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Hunting Wyoming's Wild Bison -- Part 3
(Continued from Part 2 )
The first day of my Wyoming bison hunt had resulted in lots of bison sightings, but no clear vision of how I could actually find animals in legal hunting areas and make a good stalk and shot.
Back in Jackson, I tracked down a local outfitter who sometimes guided bison hunters. I had a few beers with him and he gave me some good ideas about where, more specifically, to find bison. In particular, he narrowed down the central hunt zone quite a bit, focusing my attention on a corner of National Forest that was adjacent to the Park. There was a good glassing hill he recommended, from which I could monitor the bison as they moved on and off the Park.
"Just be sure to hold out for a big one, though," he encouraged me. "And don't do anything stupid and shoot him where you can't get a truck up to him."
Still, I had no luck the 2nd day of the hunt.
On the 3rd day of the hunt, I checked the southern area first, then went to the hilltop in the central area to glass. When I arrived up top, I found a truck already parked there. I stopped to chat with the occupants, assuming they were elk hunters. To my surprise, I found that one of the party of four was a Cody, Wyoming resident who had a bull tag.
They had just spotted a big bull on the National Forest, and were getting ready to make a stalk on him. The lucky tag holder and his two buddies were going to go after the bull while the hunter's dad stayed at the vehicle. The country had a lot of up-and-down and timber, and his dad was not up to the effort. They were very nice guys, and offered to let me come along in case there was another bull accompanying the one they were after.
We went down the hill towards the bison. The hunter's two friends circled wide during the stalk, and walked right up on a huge bull. The bull looked at them at close range and gave them the same "I'm about to squash you and I'm going to enjoy it" growl that I had received days previously in my truck. But, these poor guys were on foot with nothing but a few trees between them and the bison. They scampered back through the woods, and when we met up with them they had clearly been suitably impressed by the bull. Their eyes were wide, and they seemed tremendously relieved to be back with the guys with the guns.
We continued the stalk, but the bull we had been looking for had drifted off the National Forest and in to the Park. And when I say in to the Park, I mean just barely in to the Park. The huge bull, along with several other bulls, had bedded, at most, 10 feet behind one of the signs marking the boundary. They stayed there for a while, but eventually wandered deeper in to the Park, filling the woods with their bellowing and grunting as they went.
By the time I was heading out for the 4th day of my hunt, I was getting discouraged about my chances of finding a bison on legal ground. I was very busy back at work, and decided I would head home after the morning hunt and return to Jackson later in the month. I went back to the central hunt area, glassed it extensively, then wandered down in to the woods to look for bison hidden in the folds of the terrain.
Unsuccessful, I started back to my truck. I was very frustrated and was ready to head home for a few weeks. The country on the hilltops was studded with small, fat evergreens that I had often mistaken for bison. On the way back to the truck, I saw an absolute trophy of an evergreen that looked exactly like a bison. Impressed by the tree's deception, I stopped to admire it through my 10x42s, only to have my eyes bug out when I realized that it was in fact a bison, a lone bull that was well in to legal territory.
I surveyed the terrain between the bull and me, and quickly mapped out what looked like a perfect route for a stalk. A quarter-mile worth of slipping through the trees should allow me to come up over a small ridge right on top of the bull.
And, indeed, the stalk worked perfectly. I came over the ridge and, keeping a tree between us, moved to within 40 yards of the bison. I held my crosshairs behind his horn, lined up perfectly for a brain shot.
Then I hesitated.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime shot I was about to take. While any bison would be a tremendous trophy, I was committed to spending the time to get a truly great animal. This bison's body was clearly smaller than the monsters I had been seeing on the edges of the Park, and I wasn't sure if this was my bull.
I continued to look him over through my scope, cranked down to 3.5x. Finally satisfied, I squeezed the trigger of my Remington 700 .30-06.
I wouldn't say that he fell like a ton of bricks. It was as if his body was so ridiculously large that it took a moment for the message to collapse to get from his brain to the rest of his body. Collapse he did, though, almost in slow motion. And when he was down from the brain shot, he did not twitch again.
(Continued in next installment.)
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