Nothing spoils a promising elk stalk like cows staring directly at you. The big bull was about 100 yards away, but happily I couldn’t see any cows or calves, or even foot-stomping mule deer, in the thinly timbered basin. Clear sailing between me and that bull. I glassed him again through my binocular, and as I watched him, a voice in my head grew more and more urgent. “Oh my God, he is massive!”
Then, tension tightening with every step he took toward me, I heard my silent voice again, screaming this time. “He is going to walk right down to you! Be patient! Don’t look at his head! Do not call! He’s going to walk right to you! Be patient! Be patient!”
I pulled my rangefinder from my pocket and ranged a scrawny tree the bull had been raking when I first spotted him. It was just under 60 yards. Then I ranged the bull. He was about 90 yards away, slowly feeding and bugling along the top of the basin some 20 yards behind a smaller bull.
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