September 2026
My Brother and I: A Self-Guided Wyoming Horseback Elk Hunt
Hunter: Brodey Davis
Species: Rocky Mountain Elk
Location: Wyoming, Unit 62
Method: Archery, self-guided horseback hunt
For the last two years, my brother has been packing my nephew and his friend into the back country of Colorado for an annual elk hunt. It’s always been a dream of mine to go on a pack trip like that, but the opportunity just hasn’t presented itself. However, in September 2024, my nephew received the news that his wife was pregnant with twins, and he wouldn’t be able to hunt elk in 2025. It was finally my turn!
Cashing In 15 Points for Unit 62
I had fifteen preference points in Wyoming, so I did my research and decided to cash in my points for a unit 62 tag. I planned my hunt for the last ten days of the month-long archery season in an attempt to coincide with the rut. We arrived at the trailhead on September 19. About five miles in and 2,000 feet up from where we’d started, we located a spring-fed stream in a nice basin that sat above a lot of great elk country. My plan was to camp high and hunt from the top down.
A Bull with Huge Whale Tails
The next morning, I was off to my glassing spot before daybreak. It wasn’t long before I picked up some elk. To my surprise, they weren’t in the area I had anticipated—the elk were literally just above camp! There were five bulls and no cows, and none of them were bugling. I watched as they headed up the face toward the giant basin on the other side. The light still wasn’t great, so I couldn’t make out much antler detail; however, I could tell the bull about to skyline had one heck of a frame. I only had a brief look before he went over the top: His impressive royals and huge whale tales caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting to see a bull like that right out of the gate. From then on, I knew that he was the bull I wanted to hunt!
Cat-and-Mouse in the Timber
We spent the next two days looking for him. Finally, on the third day, I found him on a steep, north-facing ridge, just a mile from where he disappeared over the hill the first morning. He had picked up eight cows and had them on one of the steepest, thickest faces in the area. I had a brief window before it got dark to make a stalk, so we jumped on the horses and headed in his direction. I was able to get within bow range that evening, but before the bull made it into a shooting lane, a dang mule deer buck busted me and bounded up the mountain, spooking the elk.
For the next three days, we played cat-and-mouse. I had a couple more close calls with this bull but just couldn’t get an arrow in him. With two days left to hunt, my brother and I saddled the horses before daybreak and headed to our first glassing point. With just barely enough light, I could make out elk feeding on the hillside—there he was! The elk were moving in our direction, headed to a water hole a few hundred feet below us. I descended to the water hole. If he came all the way to the water, I would have a fifty-yard shot. The cows filtered down within a hundred yards, and two cows committed all the way to the water. At this point, things began to go south. The remaining cows stopped short at about eighty yards, watching the cows at the water nervously. What the heck had happened?
The bull, however, wasn’t nervous at all. He dropped well below the cows to push them up the hill. I ranged him, drew my bow, settled my pin, and let rip! Everything felt great, and the arrow flew beautifully, but I watched it fall a few inches short. I was sick—just sick—as I watched the group run back up the mountain and over into the next basin.
Runaway Mules and a Bedded Bull
Since I was only half a mile from camp, I made my way back to regroup and grab some food. During this little break, my brother and I managed to let two of our mules run away from us. By the time my brother got saddled up on his horse, we’d watched them run over the hill back toward the trailhead! He began tracking them back toward the trailhead. (To make a long story short, we found them two days later, a little over eight miles from camp.)
While my brother was off messing with the mules, I rode around the basin to set up at my glassing point. I didn’t turn anything up for a few hours. By this time, my brother was almost back up the mountain. Once he arrived, we moved down the ridge a quarter mile for a different look. With no luck, I stood up to grab my things. Instantly, I saw something below me running through the tree line. I pulled up my binoculars, and I couldn’t believe it: our bull had been bedded just below us, watching us the entire time! Now, all we could do was watch him run over into the next basin.
I sat back down, trying to decide what to do next, and looked back below us. His cows were on their feet, walking in the direction he had run. Fortunately, they had no clue what had happened. The cows took the same route the bull had taken to the top of the hill; however, they went a different direction toward another ridge.
We took the trail around the basin rim to get a good view of the area the elk had run to. After another couple hours of glassing with no luck, we decided to split up. My brother would stay put, watching the area the elk had run to, and I would ride back to the other basin to make sure the elk didn’t come back over before dark.
Twenty-Six Yards at Last Light
The evening went by quickly. I was about to start packing back up when I caught movement on the ridge. It was him, and it was obvious he was looking for the cows he had lost. I packed up quickly, made it to some cover, and cut the distance quickly without being seen. There was a spot up ahead that offered several shooting lanes. I settled in, knocked an arrow, and let out a few cow calls! Instantly, I could hear him running toward me—he couldn’t have been more than a hundred yards away. His rack started to peak over the rise in front of me, and I knew I was going to get an opportunity.
The bull closed the distance, walking broadside at forty-two yards. Suddenly, he turned straight toward me and kept coming! He walked within twenty-six yards before he saw that something wasn’t right, but it was too late this time. With the bull slightly quartered to me, I let the arrow fly and hit him inches behind the shoulder. After impact, he spun around and ran into the dark timber. I could hear him running a good ways, but I never heard him crash. I was shaken; I couldn’t believe it happened!
It was an emotional rendezvous as I told my brother what had just happened. Dark had settled in, and since I hadn’t heard the bull crash and considering that grizzly bears were thick in this unit, we decided to leave him overnight.
Found on the Rockslide
The next morning, we picked up the blood trail right before the place where he’d entered the dark timber. My expectation was to find this bull quickly because I was very confident with my shot. We tracked blood about eighty yards, and the amount of blood began to rapidly decrease as we followed the trail. After about fifty more yards, we lost blood completely! I was scratching my head at this point. We continued searching for the bull for the entire day with no luck. On the south side of the dark timber, there was a nasty, jagged rockslide that was almost impassable. I couldn’t find anywhere that he could have gone into the rockslide. At this point I was defeated, sick, and tired! It was 6:50 p.m., and I had accepted that my hunt was over and that I wasn’t going to recover my bull. I met up with my brother on the trail, and we started to head back to camp.
The trail literally goes over the top of the rockslide I mentioned earlier. As we rounded the bend and began to pass above the rockslide on the way back to camp, the sun had almost settled. What light was left was shining directly on the jagged rocks. As I looked down toward the bottom, I could see the very distinctive shine of elk hide! I instantly stopped and looked with my binoculars. My eyes filled with tears when I realized I was looking at my elk, dead on the rocks. Once again, I couldn’t believe it!
The bull had died 317 yards from where I’d shot him. I’m still scratching my head as to how he got into that rockslide. After examining him, I could see that he’d been quartered toward me more than I’d thought. The shot had entered inches behind the shoulder and exited near the opposite hip.
All the Way from Oklahoma
The last eight days had been a roller coaster. Ups, downs, frustration, tears, and sheer happiness! We’d taken a long shot taking on this journey all the way from Oklahoma—but dang it, we did it!
Additional Resources
- Wyoming Application Strategy
- Wyoming State Profile
- Wyoming Hunting Regulations
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