Elk hunting, especially between rut and migration, is a game of persistence that can pay off.

One rainy afternoon years ago, when I lived in the shadow of the Wallowa Mountains, I slipped away after work to hunt elk. I drove hard because there wasn't much light left. In the rain's cool aftermath the elk would be bugling, and the forest would be quiet underfoot.

At the lip of a canyon, I parked the pickup and strung my recurve bow. Sneaking through the trees, I heard distant bugling. Dusk grew a deeper purple as I paused to listen. All the bulls were across the way, too far to stalk. The logical thing to do was bugle, to try for an answer close by. But I resisted the temptation. I'd never been good at calling elk; better to move in silently and let the elk call me. Suddenly another elk bugled, this time close enough to feel. Slowly I sank to my knees and peered through the trees to a small opening.

The bull was grazing away from me, and by the time I reached the clearing's edge, he was 60 yards off. Too far. With little light to my back, I had no time to wait. On hands and knees, then on my belly, I inched forward through the short grass toward the bull's left flank.

At 40 yards a small bush gave me enough cover to kneel. The bull lifted his head. He did not bugle, and I knew instantly that either he'd seen me or smelled me. End of sneak. The distance was 40 steps--a stretch for me--but the angle was near-perfect. I drew, kissed the string away and the broadhead drove deep.

Rarely do elk come so easily, but, in general, if you time your hunt to catch migrating bulls where they're vulnerable, you'll have shooting. Fresh snow, like bugling in early fall, tells you where the elk are, but clues are invaluable.

Clues, unfortunately, are hard to come by between rut and migration. That's because bull elk get quiet and still. The herd bulls have worn themselves down chasing cows and shooing other bulls away from their harems. In the last weeks in September and the first week of October, they've eaten little and rested little. They're ready for a break. They lie down in secure pockets of timber near water and forage.

Glassing meadow edges and alpine basins may have shown you a lot of elk earlier, and after the big snows come you'll see elk in farm fields and on sage flats. In the middle of the fall, however, all that long-distance looking can be for naught. You must go where the bulls assume you won't go.

Not long ago, I was traipsing up an elk trail in October--not hunting, just looking around. The rut was winding down. I stopped for a breather and out of habit scanned the thicket around me. It was a secure pocket, hard against the north face of a hill and dense enough for concealment. Shafts of sun poked through a broken canopy at its edges, nurturing elk sedge and grasses. A trickle of water ran from a crack in the rocks above.

Elk are herd animals and thus are distributed unevenly. You often have to cover a considerable amount of ground to find them

There was good wind coverage from canyon's bottom and timber to cover an escape in three directions. "An elk should be here," I said to myself. And suddenly an elk was there. A thick-antlered, six-point bull at 20 feet. He'd been there all the time, lying still. I had looked past him, above him, around him. Finally the ivory curve of a brow tine had caught my eye.

He lay there, thinking he was undetectable. Only after I focused on him did he reconsider. A few seconds later he got up and, in a smooth, deliberate movement, vanished into the timber below. There was no panic. He had a plan. If I'd not seen him first, there would have been no chance for a shot. Had I not stopped to rest, I'd never have seen him.

We humans have mediocre hearing and a poor sense of smell. Our eyesight is pretty good--at least in the light of day. So we hunt mainly where we can use our eyes to advantage. We buy expensive scopes and binoculars and feel compelled to use them. We put ourselves where we can see great distances, and we revel in the detail we can pick out with the glass. Trouble is, by staying in the open where we can see, we keep ourselves distanced from elk and make our presence and location known to them.