If Paul Lawver had written the script for a do-it-yourself archery elk hunt, things could not have worked out more perfectly. Only one minor point might have stretched its credibility.
“Things like this just don’t happen to me,” he said, relating a hunting tale recently completed in the mountains north of Kremmling. “I could hardly believe it.”
The story begins with Lawver, 42, who lives in Newark, Del., coming to Colorado to attend a family wedding. His visit would coincide with the archery season for elk. He’d never hunted elk with a bow, but why not give it a try?
“My brother-in-law (Tony Ferdensi) had a friend who worked with him at CU and hunted elk,” Lawver said. “I asked if he could help me put together an elk trip, and he arranged it with his friend.”
The friend, Chris Herrera, would be hunting with his cousins, Mike and Leonard Herrera, and had some room in his camp. He invited Lawver to join them.
In camp, Lawver teamed up with Mike Herrera, 19, of Arvada, a six-month temporary employee at the Colorado Division of Wildlife’s call center and, among other things, an aspiring professional boxer.
Herrera had grown up in Taos, N.M., where his father had an outfitting service, and had been around elk hunting all of his life. He’d hunted during the first three weekends of the season that opened Aug. 28 but had been unsuccessful. Herrera and Lawver would hunt together and made an agreement that he would do the calling and Lawver the shooting.
“I’d already hunted three weekends and had my chance,” Herrera said of the arrangement. “I’ve killed elk before. He’d come all the way from Delaware. I said ‘I don’t really need one; I’ll try to set you up.’ “
A hike up to cooler timber
On their first day, the pair covered lots of ground. No elk appeared by a promising-looking water hole.
“It was hot and dry,” Lawver said. “We agreed the elk would probably be higher and in the timber.”
A north-facing slope on a nearby peak looked promising. Early the next morning, they began climbing and exploring the timber, where they heard some distant bugling. Encouraging . . . but too far away.
By midmorning, they were near the top. Herrera sounded a couple of bugles and immediately received an answer. The elk was much closer and moving toward them. Herrera switched to a cow call.
“It was working its way up to us, and when it got about 60 yards below us, I could see it,” Lawver said. “I saw a nice set of antlers, and I knew it was a shooter.”
No bull: One shot was all it took
Herrera continued the cow calls. Lawver took a deep breath, tried to remain calm. He had noted an open area some 20 yards away where he could have a clear shoot. Through the trees, ever so slowly, the bull was moving toward it.
Lawver drew back his bow. The elk stepped into the clearing. It stood broadside. The arrow flew. It found its mark — a perfect lung shot. The elk stepped forward, turned back and eventually collapsed in the timber below.
“A hunting show like you see on TV or some guide service could not have written it any better,” Lawver said. “Everything worked out perfectly — the calling, the shooting. It was the most exhilarating experience I’ve ever had.”
For partner Herrera, the hunt itself was the reward.
“I just love doing it,” he said.
Lawver and Herrera began field dressing the elk and, with the help of the others, packed it back to camp, a chore that required 12 hours. The trophy, with heavy, symmetrical, 5×5 antlers, was taken to a taxidermist.
By a preliminary “green” measurement, the antlers scored 274, according to Pope & Young Club standards. They appear to be a little above the minimum requirement for entry into the P&Y record book and will be remeasured after a mandatory drying-out period.
Lawver will return to Colorado next year to pick up his trophy from the taxidermist and possibly write a new chapter in his hunting annals. If not, he can contemplate his 2010 masterpiece.
“September 19, 10:45 a.m.,” he said. “That’s a time I’ll always remember.”
This story has been corrected in this online archive to reflect Paul Lawver’s first name.
