Tucked into the heart of Gunnison County, The Pitkin Hotel feels less like a stop along your journey and
more like coming home. Built in the early 1900s and lovingly restored, the hotel recently celebrated its f irst year of reopening and now offers year-round hospitality with modern comfort and historic char m. Inside you’ll f ind Bon Ton Bistro, serving brunch, lunch, and dinner daily with craft cocktails, and top notch service Step outside to Venue 1904, the outdoor venue with a full bar, event space, wood-f ired pizza oven and food menu, and live entertainment all spring and summer
Tucked into the heart of Gunnison County, The Pitkin Hotel feels less like a stop along your journey and
more like coming home. Built in the early 1900s and lovingly restored, the hotel recently celebrated its f irst year of reopening and now offers year-round hospitality with modern comfort and historic char m. Inside you’ll f ind Bon Ton Bistro, serving brunch, lunch, and dinner daily with craft cocktails, and top notch service Step outside to Venue 1904, the outdoor venue with a full bar, event space, wood-f ired pizza oven and food menu, and live entertainment all spring and summer
From casual dinners to lively weekends, weddings to corporate events, The Pitkin Hotel is your full-service destination for unforgettable experiences With boutique hotel accommodations, versatile event spaces, on-site and mobile catering, and dedicated service, we make every moment, whether casual or once-in-a-lifetime, one to remember
From casual dinners to lively weekends, weddings to corporate events, The Pitkin Hotel is your full-service destination for unforgettable experiences With boutique hotel accommodations, versatile event spaces, on-site and mobile catering, and dedicated service, we make every moment, whether casual or once-in-a-lifetime, one to remember
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| (970) 641-8802 | www.pitkinhotel.com
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
For most people, the idea of going in search of a miserable experience outdoors just seems, well, crazy. You can just imagine how that conversation would go.
“Wait, you want me to carry this gear up that mountain? In the dark? Ice on the ground? Subzero temperatures? Seriously?”
And yet, that is exactly what (most) hunters put themselves through every year. Call that crazy if you want, but Gunnison writer and hunter Sean
Bennett has a different point of view. To him, the hardship of hunting is not just a form of pointless masochism. It is an act of integrity, honoring the long human tradition of providing for ourselves. For that matter, it’s a show of respect for the animals whose lives we take in the process.
This edition of Hunting: A Guide to the Gunnison Valley is chock full of that kind of firstperson wisdom that comes from leaving the virtual world most of us “inhabit” through screens and undertaking a quest that’s about as real and hands-on as it gets.
For example, Connor Clark shares the once-ina-lifetime experience of teaching his 5-year-old daughter, Harper Jo, to call turkeys — then watching her do it for the first time during a successful hunt. Danica Bona pulls back the veil on what it’s like to be a nursing mom on the hunt — and to shoulder responsibility for teaching her kids why it matters.
You’ll read all that plus some hot insider fly fishing tips from Gunnison River guide Dave Pinkerton; Dutch oven recipes from foodie Enid Holden; fire safety tips from Gunnison Fire Chief Hugo Ferchau; and a peek into the history of hunting in the Gunnison Country.
Welcome to hunting season! We’re proud to keep you informed, inspired and entertained while you’re out there.
Alan Wartes
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Photo by Connor Clark
ALAN WARTES MEDIA
HOW TO MAKE 'LITTLE HUNTING BUDDIES'
(Photos by Connor Clark)
by Connor Clark
Hunting is, and has always been, more than a hobby for me and my family. Passion and obsession are two overused words in the hunting world, but that’s fine, because neither of those quite cover it for me. As part of the third generation, still learning to hunt the Gunnison Basin, it is my responsibility to pass on the knowledge, the experiences and the ethics to the fourth generation that were passed to me from my father and his father before him.
I had one of the most memorable fall hunting seasons of my life in 2024, with a Gunnison moose tag, a Colorado whitetail tag and the closing of a multi-year quest for a mature tom lion in the basin. These successful hunts gave me species six, seven and eight in my pursuit of the
Colorado ‘Big Nine’ with a bow.
But there was one hunt that year that beat them all.
Two days after killing the lion, I scheduled the MRI that I had been avoiding for a few years. With an epic hunting season behind me and baby number three on the way, it seemed time to finally get my shoulder fixed. After a long few months of recovery, physical therapy and good eating, I started to get the hunting itch once again. It turns out I wasn’t the only one.
My five-year-old daughter, Harper Jo, started asking in February if she could go turkey hunting with me that year. I jokingly said she could come with me if she learned how to use a turkey call. She kept asking almost every day, so I struck a deal with her. With her new brother due in a few months, I told her if she put herself to sleep and stayed in her own bed for continued on 10
COMMITTED TO THE PROTECTION OF THE UPPER GUNNISON WATERSHED AND WATER RIGHTS FOR ALL OF ITS USERS FOR OVER 65 YEARS
ten nights in a row without getting up, I would buy her a box call so she could start practicing. She took it very seriously. After those 10 nights she had her very own box call that she squawked around the house with until her mother’s hair went grey.
As we neared the opener, we waited patiently for her second brother Coby Creede Clark to make his arrival, which he did on April 16. After about three weeks of settling into our new life with three kids at home, my wife — being the saint she is — said, “You need to go take that little girl hunting.”
My shoulder was beginning to function again, but I wasn’t sure it was well enough to take the kick of a 12-gauge turkey load. When I asked the therapists about that, their eye roll was followed by an emphatic “no!” But, where there is a will, there is a way. They agreed that a .410 would be safe for me to shoot while the shoulder was still healing.
So, I went to my gun safe and pulled out a treasure I hadn’t seen in quite a while — a 1945 Winchester model 42, .410 pump action that my grandfather gave me on my tenth birthday. It had been almost two decades since I shot it, but now I had a perfect reason to do so again.
After a long drive in the dark, we hit our spot with perfect timing, twentyfive minutes before first light. She was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the whole way. We waited to make our ascent up the mountain until we could see. First light basked over the north facing snow banks, aspens and pines. The scent of fresh earth and the vision of my little
in her eyes. I felt like I was looking in a mirror, the way she looked back at me. Opening day jitters manifest themselves in different ways for different people, but she was processing them just as I do — serious, excited, cautious, but with a one-track mind on the mission at hand. It made me proud.
When we reached the big tree on the mesa, I told her to sit back and just look and listen. After about 10 minutes, she hit the box call again and immediately received a response from a hen. It seemed fairly far away, but we remained stationary. I had her call again, and the hen’s reply became more clear. I told her to let the hen come in looking and squawking, and let her call in all the toms, or at least make them tell us where they are.
The hen came into view a hundred yards away, actively searching for the source of the noise, and we remained still as she kept coming closer. At about 50 yards she went behind a bush. I looked through binoculars when she came back into view and, to my surprise, I saw she had a beard at least 6 inches long.
Harper and I planned our daddydaughter date for May 4. She is such a heavy sleeper (like her dad) that I thought it might be difficult to get her moving that early in the morning. But when I touched her shoulder and told her it’s time to go turkey hunting, she almost busted my nose flying out of bed to get her camo on.
girl hiking in front of me almost overwhelmed my senses as I fought back happy tears.
I couldn’t have cared less if the day worked out as I had seen it in my dreams, as long as she had the time of her life doing it with her daddy. As we worked our way up the steep slope, I would stop and tell her to hit her box call. We did this about every 100 yards on our way up to the top of the mesa, and I was pleased with the way it sounded. I was even more pleased with the fiery look of intent and the seriousness
I slowly put the binoculars down and grabbed to old 42 and looked at Harper Jo. I said as quietly and motionless as I could, “We can shoot this hen, or we can wait for a tom.” Her response was something I will cherish forever. She said, “Shoot it, Dad,” and slowly covered her ears.
I clicked the shotgun to fire and, when the hen appeared again at 30 yards, still heading our way, I pulled up and shot, hitting the mark. Harper Jo and I jumped up in excitement, high-fiving and hugging. I could not believe my eyes. It actu-
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Harper Jo Clark at the conclusion of her first hunt.
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ally worked. My 5-year-old daughter had just called in a turkey and I shot it with a gun given to me by one of the first generation of Clark’s in Gunnison, in hopes that I would carry the passion on. There I was, years after his death, passing it onto the fourth generation.
It was truly a full circle moment for me, and I tried to soak it in and etch it into my memory. I hoped my grandpa saw it all play out from a bird’s eye view in the sky and that he was filled with as much pride as I was. Just as I learned to do as a kid, after taking the life of an animal that God provided for us, Harper Jo and I bowed our heads over the turkey, embraced and thanked God for the meals he provided, for the experience, and for the ability to do what we love to do. I hoped this was the spark that would light the fire in her, and eventually be passed down to the fifth generation of
Clark’s in my beloved Gunnison.
After I finished typing this, I planned to start packing for an archery antelope hunt that started in a few days. Guess who’s coming with me? You got it: Harper Jo Clark. And a few days later, she will generously trade spots so her very loud 3.5-year-old brother Cannon Phelps Clark can get his introduction as well.
As the saying goes: “The only way to raise little huntin’ buddies, is to take them little buddies huntin’.” That’s exactly what I plan to do. Good luck to all chasing a dream this fall. May the sun be at your back and the breeze in your face.
(Connor Clark is a Gunnison hunter and writer.)
Connor Clark.
YOU FILLED YOUR TAG
(Courtesy Dave Pinkerton)
by Dave Pinkerton
You got the elk-hunting unit you wanted, negotiated a five-day pass from family responsibilities and shot a real nice bull on day two. Now what?
Okay, you have a bit of a headache from celebrating last night. Fine. You spent the morning dealing with the meat processor and taxidermist. Three and a half days of taking in the local highlights is not your style. You’d rather be hunting or fishing. Since the hunting part is over, you start thinking about fishing.
But mountain trout streams are a bit foreign to you. Yeah, you threw in your spinning gear at the last minute — you’re even willing to rent some flyfishing gear. But where do you go? What do you use? What’s the best technique?
Fortunately, the Gunnison area has lots of opportunities with easy access and good chances of success.
Let’s keep it simple — so you spend the most time fishing and the least time tangled in bushes, fishing low-percentage water or driving around lost. We’ll stay close — no more than a 15-minute drive from the center of Gunnison. We’ll start downstream, which is west of Gunnison, and work our way to town, then north along Hwy. 135 toward Almont. And we’ll stay on the Gunnison River. The East River is quite low in Fall and the Taylor is difficult to wade and has lots of brush on the banks. Here we go:
Hwy. 50
Wilson’s Landing: (mm 149.5)
As you drive west to east toward Gunnison on Hwy. 50, about a mile upstream from Blue Mesa Reservoir is a pull off on the right with a pit toilet and plenty of easy river access up and down stream. The turn off and parking area are marked by good signage. You can walk downstream a half mile before hitting a steep bank of rocks. Upstream has lots more access and several excellent places to fish.
Look for water that has current, but not standing waves. Behind rocks is always a good place for trout to hold. Also, look for
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where the river bends like an elbow, then fish the inside curve of the elbow. This is where food tends to settle or at least slow down and trout can get a meal without fighting the current as much.
Avoid long and wide stretches with few features. If you have waders, wade out until you see a change in the relative darkness of the water. This means there is a drop or channel. Fish tend to hold in and along these “color” changes. These color changes can be small — maybe only a few square yards. Fish to them anyway. If you don’t get a hit, move to the next one. There are thousands of these to be had in an afternoon of fishing on the Gunnison.
Beaver
Creek: (mm 150)
A little closer to town is the Beaver Creek picnic area on the left side of Hwy. 50. Park there and take the path through the tunnel and under the highway to the river. There is a great hole downstream from the confluence of Beaver Creek and the Gunnison River for about 50 yards. There is an island about 100 yards downstream and two channels. The roadside channel holds several nice trout.
Walking upstream from the confluence, you’ll find a very fishy inside elbow followed by smaller features that look like little coves. Most of these coves have riffles and small channels with darker water that indicates good holding water. You can walk all the way upstream to the next spot, Cooper West.
Coopers West and Coopers: (mm 150.75 and 151.25)
Both of these parking areas have pit toilets and ample parking. You have to park 50 yards downstream from the Coopers West pit toilet and follow the trail that goes to the river. Downstream takes you to Beaver Creek. Upstream brings you to a series of long, deep holes that hold trout. Start at the bottom of each hole and look for the changes in color mentioned before. That is, do your best to select where you throw your fly or lure for a reason. And that reason is you think you see good holding water where a trout is likely to be. Randomly tossing your fly out there is not an effective strategy.
Neversink: (mm 151.75)
This access point is where the river braids into separate channels. The main channel — the one you want to fish — is about a half mile south of the parking lot. Neversink also has picnic tables and a pit toilet. Park in the eastern-most portion of the area and take the wide, gravel trail upstream about 50 yards. You will see a narrow willow tunnel that fishermen have made to get to a side channel of the Gunnison.
Wade across and you will see a foot trail that heads mostly south, winding through cottonwoods. About halfway to the main channel, you’ll encounter a fork in the trail. Take either one to the main channel — another five-minute walk. Once you are at the main channel, fish the big, obvious holes and the little features that are between the big ones.
Hwy. 135
Van Tuyl Lease: (mm 1)
Now traveling south to north along Hwy. 135, you’ll begin with a complete gem of a place to fish, but finding it can be tricky for visitors. Do an internet search on Van Tuyl hiking loop or fishing access. Specifically, search for Charmar Park, operated by the City of Gunnison. Charmar is the place to park. Walk across a small bridge for about a half mile toward the cliffs, which are west. There are great holes up and down the river.
For a different access point, follow the Van Tuyl loop trail north along the river and look for easy access points. They are easy to spot. Don’t cross any fences. The access points have gates or are direct paths to the river. This water is faster moving
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A nice brown trout in fall colors from below Wilson's Landing.
Fat autumn rainbow out of the Gunnison River from between Beaver Creek and Cooper's West.
Evan Smith with fall rainbow from north end of Van Tuyl lease.
A rainbow from the lower section of the Van Tuyl lease.
than the lower Gunnison and wading is more difficult.
Almont Campground: (mm 9)
This campground is not heavily used in the fall. This means you will likely have easy access to many very productive holes and runs. There are willows and cottonwoods that crowd the banks, so take note.
Gear and flies
Spin fishermen can use any standard lure such as a Mepps, Dare Devil and even spoons. The key is to keep it moving. The river is shallow in fall. If you let it drop, it will snag quickly. Fly fishermen around here typically use a 9-foot, 5-wt graphite rod. The 4X tippet is usually small enough for the conditions around here.
Several standard flies work well on the Gunnison. For nymphs use a prince, pheasant tail or hare’s ear in hook sizes ranging from 12 to 18. For underwater attractor patterns use San Juan worms or artificial eggs, especially if you are fishing between mid-October and early November.
Most nymph fishermen use a little weight to get the flies on the bottom and a strike indicator (bobber). When the bobber twitches in the slightest way, set the hook. Yes, sometimes the twitch is the bottom, but often it is a trout. The strike indicator twitches the same way. Remember, sets are free.
Dry fly action is not likely in the fall. If you know how to use streamers, then throw almost any pattern from a woolly bugger to sculpzilla, usually the bigger the better. Black streamers offer an excellent contrast against the bright surface water. Remember, trout are looking up.
Don’t forget to get a license and have it on your person. Be certain to check Colorado bag limit regulations as they change. Where you buy your license will give you a brochure with regulations if you ask. Catch and release is the only way to be able to sustain the fishery. Besides, taking fish home in a cooler usually results in spoiled fish.
If you got a nice elk as well as a bunch of grab-and-grin pictures with you holding fat rainbow or brown trout — now that would be a hunting trip to remember!
(Dave Pinkerton is a Gunnison-based fishing guide and writer.)
Plentiful ‘sage chickens’ and big game
Gunnison Country hunting in the 1800s
(Courtesy Hugh “Sonny” Carpenter and George Carpenter.)
by David Primus
I(Author's note: This is largely based on “History of Cochetopa National Forest” written in 1924.
The Cochetopa National Forest was southeast of Gunnison and later integrated into the Gunnison, Rio Grande, and San Isabel national forests. By 1924, Western Colorado had been under the influence of European colonists for over fifty years. That said, a look at Colorado history in 1924 was rich with personal accounts from people who were still living at the time. The “History of Cochetopa National Forest” is an interesting read covering many subjects, one of which is game.)
ndigenous people — in this part of Colorado, the Tabeguache Utes — had actively hunted game for food, clothing, shelter and tools for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. In the early 1800s, fur trappers began trapping in Colorado and to the northwest. They were largely after the plentiful beaver, which were found on both sides of the Continental Divide.
Many trappers bought supplies in Taos and then traveled through Colorado on part of the Old Spanish Trail. The North Branch went through the San Luis Valley, over Cochetopa Pass, then through present-day Gunnison, Montrose and Grand Junction. Antoine Roubideau, a French trapper, established a trading post at the confluence of the Uncompahgre
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and Gunnison Rivers near today's Delta. Kit Carson, Bill Williams, Jim Beckwourth and many other trappers often used this trail.
General Edward Beale, on his 1853 expedition, killed a mountain sheep near the top of Cochetopa Pass and reported noticing elk horns and buffalo skulls. His journal mentions seeing antelope, deer and large numbers of grouse. These were likely Gunnison Sage-grouse, called "sage chickens" by many old-timers. Today a threatened species, they provided a reliable food source for settlers well into the twentieth century. George Carpenter, living north of Gunnison in the 1950s, remembers seeing over three hundred sage-grouse on the slopes of Flat Top and Red Mountain.
Buffalo were likely wholly exterminated locally before colonists arrived in the 1860s. But before then, they were a common sight in both the San Luis Valley and the Gunnison Valley, traveling between the valleys over Cochetopa Pass. "Cochetope" is a Ute word for "buffalo." The Spanish called the pass "El puerto de los cibolos," which translates as "buffalo gate." The Utes called Cochetopa Creek "Coochumpah," which means "buffalo creek."
An 1884 newspaper article relates the memories of an old-timer who was placer mining near Crested Butte in the 1860s. He remembers walking through today's Gunnison in the fall of 1861, seeing numerous buffalo on today's college hill. Besides extermination, it is not known what became of the buffalo. One story, remembered in 1924, held that the Utes claimed one winter was unusually harsh, and the remaining buffalo died.
Native trout were plentiful, one person remembering, "…the fish were so thick in the water … they could be thrown out with a pitchfork." Many popular fishing resorts along the Gunnison River were established in the late 1800s. Fishing for the commercial market was common in the early days, but the supply was soon reduced to the point that it was no longer profitable.
General John C. Fremont reports easy hunting of deer in a park near today's Saguache to supply his 1853 expedition. Widespread hunting for the general market began in the 1870s and
occurred for many years. An old-timer in 1924 recalls seeing freight wagons heavily loaded with deer and elk meat. By the late 1880s, deer, elk and antelope were so scarce that commercial hunting was no longer viable. By 1890, people were starting to be concerned with the wanton slaughter of game. Although game laws were instituted, there was little enforcement. At that time, it was understood that settlers could hunt what they needed for their own use.
The first game law prosecution occurred in Gunnison in 1898. Gus Youngberg, the foreman of the Doctor Mine, killed two does. He was tried and fined $75 plus costs, although it was several years until there was an organized effort to enforce game laws. The real change occurred with the formation of the Cochetopa National Forest in 1905 and the acceptance of forest officers as deputy game wardens. Public sentiment started to change, giving the officers moral support to protect game.
At that time, only thirty head of elk remained in a small herd in Saguache Park, and mountain sheep were almost non-existent. By 1924, the elk herd had increased to one hundred, and there was a marked increase in mountain sheep.
The History of Cochetopa National Forest concludes, "The settlement of the country itself has considerably reduced the range for game animals, and whether or not they will ever again become plentiful remains to be seen."
(David Primus is a Gunnison-based historian and writer.)
Earl Carpenter with the day’s catch at the Sportsmen's Hotel.
Marilyn Rodman
A Big Horn sheep comes down the mountain.
CAPTURED
Marilyn Rodman
A young moose takes a drink from the creek.
(Courtesy Sean Bennett)
by Sean Bennett
In my hunting circle the phrase “Prime time" refers to the morning's first light and the last lingering light of the evening when animals tend to be most active. This last rifle season while hunting for Mulies my son and I nicknamed another party of hunters: “Team Prime time."
This party of two that we shared a mountain side with for a few days could be seen in their camp all day long other than being a bit late to first light and leaving a bit early in the evening. These two fellas missed seeing a lot of animals and missed out on a ton of action and adventure. Even so, my son and I enjoyed the entertainment that came from watching them immensely.
We soon determined that they were good luck for us as well. Every time that we spied them glassing from their UTV we saw deer. We passed on several medium bucks that first evening that Prime time never even saw because they were peeping through their giant spotting scopes looking at far away ridges and not right in front of them. The next evening no sooner had they left their roadside lookout when a different set of bachelor bucks appeared close by and fed until the dying light obscured them from our view.
One morning we had already spotted, stalked, failed at stalking and were eating our breakfast bars on the sunny side of a meadow before we saw our neighbors emerge for their morning shiver and spotting scope session. Team Prime Time sported the best gear and beards and they could have been on any hunting show or publication while looking the part.
This is not meant as a slight against my fellow hunters at all. I‘ll preamble this rant by stating that I too have a nice set of knockers (binoculars) that I use on the regular, and that my hunting gear borders on excessive. Still, in the modern hunting age of high tech optics, satellite mapping applications on our cell phones and instant communication from anywhere on the planet, it has become very easy to miss what is sometimes right in front of us.
Most of our hunting icons and idols are decked out in gear that costs enough to
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caution
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make a pro golfer blush. To further convolute expectations, most hunting shows today are short videos that spend most of the air time on the romantic side of hunting: beautiful glassing points, no other hunting pressure and lots of giant racks on packs silhouetted on ridge tops. All of this is enough to make a rookie hunter feel underwhelmed and defeated after a normal day out in the woods.
This is the nod to the old school. For myself, I get enjoyment out of what can only be described as the suffering that inevitably happens during hunting. This is sometimes only recognized after the fact. But most of my best memories of my hunts through the years are not the actual success, but the moments and challenges that lead up to the success or failure of the season.
This becomes even more apparent as I
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Glassy a ridge on a frosty morning.
Help with the gear on a snowy trail.
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get older and sometimes feel exasperated by my favorite hunting partner — my 15 year-old son. His love for the outdoors is rejuvenating even as his limitless energy and high expectations make me feel my age. My generation did not have much in the way of hunting shows, let alone satellite hunting apps. It also felt more serious when your hunting mentors were men that learned about survival from fighting in great wars.
I loved hunting as a youth but it also came with a certain amount of anxiety. Most of my hunting experiences were late season rifle hunts by horse back in the high mountains around Gunnison. It was cold and wet and dark and snowy most years. This turned out to be one of the biggest gifts that these trips provided me. These experiences taught me that it was okay to be uncomfortable, and I learned what my physical limits were.
The moral of this story is that hunting can be very hard on the body and the mind, but that is very much why so many of us do it — to be challenged by nature and the animals that we pursue. So, go get lost, get dirty and wet. Go see what lies behind that next ridge. Get up early and leave the roads behind and be the main character in your own story. I bet it's more interesting, and I guarantee that you will find more success.
(Sean Bennett is a Gunnison hunter and writer.)
WHERE BLAZE ORANGE MEETS THE COONSKIN CAP
Muzzleloading offers challenges and rewards
by Toni Todd
The storied history of the muzzleloader spans over 300 years of American history. These rifles were
carried by the likes of Kit Carson, Daniel Boone and Davey Crocket — “king of the wild frontier.” Even today, our everyday speech, whether we are aware of it or not, carries references to those early weapons.
“‘Lock, stock and barrel’ — that’s a muzzleloader,” said Dan Zadra, wildlife technician for Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW). Today, that phrase refers to the whole shebang, but it originated in colonial times, with a more literal meaning.
The lock refers to the hammer at the rifle’s center, in its locked or halfcocked position. “That was the safety in the old, classic muzzleloaders,”
Zadra said. You pulled the hammer back halfway, where it locked in place, and wouldn’t allow you to pull the trigger.
The stock is the wooden part of the rifle, and the barrel is the long, iron tube where you pour your powder, drop in your ball, tamp it down with a ramrod — ready, aim, fire! In the muzzleloader’s heyday, if your rifle was half-cocked, it wasn’t ready to shoot. Today, if you “go off half-cocked,” neither are you.
The old musket rifles and flintlocks have been improved upon over the
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(Photo by Constance Mahoney)
centuries. Modern muzzleloaders offer such advantages as 209 primers, pelletized powder and stubby, bulletshaped (conical) projectiles for greater accuracy, safety and efficiency. But they’re still muzzleloaders that, by their very nature, are less powerful and efficient than modern, high-powered rifles. You still have to pour in the powder, drop in your projectile and tamp it down before you shoot.
“I like the old style,” said Zadra. “I carry a powder horn and I shoot round balls.” He’s not alone.
“The classic, percussion-cap muzzleloaders are more nostalgic and historic looking and offer a more authentic shooting experience,” said Daren Glover, gun shop specialist at Gene Taylor Sporting Goods.
In Colorado no high-tech sights are allowed on muzzleloaders, only open or iron sites. The guns must also be single-barrel, firing one projectile at a time. Muzzleloader season traditionally begins in mid-September.
“It’s the best time of year to hunt,” said Glover. “The elk are in peak rut.
You have to call them in closer, which gives you a more intimate experience with them.”
Zadra agreed. “The elk are bugling,” he said. “So it’s easier to find them.”
Muzzleloaders can only hit targets up to 100 yards away, give or take, depending on the gun and the skill of the shooter, and the velocity of the projectile is much slower than a highpowered rifle. So, it’s important to use regulation-caliber projectiles and get as close as you can to your target.
Zadra said hunters often find their way to muzzleloading after they try archery first, which requires them to get even closer to their prey. But sneaking up on a clever, wary elk is easier said than done, and new bowhunters often find it frustrating.
“There’s a lot of movement with drawing a bow,” he said, which spooks the elk and makes it tough to hit them. “The next best thing is muzzleloading.” It offers a similar, intimate experience, but better odds of success.
Even so, it’s not something beginners do well if they don’t prepare for their first hunt. Whether you are shooting conical projectiles or balls,
“they lose energy so fast,” said Zadra. “It’s still considered a primitive type hunt, and we like to keep it like that. Because of that, it’s important that you know the limitations of the muzzleloader and you know your limitations, too.”
The number of wounded animals lost can be substantial, he said, referring to what happens when novice hunters don’t get off clean or accurate shots with their muzzleloaders. They end up mortally wounding an animal that runs off and dies in an inaccessible place. That’s not good for the animal or the hunter. But it can be prevented by getting to know your muzzleloader — and there’s only one way that happens:
“Practice,” said Zadra. “Practice."
(Toni Todd is a Gunnison-based writer.)
LOCAL ‘SIGHT-IN DAYS’ BOOST HUNTER CONFIDENCE
Be sure of your shot before you go
by Rick Odom
When you are finally rewarded with the opportunity to harvest an elk or a deer, being entirely confident that your
gun is exactly sighted in is of utmost importance. Every hunter owes that to himself or herself, to the entire hunting fraternity and to the animal. That’s why the Gunnison Sportsmen’s Association (GSA) is here to help. During our annual Sight-In Days each fall, GSA assists an average of 400 hunters gain that confidence.
We see many new shooters every year, and there are a high number of repeat customers, because the facilities are excellent, and we are staffed by knowledgeable and skilled volunteers. For
many hunters, Sight-In Days has become a part of the yearly hunt. Many have become friends, and they know they can leave with confidence in their firearms.
Over the years, we’ve encountered every skill level and a vast array of firearms. For sure, we see men and women who can routinely hit targets the size of a half-dollar (and smaller) at a hundred yards, or a 2x3 inch gong at 200 yards. Most of the shooters we see possess at least adequate skill and equipment, but there are always several who seem to struggle.
Volunteers from the Gunnison Sportsmen’s Association help hundreds of hunters every year sight-in their firearms. (Courtesy Gunnison Sportsmen's Association)
Three common problems have become obvious among our volunteers.
1. Not being familiar with the firearm. Too many shooters put their rifle away when the season is over, and never take it out again until the new season. Nothing beats practice for familiarity. You don’t have to practice only with your big-game rifle. Periodically take out your .22 and shoot a box of shells from the bench and from various hunting positions. Just borrowing your friend’s (or your grandpa’s or your uncle’s) rifle and heading to the woods is not the best idea. Don’t assume that Grandpa’s rifle — or the one you just bought yesterday from the sporting goods department — is ready to shoot. Iron out the preliminary familiarization issues before you head to the sight-in range.
2. Using too much gun. Recoil hurts. Knowing you’re going to get hurt makes it difficult to discipline yourself to squeeze the trigger while maintaining proper sight picture. Using a gun that produces heavy recoil is not in itself a wrong choice, but it adds to the importance of practice and familiarity. A .270 or .30-06, or even a 243 is just as lethal as a big magnum.
3. Poor equipment. Your rifle can be many years old, but it has to be properly
maintained. Don’t try to save money on a low-end scope. Make sure your mounts and rings are tight. Know how to adjust a scope. Choosing the proper ammunition for your rifle and the game you pursue is critical. Many firearms manufacturers these days are producing “bargain rifles.” Sadly, you often get what you pay for. Interestingly, the very good shooters we see simply do not display these problems.
Whether you are a hunter relatively new to shooting, or with years of experience, please come out to the range and make sure you have complete confidence in your firearm’s ability to “put the bullet where the crosshairs are.” You will be sure of your sight-in — and we’ll swap hunting stories with you.
(Rick Odom is a member of the Gunnison Sportsmen’s Association. Craig Berkoben contributed to this article.)
Gunnison Sportsmen's Assocation Sight-in Days 2025
• 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.
• Oct. 13,14 (Mon. and Tues.)
• Oct. 22,23,24
• Nov. 5,6,7
• The cost is $10 per gun.
• Save room for a delicious game lunch from 10:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. — the best anywhere.
Raffle prizes:
• Tickets are $20 or 3 for $50.
• Bergara 270 Winchester with classic walnut stock and Vortex 4x6x50 scope
• Weatherby Vanguard 25-06 with Monte Carlo walnut stock and Leupold 3x9x40 scope
2025 Hunting Season Dates
Archery Deer, Elk, Bear: Sept. 2-30
Pronghorn: Aug. 15-Sept. 20
Moose: Sept. 6-30
Bear: Sept. 2-30
Muzzleloader Deer, Elk, Moose: Sept. 13-21
Pronghorn: Sept. 21-29
Bear: Sept. 13-21
Rifle
Combined Deer/Elk 1st season: Oct. 15-19
Combined Deer/Elk 2nd season: Oct. 25-Nov. 2
Combined Deer/Elk 3rd season: Nov. 8-16
Combined Deer/Elk 4th season: Nov. 19-23
Rifle Bear
1st season: Oct. 15-19
Bear 2nd season: Oct. 25-Nov. 2
Bear 3rd season: Nov. 8-16
Bear 4th season: Nov. 19-23
Bear Private land: Sept. 2-Nov. 23
(Photo by Marilyn Rodman)
(Photo by Garrett Mogel)
Gunnison Valley Hunting
As hunting season ramps up on Colorado’s Western Slope, the fire danger has never been more real. With the entirety of Gunnison County under Stage 2 restrictions (as of Aug. 15), careful planning and vigilance are essential for a safe and responsible outing.
The 2025 fire season has been quite active. July through September is typically peak wildfire season in Colorado, and this year has brought intense heat, ongoing drought and an early snowmelt, creating tinder-dry vegetation primed for ignition. As of early August, Governor Polis declared a state of emergency for several Western Slope fires, including the massive Lee and Elk fires near Meeker. The National Interagency Fire Center elevated its preparedness level (a metric based on fire activity and resource availability) to Level 4 out of 5 across the region.
Fire Restrictions in Gunnison County
Stage 2 – Often referred to as a “fire ban”
All of unincorporated Gunnison County, including the lands managed by the BLM Gunnison Field Office and the Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison (GMUG) National Forests, is under Stage 2 restrictions, effective since Aug. 15, 2025
Stage 2 is significantly more restrictive than Stage 1. Stage 2 prohibits:
• All campfires, charcoal grills, wood-burning stoves, etc. are banned — even at developed sites.
• Smoking is only allowed inside enclosed vehicles, trailers or buildings.
• No welding, torches, exploding targets or fireworks.
• Motor vehicles, ATVs, chainsaws, generators require spark arresters, and you must park in areas clear of vegetation within 10 ft.
Stage 1
If conditions warrant, the area may revert to Stage 1 restrictions:
• Campfires only in permanent, agency installed metal fire rings at developed sites; no open fires elsewhere.
• Smoking only within enclosed vehicles/buildings or cleared barren areas of a minimum 3 ft diameter.
• Use of exploding targets or fire -
works is prohibited.
• Welding or open-flame torches except in cleared 10 ft. areas with fire extinguishers.
• Chainsaws, generators, or other engines unless equipped with approved spark arresters
Tips for hunters
• Know which restrictions apply before heading out. Check whether the area you are camping or hunting in falls under current fire restrictions. Be sure of specific rules that may apply for the appropriate land management agency.
• Leave campfires at home. Even under Stage 1, use only designated fire grates or a gas/stove device that’s fully enclosed.
• Bring a camp stove. Gas-fueled devices are typically allowed (potentially even under Stage 2), provided they’re used per regulations.
• Equip your gear properly. Ensure spark arresters on all combustion engines. Carry a fire extinguisher and shovel if using chainsaws.
• Park responsibly. Avoid high grasses — park on bare ground or cleared areas to prevent spark ignitions.
• Be ready to exit fast. With the potential for aggressive wildfires, remain alert to sudden closures or evacuation orders.
• Report fires immediately. Call 911 or the local dispatch if you see a defined plume of smoke or fire.
Hunters on the Western Slope must adapt to a high-risk fire environment. Whether you’re calling in elk or scouting deer, treat every spark as a potential wildfire. By following the restrictions, using proper gear and staying informed, you help protect not only yourself, but the entire hunting corridor, communities and critical lands for future seasons.
Information regarding current restrictions can be found by calling the Gunnison County Sheriff's Office at 970.641.1113, the GMUG National Forest at 970.641.0471 and the BLM Gunnison Field Office at 970.642.4940.
(Source: Gunnison County Fire Protection District)
Your Gunnison Valley and Rural Western Slope Specialist
Bobby Overturf Broker Associate
719.216.2524 bobby@bbre1.com bbre1.com
LASTING LEGACY ON THE LAND
Museum captures history of hunting in the
Tucked between the towering peaks of the Elk Mountains and the roll ing sagebrush mesas of Western Colorado, the Gunnison Valley holds a long and storied rela tionship with hunting — one that stretches back thousands of years. From Indigenous peoples who first roamed the region, to modern-day sports men and women, the valley’s hunting legacy is deeply interwoven with its culture, economy and ecological identity.
Indigenous hunting traditions
Long before European settlers arrived, PaleoIndian groups and later the Ute people, particu larly the Tabeguache and Uncompahgre bands, relied on the Gunnison Valley area as hunt ing grounds. For these Indigenous groups, hunt ing was a means of sus tenance and a cultural cornerstone. Elk, mule deer and bighorn sheep roamed the region in abundance, and the seasonal migrations of these animals shaped pat terns of movement and settlement.
Ute hunters employed a variety of tech niques. These methods were born of a deep understanding of the land and the animals’ behaviors — knowledge passed down through generations. Even today, descendants of these Indigenous communities maintain hunting traditions, blending ancestral practices with modern methods.
many tributaries — became prime terrain for trapping. By the 1840s, the beaver population had been heavily depleted throughout the Rockies, and fashion trends in Europe began shifting away from beaver felt. The fur trade collapsed just as interest in westward expansion — and eventually settlement — began to rise.
Settlers and subsistence
In the wake of the fur trade and the reservation treaties that restructured Ute life, a new wave of Euro-American settlers arrived. The late 1800s brought miners, ranchers and homesteaders to the area. For these early settlers, hunting was both a necessity and a means of survival. Elk, deer, grouse and rabbits were regularly harvested to feed families living in remote, harsh conditions.
The impacts of this influx of people were dramatic. By 1910, unregulated hunting had led to significant declines in game populations. In response, the Colorado legislature began to pass some of the first wildlife protection laws. These early regulations laid the groundwork for the formal conservation movement that followed.
While large-scale settlement had not yet reached the area, it became part of the Rocky Mountain fur trade, which centered around high-demand pelts — especially beaver.
Beaver fur was the foundation of a booming international market, driven by the fashion for felt hats in Europe and the eastern United States. Between roughly 1820 and 1840, the valley's rivers — including the Gunnison River and its
Sport and stewardship
The mid-1900s marked a transition in the culture of hunting in the Gunnison Valley. As wildlife populations stabilized and conservation took hold, hunting evolved from a necessity to a recreational pursuit. The establishment of the Colorado Division of Wildlife (now Colorado Parks and Wildlife) led to more sophisticated wildlife management,
including habitat restoration, scientific monitoring and limited hunting seasons.
During this time, the Gunnison Valley gained a reputation as a premier destination for big game hunting. The vast expanses of the Gunnison National Forest, the West Elk Wilderness, and adjacent Bureau of Land Management lands provided ideal habitat for high alpine game. Hunters flocked to the region each fall, fueling a burgeoning outdoor recreation economy. Local outfitters and guides flourished.
Conservationists and wildlife officials also reintroduced species such as bighorn sheep and expanded elk herds, reversing decades of decline. These efforts, funded largely through hunting license fees and federal conservation taxes, demonstrated how regulated hunting could coexist with and support wildlife conservation.
Conservation, controversy and change
In recent decades, the Gunnison Valley has faced new challenges related to wildlife management and land use. The discovery of the Gunnison Sagegrouse — a species unique to the region — brought national attention to the fragile ecosystems of the high desert and sagebrush steppe.
At the same time, increased recreational use of public lands, development pressures and prolonged droughts have strained game populations. Elk, while still present in large numbers, have shifted their migration patterns and become harder to manage. Nonetheless, hunters remain central to conservation in the valley.
Technology has also changed the game. GPS mapping, trail cameras and advanced optics have made hunting more accessible and efficient — but have also raised ethical questions within the hunting community about fair chase and land access.
Today, hunting in the Gunnison Valley is more than just a sport — it’s a way of life. For some, it’s about tradition and connection to family. For others, it’s about procuring local, sustainable meat. And for many, it’s a direct link to the rhythms of the land and the wildlife that depend on it.
(Source: Crested Butte Museum)
226 N. Main St. • Gunnison
AGE OLD TRADITIONS FOR A NEW AGE OF HUNTERS
(Photos by Forrest Czarnecki)
Adult first-timers get big-game experience through CPW’s novice hunter program
by Forrest Czarnecki
(Reprinted with permission from Colorado Outdoors Magazine.)
The gravel crunches beneath my Silverado’s wheels as I turn into a small parking lot off the county road.
I throw a cheerful wave out the window as I pass a couple of folks standing behind another truck — a woman sporting a workwear jacket with hiking boots, and a man clad in camouflage, wearing an orange cap.
I know I’m in the right place.
Pepper Canterbury and David French both greet me with a handshake and hello.
Pepper is the Northeast Region Hunting and Angling Coordinator with Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW), and she’s the weekend’s Hunt Lead. David is in his mid30s, decked out in earth-tone clothes, and has never been on a big-game hunt. He also has a huge smile.
We chat while waiting for Phil Harbison to arrive. Phil is a longtime volunteer with CPW’s hunter outreach program and the other Hunt Lead for this weekend.
When he pulls into the parking lot, he’s got a grin, salt and pepper beard, and quick wit. It doesn’t take long to tell he loves these adventures. We all hit the road in a miniature convoy, winding our way up into the foothills and the property we’re hunting for the next two days.
On the way up to camp, I’m thinking about David.
His outdoorsman odyssey is just beginning. After a couple of years chasing small game and turkeys across Colorado, he’s about to experience his first big-game hunt.
This weekend’s expedition is hosted by CPW’s hunter outreach program and offers youth and adult novice hunters the
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chance to learn about hunting. This weekend’s focus is mule deer.
For David, the next 72 hours depend on months of preparation: applying for the license through the hunter outreach program, researching gear, physical and mental training, firearm safety training and practicing at the range. Now, for the 37-year-old first-timer, it’s all coming together.
Arriving in camp, we find the heavy snowfall two weeks prior left a nice surprise for us. One of the heavy-duty canvas wall tents collapsed under a mountain of snow.
Access to camp was impossible as the early season snowstorm pounded the Front Range. Steel poles supporting the tent are buckled like bendy straws; a once proud canvas hotel is reduced to a heap of rumpled, frozen fabric. We all jump in and make quick work of it, breaking down the former living quarters, and within an hour or so a new tent is move-in ready.
Pepper and Phil run through a gear list with David before the afternoon’s hunt.
License? Check. Orange vest and hat? Check. Game bags? Check. After a bit of light banter and a couple of loaner items, the list is complete.
We all discuss the hunt plan for the afternoon: safety, tactics and areas to scout. The excitement was previously at a simmer, and by now it’s a low rolling boil. Everyone is itching to be in the field.
Phil and I pile into the backseat of
Pepper’s truck and David hops in the passenger seat, gear in tow. His cheeks are a bit rosy, and his smile is as big as ever. For David, stories of deer hunting have always been second hand, something he’s heard about from friends or read about. His bright eyes scan the woods as we bump down the old ranch road.
Now, the eager novice — dressed in fluorescent orange, gripping the front handle on the dash of the truck and grinning from ear to ear — is about to have deer hunting stories of his own.
We see some animals moving across the hills opposite of us, so Pepper parks the truck and we make haste on foot.
Pepper leads us to the southern slope of a hill overlooking several expansive drainages.
It’s a quiet place to settle in — tucked away from the reach of nearby cactus — where our binoculars can roam the faraway hills. The evening unfolds slowly here. We soak it in. City lights flicker to life at the mouth of the canyon below us. But turning the other way, there’s a sense of wilderness, vast and rugged.
“There’s one to the left, behind the tree,” Phil says, spotting a deer in the distance. “That might be a spike [young male with short, unbranched antlers].”
“Where are you going? Up? Into all that snow?” Pepper says quietly, as if talking to the distant animal, her binoculars glued to the far side of the ravine.
The clouds have a brilliant, overpowering glow at sunset. Golden light soaks the entire landscape as greens and browns
take on a golden hue and the pink turns to purple above us.
The first evening hunt is coming to a close, leaving behind an unpunched tag and building anticipation. Several elk make their way up a distant hillside, while deer tracks surround us in the patchy snow — some from days ago, others from just hours prior.
Light conversation continues to punctuate the evening, everyone scanning for movement or the outline of an animal.
We sit and watch faded blue shadows dash across a steep snow-covered slope. The quickening light plays tricks on our eager minds, but we can still see the movement of deer between the shrubs. A doe breaks across the clearing we’re watching. Past the shrubs and saplings, back through the clearing and into a dark thicket.
More deer follow, in a seasonal game of hide and seek. Dark masses bound across the gray blanket and into the abyss of tree cover. Too many hundreds of yards away. Too little light. We sit and watch, amused and curious.
The rut is on
Back at the tent, rounds and rounds of Uno follow a delicious home-cooked meal courtesy of Pepper. The soft patter of playing cards on the table chews up the time. Nearly endless gut laughs and snickers fill the tent. A shallow sigh of resignation. No greens. No fours. What seem like increasingly made up rules carry us through the evening.
The smiles roll on until the final round wraps up, goodnights are said, and we all turn in for the evening.
In the predawn stillness, the slam of a door on Pepper’s truck and low rumble of the engine heading out of camp stirs the heart and flutters the eyelids. It’s close to five o’clock in the morning, which means one thing — time to get after it.
“Oh I’m bloody cold,” David says with a chuckle after climbing out of his sleeping bag. “Let’s kick this heater on, if you don’t mind?”
Not all sleep is created equal in hunting camp. But soon enough it’s breakfast and coffee. The cold wears off. A kerosene heater stands sentinel in the cook tent, a soft purr kicking out radiant warmth.
Punching through the top crust of snow, softer ice crystals float off the bottom of our boots and scatter with each footfall. Phil, David and I move at a steady but
continued on 39
Phil Harbison scans for movement among the trees. Harbison acts as a leader for the trip and provides insight and instructions to the hunters as they look to harvest their first big game animal.
stealthy pace through the woods, working toward a spot to “sit and glass,” to survey the landscape.
Hushed tones and ritual wisdom guide our steps this morning. Move quietly and check for scat and tracks. Watch for animals on the edges of the forest. Scan for white rumps or parabolic ear movements. Check the wind.
David is keenly listening and watching as Phil passes on some hunting insights.
Just below the top of a gentle ridge, we find our spot. We sit among the shadows, nearly as cold and stiff as the granite boulders we see across the valley.
“Moose!” Phil quietly blurts out, all of us freezing in place. A spectacular old bull, a leviathan, rises from his bed about 150 yards away.
What seemed to be an old burnt out log on the edge of the meadow before sunrise is now a wonderfully mature moose. Gray around the edges of his muzzle and on the crest of his mountainous shoulders. Antlers that are nearly 45 inches across by any estimate.
We watch in amazement as he lumbers to the middle of a clearing and begins working his bulbous nose around the tips of a mountain mahogany bush.
A lone magpie’s rasping call breaks the stillness. Bright golden-orange light rims the fir boughs in front of us. One of the best ways to experience the sunrise — total silence, watching the land come to life.
We watch the moose for a few minutes more before moving on. There are no deer in the area.
It feels like early fall, but winter is only a few weeks away now. The calm of the morning is punctuated by a soft choir of bugles and clacking of antler on antler behind another ridge.
Two small specks of orange, mere ants among the landscape, wind across the canyon opposite of us. It’s Pepper, who had coordinated an early morning meetup with the weekend’s second adult novice hunter, and they started in on their morning hunt rather than return to camp.
Phil, David and I wait for the distant boom of a rifle, but only silence meets us. The ants march on. But hope springs eternal, this the hunter knows.
It’s unseasonably warm — there’s crunchy grass underfoot, an occasional breeze, full sun. The remaining white
Local Hunting History
331 Elk Avenue Crested Butte
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swatches across the hillsides shrink into themselves with each passing minute. Mature ponderosas watch over us, just travelers. We tread so lightly that our visit barely registers on the land. But we’ll likely have a small impression among the resident deer herd — at least that’s the goal.
In addition to providing an educational experience and introduction to the sport for novices, this weekend’s hunt also plays a larger and more important role in mule deer herd management.
“Hunting is a tool,” Pepper says.
This mule deer hunt specifically is an important tool in the work belt of wildlife and land managers. Harvesting an animal from this herd informs county land managers and wildlife biologists of the herd’s health. Chronic wasting disease prevalence, male-to-female ratios and population size data can all be drawn from the weekend’s hunt.
“When we can come in here and provide a little bit of pressure [on the deer] in a safe and ethical way, that [disease and population] information gets passed on to the land manager,” Pepper adds.
All of those metrics are critical for informing biologists on how to best manage herds in the area.
Phil, David and I are driving back to camp after a quick early afternoon outing, bouncing down the road and scanning the hillsides for any deer. We’re laughing about an assortment of topics. British humor. International cuisine.
Spending the weekend in the woods.
“Deer!” I exclaim, catching a glimpse of two does.
“Where?” Phil asks, slowly coming to a stop and leaning over the center console to get a better look.
David’s eyes continue scanning the hillside.
“There on the hill, immediately to our right. Maybe 50-75 yards off to the side, between those trees, in the opening,” I say, hoping there isn’t anything blocking Phil’s or David’s line of sight.
“Okay. Oh yeah, three or four of them. Let’s drive up a little ways and then put a stalk on them,” Phil says.
“Get your rifle ready,” he adds, looking at David, who is trying to keep an eye on the deer upslope of us.
Go time
The three of us slip out of the truck, careful not to slam any of the doors. We work our way up the hill behind the cover of some smaller ponderosas, and turn to see the deer busting through the trees about 120 yards to our right.
They’re dashing up and down the hill and now we see there’s four or five of them. Several deer bound across the slope and around a large rock outcropping.
“They’re getting pushed by a buck. That’s why they’re doing all this running,” Phil whispers to David.
We do an about-face and make our way down the slope while keeping an eye on the deer. Once back on the old
ranch road we use the cover of the hill and swiftly move past a cluster of trees.
The herd is now working around the rock outcropping and then, sure enough, a buck pushes a doe into a small clearing. Right into a perfect shooting lane.
David is kneeling, shooting sticks deployed in front of him with his rifle on his shoulder. Phil is at his side, watching the deer through binoculars.
The buck steps out into the clearing and stops, broadside.
“Eighty-three yards,” Phil says in a hushed voice.
What’s normally a modest crack from the rifle feels and sounds like a small cannon has gone off. The rifle’s muzzle break makes sure we know David took his shot.
David can’t have placed his shot any better. The buck drops in his tracks, and at a second glance he could be a modest brown boulder on the hillside.
Phil keeps watching through his binoculars. The buck is down.
David pulls back from his scope after a few moments, and Phil reassures him of his shot. A huge smile breaks across his face. David’s heart is still pounding, but relief and pride take over now. No more nerves, just pure excitement with a splash of adrenaline.
The rest of the deer herd has moved on. Some of them stotting away, a rhythmic two-beat jumping gait, and some of them dashing — like they were just a few minutes ago as a young buck corralled them on the hillside.
We approach the buck — it’s as still as the forest floor. David kneels down, running his fingers delicately across the hide.
“Oh that’s cool,” David says quietly, wrapping his fingers around the base of the buck’s antler. A single three point antler adorns the deer’s forehead, missing its twin that would otherwise be positioned above the right eyebrow.
Silence.
David takes in the beauty of the deer. Soft cream-colored curls of hair inside the large dish-shaped ears. The smooth feel of antler, lightly scarred and dirty from the season’s battles with other bucks. A grainy brown hide, perfectly matching the mountain landscape around us.
continued on 41
David concentrates on making specific cuts to separate the hide from the rear quarter of the deer while processing the animal back at camp. Learning how to process a deer and break it down is an important part of the weekend.
Now the real work begins
Phil guides David through tagging and field dressing the deer before taking it back to camp.
Once back at base, the lessons continue. A metal rack with a winch on it holds the deer up, hooves slightly above our heads, as David learns how to separate the different cuts of meat and remove the hide.
Soon enough, two large white cotton game bags are weighing down the stout branches of a tree on the edge of camp. Phil coaches David through processing a deer and explains the steps in properly caring for the meat and how to best prepare it for dinner.
Dusk is turning into deeper twilight when Pepper and the group’s other adult novice hunter, Nick Barnes, arrive. Pepper hops out of her truck, and the tailgate slams down with a celebratory cheer from everyone in camp.
Nick stands near the tailgate; a mature mule deer buck lays in the truck bed. Four points on one antler, and a nontypical club with some smaller tines clustered above its right eye.
Nick and Pepper are all smiles as they retell the afternoon’s hunting story.
More game processing lessons continue well into the night. Headlamps and a small propane heater keep us going until nearly 8 p.m. as Pepper tutors Nick.
The next morning, white cotton bags full of deer meat are loaded into coolers, which are then two-person lifted into truck beds. Everyone helps break down camp — it’s the end of the hunting season up here so everything must go. Metal poles clang against each other. Plastic totes are neatly stacked inside the camp trailer. Any loose items go back to their respective owners.
A couple weeks after the hunt I reach David on the phone. He’s just touched down in Denver after returning from a business trip.
“I just look back at it now as a really special experience and opportunity, from start to finish,” says David, who grew up on the outskirts of London, England.
Experiencing the outdoors on this level hadn’t been part of his life until the past decade, once he moved to the United States. Hunting wasn’t on his radar until he was nearly 30.
“In England there was nature, for sure, like parks and birds and stuff like that, but not like what you have,” he says.
“On this hunt there were herds of deer, and we heard a cow elk mewing and the antler clashing of two bull elk, and then climbed over a ridge and saw like 20 [elk],” David adds. “And this huge bull moose. … Being able to experience the outdoors like that is a really special thing.”
His introduction to big-game hunting was a huge success, certainly bolstered by harvesting a buck, but with or without an animal, he’s hooked.
“I’ll stick with it,” David says. “Probably a deer or a pronghorn next year will be on the cards for me.”
For the next few weeks, David will be working on processing his deer at home.
It’s a true field-to-table experience for him and his family. David will be researching proper cuts of meat and equipment like meat grinders as he turns his harvest into home-cooked meals.
Along with the memories of a first deer hunt and a season’s worth of game meat, he had some additional takeaways — important lessons on conservation, community, safety, ecology, tradition and wildlife management.
By any measurement, Pepper considers the weekend to be a tremendous success. While safety is most important, a lot of other factors make it a well-rounded experience for new hunters.
“Camaraderie is one of the best parts,” Pepper says.
“Playing Uno and just hanging out at the table and getting to know each other and sharing our stories is important,” she adds. “And sharing that excitement when we get a harvest – I’m just as excited as he is. [Everyone] is just as excited.”
Beyond a harvest, the success of a hunter outreach hunt for Pepper lies in what makes the experience whole — the community, the knowledge and traditions being shared with the next generation of sportspersons.
“It’s not about the [harvest],” Pepper says, “It’s not about the big gun going ‘bang.’ It’s about sharing an experience, learning how to be outside, learning how to provide for yourself and your family.”
(Forrest Czarnecki is a Colorado hunter and angler and a Colorado Parks and Wildlife digital media specialist.)
PREPARING THE FUTURE OF THE HUNT
by Danica Bona
A
mother’s
reflection on building connection with nature
Elk season smells like pine and damp earth, glows with golden aspens — and can also hum with the rhythmic whir of a breast pump.
I am sitting deep in the Gunnison National Forest on the perimeter of an open field, eyes fixed on the dark timber across from me, waiting for a
flash of brown fur through green trees. Squirrels scamper across branches, clouds roll by overhead, ants march across the ground. My nose searches for the abrupt barnyard scent that tells me a large animal is near. I feel a rough, but comfortable log against my back and enjoy the cool fall breeze against my face.
“Wah-o-wah-o-wah-o.” The motor of my breast pump drowns out the typical sounds of the woods — the birds
(Courtesy Danica Bona)
chirping, the branches cracking — and the hopes of actually bringing home an elk in this particular meadow.
This season, my pack is heavier — not with extra hunting gear, but with my Medela “Pump in Style” and all its tubing, shields and bottles for the milk I make every few hours for my fivemonth-old at home.
I think of all the other mothers in the woods quietly caring for their little ones around me. I picture a doe nuzzling her fawn as it nurses, hidden in the tall grass; a mama bird bringing a beakful of wriggling insects to her freshly-hatched babies in their nest; a mother rabbit protectively curled around her litter, safe in their underground burrow. And I think about how we are all just doing our personal best to provide for our own through milk, through wild game, through the lessons of a life lived close to nature.
As I sit here tethered to my pump, I am reminded of just last fall when I filled my first elk tag as that same baby was growing inside my body. It was a cow tag. She, probably a mother as well.
Everyone’s reaction to their first kill is different. I cried. The extra hormones surging through me as I considered the range of emotions that come with a moment like this. Taking a life. Providing for my growing family. Coming to the end of an emotionally and physically challenging week.
Some of the first people to know about my pregnancy were our friends who helped us with the pack-out. It was hard to hide the morning sickness that kept creeping up from the exertion of climbing mountains and traversing meadows as I excused myself to retch in the woods.
As a single elk relies on her herd, I rely on mine — the proverbial “village” it takes to raise a child. They are the friends who joyfully help carry out heavy loads from deep in the mountains, the family members who watch our children while we disappear for a few days into the wild. My herd makes it possible to bring home meat, to share the work and to pass down lessons that connect us to the land.
Just as a wild mother instills her instincts in her little ones, I too want to show my sons the lessons of a life lived close to nature. They will know the work that goes into bringing food from the forest to the table along with a respect for the life that gives it. By showing them reverence for the public lands we explore here in the Gunnison Valley, they’ll one day give back to our own herd. Being a mother in nature isn’t just about physically bringing life into this world. It is about bringing ourselves and our children back into nature to connect with the life all around us, individually and together. I picture my sons here someday, moving through this same stretch of forest with the patience and respect that hunting requires. I think of the effort it takes to nourish, to provide for, and to teach our young, and how worth it it is for every mother to do so in her own way.
A twig snaps. I freeze. The robotic sound of my pump is still humming. I see the tan hind end of a cow elk disappear into the woods.
(Danica Bona is a Gunnison-based writer.)
Pumping breast milk is part of the hunting routine for a nursing mother.
Packing out elk as a family. Waylon (8) and Rory (4) see first hand the effort that goes into hunting from forest to table. Member SIPC
A HUNGRY HUNTER’S BEST FRIEND
Delicious Dutch oven recipes
Enid Holden
As most hunters know, a Dutch oven is a versatile piece of cookware, excellent for creating a variety of delicious outdoor meals, from stews to one-pot dinners and baked goods. Its ability to retain and distribute heat evenly makes it perfect for dishes that require long simmering times or even baking at high temperatures.
A cast iron Dutch oven with legs works best, allowing you to control the intensity of the heat by moving coals beneath and around the body and also stack coals on the cover. It’s also a great idea to have a lid lifter or a hammer to remove the cover without getting burned. A trivet provides extra flexibility to vary the heat for slow cooking by changing up the proximity of the coals.
Here are some recipes to try out around the fire this year:
Easy breakfast casserole
Get all of your ingredients together before you start cooking a breakfast casserole, because this is one of those dishes that moves along quickly once you begin. It’s great because the meat, potatoes and eggs are all wrapped up in one dish.
1 2-lb. package of frozen hash brown potatoes, thawed
1 lb. pork sausage
5 large eggs
1 cup milk
Salt, pepper, dry mustard, Worcestershire sauce to taste
1 cup grated cheddar cheese.
1. Prepare your coals for cooking.
2. Brown the sausage. You’ll start this recipe by using a Dutch oven like a frying pan. Put all of your coals under the pot to brown the sausage.
3. Break up the sausage as it cooks so small pieces of the same size can cook at the same rate.
4. Beat the eggs in a bowl, then stir in the milk, salt, pepper, dry mustard, Worcestershire sauce and cheddar cheese. Set it aside.
5. Cook the potatoes. Once the sausage is browned, you’ll add the hash browns to the pot. If they are frozen it will take 10-15 minutes to soften them, but if they are defrosted it only takes a few minutes.
6. Add the egg mixture to the sausage and potatoes.
7. Put the lid on and bake the eggs. Now you are turning your Dutch oven from a frying pan into an oven to bake the eggs. Bake at 350 degrees which requires 21 total coals: 14 on top, 7 the
(Envato Elements)
bottom, until the eggs are set which will take about 20 minutes.
Easy crusty bread
The thick walls and heavy lid of a Dutch oven make it a fabulous tool for baking bread, as it emulates the steamy oven of a commercial bakery. This gives the dough plenty of time to rise before developing a crust, resulting in beautiful round loaves of sourdough and other types of crusty bread.
You only need water, yeast, flour, and salt for this no knead bread dough.
1. Warm the water (1.5 cups) to about 100 degrees F. A little more or less is fine. Take the temperature with a meat thermometer to make sure it’s the right temperature. Don’t go any hotter than 110 degrees F – it might kill the yeast.
2. Add the warm water to a large bowl, along with a packet of yeast, or 2.25 teaspoons (instant or active dry is fine) and 1/2 tablespoon of table salt (or 2 teaspoons kosher salt). Whisk together until the yeast and salt are dissolved.
3. Add the flour — 3 1/4 cups — all at once, and stir with a wooden spoon until everything is uniformly wet.
Once the dough is mixed, just cover it with a kitchen towel and let it rise in
a warmish spot for two or three hours. It should double in size. You want your Dutch oven to be good and hot for baking the bread so it gets a chance to crisp up on the outside. Bake for about 35 minutes. Carefully take the searing hot lid off, and bake for another 5-10 minutes, until it’s golden brown.
1. Heat a Dutch oven and add chiles. Pour chicken stock over chiles. Bring to a
brief boil, then remove from heat.
2. Season pork generously with salt and pepper. Working in batches to avoid overcrowding the pot, brown pork in the oil for 5-7 minutes per batch. Transfer pork to a platter. You’re just browning the exterior of the pork for good flavor.
3. Remove the Dutch oven from the heat. Add garlic and sage and cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add cumin, oregano and bay leaves.
4. Return pork to the Dutch oven. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium, and simmer covered until pork is very tender, 40-60 minutes. Check pork as it cooks and adjust heat to maintain a simmer, if needed.
5. Remove lid and simmer uncovered for 10 minutes more, until the concoction is a beautiful, thick color. The sauce should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Taste and season with salt and pepper, as needed.
6. Serve topped with sliced red onion, cilantro, lime wedges and tortillas.
(Enid Holden is a Gunnison-based arts, culture and food writer.)
