As
the first light of the new day filtered through the trees, there was
a disquieting emptiness along the shallow stream and across the expansive
meadow. Fresh tracks indicated
 |
The
nine-hour horseback ride into Bliss Creek followed the course
of the south fork of the Shoshoni River. |
that the
elk were here, but their apparent absence was particularly disquieting.
"Last week I saw at least three good bulls and several cows in
this meadow every day", outfitter and guide Tim Doud said quietly.
Something
was wrong. There was still plenty of food available and dawn marked
the opening moments of the season. When it comes to elk hunting, I've
learned to expect the unexpected - nothing comes as a surprise anymore.
Tim thought he'd find elk in the meadow, but disappointingly the only
thing present on four legs was an immature bull moose that quickly made
his way into the timber. "When we rode into camp late last night,
maybe we disturbed the elk?" Tim questioned aloud.
It sounded
like a plausible reason, but at that point any reason was better than
none at all. Tim was trying to be rational and the "They were here
yesterday" excuse seemed to be as good as
any. Maybe
we did accidentally "kick the elk out of the meadow riding into
camp well past sundown". However, the animals should have settled
down and returned to their regular feeding habits.
"Look
here", Tim said pointing to several well defined grizzly tracks
in the mud. "These bear tracks are right on top of our stock prints
from last night. Maybe the elk got nervous with that bear around and
were more cautious about feeding out in the open", he remarked.
I remember
thinking to myself, "if it isn't one thing, it's another. I should
have been here last week during the archery season; the grizzly could
have picked another trail to walk on; and where the hell were the elk?"
We were
nearly at the end of the meadow before things began to look promising.
A scattering of fresh elk tracks crossed the trail and headed up into
timber. "Here's a big bull track. Maybe this is our outlaw",
Tim whispered as he knelt down and pointed to the sharp outline
of a solitary set of huge elk tracks in the snow.
By now,
the word "outlaw" was a familiar term. Through coincidence
or design, our hunting camp was situated on Bliss Creek at its intersection
with the Southfork of the Shoshone River. Our neat cluster of tents
were located in the pines, along a remote meadow, some 22 miles from
the nearest trailhead. A place of seclusion, the narrow meadow that
adjoined the river had been a hideout for the notorious outlaw, Jack
Bliss. Coincidentally, it was also the historic feeding grounds of more
than one band of elk.
During
the nine hour ride into camp on the previous day, I'd heard all about
Jack Bliss. It seems that he made his living rustling cattle and horses
from both sides of the Continental Divide. Spending time among steers
and horses when the opportunity presented itself. After putting together
a string of stock, the renegade would trail them up to his remote meadow
hideout and wait until things cooled down a bit. When the time was right,
he'd take the rustled animals over Shoshoni Pass and down into the town
of Dubois, Wyoming.
Since Cody
and Dubois were on opposite sides of the Divide, and reachable only
over a tough trail, there was little traffic between the two communities.
The separation of the two towns by 50 miles or so made Jack Bliss's
illegal business venture a viable operation. He'd liberate stock from
Cody and sell it in Dubois. Then there would be a repeat of this nefarious
activity in the Dubois area and Bliss would hole-up at his backcountry
camp awhile until things cooled down. Then he'd return to Cody to repeat
his
|
The
author's "home away from home" was a wall tent tucked
into the protective cover of the pines. |
previous
illicit marketing strategy. It was a sweet setup as long as ranchers
on one side of the Divide didn't communicate with those on the other
side.
Good things
have a way of not lasting and that's how it went with Jack Bliss's rustling.
In time, the ranchers on both sides of the Divide had just about had
a bellyful of Jack Bliss. The practice of hiring "Range Detectives"
(really nothing more than paid thugs) to resolve this sort of problem
had proven effective in other areas (the Tom Horn affair to the east
of Cheyenne, Wyoming was just one classic example). Following suit,
ranchers in the Cody area employed two men, one of which had been a
former Bliss confidant and partner in the rustling scheme.
Utilizing
information gleaned from informants, and previous knowledge of Jack
Bliss's method of operation, the two "Range Detectives"
trailed him to the secluded meadow deep in the back country. One must
remember that often the 19th Century cash reward policy for the capture
of an outlaw was paid on a dead or alive basis. All too often the
"dead" part of the commission seemed the reasonable approach
to most bounty hunters.
After locating
Bliss's horse, the men lay in wait for the outlaw. When he made his
appearance, a gunfight ensued and the outlaw's career met an unceremonious
end. Due to the remote location of the killing, the body was buried
on the spot. Later, in one final act of vengeance, Spring flooding from
the creek washed Bliss's remains into the Shoshoni River and downstream
to oblivion.
An eerie
bugle broke the silence and pushed my adrenalin flow into overdrive.
Tim used his call to replicate the challenge and we received an immediate
response. With nothing more than a simple "Let 's go", from
Tim, we headed in the bull's direction. Things were definitely looking
up!
Jogging
through a foot of snow at 8,500 feet above sea level might have been
easy for Tim Doud, but for someone accustomed to a substantially lower
elevation - it was serious aerobic exercise. In a short time, my pounding
heart and heaving chest signaled the need for added oxygen. Even more
difficult was controlling my excitement when we heard the bull bugle
again.
"He's
on the move", Tim said quietly.
|
Despite
the missing second tine on the left branch, the author's outlaw
bull sported an antler frame that raw scored 280 points. |
The image
of a 19th century outlaw eluding his pursuers quickly flashed through
my mind. Maybe Jack Bliss's ghost was still active after all these years?
The bull knew something was amiss and our window of opportunity was
closing fast. Slowing down to a fast walk we moved quickly through the
timber until a little "pocket" meadow became visible. In
reality it was more than a slender thread of grass that provided a break
in the verdant pines, but it was here that we would find the elk.
Just as
we set foot in the opening, two or three cows trotted down slope towards
our position. Realizing that the bull was nearby, we waited for him
to give away his position. It didn't take long for that to happen. First,
more cows filtered into the grass and milled about and then the bull
made his emergence.
Moving
from our right a little more than 100 yards in front of us, the heavy-antlered
elk took command of his herd.
Dropping
down to a sitting position, I used a pine sapling to rest the Winchester
Model 70 bolt-gun. Now, it was only a matter of waiting for the right
opportunity. The bull was clearly visible, but the milling cows prevented
a clear shot. Things were falling apart as quickly as they had come
together.
Frustrated,
I watched as the elk moved back towards the timber. Just then, Tim used
his cow call to produce a longing chirp. That's all it took to stop
the bull dead in his tracks. Bringing the scope crosshairs to a position
low and just behind the front shoulder, I waited for the last cow to
clear out of the shot path.
"He's
a good bull", Tim whispered.
The decision
was mine. Indeed, it was a fine bull with six-points on the near side
antler branch. What came next was a scene that seemed in slow
motion. I recall the bull standing there one moment and then the roar
of rifle filling my ears the next instant. It was as if I hadn't even
really squeezed the trigger at all. At the shot, the bull leaped straight
into the air and took off in a straight line for the timber. However,
I knew my target hold had been good. The words, "that's a dead
bull", came from my lips with absolute confidence.
"True
story", Tim replied.
Quickly,
we made our way up the slope to cut the bull's tracks. Elk sign was
scattered everywhere and a broad splash of fresh blood was evident in
the snow. Scanning the edge of the timber in the direction of that sanguine
evidence, we could see the bull sprawled limply not more than 50 yards
away. There was little need for a cautious approach. The 220-grain Winchester
Power Point bullet had taken the animal through both lungs, as well
as cutting an awesome hole in the top of the heart.
|
A
hot cup of campfire coffee was the best cure for sore muscles
after a hard day's hunt. |
Tim grasped
the antlers and turned them from side-to-side. "Yep, this is the
same old outlaw bull that every guide in camp has stalked at one time
or another", he said after recognizing the animal by the somewhat
irregular antler configuration. "I guess you had his number, because
none of us were able to get up on him - until this morning. His bad
luck, I guess", he went on to state.
"No
more ghost stories", I replied.
"Well,
this bull had a certain amount of Jack Bliss in his personality",
Tim stated.
Next came
field dressing and the other activities associated with primary game
care. Despite the fact that I'd taken the bull just an hour after daylight,
it was late afternoon before we were finished skinning, caping, boning
the meat, and packing back to camp. Securing the meat, cape, and antlers
in a bear-proof cache, we retired to the cook tent just in time for
dinner.
Not long
after sundown, a storm slipped in over the top of the Shoshoni Pass
and for the next three days, snow, sleet and rain completely shut the
camp down. When it finally quit snowing, Tim's words it's a good bull,
whispered just before I dropped the hammer, began to take on a whole
new meaning. While the antlers wouldn't shake the foundation of any
record book, the elk's irregular 5x6 point headgear was plenty heavy
with long tines. Taken one mile from camp, an hour into the season,
and at the edge of a storm - quite frankly, it was a great bull!
During
the next three days of storm confinement in the camp cook tent, the
legend of Jack Bliss took on new proportions. Not only had I taken what
amounted to an "outlaw bull", but everyone agreed that Jack
Bliss's ghost had finally been beaten. In time, I became known as the
"Ghost Buster", an appellation that brought gales of laughter
from the entire camp staff. The recommendation to either study the occult,
or take up "Range Detective" work seemed prominent on my
list of things to do in preparation for next year's elk hunt.
Trip
Facts
AREA
HUNTED: The Bliss creek intersection with the south fork of
the Shoshoni River, approximately 40 miles west of Cody, Wyoming.
TRANSPORATION: The Cody, Wyoming airport may be accessed via the Denver, Colorado hub.
Vehicular transportation to the trailhead is provided by the outfitter.
Due to the nature of the rugged trail into Bliss Creek, the horseback
ride into hunting camp takes approximately nine hours.
SPECIAL
REGULATIONS: Big game hunters must wear at least one outer
garment (hat, vest, shirt, jacket, or coat) of hunter (blaze) orange.
The minimum age to hunt big game is 14 years of age. In designated Wilderness
areas, non-resident hunters are required to hunt with a guide.
WEATHER
CONDITIONS: October in Wyoming can bring a full range of weather
conditions, including rain, sleet, snow, and ice. Daytime high temperatures
can range into the 60s, but expect below freezing night-time temperatures.
GUNS
& LOADS: The author used a Winchester Model 70 bolt-gun,
chambered in .338 Winchester Magnum, firing factory-loaded Winchester
ammunition with a 220-grain Power-Point bullet. Other suitable calibers
for elk in mixed cover include: .30-06 Sprgfld., .356 Win., 7mm
Rem. Mag., .300 Win.Mag., .35 Whelen, .350 Rem. Mag., and the .375 Win.
Magnum.
OTHER
CONSIDERATIONS: Waterproof boots or insulated packs, along
with a change of socks for each hunting day, are essential for foot
comfort. Proven rain gear must be carried afield daily. While your outfitter
may be able to provide a rifle scabbard and saddle bags, acquiring your
own makes real sense.
OUTFITTER: The author hunted with Bliss Creek Outfitters and rated their
services as outstanding. For information on their hunt package, contact:
Tim Doud, P.O. Box 2776, Cody, WY 82414, 307/527-6103. A complete listing of outfitters and guides can be
obtained by contacting: Wyoming Outfitters Association, P.O. Box 2284,
Cody, WY 82414, 307/527-7453, FAX 307-587-8633.
HUNTING REPORTS: OUTLAW BULL
