December 2025
Moose, Deer, and Elk Hunting | Montana and Nevada
Story By: Rusty Becker
Sitting at a restaurant in my childhood hometown in Montana, I received a text from Montana Fish and Game stating I was successful in the fall moose hunt draw after 21 years of applying. Looking at my wife, Kelly, I said, "Looks like we’re going to have a fun season." Little did I know it was going to get much better. A couple weeks later, I received notification from Nevada about a once-in-a-lifetime elk tag there. The season was getting better, and it hadn't even started yet!
Driving from Alaska, I arrived in Montana a couple days before rifle season. Having lived in the area, I knew this was going to be a fairly difficult hunt with a lot of steep, thick terrain and wilderness areas. I reached out to a local guide and asked if he would start looking when he was in the wilderness. I started hunting with Kelly, and it was tougher than I thought. Very little sign was seen. We saw only three sets of moose tracks the entire time we hunted and about the same number of moose droppings. Through constant contact with the outfitter, I was told they had only seen a couple small bulls in the first month. Not what I was used to coming from Alaska where I see moose in my yard consistently. In fact, while hunting, I had several bulls come through my camera at home in Alaska, seemingly mocking me about not seeing anything in Montana. We were committed, hunting 27 of the first 30 days of the season. Although I was a bit stressed with the lack of moose, I was at least enjoying the great Montana fall with Kelly. After 26 days of not seeing anything, I told Kelly I was probably going to skip the hunt that day and work at the place in Montana. She insisted we go out that 27th morning. I am glad she pushed me.
While checking one of our familiar areas, we were about to leave and Kelly squealed, "Wait, there's a moose! It's a bull!" Not being able to see it, I asked her where it was and she frantically flailed her arms in the air, yelling, "Down there!" It was quite comical because it was already clear from where we were looking that it was "down there." Trying to keep my composure and stay calm knowing after 26 days this was the first moose we had seen and having the pressure of time running out before the Nevada elk hunt, I moved closer to her. It took me a minute to find the bull at the bottom. I couldn’t believe that she spotted him with only his rump exposed.
Adjusting positions for a better look, we concluded he was not a monster, but he was a respectable Montana moose. I decided to take him. I tried to call, but he was having no part of it. He started moving towards the thicker timber, so I moved a little closer and shot. He recoiled and stood there. The distance was approaching over 375 yards downhill, so I needed to keep my composure. With Kelly coaching, I took a steady breath, relaxed, shot, and he went down for good. A quick call and I had several helpers, including a friend with a couple of horses. What a great hunt being able to hunt with Kelly by my side for 27 days. It’s something I’ll never forget.
I then switched focus to Nevada. My boys, Garrett and Jeremy, along with a great friend, Gordon, had made arrangements to come with me on this Nevada elk hunt, knowing it was one of the big ones on my bucket list. My nephew’s son, Henry, joined us, and we were off driving to Nevada. I’d arranged with Mossback Nevada to work with a guy named Erle. He was in constant contact with me over the summer and had hunted the area the prior year, taking a 390” class bull. He was going to hunt it again this year with a friend during muzzleloader season, so it would be well scouted before I got there. They found several big bulls, all of which were beyond the caliber I was hoping for. However, as the season got closer, they were unable to locate any of them. They were able to find a 360” class bull for Mike during his muzzleloader season.
Concerned about the lack of elk sightings and knowing what this hunt was for me, Erle’s son, Baelin, and Mike, the muzzleloader hunter, decided to help out. They love elk hunting and know their stuff! Once we were there, we split into teams to cover more ground. Erle and Baelin knew the area and directed my group to different locations to see if we could turn up one of the bulls spotted in July.
By the fourth day, I had only seen one spike. My sons and Gordon, acting as spotters, had seen several good bulls but not the caliber we were looking for. On the fourth day, after some pep talks from my boys, Gordon reached out from where they had seen a couple of the bulls and said, "I found him." I was with Baelin at the time, and he asked, "Which one?" I said, "It doesn’t matter. If Gordon says it’s him, then it’s a bull I’ll want to take."
As we were working into position, Gordon sent us a picture he had taken. I didn’t need to see that! It just added pressure. The bull had bedded in some junipers with his companion, and we put a stalk on them. Our rather large hunting party posted themselves on hills in the distance to watch the hunt unfold. Watching where the bull was bedded, we laid there almost all day, waiting for this bull to move. It was over five hours on the cold ground with wind blowing. We could occasionally see branches move as he or his companion stood and raked their antlers. In the meantime, I would distract myself by texting my wife and nephew. The waiting was intense.
Finally, the bulls stood. The "smaller bull" had crowns on top. I thought to myself as he walked into the opening, "Wow, I cannot believe I’m passing on a bull of this caliber." The other one entered the opening. He did that swagger that truly large bulls do. I had been practicing all day to make sure I had a secure rest, so I felt good. I touched off the first shot, and he stopped. Gordon and Baelin both said, "It’s a hit! Hit him again!" I shot him again, and he started to step backwards. I hit him a third time, and he staggered and went down. All three shots were grouped about the size of the palm of a hand through his lungs at 390 yards. I had been stressed about making that shot considering I was cold, stiff, and had blowing side-wind. It all came together, and there was a bull of a lifetime on the ground.
As we approached the downed bull, I was in total awe of the giant on the ground. What a day! Something I’ll never forget, a bull of a lifetime scoring 374”. We enjoyed a campfire while everyone gathered, waiting for Erle to come back down off the mountain as he had walked past in the dark while retrieving his dog and climbed unnecessarily almost to the top. He will not live that down any time soon. We then made short work of packing the bull to our vehicle and ended a hunt of a lifetime, the second of the season.
While driving back to Montana, I was talking to Kelly and thinking about when I was going home to Alaska (we have a camper in Montana). I was just feeling lucky, and she said I should grab my daughter, Mari, and stay for Thanksgiving weekend and hunt deer. I drove nearly 500 miles to pick her up and brought her back to Montana to spend a day or two deer hunting with me.
After picking her up in Washington, we arranged to hunt with my nephew Thanksgiving weekend. The first day we went out with my nephew, what a day! It was one of those days with fresh snow and deer seemed to be moving everywhere. We saw eight bucks that day. It was like it used to be 40 years ago before the wolf reintroduction. We managed to harvest a solid 4-point buck that day to top off my season.
Reflecting on the season, I got to hunt moose in Montana with my wife, elk with my sons and friends in Nevada, and ended the season with harvesting a deer in Montana with my daughter. Seasons that you get to hunt that much with your family and friends are blessed. Harvesting on all the hunts on top of it is truly what dreams are made of.