This story really begins back when Wyoming started their non-resident preference point program for elk in 2006. I was lucky enough to have a hardcore mountain hunter as a dad, who also happened to be very tuned in to the out-of-state preference point program. He set me up for future success by continuing to buy me preference points for multiple species in multiple states. What a lucky kid! My Uncle Jim had also been building elk points in Wyoming. We had been discussing plans for a Wyoming elk hunt but hadn’t been able to commit to one due to other hunts and life obligations. Our good friend, George, had hunted a limited-entry zone in Wyoming a couple years earlier, and he had been telling us to put in for it. We hoped 2021 was going to be the year for Wyoming elk.
When the draw results came out, all three of us were elated to see “Successful” listed next to our names. The planning and preparation began. We decided we were going to start this hunt during the archery season, and if we were not successful, we would continue into the rifle hunt. We planned our timing to skew a little harder into the archery season to hit the peak of the rut. Our friend, George, immediately reached out to some of his local contacts as well as dropping over 50 pins onto my onX program. My dad reached out to hunters who previously held the same tag as well as the local game warden, and we had a pretty good game plan for how we were going to attack the hunt.
After months of gear prep, time at the range, and online scouting and phone calls, the time had finally come. On opening morning, we picked a canyon and immediately heard bugles coming from the bottom. We were in elk on the first day, but due to the thick timber, we didn’t get a look at any of them. My hunting buddy, Nick, drove down from Montana to call for us and hopefully help pack out a couple bulls. We checked out a few other areas but didn’t hear as much rutting activity as we did in the first spot. Nick is wise beyond his years, and the rest of the hunt, we decided to stick to his advice, “Never leave elk to find elk.”
Nick and I split up from my dad and Jim, and Nick was able to call in a decent 7x7 that spooked when I drew my bow. The bugle action was hot and cold, and the next few days were filled with oddly silent woods or non-stop bulls screaming, but no more close encounters. Due to the elk activity in the area, we set up a spike camp to get us closer. We got some cold weather and a light dusting of snow, which I figured would kick the bulls into an even higher gear, but they were quiet.
The next morning was one for the record books. It was cold, crisp, and frosty but clear skies, and elk were bugling in every canyon and draw we peered into. We had some close encounters that day, but again, no dice. On the walk out, my uncle and I had about six different bulls bugling and fighting within 200 yards. The sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard. We hung out and listened for about half an hour, and there was not a single second of silence.
On the opening day of rifle season, the excitement was palpable as we started our hike in the pre-dawn darkness. We had learned this area and had been able to use the archery season to scout and figure out where the elk were and what they were doing. As we walked in the darkness, we had numerous bulls bugling in separate directions. We decided to split up and hopefully get three bulls on the ground with our rifles. It wasn’t long into our hike when I bumped a small 6-point in thick timber, most likely the one I had started after. I heard another bull bugle in the same direction, so I continued on the same path. That bull moved away from me and dropped down into a thick, steep canyon. As I was debating what to do, I heard a deep, throaty bugle from a couple hundred yards away.
I crept slowly through the timber, being as quiet as possible until finally I saw some elk moving through the trees. The whole herd was feeding right towards me! The herd bull let out a ferocious bugle and continued to move his cows in my direction. I could see at least seven points on one side, and the rest of him looked big. I got set up against a tree and waited for the perfect opening. The shot was only about 75 yards, but due to the thick timber, I had to pick my shooting lane carefully. I pressed the trigger and heard the distinctive sound of a bullet hitting its mark. The bull walked uphill about 20 yards, and I took one more shot to bring him down.
I started walking towards the bull, and all of a sudden, my dad popped out of the trees about 75 yards away! We met up and approached the downed bull. It was a gorgeous 7x7. My dad told me that was the same bull he had set out after that morning when we all split up. That’s why he was so close. I had slipped in and killed it under his nose.
The work began, and not long after making the first cut, another bugle erupted from not very far away. My dad took off with his rifle to check it out. It ended up being a small 5x6 that walked right up to me next to my downed bull and bugled at it. We had almost finished quartering when another bugle lit off a couple hundred yards away. This one sounded deep and mature. My dad once again took off with his rifle. He walked about 75 yards from my bull, and I saw him shoulder his gun and take a shot. I took a break from quartering my bull to join him. He said the bull looked good, but it disappeared over a small rise before he could get a second shot off. We crested the small hill but unfortunately didn’t see the bull down in the clearing. It looked like he had dropped off the ridge into a canyon.
As we made our way down, we saw him caught up in a tree at the top of the saddle. I got a closer look and told my dad, “He’s big!” The fourths looked like towers coming off the main beam, and he had some serious mass. We quickly finished quartering my bull, bagged it, and hung it from a downed tree. We started in on his bull and did the same. Jim eventually made his way over to us as he had struck out on the bull he went after that morning. We took the first load out on our day packs and did one more trip that evening with pack frames.
The time had come for us to head home, even though my uncle hadn’t filled his tag. He made plans to come back as it was only about a five-hour drive from his house. He was able to come back with his son and fill his tag on a nice bull during the last weekend of the season.
Due to the point creep in Wyoming and the points required to draw this specific tag, it may very well be the last time I hunt this area in Wyoming, but I’ve got the memory of this hunt to last the rest of my life. It would not have been possible without my dad instilling an absolute love for the outdoors and hunting as well as him being so on top of the out-of-state preference point game.
If you have young kids, I recommend getting them involved in the preference point game as soon as they are of legal age. The two bulls we harvested were icing on the cake, but the true “trophy” of this hunt was the time spent in the woods with my dad, my uncle, and my close friend. This hunt would not have been possible without my dad, my uncle, and our good friends, Nick and George.
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