My buddy, Casey, and I try to do an out-of-state hunt together each year, but getting our schedules to match doesn’t always work out. Normally, it has been Montana. This year, we decided to try our luck in the draw for Wyoming elk. We didn’t have enough points, so we found a unit that had around a 10% chance of drawing randomly. I put in as the group leader and texted him the info,but I didn’t hear back from him. The next day, there was still no answer. The deadline was that night, so I texted him again. The deadline to apply passed, and then he texted me back 20 minutes later. Work had taken him to Holland, and he had finally got to where he could get his messages. I told him, “Watch, now that you missed it, I’ll draw that tag and be all alone.” Sure enough, I drew that tag.
We decided to do the Montana hunt again, but couldn’t get our schedules to line up perfectly. Casey and one of his buddies could get to Montana two or three days before I could and would have to leave two days before I did. It would work well enough. My brother-in-law, Neil, had wanted to go on one of these hunts and finally decided this was the year. With four of us going, we found a Forest Service cabin we could rent. We would be hunting mid-November in Montana, and I had the Wyoming elk for October.
I told Neil about an antelope hunt my brother and I had done the season before. It was a lot of fun, and we saw a lot of antelope. I told him we should put in for that hunt but that we probably wouldn’t draw the first year. However, if we did, I promised I’d make that a priority. Yep, we drew that tag for Montana antelope and it overlapped with my Wyoming elk tag. Now my elk hunt was a secondary hunt at best. One day at work, I was talking to one of our salesmen about my upcoming hunts and the Wyoming elk tag. He said he had a friend with a ranch in my area and would talk to him. He agreed to let me hunt it, so now I just had to find the time.
Fast forward to October. Neil’s father’s health had taken a turn for the worse. In the days leading up to our antelope hunt, he was doing a little better, so we were off. On day one, we were following a group of antelope when we ran out cover to hide behind. Neil lives in western Washington and hadn’t ever shot beyond 100-150 yards. This antelope was well outside of that, so he insisted that I take it. I didn’t argue any, and we had one antelope down. I was hoping to hurry and get Neil his antelope and run down to Wyoming for my elk.
On day two, we headed to a new area and found antelope everywhere. This was very flat ground, so getting close was going to be difficult. The first opportunity was a longer shot, and we weren’t surprised by the miss. The next stalk got us to 267 yards. This was going to do it, but he missed again. The next stalk was another misses. We’d make it happen, though. Miss again.
“If you want to switch to my rifle, you're more than welcome to try it,” I told Neil.
He decided that it was time for a change. At last light, we got our best shot opportunity yet at 200 yards. Not being used to my rifle, Neil couldn’t figure why he couldn’t see the buck. The focus ring had rubbed on his pack and screwed all the way in. No shot!
Day three had us crawling for a long distance to get into position only to have the buck stand and trot into the dip between us and then pop up only 50 yards away. He saw us and was off before Neil could sit up and turn. Getting pretty bummed out, I told Neil to keep his head up, there a lot of goats around here and it was still early. The next couple stalks didn’t work out. Then a stalk that both of us thought would never work did work. We were able to get to 324 yards. The biggest buck in the group just went over the hill, but there were two more bucks and Neil was able to connect on one of them. This was his first big game animal, and he was stoked. It was a small buck, but he didn’t miss this time. Upon further inspection of his rifle, he had a scope mount that was loose.
We got back to the truck at dark, and I told him that as long as everything was fine at home we were headed to Wyoming. I told Neil, “Your wife can be mad at me, but you’re my hostage and I’m going elk hunting.”
We arrived at the property with about two hours of hunting light left in the day. I figured I had the rest of this day and the next for this hunt. Not sure if I would have time to come back before the season ended, my expectations were low. As Neil was closing the second gate, I brought my binoculars up and almost instantly saw elk moving through the timber above us. I almost wet myself with excitement. We scrambled to get ready, grab our packs, and go. We climbed up, downwind, to the level we where we had last seen the elk and found an opening. Before long, they started feeding out on the opposite hillside, and there was a bull with them. I crawled up a ways and tried to calm down for the shot. After several cows came out from behind a patch of trees, the bull followed. My first shot hit the bull a little bit back, but the second was good. I was in disbelief. We actually had a bull down in two hours! He was a 6x6 with devil points coming off his fronts, a bit broken up, but I wasn’t complaining.
Neil’s father passed away between the two trips, and the funeral was 10 days before we were going back to Montana. He knew it was going to happen sometime soon, so he was ready to go back when the time came. Casey got to Montana two and a half days before Neil and I could, but his buddy wasn’t able to go. He had to stay as a criminal who had vandalized his family’s business was making threats to his family, including his teenage sister. What a piece of garbage!
Casey was able to locate a really nice bull and watched him the first night. He found him again the next morning and got into range only to have the bull feed into thick timber and then lose him. Not wanting to push him out, he backed out and waited for Neil and me to arrive that night. We made the long, steep hike in the next morning only to have the wind crank up to 50+ mph. The bull couldn’t be found. He had to relocate to a more protected place. We saw a few elk but not the one we were looking for.
The next day, we decided to hunt a spot Casey and I had previously hunted. It was a spot that had a good chance for deer or elk. We split up, taking different drainages, but we should be close enough to hear the other guy shoot. It was late afternoon, and I called Neil on the radio and told him all I had seen were three does. He said all he had seen was a bunny. An hour later, I was thinking that this was a wasted day when a gun shot rang out followed by another. Apparently, it was not a wasted day. I hurried over the ridge and radioed Neil. It was a pretty crackly message, but he had one down. One what? A deer I was guessing, but I’d need to get closer to hear him better. Next time, he told me he had an elk. This unit was open to cows or brow tined bulls. I knew he just wanted any elk, so I assumed it was a cow. What a surprise when I came around the corner of the timber and saw him with a 6x6 bull! He said he was just about to give up watching this spot and head over the ridge towards Casey when he decided to take one last look. As he turned around, a small bull fed out, followed by his bull. He was able to get a tree between them and close the distance to 200 yards. I couldn’t have been happier for him. Having just lost his dad, he deserved this one.
It took us the majority of the next day to get Neil’s bull out, and unfortunately, Casey had to go home empty-handed after that. Next time is your time Casey.
Login