In my mind, there is no mistaking Hunting District 410.  Especially when it is followed with an 01.  For years I have applied for the special permit to hunt elk in this district.  Even when I lived out of state, I would apply for a Nonresident Big Game Hunting License and then apply for the elk permit for this district.  I have never been successful in drawing this permit until this year.  I chose to apply for the either sex elk at the questioning of my father, Ed Plass, who has always felt that I would have a better chance at drawing a permit if I applied for the antlerless elk, since 300 of these permits are issued compared to the 55 either sex elk permits awarded.  My philosophy being you'll never get one if I don't apply for it proved to me that good things do come with time.  I was one of the lucky 55.

      My father has been my hunting instructor, guide and companion since I started hunting when I was 12 years old.  Deer and antelope were the main wild game I hunted in my early years.  I didn't start to hunt for elk until I was 21 years old.  Ten years ago, I started to consistently pursue the special elk permit for District 410.

      Our hunting trip to this area, which also includes part of the CMR National Wildlife Refuge, began on October 18.  After arriving, the first three hours was spent setting up camp.  The two wall tents were assembled, and all the extras, such as cook stove, kitchen sink and cots with sleeping bags, were strategically arranged inside.  Those of us with antelope permits for this area enjoyed some antelope hunting while patiently waiting for the elk season to open on October 21.

      For the first two days of the season, elk were seen, but I chose not to shoot.  In my years of hunting deer and antelope in this area, I've seen many elk, so I had an idea what I was looking for.  After a two day trip back to Great Falls, I resumed my elk hunt on Thursday, October 25.

A couple inches of soft snow was on the ground, which made the hunting nice for tracking, but in this area, when the ground gets wet, the gumbo sticks to the boots.  Hiking became more of a challenge.  Plenty of territory was covered this day with very few sightings of elk. 

      My guide, my father, had a plan for the next day.  He and I took off on foot at the far east end of the Chain Buttes to work our way west to meet up with my son, Calvin, and a good friend, Steve.  Over ridges, down draws and through drainage bottoms, we tramped our way.  We had seen a nice elk early in the morning but were too far away for a decent shot.  So, we took to tracking him and simply trying to guess what he might do.  Finally, feeling like we were outsmarted and tired of knocking the gumbo off our boots, we collapsed into a large juniper bush for a short rest.

      When we resumed our hunt, we examined the large drainage bottom we had to go through and considered what area we wanted to cross over into.  The wind had played havoc with us all day, blowing the opposite direction from what the weather forecast had predicted, so we wanted to make sure we chose a draw to go up where we would finally have the wind in our favor.              Setting out across the bottom, gathering an inch of gumbo with every step, we drudged our way to the base of one of the biggest draws.  From here, we slowly stepped over pinecones and twigs working our way along the fingers of the draw, peaking over the edges.  Stepping from behind a large juniper bush, I spied the elk.  He was bedded down with his head straight at us approximately 100 yards away.  We took about three minutes to look at him through the binoculars and to discuss in whispers just how big a bull he was.  From our vantage point, we could tell that his rack was not very wide but definitely long.  In the end, the decision to shoot was mine.  I had always said that I would know when the right elk came along and the moment of knowing had come.  He was a nice six point bull elk.

      When the elk was finally loaded in the truck and we were driving back to camp at the end of the day, the Charlie Russell sunset with a few dark clouds outlined against the vivid orange and yellow sky quickly turning to shades of pinks, blues and purples as the sun lowered was a perfect ending to one of the best days of my life.  I had just shared the hunt and shooting of my first elk in my favorite hunting area with someone I've admired all my life, my father.