Don Evans, aka whipknot here at MonsterMuleys.com, took this big bull this year.
Don writes, "After lots of fun on the mountain.....my limited entry hunt finally came to an end. I had three great friends with me helping and that made all of the difference to close the deal.
A good bull was bugling every few minutes right at first light. A couple of 300-inch six points nearly ran us over as we were able to quickly close the distance a few hundred yards on the bugling bull without being detected. We knew that we were close to the bull, but didn't know exactly where he was. As we were slowly sneaking through an opening, my friend behind me tugged on my shirt pointing in front of us. When I looked that way I could see the very tops of the bulls antlers. He had bedded in the oakbrush and we were only 40 yards away. We quickly hit the dirt, but we were right out in the open. The bull was facing down hill and we were approaching from above with the wind in our faces, so he had no clue that we were there... until the wind changed.
I got a sick feeling in my gut as I felt the breeze hit the back of my neck. Knowing that we were going to be busted, my friends began blowing softly on thier cow calls as I sprayed some scent into the breeze over and over again. The bull bugled right there in his bed and then quickly got up and headed down the hill. The bulls had been extremely cow-call shy and I hated to give away our position, but the wind was doing that for us anyway. The bull dissapeared over the crest of the ridge, but continued bugling.
One of my friends began walking away from the bull and cow calling and that seemed to do the trick, thinking that the girls were leaving... the bull stopped. I quietly made a stalk to where I saw him dissapear over the ridge, spraying cow scent with every step. As I got to the edge and peered down the slope I could see the bull broadside at 45 yards raking a tree. I could only see the upper third of his back because of the slope, but his vitals were open. I drew my bow and calmed my nerves just as he let out a bugle. After the last note of his chuckle I touched off my release. The arrow dissapeared over the crest of the hill right behind the bull's shoulder and ended with the hollow thump of a double lung hit. The bull did a death run of 80 yards and piled up.
It was an amazing morning, one that I will never forget. Special thanks to my buddies for sharing that with me. I couldn't have done it without them!"