Editor's Note: This essay appears with permission from Elk Hunter Magazine in its entirety and was originally published in the Summer 2014 issue. To subscribe to Elk Hunter, click here.

I felt like I had just been punched in the stomach. From nearly two miles away, I could only stare in disbelief as three archery hunters made their way toward the 7x8 bull that I had been watching since July. It was now September and the season for my rifle tag would not open for another ten days. 

For most of us western hunters, September is slow to arrive, and when it finally does arrive, it usually goes by way too fast. This year, however, with a rare October rifle tag in my pocket, I couldn’t wait for September to end.
I began to wonder if scouting was a waste of time with all the pressure these elk were experiencing. Watching through my spotting scope, I found myself cheering for this bull, and as he and his cows escaped without harm, I couldn’t help but feel relief. However, that feeling quickly turned to severe stress as I watched how quickly those elk laid down miles of tracks, leaving a dust trail that slowly faded in the distance. I knew the chances of me finding that bull again were slim.

Opening Day Eve Angst

Finally, September was over. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to make another scouting trip, but I had spent every spare second using Google Earth, strategizing, and trying to predict where these elk might be. Ironically, a short time later I read an article called “Taking the Bull by the Horns” by Remi Warren. It talked about the importance of knowing elk behavior, knowing your hunting area, knowing pressure patterns, and predicting those patterns. Remi was spot on with this article. I knew it was a long shot, but it’s all I had to go on.

Luckily, I was able to enlist the help of my nephew, Brycen. There’s nothing better than having a physically fit friend by your side on an elk hunt, especially one who doesn’t have an elk tag! It was the day before my hunt opened and he and I were finally heading back to the area where I had last seen the elk.

Later that evening, we had made our way to a new vantage point. Using our binoculars, we quickly started glassing the enormous area surrounding us. After an hour, I felt the coolness of the evening settling in. Just then I whispered to Brycen with excitement, “Elk!”

I had spotted a cow about a mile away in the distance. We quickly started scanning the area for a bull. The rut was still in full swing and I expected to find a bull near her. Slowly, more cows began to show, but still no bull. I was beginning to feel discouraged.  Had someone hung an archery tag on him? Had the rut ended early this year? Or, was he just outsmarting me? Eventually, darkness came and we were forced to give up for the night.

As we made our way off the hill and back to the truck, I had never felt more indecisive. I needed to come up with a good plan for the morning, but I didn’t know what to do. Should I try a new area or stay put on these cows?

Feeling desperate, I opted to “use a lifeline and phone a friend”. When KC answered, I quickly explained the scenario. Ironically, he had recently experienced something similar. He said that it wouldn’t surprise him for a smart bull to leave his cows during the day and meet back up with them at night. He helped convince me to stay put, so Brycen and I made camp.

Got ‘Em

After a long sleepless night, it was finally time to get up and hike in the dark to our vantage point. Slowly, it started to get light enough to see through my binoculars.  Full of anticipation, I made a quick scan of everything out to a mile in a 360-degree circle; nothing. I scanned again, this time a little farther out and a little slower; nothing again.

Still optimistic, I began scanning another circle and found them. They were out in the flat and heading for rougher terrain to bed for the day. They were a long ways away - probably close to four miles - but I could tell there was a nice bull in the bunch. I quickly got behind the spotting scope. I couldn’t count points, but regardless, I knew this was the same bull I had been watching.

I traded places behind the scope with Brycen.  His job was to watch the elk through the spotting scope and not lose sight of them, no matter what.  My job was to continue scanning the area, searching for more elk.  This continued for the next hour and a half or so.  Occasionally, the sun would shine on the bull just right, offering a better glimpse of his rack, and Brycen would mutter something like, “Oh, man!” or “He’s way bigger than anything you’ve shot before.”

It was as if he was trying to infect me with “buck fever”. Brycen did a great job of keeping track of the herd while I glassed three smaller satellite bulls that were following the herd.  I could hear a little panic in his voice when he pulled away from the spotting scope and said, “I think I lost them.”

I reassured him and told him that it was actually a good thing. They had made it to their bedding area and the fact that he couldn’t see them hopefully meant that they had decided to bed down. The most important thing now was not to move or bump the scope, as it was the only thing marking their location.

We spent the next little while studying the area. Landmarks can be tricky and sometimes nonexistent when hunting this area. Finally, after we had evaluated every hypothetical situation we could imagine, we felt confident we could close the distance.

Because of the wind direction, we would have to go way out and around them and come in from the other side. We knew it was going to take a few hours to cover that distance, so we quickly packed up our gear and off we went.

The Knee Pad Conundrum

After we put a few miles on our boots and had one close encounter with a rattlesnake, we had finally started to close the distance. Just like I suspected, we began second-guessing where the elk were. Everything looked the same.

I was staring down at my GPS, trying to make an educated guess at where they might be, when Brycen tapped me on the shoulder and said, “There they are.”

I pulled up my binoculars and found a single cow, while Brycen ranged her at about 1000 yards. The cow was definitely alert and looking in our direction. She was the only elk we could see, but we knew the others were right there with her. We stood motionless for five minutes until she finally broke from her statue-like pose and began feeding.

We then quickly dropped to our hands and knees and began cutting the distance – a difficult task with little to no cover. There’s also nothing worse than having to crawl right after you almost step on a rattlesnake.

I’ll never forget crawling around in the jagged lava rocks and cactus on my hands and knees wishing I had my knee pads that were back at the truck.  You see, when you buy a nice pair of hunting pants that have built-in knee pads, initially you think it’s a great idea!  But, what most people don’t realize is that, if you have the type friends like I do (and I imagine most of you do), you had better prepare yourself for the jokes and snickering. Eventually, I had given in and removed them from the pants so I wouldn’t have to hear about it anymore…a decision I had just now come to regret.

The Waiting Game

I carefully crawled up to a small rise and peered over, hoping the cow had bedded down again. After a quick scan, I couldn’t see any elk, which I felt was a good thing. Brycen ranged the spot where we had last seen her and it was now 475 yards. The wind was still blowing in the same direction, but was blowing harder now than before. Ahead was an even bigger rise where I needed to be in order to gain enough elevation to have a prone shooting rest.

Those last 35 yards seemed to be the hardest, but we finally made it to that rise at 3:30 p.m.  I quietly stacked our two backpacks on top of each other to create a comfortable shooting platform and let the waiting game begin.

All I had to do now was be patient and wait for the bull to stand up and show himself. I had all of his escape routes covered and they were all within shooting range. What could go wrong?

Finally, the bull got up and started checking his cows. For the few brief moments that he was on his feet, I could only see his rack and occasionally his head, but not his body. Brycen was quick to point out the length of his fourths and fifths, which again did little to cure the fever. As quickly as he appeared, he bedded back down again.

Now the fever started to set in pretty hard. I started second-guessing my game plan. Was my shooting setup good enough?  If I waited too long, would I be shooting into the sun?

Improvising a Last-Minute Plan

Brycen and I came up with a new plan. If we can’t see them, they can’t see us, right? The new plan was to leave the packs and try to sneak up to the rise that they were hiding behind. We opted to get low but stay on our feet so we could move faster.

We quickly covered 100 yards when unexpectedly off to our right we heard the unmistakable sound of hoof beats on lava rock. One quick glance and I realized that the three satellite bulls from earlier had just busted us. I knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the elk became alert, so we sped up our stalk.

Suddenly, the cows started appearing over the rise. Brycen quickly slid the shooting sticks under my rifle as I stood ready at 250 yards from the cows. One by one the cows came out single file. They were heading to our left and going up and over the rocks and out of sight.

Finally, after all the cows had disappeared, the bull came out of his hiding place and followed them. One quick cow call from my diaphragm slowed him down enough for me to squeeze in one perfectly placed shot from my 7mm.

For some reason, as I walked up to this bull and saw him lying there, I again felt like I had just been punched in the stomach. It was different this time, though. It was the bittersweet feeling that only a hunter knows after taking the life of an animal he loves. I’m truly blessed to have had this opportunity.