Tracker First Quarter 2013

1 st Quarter 2013

Photo by George Andrejko of Arizona Game & Fish Department

A r i z o n A e l k s o c i e t y

l i f e m e m b e r s o f Ken Alexander • Michael Anderson • John Anton • Ernest Apodaca, Jr. • Pete Baldwin • James Ballard • Leo Balthazor

David Baril • Ron Batz • Randy Beck • F.K. Benbow • David Bennett • Keith Berger • Janet Bowman • Tom Bowman

Dan Bradford • Tish Bradford • Richard Briskin • Stephen Brown, MD • Kurt Buckwald • Mike Burr • Esther Cadzow

John Cadzow* • Harry Carlson • Lupe Carlson • Kenneth Carney • Steve Casterton • Joe & Marisa Cerreta

Randy Cherington • Pete Cimellaro • Steve Clark • Bob Cockrill, Jr. • Todd Coleman • Frank Cooper • Russell Coover

Lonnie Crabtree • William Cullins • Richard Currie • Patrick Curry • Don Davidson • Kay Davidson • Bill Davis

William Davis • Larry Day • Jim deVos • Steven Dodds • Ron Eichelberger • Sharon Eichelberger • Peter Ekholm

Daron Evans • Tim Evans • David Forbes • Tom Franklin • Douglas Fritz • Will Garrison • Walt Godbehere • Richard Goettel

• Carl Hargis • Dan Hellman • R. Todd Henderson • Terry Herndon • Ed Hightower • Paul Hodges III • Mel Holsinger

Scott Horn • Michael Horstman • Timothy Hosford • Bryan House • Wayne Jacobs • Brian Johnsen • Earl Johnson

Edward Johnson • Gary Johnson • James Johnson • Richard Johnson • Jim Jones* • Mitchell Jones • Bruce Judson

Sandra Kauffman • Richard Kauffman, Sr. • Jim Kavanaugh • Bill Kelley • Denise Kennedy • Chuck Kerr • Bill Kiefer • Brian Kimball

David Kinman • Peter Klocki • John Koleszar • Charles Koons • Joseph Krejci • Otto Kuczynski • James Lara • Michael Lechter

Jorge Leon • Ruben Lerma • Tim Littleton • Deanne Long • James Lynch, Jr. • Bob Mallory • Don Martin • Gary Matchinsky

Karl Matchinsky • Russ McDowell • Steve McGaughey • Angela McHaney • Kelly McMillan • William Meredith

James Mingus • Matt Minshall • James Mullins • James Mullins • Matt Mullins • Robert Murry DVM • Gregory

Naff • Mark Nicholas • Anthony Nichols • Brandon Nichols • Fletcher Nichols • Logan Nichols • Cookie Nicoson

Paige Nicoson • Walt Nicoson* • Kathi Nixon • Mark Nixon • David Nygaard • Donna Obert • Douglas Obert, Sr.*

Bob Olds • Martin Paez • Pete Page • Sallie Page • Duane Palmer • Marlin Parker • Don Parks Jr. • Shawn Patterson

• Art Pearce • Paul Piker • Forrest Purdy • Jan Purdy • Jim Renkema • Keith Riefkohl • Mel Risch • Travis Roberts

Mike Sanders • Rick Schmidt • Tom Schorr • Scott Schuff • Terry Schupp • Bill Shaffer • Howard Shaffer • Steven

Shaffer • William Shaffer, Jr. • Lonzo Shields • Terrence Simons • Charlene Sipe • Robert Spurny • Connor Stainton

Gregory Stainton • Randy Stalcup • Douglas Stancill • Mark Stephenson • James Stewart • Shane Stewart • Vashti

“Tice” Supplee • Al Swapp • Debbie Swapp • Dan Taylor • Pete Thomas • John Toner • Corey Tunnell • Bill VenRooy

• Rick Vincent, Sr. • Don Walters, Jr. • Bill Wasbotten • Dale Watkins • Jerry Weiers • Dee White • Larry White • Richard

Williams • Matt Windle • Cory Worischeck • Joseph Worischeck • Mark Worischeck • Chuck Youngker • Scott Ziebarth

* deceased

Arizona Elk Society 3

4 The Tracker - 1st Quarter 2013

I would like to take a moment to update the membership on a few exciting changes which have taken place in AES. In 2008 a Strategic Plan was developed and set in motion by the Board of Directors and select members to help guide the organization into the next decade. Through the last five years the AES has expanded rapidly creating new opportunities to provide habitat improvement to the elk and wildlife of this great state. We have created new and strengthened current relationships with public and private organizations and opened doors that have allowed AES to expand our work. While we have been growing, thanks greatly to the volunteers and donors who have been unwavering in their support, we have tried to maintain at a minimum, the need for paid staff to help in areas of administrative support, field consulting and accounting.

Based on the Strategic Plan, the organization would look to expand with the help of an Executive Director. This is a huge step for an organization to take on a position such as this but necessary at some point if AES is to continue to fulfill our mission. The Board of Directors decided in June of 2012 that it was time to begin researching the idea of an Executive Director and brought the concept to the membership at the annual meeting in August of 2012.

The Board of Directors identified several items which needed to be addressed in the short-term including needs in the area of financial reporting, grant opportunities and succession. These items would help the AES continue to expand its role in wildlife conservation in the state. While the AES has always done a great job of maintaining financial and administrative functions, we believe that if we are going to continue to open new doors we need to identify and implement new systems to help keep the organization moving forward. One key item is based on our financial reporting, the majority of grant opportunities requires

that audited financials are available in order to be considered.

In April 2013 the Board of Directors laid out a plan to hire an Executive Director for a trial period of 4 months beginning May 1st. The Executive Director is tasked with a list of duties including focusing on the short-term items listed previously. The Board of Directors hired Steve Clark as the Executive Director for this 4 month period. You all may know that Steve had filled the role of President for the AES prior and it only made sense to have someone already so intimately a part of the organization take on this role. As Steve stepped down from his President position, I have been moved into that role, previously serving as Vice President.

It is the Board of Directors’ intent to help Steve work into his new role with the organization and monitor the success of the position so that we can potentially move towards filling the Executive Director as a permanent position. In the coming months, the Board of Directors will be evaluating our needs and amending goals and duties of the position. If it is decided that the Executive Director position is a necessary part of the organization, then appropriate steps will be taken by the Board of Directors to hire a person permanently.

As the new AES President, I ask that we support Steve in his new role and look forward to helping AES through these exciting times. I want to help create and strengthen our relationships with our members, wildlife conservation organizations, Arizona Game and Fish Department, US Forest Service and other public entities. I also want to thank our volunteers – without your support and dedication, the Arizona Elk Society would not be where it is today.

Yours in Conservation,

Carl Hargis, President Arizona Elk Society

presidents’ messAge

To the Membership of the Arizona Elk Society,


President’s Message by Carl Hargis ...................................................................... 4

Conservation Corner: The Art & Science of Permit Allocation by Jim deVos .. 6-8

My First Hunt by Karissa Ochoa ............................................................................ 9

“BB”’s Column: “BB” & Insults to the Infamous Writer by John Koleszar .....10-11

Wild in the City by Steve Clark .......................................................................12-14

Wild in the City Goes Scouting by Steve Clark.................................................... 15

12th Annual AES Banquet by Steve Clark .....................................................16-20

My First Javelina Hunt by Haille Hosford ............................................................ 21

Patching the Landscape by Jim deVos ................................................... 22-24

Chuckles by Pat Weise ....................................................................................25-31

Upcoming Events & Projects ............................................................................. 32

In Memorium ..................................................................................................... 32

in this issue

Aes mission stAtement

The Arizona Elk Society is a

non-profit 501(c)(3) wildlife

organization. Our mission is to

raise funds to benefit elk and

other wildlife through habitat

conservation and restoration

and to preserve our hunting

heritage for present and

future generations.

Aes Website

www.arizonaelksociety.org

You may send a message for any officers, board members or committee chairs to [email protected]

executive boArd

Executive Director ................. Steve Clark

President ...................................Carl Hargis

Treasurer ................................Annette Naff

Secretary................................... Laila Wood

Past President .......Sharon Eichelberger

boArd of directorsKen Alexander, Ron Eichelberger, Walt

Godbehere, Jim Mullins, Matt Mullins,

Gregory Naff, Cookie Nicoson, Rick

Schmidt, Tom Schorr, Bill Walp

committee chAirs

Banquet ..............Sharon Eichelberger & Cookie Nicoson

Membership ...............................Dee Long

Projects .................................... Tom Schorr

Newsletter ................... Maria DelVecchio

Website ................................Leo Balthazor

Wapiti Weekend ..................Shelly Hargis

Scholarship .................... Wendy Norburg

Director of Conservation Affairs ............... Jim deVos

read all about it! banquet article on pages 15-17!

As I write this, the Arizona Game & Fish Department has completed the drawing for elk permits and some of you are elated and some not so. I happen to be in the later camp but am still happy because my son has a permit so I get to at least get to elk camp. If you got drawn, you probably are not concerned with how the process of setting permit numbers works, but if you didn’t you might be curious about it. The process is complex and no less than three key factors are involved: biology, sociology, and economics. Let’s look at the role of each of these factors.

The first factor, biology, is the primary driver and permit allocation is driven by two key documents. One document is the hunt guidelines. This is the start of the process that Wildlife Managers use to recommend permit levels. The guidelines dictate that as different population characteristics occur, permits are raised or lowed according to the ratio of bulls to cows and cows to calves so that the harvest stays within the range that the Commission sets for this species. As an example, when the number of calves that are recruited into the population


the Art & science of

permit AllocAtion

by Jim deVos, Arizona Elk Society Director of Conservation Affairs

Biology

conservAtion corner


is above the target ratio, permits are adjusted upward. If the number of bulls drops below the guideline values, the harvest objectives for bulls will be lowered to bring the bull-to-cow ratio back into the desired range. The data for both of these ratios is generated from the annual surveys run by the Wildlife Managers. Although survey methods have varied, these are some of the most reliable data available to set hunt prescriptions.

In addition to the general guidelines, some Game Management Units are managed under what is termed Alternative Management. In these instances the goal is to provide the opportunity to harvest larger bulls because the hunt pressure is lower and bulls tend to survive to an older age providing that great opportunity for a bull of a lifetime. The primary difference in Alternative Management areas is that the bull-to-cow ratio is higher, which as I said, lets the bull segment of the population grow older. One of the great things that the Department does is allow public input into the guidelines that manage your elk herds. As you read this, the elk guidelines are available for public comment. If you are interested, and you should be as this is key to how

elk are managed, when you read this, the Department will still be soliciting comments on this important document. You can find the draft guidelines on the Department website as well as the method to provide comment.

The second document that is important is the Elk Management Plan, which dictates the population objective for each Unit. The management objective for each unit varies on many different factors. One of the key factors that is important to managing elk is habitat condition. Elk eat a lot of groceries and in some areas, the impact to forage conditions can be excessive and the goal for these areas is to reduce populations. Much of Arizona’s elk habitat is on federally-managed lands and is managed under the concept referred to as “Multiple Use,” which means that use of the land is shared with other uses such as grazing.

In these areas, forage is managed to allow both livestock and wildlife, a share of the forage while some is left for regrowth providing forage in the future. When forage is being overused, the management plan calls for increased harvest from the cow segment of the population. In that cows are the ones that produce calves, their harvest is the only effective tool to allow for the increase or decrease of a herd unit. This document is drafted by the Department and approved by the Commission so there is also opportunity to provide input into how each Unit is managed for elk. It is important to let you know that the AES is always working with the Department when these documents are being drafted to ensure that elk hunters have a voice in the process.

While these documents are key to elk management, there are also other factors that have to be considered. As an example, for the hunt that will take place in 2013 in units 1 and 27, the Wildlife Manager recognized that the winter range was in relatively poor condition and could not withstand a larger herd if a worse than average winter occurred so the number of permits was increased to keep the herd within the capacity of the winter range. The point being that elk habitat is not consistent year to year and impacts such as a stand-converting fire can quickly change conditions. Unfortunately, Arizona has been in a fairly prolonged drought and what rains fall, are not uniformly distributed over the landscape so a portion of the area an elk herd uses may have had good rainfall and a resulting increase in forage while another part of the range may have been missed by the few rains that did fall and forage produced there was below average. You can’t manage for the best area of a herd unit or the remainder will be degraded and the overall number of elk that an area can support has to be reduced.

Natural habitat is not the only factor that dictates harvest objectives. In many areas of the state, elk have learned that crops taste better than native forages. As a result, in some areas elk congregate in cropland areas and cause a social driver that dictates permit levels. Fortunately, the Department and elk conservation organizations such as the AES partner in many of these situations and provide funding for landowners to fence fields to preclude elk, thus alleviating the problem of elk eating crops. This is not always feasible and while the herds are within guidelines management decisions are made to increase harvest in these areas to reduce pressure on private resources.

Setting permits is not a simple process where you follow a recipe and all turns out well. One of the complicating factors is that survival of each year’s calf crop can

SoCiology


vary greatly and it is critical to monitor these herds. Environmental conditions are always different and can play a great role in calf survival. I have heard it often said that rain makes for great wildlife management. When it rains a lot forage production is high and calves tend to survive better in part due to forage, but the cows are also in better physical conditions to meet the demands to produce and feed healthy calves. Weather can also play a detrimental role in population trend. Severe winters play the opposite role to good rainfall. During extreme winters forage is often more difficult to obtain as it is covered by snow and demand for calories is greatly increased due to the need to maintain body temperature in extreme cold.

While science is the underpinning of permit allocation, art also plays a role in how elk herds are managed. It takes a keen eye to recognize that winter ranges are depleted or that rains missed the summer range and a continued high number of elk would do serious damage to the habitat.

To complicate matters even more, economics have to play a role in elk management as well. The Department is fortunate that it has multiple fund sources that help manage all wildlife in Arizona but license and tag sales remains a critical issue for the Department in two ways. Not only does the Department benefit directly from the sale of each elk tag but the formula for the distribution of Federal Wildlife Restoration funds is also tied to the number of licenses and tags that the Department sells. Collecting the data to manage elk is not inexpensive. Much of the data used is collected from aerial surveys including helicopters, which are hugely expensive to fly. Building waters to support maintaining elk herds in dry areas is expensive. Simply put, it costs for the Department to do the business that they do, and selling the product that they have, in the way of permits is critical to doing this business.

If you didn’t get that coveted permit in the mail, perhaps you can take solace in the fact that Arizona’s elk are managed using that blend of science with a little art thrown in to ensure that the herds are within the capacity of the land while issuing the maximum number of permits that conditions will permit.

ECoNoMiCS

Elk Eat a lot of

groCEriES aNd iN

SoME arEaS, thE

iMpaCt to foragE

CoNditioNS CaN BE

ExCESSivE aNd thE

goal for thESE

arEaS iS to rEduCE

populatioNS.


my first huntby Karissa Ochoa

Hi my name is Karissa Ochoa and I just turned 10. I was so excited when I was nominated for the “Youth Pheasant Hunt” by the Arizona Game and Fish. They started us off by serving us lunch before we headed out for target practice. We first shot at clay targets and I was so happy when I shot my first one, and so was my grandpa, John Toner. I was kind of scared at first because I had only fired a shotgun once before. But once I shot my first one I knew I was ready for the hunt! After practice we went to the fields where I met Danielle, my mentor and my bird dog Brandi. Then we headed out to the hunt. We walked and watched Brandi look for pheasants and when she found one she froze and looked at it. They got a stick and lifted the pheasant up from the ground. I fired my first shot but I missed. My second shot was a miss too. It was so close to me but I had my saftey on. My third shot was a hit. I felt so happy that I got one, and my first hunt was successful. My grandpa traded a knife so I can have it stuffed. I had so much fun and I can’t wait for my next hunt.

,

There is always a degree of caution that comes from sharing information with “BB”. We had arranged to meet up in the White Mountain Reservation around the Maverick Camp. For some unexplained reason “BB” had sent me a text stating that plans had changed and that we were to now meet along the border of 3C and the Reservation along the fence line at a spot that we had met previously. His text was terse and I was curious for the reasoning, but I figured that all would come out during the interview.

I hauled the Tundra out of mothballs and headed up to the high country. I also had a little news for “BB”, since I had received in the mail just the previous day, a bull elk tag for unit 3A-3C for the early season archery hunt. I was confident that just the news of my getting another tag would throw him into fits of fear, but hey, you never know with “BB”.

As I wound along the 300 road towards our secret spot, I marveled at how so little had changed since the previous fall when I had helped Gary Matchinsky try and bring in a bull elk with his archery tag. While Gary had opportunities, he had ultimately not been able to down an elk. Wind, luck, a missed shot or two had all contributed to his not filling his tag. We had a ton of fun chasing the bulls around and had a great time, but still there was no meat in the freezer. Visions of how things might go differently this fall filled my head. Optimism has never been in short supply for any hunter when the season is still in the distance but the tag is in your pocket.

“BB” was doing his best to hug the fence line just into 3C when I parked the Tundra in a small turnoff. I had to pick my way through a small wash and as I crested, I could see his big head munching along the new fresh shoots of spring. “BB” raised his had and tried talking through a mouthful of grass. The only words I heard were “---damn---you---here.” I laughed at “BB” and pointed to his head. Gone was the rack of last year and this year he was sporting the new basket that would later hopefully become a large rack. I pointed at his head and said, “That sure looks like a small raghorn to

me “BB”. Got any ideas on what you will grow to this year?” “BB” shook his massive head and growled “Ya know boy, if brains were a hot commodity you’d be left standing in the cold. This here rack may turn out to be the best I’ve ever had. For as supposedly educated person you sure don’t know squat about antlers. Come here and take a close look.” I walked as close to him as I probably ever have. I looked closely at the new growth and to me it looked all jumbled with velvet going everywhere. “Just what am I supposed to look for “BB”. It looks like a bunch of sprouts going all over the place. “BB” got that semi-disgusted look on his face and started in with his lecture. “Okay, take a look at how far apart my pedicles are now. See how they’ve sloped all the way over on each side? That’s gonna give me a wide spread this year. Now take a look at the tines. These fronts are already out 8 inches, which since it’s still just late March means these bad boys could go all the way to 15 inches by summer. Now look at the right side. See that little thing growing downwards just a tad? That is going to be a drop tine that will really dress me up. I will be one damn fine distinguished looking bull by the time the growing season is over.” I had to admit, I was impressed by his acumen regarding antlers, but then I quickly realized that he grows the darn things every year, so why shouldn’t he know what was going to happen. I decided to start with the fear factor and I said, “Well “BB”, that makes me so happy to know that I can tell who you are by that drop tine. You see, I have a bull tag here in 3C for the September archery hunt. I can pick you out and I know just what you look like.”


“bb” & insults to the infAmous Writer“bb”s columnby John Koleszar


Whatever response I had anticipated diminished when he started rolling around on his back chuckling the whole time. “Whoa boy…you finally got another tag…oh that’s funny… you think you have a shot at me?” He started that damn chuckle of his and he would not stop. I listened for a few seconds and then got a little indignant. “OK “BB”, just what the hell makes you laugh so much? I had a tag in here 8 years ago and got myself a decent bull. What gives with your attitude? “BB” finally stopped with the chuckle and said. “I’m sorry boy, you got the low end of the gene pool back in ‘05, and look at you now. You’re 8 years older, 8 years slower in reflexes, 8 years worse eyesight and you haven’t lifted a bow in eons. What the hell makes you think I should be afraid?” I had to stop and think about that one. His disrespect was obvious but he did have some valid points. After reaching 50 I had thought that all good things were behind me but the next 10 years were fruitful. Now into the dreaded 60’s, I know that the effort to maintain a physical standard requires a much higher commitment to workouts. I didn’t want to play my hand too much, so I let “BB” do his chuckling and rolling around making fun of me. When he finally finished his insults I pointed out to him that I had a new bow. He was curious and asked where I had gotten it. I mentioned that it had been Gary Matchinsky’s bow and that he had thrown it into the garbage after his last hunt. Now he really started to howl.

“oh that’s just great. you pick up a dumpster diving special and it’s cursed on top of that. i can just

see your arrows this fall flying all around but never hitting anything. i’ll bet you a bale of alfalfa that you come up empty handed this fall!” Sadly, I bit on the bet. My pride was wounded at his assessment of me, my bow and my abilities. So for all the readers, here is a heads up. If you see me carting a bale of alfalfa up north in October then steer clear of any conversations with me. However…the other side of the bet was that if I did get a bull, then Mr. Smarty Pants “BB” had to buy me two good bottles of merlot. If any readers are running into Heber in the dead of night this October and they see a magnificent 6 X 6 bull with a drop tine carrying two bottles of merlot strung over his neck, then you all will know that cunning and planning defeated old Father Time at least for one more year. Best of luck to all who were blessed with tags this fall.

may your arrows be true and your face to the wind whenever you encounter brother elk this fall.


This past January, we held our annual Wild in the City camp for Girl Scouts. We had 73 girls from all over the Valley and some from as far away as Tucson. Fortunately, most of this event is held indoors – it rained all day! We did have the fishing pond outside, so the kids and some dedicated volunteers got a little wet, but their spirits were not dampened.

All of the girls had the opportunity to catch fish and for almost all of them, this was the first fish they had ever caught. The fishing pond was the place

for smiles and lots of laughter. Inside at the owl pellet dissection class, there were lots of “Eeeuu! “Yuck!” and “Gross!”, until the girls started finding the bones inside. The girls also learned to shoot archery, wildlife identification and their favorite...making their own survival bracelets. The colorful bracelets are always a big hit. Mike and his crew were on hand to teach the girls how to pan for gold and made sure the girls found some gold that they could put in their vials to take home.

Once again, Cabela’s gave out fishing poles to all

WILD in the CITYby Steve Clark


the girls. It is always great to teach them to fish and give them the tools to go fishing after they leave the event. Passing on the heritage is what it is all about. Sportsman’s Warehouse sponsored items for the give-a-ways for the girls.

At lunch time, the AES did a presentation about our organization and our other youth camps and work projects. Many of the girls and troop leaders expressed an interest in coming to a work project and helping out. We talked to them about how important it is to volunteer and help wildlife

habitat for the future of our wildlife.

Thank you to Sheree Ochoa and to all of the troop leaders. Thank you to the volunteers, especially the fishing crew that braved the rain all day. They were soaked but made sure the girls had a great time. The girls had learned a lot and make great memories and the volunteers did a fantastic job. Watch our calendar for upcoming camps and projects. We are always looking for attendees and volunteers. We can make a difference! (more photos next page>>)


THANK YOU ORGANIZERS AND VOLUNTEERS! WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!


This year, the Arizona Elk Society began developing a partnership with the Boy Scouts. We were invited to take events from our Wild in the City program to a couple of Scout camps to introduce the boys to wildlife, conservation, hunting and fishing. The boys had a blast and in some cases kept us very busy with questions. It is a real treat to work with these

young boys – many of the things we as outdoorsmen and women

take for granted these boys have never experienced. Many of the boys caught their first fish. Hopefully, they will make it part of their lives to get outdoors and enjoy wildlife and nature. Various troops have let us know they are interested

in coming out to our work projects and getting involved.

by Steve Clark


Molly the Mule made her way into the packed banquet hall to join the attendees at the 12th Annual Arizona Elk Society Banquet. Much to the delight of the crowd, she even had time to stop by the bar and check it out.

On March 23, 740 banquet goers filled the Mesa Convention Center to help us raise funds for elk habitat and youth programs in Arizona. This year we were able to raise $385,000. Some of the highlights included the Arizona Commissioners Elk Tag selling for $210,000 and the Buffalo tag selling for $18,500. Molly, from Reese Brothers Mule Co. in Gallatin, Tennessee, sold for $6000.

It was a great night of fun and excitement for all of the winners and attendees.

The Walt Nicoson Memorial Scholarships were given out to two very deserving high school seniors, Leah VanProoyen and Justin Hightower. Congratulations to both!

We were very fortunate to have some great artwork from new artists from Wyoming and Flagstaff, Arizona along with a nice painting from George Lockwood. There were lots of guns, outdoor gear, jewelry, safes, ladies raffle items, silent auction items and much more.

12th AnnuAl ArizonA elk society bAnquet

by Steve Clark


If you use Facebook you can check out some of the videos that were taken at the banquet (www.facebook.com/arizonaelksociety) or you can go to our website (www.arizonaelksociety.org). Did you miss the banquet this year? Be sure to mark your calendar for next March!

You will see the list of our Corporate tables and the donors that helped make this night a success. Please remember them when you are looking for items or services. Cabela’s, Sportsman’s Warehouse and Bass Pro Shops deserve a big thank you for all they do for the AES and Arizona. This year we had a great rifle from Cross Canyon Arms for the Banquet Rifle, if you are looking for a quality custom long range rifle check them out. Please visit our website at www.arizonaelksociety.org to view items from donors and pictures from the banquet.

In many of the pictures you will see all the red shirts. These are the dedicated volunteers that make up the Arizona Elk Society Banquet Committee. This team of volunteers, led by Banquet Chairperson Sharon Eichelberger and Co-Chair Cookie Nicoson worked hard for months and put in the long hours at the banquet to make it one of the most successful banquets we have had. These volunteers are the hardest working most dedicated in Arizona. Without them we could not have the best banquet in the west. Thank You for all your hard work and dedication.

A&G Turf EquipmentAdventus OutdoorsAjo Al’sAK-SAR-BENAl’s RVAmerican Manufacturing LLCArizona Archery Club, LLCArizona CardinalsArizona Game and Fish CommissionArizona DiamondbacksArizona Steel ConstructionArizona Wildlife FederationArizona Wildlife OutfittersAuger Canyon EnterprisesAZ Pheasant & Chukar Shooting PreserveBailey’s Custom FishingBanning Motor SportsBass Pro Shops

Bear Wallow CaféBeast Mode HydrographicsBee Yourself BraceletsBig Dog Pool ServiceBig Shady Window TintingBill KieferBill WalpBlack Mountain OutfittersBoone & Crocket ClubBoyt Harness CompanyBrian & Sarah KellyBroken Arrow ArcheryBrooks ConcreteBrown & Brown ChevroletBruce JudsonBryan’s BBQButler BagsCabela’sCandi & Paul DurbinCamo Collections

Candra DufekCanyon CoolersCarl & Shelly HargisCartwright’s / Tonto BarCharles HavranekCherry Creek LodgeChris & Walt GodbehereClassic Bird HuntsCletus CarolineCobblestone Auto SpaCold AS SteelComplete Fire ProtectionContinental Divide KnivesCookie NicosonCorky RichardsonCorner ArcheryCoues Whitetail .comCountry FinancialCrazy Horse GiftsCreative Hands Cuisine

Cross Canyon ArmsCrystal Clear PoolsDavid BarilDavid Maniatis Charitable FoundationDead Down WindDebbie Sampson Dee LongDelaney Furniture Inc.Design Tree MaintenanceDianne DavisDillon’s PrecisionDouble Buck TaxidermyDoug ParishDrake Commercial MaintenanceEdward JonesEl Encanto Mexican RestaurantElftmann TacticalEscudilla Mountain Cabins

Thank You to all of the banquet

Attendees, volunteers, donors, sponsors & corporAte tAbles.

You continue to make the AES one of the top Wildlife Conservation Organizations in Arizona!

2013 bAnquet donorsth

arizona elk society


Extreme Trophy HuntsFair Oaks CigarsFine Art Works by Joshua LaBenneFlagstaff ExtremeFNL Group,LLCFour Peaks LandscapingFox ProFoxfire at AlpineFreddie CampbellFull Moon CaféGary and Lin MaschnerGary WilliamsGen-TechGeorge Lockwood StudiosGila Valley ArcheryGirl Scouts Troop 12Glendale RoofingGone Fishing LodgeGoodman OutfittersGrand Canyon Planning AssociatesGrand Canyon West ResortGrandyGreat Wildlife PhotosGreg & Annette NaffGuns PlusHannigan Meadows LodgeHarry CarlsonHaydenHeidi CurryHeritage MetalworksHorn PornHualapai Game & FishHunt Tek LLCHunter & Natalie WoodHunting ArizonaIcehole High Performance Coolers

Inyati BedlinersIron & AntlersJacob MillerJim deVosJim LaraJim PaxonJim ShellyJim WoodJoAnne RudolphJoe Foss Rifle RangeJoe Foss Trap & SkeetJoe KrejciJohn & Esther CadzowJose Valencia StudioJosh WalkerKaren BergerKauffman EnterprisesKeepsake Trophy & EngravingKen AlexanderKenetrek BootsKMH KreationsLaila WoodLandmark AppraisalLayke, IncorporatedLeo & Bobbie BalthazorLeupold & Stevens, INCLM Aero ConsultingLongaberger ConsultantMacayo’s RestaurantsMark & Kathi NixonMcFall Tire & Auto RepairMcReynolds FarmsMossback ArizonaMount Carmel SafarisMullins OutfittersMyHuntingTube.comNolin Fire Sprinklers Inc.NRA- John TaglioOlson’s Car Care

Orangewood WinesO’Reilly Auto PartsOutdoorsmansPacific West RepresentativesPalo Verde Animal HospitalPaul Bunyan’s FirewoodPerformance SuspensionPerkinsville Meat ProcessingPhazzer ElectronicsPhoenix SunsPlatinum Realty NetworkPonderosa OutfittersPrime Time ThermographicsRainshower Apiaries, Inc.Ray EvridgeReese Bros. Mule Co.Reflections in MetalRegional Pavement MaintenanceRenee MontrachetRichard CurrieRichard SmithRoadrunner Converters Inc.Robert & Mary DarrRock Bridge FinancialRockin H OutfittersRonning Landscaping Inc.Ross OutdoorsRut-N-HardSan Rafael OutfittersSanderson FordSetterberg JewelersSharon & John StuckeyShooters WorldSilver Creek Golf ClubS-J Real Estate GroupSouthwest IdeasSouthwest Urologic Specialists

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my first JAvelinA huntby Haille Hosford

When I was 9 years old I took the hunter safety

class and passed it. So when I turned 10 my dad

put me in for the javelina hunt. I was drawn for the

back side of Roosevelt Lake. I couldn’t miss school

on opening day so on Saturday after my basketball

game, my dad and I headed out.

On our drive down, my cousins called my dad, and

said they spotted some pigs on the other side of

the lake while they were fishing. So we met them

at the boat dock. They took us across the lake in

their boat. We glassed the hill for about an hour

where they had seen them. No hogs. So we walked

a little closer to the spot. My dad finally saw 3 of

them. That was when I got to see my first hog. But

by the time we got the gun ready for me to shoot,

they had ran over the hill. We went over the hill

after them, no luck. We went back to the boat

because it was getting dark. So we put the boat on

the trailer and went to Bostons for a burger. I had

a bacon burger and it was yummy. After we ate

dinner, our cousins had to go home. My dad and I

drove to the back side of the lake and slept in my

dad’s truck. It was about 4:00 in the morning when

we were woke up by the rain. So we drove to the

Butcher Hook, a moon pie for me and coffee for

my dad. When we returned to our camp the rain

had stopped. So we unloaded our quad and rode

up a real rough road. On the way to the mountain

where we wanted to glass we smelled some pigs.

(I thought they smelled like skunk) We stopped to

take a look. Sure enough we spotted 11 of them

on the opposite hill. We headed toward them for a

shot. By the time we got over there, they had gone

into the wash. We got set up for me to shoot. My

first shot was low, but the pigs didn’t run. So I was

able to shoot again. The second shot was a hit. The

pig ran into the thick brush. My dad and I waited a

while before we headed down the hill. We snuck

down really quiet because there were a lot of pigs

still feeding in the area. When we got there she

was dead in the bushes. I had my first javelina. We

took some pictures, had some high 5s and hugs.

My dad carried the pig up the hill to the quad for

me. The best part of this hunt was being with my

dad. I can’t wait for my next hunt.

,


Years ago, I found an article in a livestock magazine written long before I roamed the Earth but I always remember the gist of the story. Turn back the clock to the late 1800s and the author of the story was a rancher in the vicinity of Globe. He had heard of an area in the San Simone Valley that supposedly held grass and water galore, and hence was attractive to a rancher who wanted to improve his lot in life. He tells of going there and indeed there was grass to the belly of his horse and live streams coursed through the area. For a rancher, it was near nirvana. The only drawback was that some of the Native Americans that occasionally passed through the area took a dim view of settlers and were known to steal cattle and occasionally take the life a settler. The author decided that he would rather have poorer conditions in Globe and his life rather than risk it in the unsettled San Simone area. Although he elected to remain where he was, other more daring folks eventually settled the area and brought untold numbers of livestock with them.

Decades later, the Globe rancher returned to the San Simone Valley and was saddened by what he saw. As he told the story, the grass was largely absent and the streambeds were dry. He described with amazement the changes he saw. There was another

observation that he recorded. What were once meandering streams were now starting to downcut below the land that the streams once coursed through. There are a couple of key concepts in hydrology that we need to think about. Before we do though, let’s look at the rainfall pattern in the southeastern corner of Arizona where the San Simone Valley occurs. In this portion of the state, most of the rainfall occurs during intense, monsoonal rains. The dense vegetative cover slowed the flow of these intense rains allowing the moisture to soak into the ground and flow slowly through the streams. As unregulated grazing took place, the vegetative cover was greatly reduced and there was nothing to slow the rushing waters.

One of the key issues there is that the size of particles that water can carry is directly related to the flow rate of the stream. Simply, as the water flows faster, it can move greater amounts of sediment. A second part of this is that as you move the same volume of water through a smaller space, it increases in velocity. The hydrologic cycle had changed drastically and a small downcut increased velocity, which in turn increased the substrate size that was transported downstream and the depth of the downcut increased. As downcuts became deeper, the overall water table of the area decreased

as well making it harder for the vegetation to regrow and the land to heal itself.

What the rancher observed in San Simone was occurring in many other areas of the American Southwest as well. In areas like the Buck Springs allotment (which the Arizona Elk Society helped preserve by paying the livestock operator to return the grazing rights of the area to the Forest Service for conservation purposes), this problem has profound impacts to the wet meadows. At one time, these meadows held soil moisture that slowly seeped into the streams supporting a beautiful riparian area. As has occurred elsewhere throughout Arizona, the downcuts have caused scars that will never heal on their own. The damage to the ecosystem is simply so great, that conservation organizations must step in to help with riparian recovery if we are to ever have wet meadows with meandering steams and aspen and willows lining the area.

In the above photo you can see the start of a downcut in the Buck Springs meadow. It is important to keep in mind that if a downcut isn’t repaired mechanically, the downcut continues to grow to the point that the entire riparian area eventually is lost and a wet meadow becomes a pine forest.

pAtching the lAndscApeby Jim deVos, Director of Conservation Affairs


This has huge impacts to the fish and wildlife communities that once flourished in the region. The photo below shows how severe a downcut can become.

So what do we do to help rectify the problem and restore ecological function? One thing that we need to consider is that the size of the downcut is very important to the approach that you take to begin the healing. In the case of downcuts, small is good as we are beginning to correct the problem while it is feasible to use hand crews to make the repairs. When you get to larger downcuts, the repair becomes very difficult to design and takes major equipment to make the repairs.

One thing to remember is that the key to downcut restoration is to reduce the energy of the water as it flows out of the damaged areas. As you reduce energy of the flow, you also reduce the size of the sediment particles that can be moved. Further, as flows begin to slow, sediment is actually returned to the streambed and acts as substrate for vegetation to establish, which is also a big aid in riparian restoration. One of the approaches that has been used successfully in other areas is the use of “Zuni Bowls,” which are rock structures used to dissipate energy and protect the area from further erosion. To put a Zuni Bowl in place, you start at the downcut and smooth the area with a shovel. Once this is done, a fabric membrane is put in place, large-sized stones are carefully placed to make a plunge-pool, which traps sediment and begins the healing process. There are a couple of design features that are important. The first is that the length of the Zuni Bowl needs to be about 2-3 times as long as the downcut is high. The second is that there needs to be a pour-over zone that will act as a sediment trap. The diagram below illustrates how a Zuni Bowl is formed. The great thing about these habitat features is that they are easy to do and very effective at healing scoured out places in streams that have just begun to become incised.

Another unique habitat feature that is being planned for areas on Buck Springs is called a Media Luna. In this feature, the concept is to reduce energy and dissipate flows to larger areas. In the right portion of the diagram below, you see that the shape of the habitat feature is such that the feature will actually act as a catch to focus several small water input sources into a single downstream flow so that rather than have a series of erosive water courses, they are funneled into a single streambed. On the other hand, on the left side of the diagram, you can see how a Media Luna can be used to dissipate flow energy as the water leaves the rock structure. The exact design of these habitat features is best left to a knowledgeable hydrologist so the effort achieves maximum effectiveness.

In the aggregate, all of these features are all being planned for work on Buck Springs. One of the really great aspect of this project is that the Forest Service has a hydrologist on staff that is keenly interested in restoring riparian function in the meadows on the forest. Tom Runyon, the hydrologist, is not only interested in riparian restoration but he also is willing to try different features. Tom introduced the AES to these features and is key to our understanding of where and what type of rock dam to use at different sites.

The AES is in the planning stage for our next work project in the Buck Springs area in mid-July. If the idea of helping repair degraded waterways is appealing to you, keep watching the AES website (www.arizonaelksociety.org) for more information and to sign up to volunteer.

In addition to working on Zuni Bowls and Media Lunas, the Forest Service has identified a number of areas where the meadows have dried to the point where conifers have invaded the meadows that were once so wet as to preclude pines. A big component of the July work project is to assist the Forest Service in removal of small diameter conifers that are growing in the meadows and making matters worse in the meadow as they suck water for their growth further depleting water into the riparian community.

Not all erosion scars can be easily healed but we are starting on the smaller cuts and researching appropriate remedies on those that are so large as to require engineered solutions. All in all, it is a very exciting time on Buck Springs and it is a great opportunity for you to get involved with the AES and our conservation partners, the Forest Service, AZGFD, and the Fish and Wildlife Service in making giant steps at making the forest a better place not only for elk, but the wide variety of creatures that roam the forest and swim the streams.


Hope to see you at the Buck Springs camp ready to work!

Story and photos by Patrick WeiseMornings…when the sky smears colors together with loose cotton clouds, and the dense cold air connects a circuit, the one that makes your senses come alive…a sound emerges. Beckoning from a dark and distant place, nestled a thousand trees away, it groans with pain. If you are facing the other direction, you will turn around, quickly, squeezing the wood grip on your bow. The electricity of it makes you quiver and goose bumps soon appear. Now inside you, the wail draws you forward. Eyes strain for any movement up ahead. There it is again: like a sad song making you stop instantly; the low-throated moan, heaved up from the bottom of some lonely lung.

This is the sound of elk.

We hunt the bulls daily, Jerry and I. Two of them are ours, by law, well, sort-of. We paid for them, the elk tags, here at WalMart in Glenwood Springs Colorado. It’s the big box store on top of the hill overlooking the Roaring Fork River. Here over-the-counter tags for non-residents are just five-hundred bucks each. When we don’t get drawn in our home state, we travel elsewhere to hunt the wapiti with stick and string. While Jerry is swiping his credit card, my eyes slide over to the TV monitor beside the sporting goods counter. Monster Bulls in Rut plays continuously. The guide in the video is blowing his cow call while the hunter—a beautiful young woman with make-up and dangling hoop earrings—moves into position for the shot. The bull, a huge branchy wall-hanger, lets out a screaming bugle and then comes walking into view. The video camera zooms in to show the brand name of the bow, then the reaction on the woman’s face, and then back over to the advancing bull elk. The huntress pulls the bow back to full draw and releases a pink fletched arrow from her custom pink bow. The bull jolts and takes off running. The guide cow calls again, stopping the bull momentarily. My chin pulls open my mouth as the bull starts to trot off, stumbles, and then falls down. It looks so easy.

“Jerry, come ‘mere.” He receives his tag and comes walking over. “Look at the size of that bull!” I say.

“Yeah, now that’s an elk.” He’s grinning wide as he folds up his tag and shoves it deep into his pocket. The huntress is now standing over her bull. Three fingers cover her mouth, speechless for the moment. The sun is shining bright and she wears a long sleeved camouflaged tee-shirt, but her body begins to quiver. Her guide walks over in a hurry and pats her on the back, releasing her bottled up words.

“Oh…oh…oh my goodness. He’s beautiful,” she chatters out in vibrato. “My first bull elk. Thank you Lord. Oh my…goooodness.”


...trees stand silently, fighting for space...

“Nice shot,” says the guide.”

I turn and look at Jerry, “You gonna shoot one like that?”

“Those big ones are only on private land here.” Jerry says this while stroking the long lengths of hair from his four-inch goatee. Each stroke making him look wiser, more experienced. “But I’ll get something…I hope.”

We drive out of town, past the ski lodge and higher into the mountains where thick aspens, fir, pine, and spruce trees stand silently, fighting for space to spread their branches.

It is here at a junction in the road where we find a small opening off to the side, an old wooden pole for hanging elk, and a fire pit from seasons past. We get out and survey the area, where to put the sleeping tent, the cook tent; arms pointing, our heads nodding—ah ha. We see where other hunters have camped before, their memories still scattered round with last year’s leaves. We build our base camp in record time as night settles in. Jerry is good in this way, he used to be in the military, and still backpacks with the Boy Scouts. He knows how to string up a tarp, quick and taunt, and can tie knots I’ve never seen before. With military precision, he sets things up fast. He looks a little like Jeremiah Johnson, in the movie—gruff and strong—and could kill a bear with a tree limb if forced to.

I unload my gear while Jerry fiddles with his pack. I brought too much stuff. I always do. I’m sick in the head this way. I’m a gear nut. Gun gear, camping gear, bow gear, backpacking gear, fishing gear, photography gear, gear, gear, gear…I’ve got

gear to fix my gear. I’m always planning for the unexpected. Buying things I’ll probably never use; I have two or three of each, and yet I can only tie one knot, the one I use on my boots.

For a week now Jerry and I have hunted everywhere, busting our butts looking for that one really good spot to hunt every day. Bear and moose, turkeys and grouse, we’ve seen them, deer and elk—a few. And then one evening Jerry comes back to the truck late, fire still raging in his eyes, his skin pimpled up. “Pat!

I almost shot one. I came to full draw. The elk were all over—thaaa-thick. Ruub-bsss—everywhere.” He talks like a crazed man, possessed by some forest fever. It happens out here, honestly, when hunters get too close to deer and elk. Their blood boils over with excitement; they shake and can’t even describe what they’ve seen without stuttering. Needing help to complete short sentences, the words somehow stuck in their mouth.


I brought too much stuff. I always do.

So we hunt the spot for a few days, trying different areas of the surrounding land. Some days we venture further and further. We call the spot, our spot. It’s at the end of a long bumpy dirt road, five or so miles from our camp. The area is full of cows, beef cows—we call them mu-mu’s—and they know us by sight. I think we are the only action they get, lonely I suspect. They stare at the truck as we drive up and begin walking over as soon as we park. We put our packs on and grab our bows before walking away. After a hundred-yards we stop and turn around. We see the mu-mu’s already surrounding the truck—as if it was another cow, a big god cow—and they begin to lick it clean—why, I do not know. And when we return, they will be lying alongside it, napping, licking their lips, and looking satisfied. And

the truck, Mother-Utter, will have swirl marks, tongue licking’s, all around her, like a wash job gone terribly bad. It’s strange and funny but somehow we feel protected and loved.

We walk across the mile-long meadow and breast-stroke our way into the trees. We crawl over fallen trees, blow-downs, and swim through the thick wall of everything that grows in good moist dirt, all of it uphill. After an hour of this jungling, we arrive at the top and split up. Below our feet is a steep mountain

edge, and down there, where only fugitives and crazies go, are the elk.

I stare at the loose wet soil, its slickness angles down at a 65-degree slope. Only a fool would go down there, my mind thinks this without permission. The elk tracks go down. They look more like a boulder gave way, unearthing everything in its path till bottom. I try to imagine hauling up just one elk quarter. How my lungs would scream, suffocating in this high altitude. And how my legs would burn with acid-pumping fire, each step a Tour de France. And once I reached the top and unloaded my quarter, how I would have to ascend back down, to do it again, and again.

I finally concede and slide my boney butt down to the bottom. Sounds that want to become words putter from my mouth and follow me down. I can’t help myself. Bull elk is my drug of choice.

It is on this fourth evening, down in the bottom that everything seems surreal—quiet—and I get mad. Bulls are not bugling, cows are not chirping, and the forest


They stare at the truck as we drive up and begin walking over...

seems dead. I stop walking, lay my bow down, and empty my pockets of elk calls on the ground. I drop to my knees and blow warm breath through each call. Not little mews or sweet whispers of love, but loud crow-like squalls, in every direction. It feels good to get it out, this built up frustration inside me—from not seeing any elk—like only a good long work-out can do. And then I wonder if elk feel the same way. Venting steam, bugling to release the pain of loneliness, their calls a plea for companionship, sent into the breeze—like pollen from a tree—a prayer floating for any cow to hear and latch onto.

I sit and catch my breath, thinking how stupid that was. Cow elk don’t vocalize like that. Not eight of them all in a row at the top of their lungs. “Oh well,” I exhale out-loud. I’m stupid I think, but then I hear it. It catches me off guard as I breathe in some new hope. Yes, a faraway bugle to my west. I grab the last call I had used and blow it again, and the bull responds back. This goes on for ten-minutes and with each bugle the sound becomes louder, closer, and then to my north another

bull bugles. I grab another call and scoot 90-degrees and call to him. He responds back and so does another bull to the south. I play with all three bulls, calling quietly now, listening, waiting, as they draw near.

My evening ends this way. Three bulls are in close as nightfall is tip-toeing in, smothering available light. I feel as though I am being watched, or at least the elk are looking for me. From behind every tree I feel their Hitchcock eyes, their quiet now. I keep turning around in a three-sixty; I see nothing but the forest. I gather up my calls and head back towards the steep cliff I must climb up in the dark. I arrive at the base and two elk explode like a gun shot. Breaking branches, flinging dirt, their shadowy outlines running for safety.

Back at the truck I wait for Jerry. He always stays out much later than me. Sometimes way after dark I call him on the radio, making sure he is all right, making sure he doesn’t have an elk down and needs my help. “I’m fine,” he says, in out of breathe words, “I’ll be there in about 30-minutes,” and so I wait. When he arrives I ask if he heard anything tonight, “Not much,” he says, “only a faint bugle from the east.” I tell him my story, how I put a little fire in them, lighting ‘em up. His eyes grow big, my words intoxicating, I start up the truck and we head back to camp.

Our hopes are as high as the trees, but far away like the hours of tomorrow.

The next morning in the pitch of black, we park in the same spot. The mu-mu’s begin to grunt and move on in, and while we are putting on our packs, another truck with Wisconsin plates, pulls up alongside us and parks.

“Out here in the middle of nowhere, with the cows?” I say this to Jerry, “Look at the nerve of these guys.”

“Idiots,” he says in reply. I watch his hand brush across his right hip. Feeling the Glock pistol he carries for bears. Never looking at it, just feeling its holstered plasticiness. Feeling its comfort and loathing in the security of just knowing it is there. Their headlights click off and the hunters hop out.


We walk into the black foilage...

“Morning,” I say, my enthusiasm lost in the dark.

“Morning,” they reply back, as cold as the black air.

They won’t look at us, acting as though they are about to commit a crime, already somehow ashamed. We leave them to their own demise and take off walking across the meadow.

Our headlamps are on to guide the way, but soon we see lights following us, on the exact same cattle trail. The two hunters are right on our tails. We walk a full mile before I tell Jerry to stop. As the hunters catch up I break the silence of night and say loudly, “You guys have no shame! Are you going to follow us to our exact spot?”

“No,” they reply, “We have a spot marked on our GPS we are going to.” Jerry and I stand there, letting them pass, throwing evil looks towards them they cannot see, but hope they feel. When we can no longer see their lights I whisper to Jerry, “Turn off your light so they won’t see us and we’ll just cut in here.” We walk into the black foliage and disappear among the sleeping trees.

Within minutes we hear bugles. This way and that way. The closest one has a chuckle on the end. A sort-of laughing tease as if to say come get me. I turn around to Jerry, pointing to the sound, to go towards it. The darkness begins to fade and milky light leaks through the trees as we move awkwardly like mice, calculating each step with robotic stop and starts. We set up in a clearing, Jerry out front with his bow ready in hand. I call from the rear and the bull answers back. We continue calling and wait as excitement fills the air between us.

The bull—I’ve already nicknamed him Chuckles—will not come in and moves further away. We go after him, trying to close the distance. He stops and bugles again. His chuckles ring through the trees in torment. We move in close again. The trees block our view. There are elk all around, brown patches of hide moving silently among the trees. Chuckles is close. So close I can feel him inside me. I can feel him daring me to find him, to come after him. He bugles into the wind, pushing his cows higher up the mountain, over the ridge and into the next valley. We follow as quietly and as fast as we can. We cow call to each other—little mews—letting the other know where we are as we move silently behind the elk. We angle towards his sound, his

relentless moving bugle, testing us, tiring us. The closer we get, the further he moves, his call demonizing through the trees. It torments us like being spit upon in the face. He loves the game—a wild goose chase of Marco-Polo—and we tire, another valley, another ridge.

Jerry is quiet now, not answering my mews. Lost in a chase, perhaps another bull. The woods are like that, two hunters can be after the same bull, but then another bull bugles, off to the side, over that way. You walk a few yards towards it and the forest swallows you up.

Chuckles stops and calls again. I can almost see him, 35-yards away maybe. It’s dimly lit and shadows play tricks with the trees, I walk slowly. Looking hard I see nothing. Trees, a huge boulder jetting out from the mountain side, I stand and wait, uncertain of my next step. Then out of nowhere a large bull skyrockets from right in front of me, Chuckles. He’d been standing there the entire time, watching me, surveying his kingdom,


a ghost among the trees, and over the ridge he runs. Damn. I feel stupid, defeated. After all that work. I turn and punch the air at nothing, my fist fighting spite. My own shadow punches me back. “Why didn’t you see him?” I say this aloud to my own shadow that is silently looking as dumb as I feel stupid. I kick the ground and fling the forest floor at him, “You should have said something, let me know he was there.” I say this as though I am looking at myself in a bathroom mirror. Still my shadow silently mocks me, acting as though my every word, my every aggressive move is feeble. And over the ridge something equally untouchable smiles back into my mirrored face, Chuckles.

I cow call to find Jerry and his mews float back. I move toward the sound. Over a pile of dead logs I climb, and then through a forest of young saplings as thick as theater curtains. When I arrive there is no Jerry. Our Wisconsin hunter’s stand with elk calls in hand. The spot on their GPS, that mystery area they were headed to, is the sound of Chuckles, my Chuckles, my nightmare. We talk and swap our morning adventures. I say, “He’s all yours.” My outstretched arm, finger pointing, “He ran that way. Go get him; he’s a nice six-by.” They look perplexed by my humble gift. Their eyes unbelieving. They listen to the frustration in my voice, the exhaustion in my body language. The details pour out like seasoned salt. And when none of us have anything left to say, we call the morning finished and head back to the trucks.

Evening time finds me up above. Higher than where I left the Wisconsin hunters, in a new spot, where it looks like few have ever been. I sit and call then wait ten minutes. The view is beautiful along this ridge, but the air is quiet and dead like that inside an empty box. I walk around the mountain and call again with a

different call. The trees echo back with a Joker laugh, and attached to the end…the Devil’s chuckle. I begin to pray, please Lord, bring him to me. My murmurs continue beneath my facemask—my glasses fogging—as the far-off wailing continues.

Chuckles is moving, skirting the edge of the mountain I sit on. I can tell by the sound of his voice, the way it echoes through the trees, and how loud his voice rings between my ears. And when he is further off, I squint my eyes, squenching tight my upper lip, exposing my beaver teeth, cocking my head forward, cupping my hand to my one good ear, my face a crummy picture of “Say Cheeessse!” All of this I do to hear the faint sound I’ve grown accustomed too, his lullaby bugle goodnight.

As evening pulls up its bedtime blanket, I once again pull out my GPS, mark my position, and walk the two miles back to the truck in the dark. Through the thick tangle of trees, my eyes stare down at the colored light in the palm of my hand; it is my way out of this dark mountain top mess. The forest is now spooky and I feel small. My presence, my position, now miniaturized down to an icon. And the security of my truck, a go-to point, with dotted lines in between us. The whole world seems squeezed into this pocket gadget, humbling my hunter’s strength.

Back at camp Jerry and I make our plans. Inside the tent we spread the map open wide on the floor. Beside us the lantern hisses and gurgles as a moth flutters beside the globe, trying to get in. Its late, our stomachs growl, but this is more important than food. We get the compass out and lay it on the map, orientating both, and turn on the GPS. Hunched over the map we point with icy cold fingers at contour lines and unused logging roads, devising a plan to intercept the beast. Then out of nowhere a pop! It jerks our eyes off the map and over to the lantern as we stare at the moth, now blackened, curling up in intimate eternal love with the warm light.


The next morning we arrive at the predetermined spot. Immediately the hairs on my arm begin to tingle, electricity connecting a circuit. There’s something different about today, our last day to hunt, a feeling of urgency greeting us the moment we open the truck doors. “It’s cold,” I say this to Jerry, as if he does not already know; both of us bundled in jackets and gloves. If I were hunting alone, I’d still tell myself its cold. “Yep,” he says, as we watch our breath smoke into the air, disappearing like the adversary we chase.

We head out.

We skirt the mountain from the bottom this time, walking, stopping, looking, and listening. We split up in an attempt to cover more ground. A mile later I hear a bugle—his—that lonesome call, always with the chuckle on the end. He is right above me, close. I move towards the sound in silent determination. I close the gap and stop. My eyes strain in the gray light of morning for his outline, but I see nothing. Then another call from further up yanks my head and dilates my eyes. This bull is clever, deceitful, always moving, then stopping, calling, pausing, then leaving. The path he is on is narrow and choppy, and on the steep edge of the mountain where no hunters go. I see his tracks in the mud, urine soaked,

and his droppings still steam. I follow behind, climbing over blow-downs, zigzagging through his battleground terrain. His smell clings to the morning air, pungent like that of a skunk. Another hour passes by. I think I am close until he calls again, from a thousand trees away, bellowing, and chuckling in defiance. Like the Devil himself, pleased.

I realize how far away he already is, and catching up to him in his home of old-growth forest and dark timber, a hellish impossibility. It is here that I stop and just stare. My eyes see everything but I am looking at nothing. My mind seems lost; my limbs feel lymph, my body14-days drained. I reach back and unhook the bugle hanging from my shoulder, raising it to my lips. I swirl my tongue around inside my mouth to gather spit, and then lick the blue reed on the bugle to moisten its rubberiness. I inhale. I draw in all of the forest. The way it smells just before the sun rises, and how the air tastes at 10,000-feet. How the night caresses your skin on an almost-lost walk back to the truck. And the way you feel after letting your bow down from full draw, on a cow elk. All of this I vacuum-in to the bottom pocket of my lungs. And there I savor it. Like the long slow drag of a cigarette, feeling its flavor deep inside me. And when it is time, I angle the bugle skyward—my trumpet—and begin to blow in a long slow thrust, then down to the ground, my body bending slowly—still blowing—in a ceremonial bow, until there is no more.

The sound floods the forest anew, and with it, something inside me empties out.

The morning sun stretches and yawns higher, casting rays of light onto this side of the mountain. And off in the distance birds begin to sing and the once quiet squirrels chatter and jaw on cones. I remove the elk tag from my pocket and affix it to the limb of a dead tree, jetting across his trail. Hanging there it looks like I’m marking a spot; or maybe it’s a surrender flag, I’m not quite sure. But what I do know is this: you cannot buy, and I do not own, anything as wild as elk. I gaze at it for just another moment. My mind sending thoughts down his pathway—another hunt, on some other day, we will meet again.

And as I begin my lonesome walk back to the truck—some endless miles away—off in the distance I hear him calling to me, one last time, such a sad sound. A single low-throated moan, with no chuckle on the end.

Patrick Weise has been hunting, scouting and photographing elk for the past 12 years.

P.O.Box 190 Peoria, AZ 85380

CHANGE SERVICES REQUESTED

NON-PROFITUS POSTAGE

PAIDPhoenix, AZ

Permit No. 5572

in memorium“Big John” Cadzow Ron Grippin

Brian Pinney Walt Nicoson

Jule Grippin

e v e n t s & p r oJ e c t sAnnuAl burro creek proJect

June 8-9 Big Lake Unit 1

Aes WApiti Weekend cAmp

June 14-16 Springerville

boy scout cAmp unit 5A proJect

June 17-22 Clint Wells

buck springs clint Wells

July 13-14 Clint Wells

Tracker First Quarter 2013

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Transcript of Tracker First Quarter 2013