September 5, 2005: Labor Day. Bow season arrived, and the kids wanted to go hunting so George took us all out Monday evening, not really expecting much. He had been out all weekend, and I had been out with Chuck on Saturday. We figured to take them on a two hour hike to see a couple of deer within 20 minutes of home. Before we got the truck stopped, however, Ian saw a buck, and we all saw a bull moose (standing practically on the road), and then 20 yards from the road, we saw several more deer up on a ridge. We walked in about 75 yards from the road and George bugled for 10 minutes or so with no response. We decided to walk to the next meadow when we heard a bull elk bugle behind us. We ran back and set up as best we could with three kids, aged 5, 7, and 8, rolling around in the grass, laughing, eating candy bars, etc... Before we knew it, 4 bulls were calling from three different directions. Several cow elk appeared on the hill above us, and 50 yards away, a 4 x 5 bull walked out (too small for George). I went 10 yards or so downhill and started beating the trees with a branch to draw the attention of the bulls. Eventually, the big boy got upset enough to charge down the slope and run off the 4 x 5. He was a massive 6 x 6 with blackened antlers and he stood broadside 50 yards in front of us. George couldn't believe it - we were way out of position, but he had a fairly easy shot (for him). As he drew back, the knock on the back of his arrow broke off, and the arrow fell to the ground, leaving him in full draw with nothing in the bow. By then, the bull had of course seen the kids moving around, and he took off. It was getting dark, so we hiked back to the truck with this story to tell - but no pictures of the bull and no elk. Unbelievable.