by Jarod Hawkins, as told to Joe Cindric
““Often life seems like a string of beads, seemingly unrelated events leading to the present””
Four a.m. comes early wherever you are. Early morning is just as dark in the Colorado Flat Top mountain range as it is in Coshocton, Ohio. The hunt prep routine is different. Instead of hopping into a pickup, then onto an ATV, my partner and I were saddling our horses and loading the equipment we prepared yesterday afternoon. It would be an hour ride to the jump-off point for our morning elk hunt.
During the ride my mind wandered back to just how my old friend and hunting partner Mike Fowler and I happened to be on a Colorado mountain, stalking elk with muzzleloaders in hand. For him, it was my convincing that made him pick up a muzzleloader, for me it was a string of events starting ten years ago.
While working for my family’s logging business, I met a client that was also an avid hunter. During lunch Coop explained that he and his wife hunted with muzzleloading rifles; flintlocks. He claimed that using a muzzleloader required more skill than the modern slug guns, then legal in Ohio. Over the years we became friends, often meeting for breakfast, discussing hunting strategies and stories. The one constant theme was Coop insisting that I up my hunting skills by hunting with a muzzleloader, preferable a flintlock, and join the NMLRA.
Since then life had become more hectic. I work as a foreman and superintendent for our family-owned lumber business. When our family created Wolf Creek Outfitters from our former game farm, I became the manager, operator, and jack of all for the outfitting service. Working full time and managing Wolf Creek operation allowed me very little time to hunt for myself. Some eight years later my family had the opportunity to acquire Budge’s Flat Top Outfitters. Budge’s is managed by the staff located in Colorado. I had not had a chance to hunt the Flat Top, and was hoping an opportunity would come up. This year the stars aligned, the workload at home had lightened and I was able to arrange an elk hunt before the Ohio deer season started.
This spring I helped Coop call in a turkey; after the victory photos, he mentioned muzzleloading hunting again. I smiled and said maybe, as I had many times before. With a smile, he insisted that I should introduce my clients to the thrill of single-shot muzzle loading hunts. He then mentioned an opportunity to become a NMLRA business member. Thinking that it might be a good business opportunity I said I would consider it.
Dusk would come about the time we reached our start point, tended to the horses, and begin our climb. I was fairly familiar with the area, as familiar as anyone can be when hunting areas are measured by the square mile. We had poured over maps at home; with a mix of my knowl-edge, the information from the topo maps, and with a lucky guess, we had selected a beginning spot for our hunt. I was a short 2,000 foot climb. Looking up the side of the mountain I marveled at how different the terrain here was compared to the wooded hill country of home.
About five years ago I had come across a pair of Knight .50 cal. muzzleloaders at a yard sale. The rifles were equipped with open sights, looked in good condition, and had good bores. I bought them thinking they might be good for my wife or perhaps my boy in a few years. They stayed stashed in my safe, unused and forgotten. That is until the jab at the end of the turkey hunt. I got to thinking that the excitement factor might be elevated a couple of notches if I used one for an elk hunt. A chance came up for a week long hunt at Budge’s. My old friend, Mike, agreed to go and since I had a pair, I talked him into using the other Knight rifle.
As the lights of the small outlying cabin we had bunked in faded behind us, I thought about the hour ride ahead, but also about the string of events leading to this hunt. It started with a chance conversation over lunch with a client of the family logging company; ending with a NMLRA membership.
Two months prior to the hunt, Coop and I met for an early lunch. A couple of weeks earlier he had brought
a half a dozen back issues of Muzzle Blasts for the lodge clients to read, with the hope that the muzzle loading bug would bite. The magazines were impressive. This time he had brought back more magazines and more infor-mation. An explanation of the advantages of a NMLRA Business Membership, Long Hunters Society information and a plan for any of my clients using a muzzleloader to become a NMLRA member. Coop had explained that if they were a member and scored while using a muzzleloader they qualified for a Long Hunter Society pin, besides the obvious advantages of an NMLRA membership. I joined as a NMLRA business member two weeks before leaving for Colorado.
Mike and I reached our jump off point just before dusk. After hobbling the horses, capping our rifles, and checking our gear, we started the climb to where we thought a good size bull was hanging out. Our rifles were loaded with 100 grains of loose powder and Hornady 300 gr FBP bullets. The ground was steep, rocky, and full of deadfalls. About a mile into our climb we heard a bull bugling his cows ahead of us. We kept climbing, stalking up the mountain. A cold early morning wind was in our faces as we continued climbing and stalking. It was tedious work, but before we knew it we were in their bedroom. The bull was screaming, in our faces. We froze. The wind let up. We were busted by a cow bedded no more than 20 yards from us. With that, the group moved off, up the mountain towards an opening in the rocks disappearing from our view. We watched with that feeling of disappointment when an animal surprises.
Mike quickly cow called, the bull bugled back; our spirits lifted when we realized the bull had not sensed us. We were climbing and stalking as quietly and quickly as possible in the direction of the herd. After 100 yards, I heard Mike, behind my shoulder, calling again. The bull answered before Mike had ended the call. We continued stalking, tracking, and climbing up the mountain another 200 yards to a rock slide near the opening. We worked our way to the opening; Mike was following close behind. Carefully working our way across the rock slide, trying not to dislodge any rock, we approached the opening the herd had gone through. As we rounded the rock, I was trying to see around the rock and watch my footing at the same time. Suddenly, in a sharp whisper, Mike said “Jarod”. As the words left his mouth and entered my ear, I shoulder the Knight and looked through the sights. A cow was heading towards us, with the bull following close behind. So close that the cow appeared to have horns. She probably sensed us at the last minute and turned. The sights lined up on the bull. I squeezed the trigger; the bull disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
The load, the bullet, my aim; did its job. The bull, less than thirty yards away, stumbled and dropped. This was not my first elk, but it was one of the most exciting. I’ve taken them with modern rifles at 200+ yards, but this was different. This time I got close. Yes, Mike and I had practiced; targets out to 150 yards, expecting that the hunt might be a long-range event; but we both knew that stalking in close was the best approach.
After our celebration and photographs, the real work of the hunt began. We cleaned, quartered, and secured the bull. We carried our gear to the horses, this time it was further than the two-mile stalk to the herd as we avoided portions of the rugged terrain. By the time we reached the horses, it was getting dark. We set up a small spike camp, rustled up a fire, prepared some food, and settled down for the night. The weather had been clear, but crisp; ’20s in the morning and 50’s in the afternoon. As we ate and looked into the fire we talked about Mike’s chances and tomorrow. It would take a full day to carry the head, hide, and quarters down the mountain to the horses, load them and get back to camp.
The next day, with sore legs, riding back to the lodge, I reflected on the events leading up to the climax of this hunt. Smiling I thought about the thrill of the bull at close range, and the one shot challenge presented by using a muzzle loader. Mike scored a couple of days later on an equally exciting hunt, but that story I’ll save for another day. Right now I’m looking forward to June and a trip to Friendship, IN. Maybe I’ll find a flintlock that I just can’t live without.