My First Bull Elk Hunt in Wyoming was a doozy! In our area, bull tags are hard to draw, and I had applied for bull tags for 6 years before I finally drew one. Of course, I could buy an over-the-counter general tag for bull elk, (and I did last year- with no luck) but that means hunting on public land with many other hunters, and only 2 weeks season length. I really wanted a license for my area that lasted a whole month.
In the meantime, I was able to draw a cow elk tag every year, and was quite happy with those tags. Most years, I've been able to fill my tag and our freezer. So, I wasn't discouraged or sad about elk season, but I did want to get one bull elk in my life. It's such an iconic western-hunt animal.
I was very excited and thrilled when I opened up my Game & Fish account in June and saw the 'any elk' license had been awarded to me! I couldn't believe it!
My First Bull Elk Hunt in Wyoming
Which brings me to this year's hunt. The longed-for bull elk hunt. I had been hunting a small piece of public land the past 5 years, and had seen lots of bulls there, even one that was quite large. I had shot a cow there several years earlier, too. So that was my first thought; go hunting there again.
Unfortunately, the general public had the same idea and one afternoon I got there around 4 pm and got set up. For the rest of the evening, I had 6 people walk right up to me, or walk right past me. I knew no self-respecting elk would get within a half mile of that spot! I finally got up and left.
The next morning I went to a different public land area where my husband had seen a bull with his herd of cows the previous evening. But no luck there, either. The elk were gone.
Yet another evening I did see two bulls, but by then it was too dark and they were too far. I sat one evening on public land, and passed up a 4x4 raghorn bull. I had decided to wait for at least a 5x5 elk, unless it was the last day of season. I knew our area had plenty of large bulls, and I wasn't willing to use my hard-won license on something small when it might be the only time I get such a tag.
One Saturday morning, I had decided to take the weekend off from hunting, and just stay home and catch up on my housework. I knew the public would be out in force, anyways.
Well, I got a text from a friend at 8 am, offering to take me hunting on his private land. I knew he was a great hunting guide and almost certainly would get me on an elk. But I was nervous about going hunting with someone else. Would I be able to shoot straight with someone watching me? Would he judge my shooting? I was unsure.
I called my husband. What should I do? "You better go with him if he's offering!" came the adamant reply.
So I went.
I met my friend and we walked out through the grass that was quiet and heavy from all-day rain. We crept up as close as we could without alerting the cows. They were grazing and some were lying down. There was a 6x6 bull, nice size but not huge, mixing with the herd.
We used the rangefinder and determined that he was about 230 yards out. I was really only comfortable at 200 yards... 230 was pushing it. So my friend -- I'll refer to him as Bob for his privacy-- recommended that we move back and find a better shooting spot, something more clear. So we did. I followed his lead, and we set up in a nice clear spot.
"They'll feed down towards us," Bob said, confidently. I nodded and got comfortable. They might take awhile. We both pulled out our phones and waited.
Both of us had one eye on the sky, and soon we saw that a storm was bearing down on us. We decided to try again to get closer to the herd, and get a shot off before the storm. So, back we went, keeping low and quiet. But yet, a cow elk spotted our movement and we had to freeze - standing motionless for about 10-15 minutes till she finally went back to grazing.
We saw the herd had spread out further, and we couldn't get closer than 250 yards without them spotting us. Bob offered me shooting sticks to give me a better rest for my gun, and I set them up and got my rifle up. I was using a .270 Remington. I have shot lots of elk with it, lots of deer, and an antelope. But I had never shot something further than 200 yards.
I was unable to get the gun up high enough to clear the meadow grass. I got a bead on the bull, then he'd go between and behind cows. Then the storm hit us. Wow, what a storm! The wind blew fiercely, I couldn't get stable on my knees. It blew the rifle, it blew my hair into my eyes, and nearly knocked me over. Leaves blew off the trees in great swirling torrents.
The herd of elk jumped up, ran away from us, and bunched together by the fence. They hadn't smelled us - the wind was in our favor. They were spooked by the wind and sudden darkness. They milled about, nervous and watchful. I kept trying to get the bull in my sights, but he stayed behind the cows. All I saw was his rack sticking up, and occasionally a shoulder. No shot presented itself.
I finally sat down and let the rifle down to rest. I pulled up my coat hood over my ears, and stuck my icy fingers in-between my legs to warm them. Bob pulled out a pair of roping gloves and offered them to me. I shook my head. I knew I couldn't shoot wearing those gloves - I just need to warm up my fingers. I shivered uncontrollably for a while, partly from the cold and partly from nerves. Should I have taken a shot? I didn't want to wait for a perfect shot, but also I didn't want to shoot into the herd.
"Are you freezing?" Bob asked, sympathetically. I nodded. "I don't like you shooting through the grass. That's an awful lot of grass. I'm afraid it will mess up your bullet," Bob suggested. I agreed. I was worried about that too. But there was no place to get a rest for my rifle if I stood up, and at that distance I needed a rest.
We sat and watched the herd through our binoculars. The wind had died down after 30 minutes, and the sun was coming out between the clouds. I gradually warmed up enough to stop shivering. I was sitting there, enjoying the pleasant evening, when I heard a terrific crash! I looked at Bob and he looked back at me. We both peered through our binos to see a pair of bull elk fighting at the far edge of the meadow. We watched silently as they crashed together again and again.
After awhile, Bob grinned and whispered: "At least we are getting a nice show!" I nodded happily, it was indeed a great show, and even if I never got a shot, I would always remember this evening of golden sunlight through the golden autumn leaves, and watching two huge beasts fighting for dominance in this herd of mewing cow elk.
"I think that one is bigger than the one we were watching," Bob whispered. "Which one?" I whispered back. "The one that's still standing... the one on the far left" Bob replied.
"Let's try to get across the creek and get up a bit higher so you're out of the grass," Bob said, and I nodded, happy to let him make a plan. I followed him across the small creek, glad I was wearing my boots. We crawled up the creek bank and a few yards out to a tree where we set up once again.
Then, as we were getting set up, we saw the whole herd drift over the meadow, cross the creek and disappear into the forest! Some elk were still visible among the trees, but I could not get a shot at the bull.
"Of course!" Bob muttered in frustration, "When we cross the creek, then he crosses back the other way!"
There were only a handful of cows still in the meadow, and I considered shooting one of those, just so we had some meat. Our freezer was pretty empty and I was getting desperate to fill it. The evening was getting near dark and I had lost all hope of shooting a bull.
Just then, as I glassed the meadow again, I saw a huge elk walking up from the far end, the white tips of his antlers gleaming. I lowered my binos and looked at Bob, he lowered his binos at the same moment and looked at me - his eyes were as big as saucers.
"That's the one I want!" I grinned, and Bob said excitedly: "that's a bigger bull than any we've seen this evening!" He glassed him again and then asked me: "Do you have anything against using my rifle?"
I didn't want to use his gun - I have this weird thing about not wanting to shoot something I'm not familiar with. But I knew instinctively that I better say yes! I knew he had a better rifle than I did, and I knew we weren't getting nearer this bull.
"No, I mean, I can use yours if you're sure..." He quickly picked it up and pulled out the bipod legs to get it high enough to be above the meadow grass. He showed me the safety and then adjusted the scope for range. I assumed we were still in the 250 yard range, but he later told me he adjusted it to 330 yards.
By the time I got in position, the bull had walked over into the forest with the other elk. My heart sank but I kept my rifle on him, watching him through the scope as Bob made cow elk sounds, trying to get him to stop. He did stop, then, but a large fallen branch stuck up and covered his vitals. I simply couldn't shoot.
I waited, Bob kept calling, and sure enough, the bull turned 180 degrees and began walking back the way he'd come. He stopped between two trees and I had a clear shot of his midsection, so I squeezed off a shot. He ran out into the meadow and I lost him in my scope. I was fumbling with my gun - trying to get another shell in place, and when I was finally was ready to shoot again I couldn't find him in my scope.
Bob was right by my shoulder, and when he saw me struggling, he leaned against my shoulder, forcing me to swivel, and my gun too. When he saw me stop the swivel, he let off pressure. I was so focused on getting the shot that I didn't even notice that he did that, until later when he was recounting the story!
I was getting focused and steady, but Bob was watching the big picture and saw that the bull was nearing the fence, and he knew I had to shoot before it got to the fence.
"You better shoot him again!" Came the urgent whisper, but I was too focused to reply, and I shot again.
This time, I saw the bull hunch up, then lunge forward. He jumped the fence and disappeared behind a brush pile. I knew he was hit good. But he was still running and out of my sight so I couldn't get off another shot. I thought I must've made a mess of it.
"Sorry man!" I said, turning to Bob.
"No! Good work!" Bob assured me. "I think you hit him with both shots."
"Whew!" I took a few deep breaths to release the tension from the past few hours.
"I'm going to get my pack - I'll be right back," Bob said, and he took off back across the creek. I scanned the meadow with my binos, but could not see a brown lump on the ground, anywhere. I started to get worried that I had made a bad shot and the bull was getting away, wounded, in the fast approaching dark. I envisioned a long night of tracking, finishing shots, packing out.
Bob came back and we waited another 5 minutes, then started out at a fast walk. Halfway to the spot we last saw him, Bob stopped and glassed. I didn't bother pulling out my binoculars. He looked for about 30 seconds, then dropped the binoculars and slapped me on the shoulder.
"You got him!"
I stared at him in shock. "I did?!"
"That's a good bull!" He grinned happily, every bit as excited as I was.
"You're a good friend!" I replied, overcome with emotion. "Letting me hunt your elk with your rifle."
"Aww..." he brushed it off and handed me his binoculars. "Look through these!"
I looked, and I saw huge elk antlers sticking up above the grass. I was in shock! I had shot a huge elk on my first week of bull season! I walked up and tugged at his thick antlers. They were massive. I was dumbfounded. Bob was still excited, and exclaiming about the size and mass of both the animal and the antlers. He couldn't believe it, and neither could I!
We found the two bullet holes, both in the ribs, both lung shots. Either one would've put him down, but the second one just made it happen faster. He had only ran 100 yards from my second shot. I was pretty happy to get two good shots at 330 yards!
He posed the elk, and told me how to sit while he took pictures. He ran his hand over the massive shoulders and commented on the depth and size of this guy. He pulled back the lips and looked at the teeth, worn down from years of use.
"He's old, too. A mature old bull." He pronounced, confidently. He guided elk hunts for years and knew what he was talking about. I just knew this was bigger than anything I ever expected to bag on my first time. I was ecstatic!
Later, my friend measured his antlers, and they scored 356 Boone & Crockett points. Just under the minimum point of 360 needed for B&C entry. I was never hunting for a trophy, but God just tapped me on the shoulder and said "here, I have something for ya!"
Since it was on private land, in an accessible area, we were able to get a pickup up to the elk and winch it on the bed. That saved my bad back a ton of work and pain-- I was grateful. We got him into the cooler and several days later my family helped me process the meat. We deboned it all, and ended up with 246 lbs of boneless meat. Our freezer is full and the whole family is happy!
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