Dave Littlejohn admits he occasionally has to pinch himself to realise he’s not living a dream.

Working for a family business where he is revered as part of the furniture, in an industry he knows like the back of his hand and indulging in the sport he loves.

He is the veritable kid in a lolly shop.

“I started with NIOA back in 1988, at the fresh age of 19. I even had hair back then,” he laughs. “I had met Bill Nioa the previous year and had helped with odd jobs for his business.

“One of these jobs was the move from Annie Street, under the Story Bridge, to the vast premises of Sandgate Road, Albion.

“The office furniture, stock, everything from Annie Street fitted into a 20ft container. When I saw the new sprawling Sandgate Road premises, I asked Bill, ‘how are you ever going to fill this?’

“Skip forward a year and I was offered a warehouse position. I was to be THE storeman and packer.”

As NIOA’s Regional Sales Manager (Queensland, Northern NSW) for the past decade, Dave now sells firearms and ammunition.

Meanwhile, bowhunting has become his passion.

“I’m sure the boss shakes his head at ‘flinging sharp sticks’ at feral game,” he says.

“Like most Aussie hunters, pigs are my go-to hunt animal but after a successful 2018 black bear hunt in Canada, I got the overseas hunting bug.”

On the eve of his 30th work anniversary with NIOA, “the Boss” surprised him with the adventure of a lifetime: An all-expenses paid elk bow hunt to the USA.

SETTING THE SCENE:

You can hear their faint bugles in the pre-dawn darkness.

It’s September, it’s still, it’s cold…and it’s elk country just like I had envisioned.

The frost clings to the grass along the creek banks, crunching under your boots just as the first rays hit the pine-cloaked ridge.

A couple of days to acclimatise, bows checked and a few practice shots…and we had set off from Bozeman, Montana for a few days’ hunting.

I’d sorted a new set of Leupold BX-5 Santiam binoculars in 10x42 for glassing this amazing countryside hunting elk.

My ever-reliable Leupold RX-1000 rangefinder would be on the harness with the binos. This unit was the very first RX-1000 to come into Australia all those years ago and has never failed me.

As I tell many people: “It’s Dave-proof”.

DAY 1

On that first morning we planned to be in place to try and catch the elk herd as they made their way back to the bedding area.

The strategy was sound. But someone didn’t tell the elk – they were most of the way up the mountain before sunrise and the swirling wind wasn’t going to help our cause.

We cut higher on their side of the ridge, hoping to get above them. The pine was thick with visibility no more than 50 yards.

The elk were talkative, making them easier to locate.

We made our way slowly towards a large clearing…and then it happened.

At first a rumble of hooves, then a full-on stampede. A satellite bull had pinched eight or so cows off the herd bull and was running them straight at us.

The cows slowed to a trot and then milled about. He bedded them in a clearing downslope from me. I was caught mid stride, in a half crouch, with a branch a foot in front of my face.

There was a cow bedded less than 20 yards from me and a huge 6x6 bull at around 60 yards, bellowing his disdain back towards
the herd bull.

The scream these animals generate, penetrates your body and rattles your organs. My adrenaline was off the scale.

In a half crouch, I could feel a cramp coming on. I had to try something.

Lowering myself into a small depression I’d found myself in and… BUSTED! The 20 yard cow bolted like she’d been hit by lightning, taking the others with her.

The bull had no idea what had happened and tried to round up his hard-won prizes. Rookie mistake, I know, but an excellent experience to have these animals so close.

With the wind increasing, we called it a day, retreating to our lodgings to swap hunting stories and hatch plans for the next day.

Discussion centred around the “weather” coming in

DAY 2

A thick layer of ice on the windscreen confirmed the dinner table forecast from the night before. It was colder.

I was still giving myself upper cuts for yesterday’s screw-up. Frank, our guide, was full of encouragement.

This morning, we would be in position before the sunrise and glass from the shaded ridge. Through my Leupold binoculars, I could make out a good bull raking trees.

The HD lenses gave a crystal-clear image of a huge 6x6 rack. He was shredding small pines like they were twigs.

Simple plan – get over there and kill that bull. It took the best part of an hour to get from our side to the opposite ridge. The chatter and bugling had all but stopped.

Once we got close to where we thought the bull was, Frank put me out front. It was hard to see under the densely packed pines.
A couple of steps. Listen. Repeat.

Just as I crested the small rise in front of me, I made eye contact with a bedded cow elk. She was maybe 15 yards. I froze. She looked away but knew something wasn’t right.

As she stood, I lowered my profile, trying to be the best impression of a sage bush. The group wasn’t spooked but moved further up the mountain. I didn’t see the bull but he would have been with them.

I was kicking myself again but Frank’s calming influence settled me. He suggested we sit tight and “see what might come along”. I sat in beside a clump of sage bush, arrow on the string. All my senses were in overdrive.

The group that had just vacated could be heard mewing and chattering, maybe 60 or 70 yards up the mountain above us.
I was running ranges through my Leupold rangefinder.

A couple of trees above me bounced back a reading of 40 yards. Maybe five minutes passed when Frank gave me a quiet, “Pssst, left left”.

My eyes darted. There were guard tines poking through the pines above us. A bull was sneaking in. He had not made a single noise. On his current path, he would be at the 40-yard clump in seconds.

He was taking slow, purposeful steps, sniffing the air as he went. There was a one metre gap between the pines, that he would pass. As his head went behind some thicker brush, I drew my bow.

He stopped. I was full draw for what felt like an eternity. He then took another few steps towards the clearing.

Frank gave a low mew sound, imitating a cow elk, stopping the bull perfectly in the gap. I remember the red 40 pin on his shoulder and then the arrow was away. The orange vanes disappeared right into the “triangle” on his shoulder, zipping through and continuing up the mountain.

The bull kicked and sprinted off. “Get another arrow ready,” Frank said with a sense of urgency.

I responded confidently, “That bull is dead Frank!”

The steep slope allowed me to lay down and watch the bull through the Leupold BX-5 binos. He went maybe 70 yards and stopped. The raspy, coughing noises told me a certain lung shot. He lay down and in seconds was done.

Frank suggested we should give him a few minutes, so we had a cursory look for my arrow, looking in the general direction it had travelled, but it was gone.

“Bugger the arrow, let’s go get my bull!”

Laying in a small clearing was a great looking 6x6 bull elk. He wasn’t one of the big guys we’d seen but it would do me.

I notched my Montana bull elk tag on the 26th September, 2019.

The radio call went out for some assistance to get him off the mountain. The steep terrain worked in our favour, using gravity as our friend, the bull was field dressed on the slope.

We loaded him onto a trailer for the trip home. It still amazes me that not one person batted an eyelid as we drove through two small towns enroute to the lodge where he was caped and dressed out with military precision.

The carcass was delivered to the processor the next morning and 174kg of prime meat was harvested.

For me, the pressure relief valve was released, but I was hungry for more success.

Over lunch, the guides discussed another lease “just down the road” where the guys had set up a hay bale blind, on a large, centre pivot alfalfa field.

As we entered the field, there were probably a hundred or so pronghorn. The trick would be to get them to the blind. I followed Doug down in another pickup. We would park one vehicle outside of the field and use the other to drive into the field.

The idea was to park his truck to hide the view of me setting up the buck decoy and getting into the blind. It seemed to work and after the pickup departed, the antelope went about their business.

They were funny critters to watch. The dominant male was impressive but never came any closer than 400 yards. Other, smaller males would saunter in his direction.

He would start trotting and then run full tilt towards them, snorting and carrying on, running them off his patch. The legs go a thousand miles an hour but their heads don’t move.

The light rain had now turned to sleet, so I’d clipped up most of the blind windows – it was proper cold for a Queenslander. About two hours in and I was thinking of pulling the pin – “These things aren’t gunna fall for this”.

Lo and behold from my right, comes an antelope, strutting towards the big buck and his harem. He passed me at about 100 yards and didn’t even give the decoy a second look. He kept on his path to the larger group. The big guy was ready for him and went to action.

I thought, this just might work in my favour here, so I readied myself. The decoy was at 18 yards. I’d ranged that about 50 times. The dominant buck chased the intruder straight towards my blind. At about 60 yards out the intruder noticed the decoy.

His head went up with a sort of “hey, who are you?”. He kept coming, oblivious to my presence. At a closer distance, I had the opportunity to get the range finder on him –38 yards.

Right, I’m gunna take him if he offers a shot. He turned more broadside but still quartered on. I put the 40 pin on the front of his shoulder and let it go. Just as the arrow left the string, he took a half step forward.

The arrow was on him in a blink and hit him just behind the shoulder, right on the crease – bugger! He bolted out to about 100 yards and lay down. I thought “he’s hurt bad”.

About 10 minutes passed and yet another bigger buck came close to the blind. The action must have made him curious. He was 30 only yards from me, so I got the phone out and took some pics and some video.

Looking back to my animal, he was now laying on his side. There were no chest movements visible through the binos. I gave him another 20 minutes and saw no movement at all.

Exiting the blind, I moved slowly towards him with an arrow on the string, just in case. I need not have bothered. He was long gone and had started to stiffen with rigor.

Antelope tag notched 27th September, 2019.

FINAL DAY

The next morning I was out with Doug, the owner of the operation, as we cut tracks in 150mm of fresh overnight snow in his new side by side buggy.

Something caught Doug’s eye as we arrived in the valley floor. The ground was torn up. Looking in the creek bottom, we spied a dead elk, a VERY fresh mountain lion kill.

It was like a CSI episode tracing the tracks back to where the lions had grabbed the elk and then wrestled it into the creek. We had obviously disturbed them, because it was snowing and there was no snow on the elk carcass, it was that fresh.

Doug then looked up into the trees and declared “they’re watching us right now”. Every hair on my neck was up. The sudden realisation that two large predators are watching you will do this.

I suggested that we make tracks. Doug didn’t take much convincing either.

Visit NIOA TV on YouTube to hear more about Dave’s adventures.