As you trail game, use your binocular to look ahead. If it has fallen into thick cover, an antler tip or other small clue may be the only evidence of your game's location.

No matter when you take the trail or how fast you're able to follow, be prepared to shoot. If you share the task with a partner, one of you should track, the other stay to the side, eyes ahead, rifle ready. Don't just look--listen. I've heard many animals fall. A cough is good news, as it often signals a lung hit. One morning I had scoured in vain for blood sign, when in the forest ahead I heard a faint, raspy grunt, as if an elk was clearing its throat. I quickly found the bull who summoned me with its last breath.

Another elk, shot with a rifle, made off into a steep aspen hillside. My client and I eased to the top of the ridge and listened. Convinced I could hear the elk breathe, I told my hunter we'd have to leave. If the animal was lung-shot, it would soon die. Barging into the thick woods, we'd give it a fright that might take it into a deep canyon where it could be hard to find. After an hour, we returned to find the bull dead.

Leaving a trail at dusk is sometimes wise. I prefer not to trail by artificial light unless I'm sure the animal is dead. If you prod that buck from its bed by flashlight, you'll have little chance to shoot, and the trail will just get longer. Often, wounds that bled freely during your game's initial escape will clot when bedded. The new track will be much harder to follow. Of course, a storm during the night can wash out or cover the blood sign, so sometimes night trailing makes sense.

As you scour the ground for blood and hair, take care not to disturb the track.

A night untended is no guarantee that meat will sour. I've retrieved animals the following day, and even in mild weather, was able to salvage the meat. The only venison I've lost was taken by a bear. An elk I arrowed at dusk ran to cover. The bear found the carcass during the night.

Don't Just Look--Read The Sign
When you track, learn as much as you can from the sign--not just the direction of travel. Look for distinct features in the prints so you can identify them without blood. Keep an eye out for bone chips, too. If you find blood, note color and location. Dark blood typically indicates a liver hit; but bits of forage tell you the animal is probably paunched. Bright, bubbly blood is from the lungs. Blood in a hoof-print commonly means a leg wound, especially if tracks show an irregular gait. You're smart to look on bushes and grass stems well above the ground; often high foliage catches blood. Stained vegetation can tell you about the wound height and whether you have an exit hole. Blood sprayed to the side of the track should warm your heart, because it typically comes from exit wounds forward of the diaphragm, and from the mouth and nose of lung-shot game. On snow, I've seen lung-spray as far as nineteen feet from the track. Hair can also fly far from the animal upon bullet exit. Once, I found an eight-foot ribbon of elk hair on the snow.

Shoot Again!
When you see an injured animal alive, either right after your first hit or somewhere along the trail, you may only get a fleeting chance for a follow-up shot. The presentation may not be what you want. My own thinking here is to shoot anyway. Once you've hit game, your primary obligation is to finish the job. Marginal hits thereafter may not kill the beast, but any additional wound can slow it down or cause it to pause, giving you another opportunity. Forget about meat damage and cartridge count. Shoot as often as you must and whenever you can, until you see undercarriage.

Last fall I hit a mountain goat fatally, but a bit far back. A second 9.3x62 dropped the billy. After a steep descent and climb, I found the goat bedded but not dead. I fired as soon as I could. The goat took two more shots. Not as clean an end as I'd have wished--but as quick and humane a death as I could produce after that first pull of the trigger.

When searching for wounded game, follow to the side of a track, and when alone, keep your eyes ahead as much as practical.

Good judgment sometimes compels you to delay, briefly, a follow-up shot. When a bull elk dropped with a broken shoulder in front of my .30-06 on a Wyoming hillside, my partner came up from behind and urged that I fire again. However, I had no clear lane. The downed elk was barely visible behind a veil of brush. Firing into the thicket, I'd have squandered my two remaining cartridges on low-percentage shots. From my position, I could see clearly and shoot quickly if the elk regained its feet. I waited. Soon it heaved itself into an opening. A Nosler pierced both lungs, ending the hunt.

However careful your first shot, you may someday find another necessary-- perhaps with a long trail in between. What you do after the first shot can determine whether you retrieve your prize or must count it lost.