We started into the pines, moving slowly thru the deep snow. The bulls were already in the woods on the opposite side headed to bed down. This stalk was different than any other I had been on. The hunter (my son) walking behind me did things at his pace and in his own unique style.
To be honest, if you would have asked me 22 years ago when Alex came into the world if I would one day be stalking bull elk with him, I would have just stared at you in disbelief. You see, Alex was born with down syndrome. To a couple of young parents who just gave birth to their first son, this diagnosis was a sobering experience, to say the least. All the thoughts of watching my son play sports, go hunting or fishing, just being “one of the guys,” all went out the window that day, or so I thought.
I was raised in the outdoors and had a passion for hunting and fishing. As a game warden for the last 20 years, I lived the ultimate life in the outdoors. However, something was always missing. It really became evident whenever I would cross paths with a father and son in the field while working. I would be left thinking, why isn’t my son just one of the guys?
It was my wife who made me realize that Alex was very capable of participating in the outdoors, just at his own pace and style. In fact, he possessed the patience I didn’t. As the years went by, he accompanied me as much as possible.
Unfortunately, things took a bad turn for Alex as he suffered several strokes from numerous blood clots on his brain. As things were getting back to his new normal, we discovered Alex had lost some vision, balance, and speech but otherwise was doing OK.
A few days after a successful deer hunt with Alex, I received a phone call from the licensing department for the Michigan DNR. The caller stated Alex had received a transfer elk tag. After several seconds of silence on my end, I was able to mutter, “Are you joking?” Nope, she wasn’t. There was a gentleman who had drawn one of the coveted bull elk tags and decided he was not healthy enough to hunt, so he put it in the transfer pool. More than 70,000 people put in for just over 200 tags each fall. Most of us will never draw one. I was so excited to break the news to Alex. He was thrilled! We watched a lot of videos together and prepared by scouting and practicing with my rifle. My goal was to get Alex on some private ground where we could sit in a box blind. I didn’t think he would be able to do a stalk. Once again, I let my short-sighted beliefs get in the way of his ability. He was about to prove me wrong again.
Prior to the hunt, I did a lot of scouting by checking for tracks, reviewing cameras, and talking to landowners to locate a bull. A friend contacted me to advise he had located 12 bulls that were bedding on some private land. I stopped by the property and knocked on the door. After a brief conversation, permission was granted. I told Alex about the bulls. The only issue was it would require us to make a long walk through the snow to get close enough to the bulls. I really was torn on what to do.
The thing about Alex is that he goes nowhere in a hurry. He also is a bit unstable on uneven ground from his recent strokes. I asked Alex what option he wanted to try. He was adamant that he wanted to do the stalk. I, of course, was torn. The stress of the situation was really overwhelming me. My daughter said, “Dad, is Alex stressed?” He, of course, wasn’t. She replied, “Just be like him and enjoy it.” I needed to hear that. To help further in the decision, my other son who also has down syndrome was having some medical issues and it was probably best if we hunted close to home. The bulls were only 15 miles away. Decision made!
Opening morning, it was -10 degrees. We headed out with great anticipation. As we moved through the pines, I would look behind me to make sure Alex was keeping up. To my surprise, he was coming along at a good pace. At one point, I looked and he was navigating a fallen log. The same log that you and I would just step over, Alex will walk to the ends and go around it. This was his way, and there was no changing it. I was not going to rush him. This was his hunt.
As we neared the end of the pines, I saw a bull in the field about 100 yards away looking right at us. Just then, I saw another bull a bit further across the opening. I set up the tripod and tightened the .270 into the vise. I helped Alex get into position. Just then, nine more large bulls came out of the woods into the field. Talk about adrenaline overload. I told Alex we needed to wait for them to stop and make sure we had a bull that was alone with no others around it. The last thing a dad who is a game warden wanted to have happen was an accident. The bulls finally stopped about 120 yards out. All the bulls were 5x5’s and better with some real giants. However, none of that mattered. I had told Alex he would shoot the elk he wanted. I knew if a spike walked in front of him, he would take it.
After what seemed like an eternity, we had one bull off to the right broadside. Alex settled in behind the gun, and I did what we had practiced, leaning my chest against his back to steady him. I watched as he put the crosshairs on the bull. The problem was my shaking was causing him to shake. I have killed my share of elk, and here I was shaking so hard that I was causing my son’s gun to bounce all over the place. A deep breath settled me down. Once he was ready, I gave him the OK. The gun went off, and the elk didn’t move. I quickly glassed to see if it was a hit. After several seconds, I determined he missed. I had him rack another round in and get on the same bull which had now turned and was facing the opposite direction. I gave him the OK. The gun fired, and this time, there was no mistaking the thump as the bullet struck the bull. The rest of the herd began to run further out into the field. Alex’s bull tried to follow but only went a short distance before stopping. I got him into position again and got his sights settled on the bull. The OK was given, and he fired. The bull lurched forward and down it went. I couldn’t believe it. I grabbed him so hard to hug him that I took us both to the ground. He had done it. My son, the one I doubted would ever be able to do anything, had just harvested his first elk. We lay on the ground long enough for me to take a quick selfie of the two of us. I wanted to remember every second of this moment. After composing myself and helping Alex get up, we made our way over to the elk.
We both stood there in silence staring at this beautiful bull. I looked at Alex, and he had the most incredible smile on his face. I grabbed the phone to alert our friends to come on down. The next call was to Mom. I could just hear the joy in his voice as he retold the story to her. One more call was needed, and that was to the gentleman who had transferred the tag. I had promised to keep him updated. He was just as excited as Alex.
We field dressed the elk and took a lot of photos. My wife, daughter, and other son were able to join us in the field to make it even more special. The bull had 7 points on one side and 6 on the other, and he weighed 550 lbs. field dressed. It was also the first bull on the elk pole at the local elk festival.
Alex must have told the story 30 times over the next several hours as he encountered people who were admiring his bull. I just stood back and admired him. Here was my son. “Just one of the guys.”
The elk taxidermist asked him, “So Alex, what is next?”
“Buffalo,” he said. Oh boy!