A kill isn't always necessary

The elk were high, and this would have been easy but not what I wanted
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

To shoot or not to shoot? That was the immediate question.
I was in Colorado 20 years ago on an elk hunt. My buddy and I had seen several bull elk so far and out hunt still had a few days to go. We spotted a small elk herd from a distance, glassed them to see what they looked like.

"The bull on the far right is a nice 6X5," he whispered. "The middle bull is just a spike, and the left one is partly hidden. I can't see his rack."

The bull then eased from the black timber and offered us  a long  look

"Wait. He's stepping out, and he's a dandy 5X5 with good ivory tips," the guide said. The right and left bulls are shooters. We have the wind in our favor, and if we can get 75-100 yards closer we can sneak in close for a good shot if cow elk don't get in our way."

To shoot or not to shoot? Shakespeare never had this problem. For me, it was easily solved. I chose not to make the stalk and take the shot. The bulls were decent racks but not what I'd hoped for. I offered them to my Michigan friend,

This hunt took place in September. I was looking for something big; I'm not a trophy hunter, but had fond hopes of getting a big bull. Besides, I wasn't keen on shooting a nice bull elk so early in the hunt.

"Want him?" my buddy asked our guides who also had an elk tag. "The best bull is on the right, and most hunters would be tickled to take him. He's broadside, and after a short stalk it would be an easy bow shot at 40 yards."

He knew I could kill a  bull elk at 40 yards, but I didn't want to shoot the animal.

I shook my head no, and the three of us moved quietly from the area to look for a bigger bull. The guide and my friend kept looking sideways at me, probably thinking I was nuts for not shooting.

Sometimes elk hunting should be a solitary sport

The next day we drove as far up-hill as possible to get near a water-hole up an old mountainous two-track. We left the truck behind, and then climbed uphill within easy reach of the water hole. Two hours later, we were there and had scouted the entire area. An elk bugled briefly and we shifted our attention to the sound.

"Here comes a nice bull," the guide said. "He looks great: heavy antler beams, long tines and a 5X5 rack. I'll try calling to see if he's interested."

My neck hairs lifted at the sound of elk music drifting through the mountains, and the bull responded by moving closer. The call had him interested, and for good reason: The bull wanted water from the water-hole, and figured he may have to get past the other bull. He closed to within 100 yards, turned broadside and challenged the unseen bull.

I again shook my head no to the unasked question. My friend couldn't understand my apparent reluctance to shoot a bull. Neither could the guide.

"I shot a beauty here two years ago, and since I have a choice in the matter, I'll wait for something bigger," I told him. "If I see an elk larger than what I've already taken, I'll shoot. Until then, I'll hold off and shoot a deer when I get home."

Many elk were seen but we never fired an arrow at any of them

We saw 16 antlered bull elk on that Colorado hunt, and I passed on each one. He wound up shooting a nice 5X5, and was very pleased with his choice. It was his first elk with a bow, and a wonderful accomplishment.

I shot nothing, and wasn't disappointed. He, a first-time elk hunter was ecstatic, but still couldn't figure out why I wouldn't shoot. He didn't realize that I'd been here before, and had shot my share of bulls, and didn't need to do so again.

I assured him that he'd been a great hunting partner but the simple fact was I hadn't seen an animal I wanted. The hunt offered thrills and many opportunities, and no one could have asked for anything more. I had numerous chances to shoot in a sport where one lost opportunity may be all a hunter ever gets.

A successful hunt doesn't always mean returning home with game. I had many chances to shoot, but there was no need unless I saw an elk I really wanted. The animal I had hoped to take never materialized, but that didn't diminish my time afield.

If anything, it enhanced my hunt, which is difficult for other hunters to understand. My time was well spent, and seeing game in beautiful hunting country was a plus, but I've never regretted my decision.

A kill isn't always needed to produce a meaningful hunting experience on this or three other elk hunt where I've passed up nearly 40 bulls. I would have been happy and proud to see my hometown friend do the job but he wouldn't either.

I hunt for what I please, and what is legal, and if I don't shoot, it's because of one of three reasons: the bulls were too young to shoot or I simply couldn't catch up with them. A third choice is possible.

Perhaps because I greatly enjoy the hunt, that when it comes time to shoot, the urge to kill the bull has gone away.
In any respect, the guide and other hunter had a choice and decided not to shoot either. For us, the hunt itself had been enough.