowledge of where I was, sat within my cerebrum. The hope that the distant light I was headed for didn’t go out clung to each synapse within my brain. I inhaled, soothing the deep burn that had settled in the top of my lungs and finally extracted my body from the unforgiving grasp of the wire.
Always know the area in which you are hunting (had I not known my surroundings I easily would have found myself lost). Studying maps in advance and frequenting areas will help you when you find yourself out in the dark.
The rush of warm air that gushed across my face as I ducked through the door into the barn and the sound of drunken laughter was reassuring. The bowhunters welcomed me with father-like handshakes, the success of my hunt apparent by the blood-soaked gear that adorned my body.
One of the men in camp told me that they had directed my hunting partner down the valley to a river crossing a while before after he had been unable to find his return to the kill site. I was offered a ride to the gate where I was likely to find my partner. The truck lurched to a halt, my father visible beyond the gate. Relieved, I jumped from the truck and climbed on the back of the ATV he had just freed from the slick mud the night had hidden. His relief at my decision to leave the cow was evident on his face, the pride in my savvy clear in his eyes.
We sped across the plains, skirting sagebrush and badger-holes. I directed us in a northeasterly direction. We crested a knob and my partner stopped the quad, defeatedly wondering if we would find the elk in the expanse of plains that was hidden in the ebony eve. We both looked just to the right of the quad — we had almost run over the cow.
The ride back to the truck on the front of the ATV, preventing the weight of the cow from drawing us over backward, was short and efficient. By ten o’clock the cow was in the back of the truck and we were headed for camp.
Talk to landowners about retrieval before accessing their property. Never assume that you can use motorized vehicles.
Hours later, at three o’clock in the morning, 23 hours since I had last slept, I sank into bed. The steam of the freshly skinned cow rose from its still-warm carcass into the moonless sky. The smooth cool of the sheets was a deep comfort to my exhausted body. Pride filled my heart as sleep overtook my mind.
Always follow up after hunting on private land. Whether or not you harvest, a thank-you note and some homemade cookies can go a long way not only for the future of your hunting on the property but also for others. Appreciation to the landowner is key — after all, you’re tromping around in their yard.
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