Bill Brown (left) and Alex Brown (right)

This was my first trip to Colorado. My hunting group included my good friends, Lee Thompson, Lynn Colley and my father Bill Brown. We hunted in Chromo and on opening day I killed my first elk.

PHOTO: Dana, left, and Crystal Lambert. Courtesy of Chris Matison.

After joining our hunting camp and helping me pack out last year's bull, my wife Crystal Lambert decided to give hunting a try. We outfitted her with all the necessary gear throughout the summer and practiced at the range several times with my old .308. Feeling pretty confident, we packed up and headed out for a couple weeks in the woods.

We were able to get a first-season cow tag and an either-sex second-season tag for unit 54. First season came and went with our opportunities but no downed elk. On the opening day of second season, things were a little different because it was snowing hard, the wind was blowing on the ridges and we had a week of experience under our belts. 

Crystal sat in a small aspen opening just downhill from our camp and by 7:30 in the morning, there were six bulls standing in front of her. She chose the closest bull (a 5 X 4) giving her the best shot and squeezed the trigger. At 60 yards, and with her good shooting, the bull never took another step.

- Submitted by Dana Lambert

After five years, my dad and I were finally able to draw pronghorn tags for a unit in southeastern Colorado. We scouted the week before the season in an area that we thought was all public land.

After getting there, we realized there was a lot of private land, as well as a lot of unmarked, fenced property, which we were unsure about. We bought a very detailed map showing all the private land in the unit at the Forest Service Office. Between the map, which allowed us to hunt in areas most of the other hunters didn't think they could and the day of scouting the week before where we spotted both of the pronghorn we harvested, we had a short hunt. 

Dad shot his pronghorn first thing in the morning and I shot mine just after lunch. We were back in Denver in time to catch the end of the University of Colorado game.

The pronghorn were mounted together by a taxidermist in Denver.

My brother, his long-time friend and I hunt the Flat Tops (unit 23) in Garfield County. I've been lucky enough or good enough, depending how one looks at it, to harvest four elk in the last five seasons.

We love to have a little snow on the ground opening morning, it quiets the cornflake aspen leaves when walking. On opening morning we had our wish — an inch or so of snow. We headed out at 4:30 a.m. on our 2.5-mile, 4-wheeler ride to the point where we get off and walk another 1.25 miles into the areas we hunt.

I hate to be late, and we were late getting into the general hunt area. We walked into the “Big Park”  at 7:15 a.m. and I  “bird-dog stopped," before my brother could get the word “Cow!!” out of his mouth.

I pulled the trigger, it was a double-lung shot and I had my first cow. There were about 10 other elk in the area that we didn't know were there. The snow pushed in and we think it forced them down. We saw nothing the rest of the trip.

We were lucky to get out on Wednesday, as the big snow storm rolled in and other hunters in our area were stranded.

My name is Sam Garrison. Kyle, my brother-in-law and I hunted in unit 82 on public land, during the third season in 2010. 

The first weekend of the season we saw a number of cows and several bulls, but had no clear shot. We had to work all week, so there was no opportunity to hunt. The second weekend, 5 1/2 miles in, we saw a herd of 500 or more elk. There were about 25 legal bulls, all surrounded by cows — no chance for a shot.

Sunday morning my wife kicked me out at 3:30 a. m. and said “go hunting, you’ve got a license, now go, and don’t waste it.”

We got to the area we were hunting well before sunrise. From a hill, we glassed 5 bulls in an aspen grove a quarter-mile away. They detected us, started to get nervous and took off.

We had to run and cut them off. It worked. This bull stopped in a shooting lane between trees at 100 yards. I chambered a round in my dad’s .270, knelt down on one knee and dropped him in his tracks with one shot.

After field dressing the bull, which later measured 330, we hustled out and brought horses back to take him out. It was a long but very rewarding day! It is my first bull, as well as the first of anyone in my family, and a memory that will last for my whole life. 

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