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Reports > 2018 > November > Thursday 01
Thursday, November 1, 2018
By Eric Granstrom
For, I'm Eric Granstrom. For some, it's the smell of bacon. For others, it's fresh-ground coffee. And still others it's the scent of a loved one's perfume. But for me, as strange as it may sound, it's the unmistakable smell of a bull elk that gets my heart pumping. Last weekend, I climbed up a mountainside in the pre-dawn dark with the help of a full moon to see where I was going. The environment around me was still dripping from the heavy rains that fell that night before. The wind swirled through the tree tops rising in volume as it was combed by the needles of the pines. My footfalls were thankfully quiet as a church mouse because of two day's worth of heavy rain. I finally crested the ridge and found a spot nestled in a cluster of trees, straining to see down several pathways converging near my hiding spot. It was perfect. As another swirl of wind whipped through the forest floor, I breathed deeply and smelled him, a bull, somewhere in the neighborhood. Finally, I could see, 60-yards away he stood. A beautiful 5x5 bull elk and with him a 1x2. Too bad I was in a true spike area. Until next time, Good Fishing!