(Photo courtesy of Paeton Lesser)
October 26, 2024
By Paeton Lesser
Naked aspens and dark timber caped in white. Frozen streams run through remnants of lush meadows. An intricate combination of elk and boot tracks dot the landscape. This is late-season elk hunting in Colorado.
Last fall, I was lucky enough to experience this elk hunters’ paradise for the first time. Brought to Colorado for school, I decided to apply for my first big-game draw as a resident. After receiving news of a successful draw, my family decided they would fly out to help me punch my first bull tag. Luckily enough, we were also able to connect with longtime family friend and renowned outfitter Fred Eichler to make it happen.
A Great Start (Photo courtesy of Paeton Lesser) Even though I was new to elk hunting in Colorado, I knew a successful harvest was dependent on patient hunting, a deep knowledge of elk behavior and tendencies, and diligent scouting. Fortunately, the latter came second-hand from our resident expert, Fred.
Everything came to fruition on opening day. Fresh sign and distant glances at a lone bull on private land kept us intrigued throughout the day, but things finally got interesting at last light.
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With only minutes of legal shooting light left, I caught a glimpse of antlers slowly moving through the brush toward the meadow below. Since we were out of time, we knew the best thing to do was to sneak out of the clearcut, leaving the bull undisturbed.
A New Day Dawns (Photo courtesy of Paeton Lesser) As the sunrise crested the landscape on day two, anticipation was high as we crept back to our vantage point. Just as we had hoped, the bull had made his way to the meadow. This time, however, he was joined by two other bulls.
I glanced over at my stepmom, who whispered, “The one on the right—that’s your bull.”
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Ranging him at 407 yards, I reached up and spun the Custom Dial System (CDS) dial on my scope to the correct distance. Then, slowly sinking into a kneel, I rested the stock of my .308 on an old stump, placing my elbow in the crevice of my knee. I steadied my breathing and found the bull in my scope.
Watching as he quartered up towards the hill, I waited until I had a clear shot at the bull’s vitals. I slowly squeezed the trigger, allowing the boom to startle me.
Giving Thanks Author Paeton Lesser (right) was joined by her father, Tim, and stepmother, Riza, when she downed this 6x6 bull on public land in Colorado. (Photo courtesy of Paeton Lesser) Moments later, I excitedly made my way across the meadow. My parents and I stood in half a circle around the bull, recounting the hunt and taking turns to inspect the heavy 6x6 frame.
Adrenaline eventually morphed into fatigue as we caped and quartered the bull. I was a rookie elk hunter who had punched my tag early on Thanksgiving morning. I’d killed a mature bull, and there was no better feeling!
I had gone into the week looking for an adventure, and now I had found it. This was the experience of a lifetime, and there was no one else I would have rather shared it with than my family.
