Mark Clonts writes, "I had waited 8 years to get an archery bull tag. Once I finally had a tag I enlisted the help of a friend who lived in the mountains of central Arizona.
My buddy, Jerry, was 40 yards to my left and began calling, expecting the bull to pass in between us. I could see those massive antlers bouncing above the small trees as he came right at me. He stopped 20 yards in front of me bugling up a storm, starring at me, straight on through a small pine tree.
Jerry was calling and we had another bull bugling behind us. I was standing in the open, like a statue, in front of some trees, with an arrow knocked, waiting for the bull to move. The bull kept starring at me and glancing towards Jerry. He finally turned to his left and I drew back and anchored, waiting for him to clear the trees. He took 2 or 3 steps and Jerry called and then the other bull bugled again. My bull suddenly swung around 180 degrees and moved right back behind that small pine tree bugling his own part of that adrenalin charged, symphony of sounds. This time he was broadside to me and his vitals were framed by the branches of that small tree. I placed my 20 yard pin right behind that left shoulder and released.
My arrow punched through his ribs and heart. He went about 50 yards and died.
(Top photo - Mark with his Mathews Legacy bow, Carbon Express arrows, Thunderhead 100ís and his 6x7 bull, that rough scored 360.)
(Lower photo - Jerry with the big bull)