November 2026
A Hunt to Remember: A Wyoming Opening Day Bull Elk
Hunter: Bridger Clark
Species: Rocky Mountain Elk
Location: Wyoming
Method: Rifle
My 2025 elk hunt story started on a bright, early morning in June when the Wyoming resident draw results came out. I was up before the sun, making the most out of the early morning dew, raking hay on our family ranch, when I received a text from my best hunting buddy, Matt, a diehard elk hunter, asking if I drew any tags. Knowing how things normally go, I joked around and said I didn’t need to check because everything would have the word everyone dreads written below it: Unsuccessful. But to my surprise, the word “Success” appeared under everything I had put in for: elk, antelope, and whitetail deer. I couldn’t believe it. I texted Matt a screenshot of my unexpected fortune, telling him that he was gonna have to take time off work for that elk hunt.
As October started creeping closer, Matt and I started scheming for the upcoming hunt. The general-season deer hunt was open during the same time the elk season ran. A couple of other great buddies, Luke and Bryan, agreed to join in on the fun and hunt some deer. It had been a long time since I was this excited to go on a hunt, and it was exactly what I needed. The excitement really started to settle in when Luke and I slipped up the mountain on a chilly Sunday afternoon between some snowstorms to set up camp. There was about six inches of fresh snow on the ground, and all I could think to myself was, “Perfect.”
Opening Morning
Opening morning finally came. After a sleepless, windy night, Matt and I were up an hour before our alarms. Knowing that neither of us would be able to go back to sleep, I fired up the stove and started cooking scrambled eggs for an early breakfast, joking to Matt that we were really gonna need these eggs in us for the long day ahead. Little did we know how true that would be! After we finished eating and completed our opening day tradition (jamming to Thunderstruck by AC/DC), we set off for what was about to be an unforgettable day.
We started glassing where I had spotted a nice six-point bull the night before. As the light started to burn over the horizon, I started picking through the small benches tucked into a big burn, trying to find the bull from the evening before. My goal was to shoot a nice six-point for the first time, having only taken two nice five-by-sixes in my life. We still hadn’t found the bull (or any others) after the first fifteen minutes of shooting light, and I anxiously started working my glass down the deep burnt canyon, trying to find something before the opening day shots started echoing through the canyon.
Finally, I spotted some elk in the bottom, about three-quarters of a mile down the canyon. I whispered to Matt, “There’s some in the bottom!” and rushed to get my spotter on them. There were about eight or nine bulls. As we watched, I spotted another lone bull up higher in the burn. I looked over to Matt and said, “Holy smokes, look at this bull!” After a quick glance, we immediately threw our stuff together and took off over the canyon's razor-blade cliff edges to get closer before someone else spotted them.
Bulls to Ourselves
After catching our breath and wiping the fog off our glass, we got a closer look. The lone bull was around the 320-inch class—a definite shooter. As we were deciding what to do, we started looking over the other group of bulls we had seen in the bottom. There was an awesome five-by-five with a couple of smaller sixes. I couldn’t believe it. We were an hour into opening day, and we hadn’t seen any other hunters, hadn’t heard any shots, and seemed to have the bulls to ourselves. Every hunter's dream.
As we were trying to get a better look at the five-by-five and decide what bull to go after, a couple of gunshots rang out a couple of miles farther down the canyon. All the bulls stopped feeding and picked their heads up, and my heart sank. The excitement and joy I had drained out of my body. Instead of taking off, the bulls all slowly started working up into the burn, and the lone bull held his ground. We patiently watched the bulls work around into some small patches of unburnt timber for the next couple of hours and thankfully didn’t hear any more gunshots. The excitement slowly worked back in as we watched the lone bull bed down.
Holding to My Word
After most of the other bulls had bedded down and we couldn’t relocate the big five-by-five, I decided that was the sign that we should go after the lone six-by-six. We decided it would be best if Matt stayed up on the mid-canyon ledge and watched the stalk from afar. I abandoned Matt and started working my way down the heavily timbered drainage, and I realized there was a chance I could shoot up at the bull from the bottom. I cut the distance down to just over 550 yards, dialed my scope, and got set up on him. My adrenaline started taking over. My heart was pounding hard, making it tough to get a dead hold on the bull. I knew I had plenty of time, so I eased off the trigger and just looked the bull over closer, waiting to calm down. As I was looking him over, I noticed something we had missed: He had broken the fifth completely off, along with about seven inches off his sword. My heart broke.
I had told Matt before the hunt that I would not shoot another five-by-six, no matter what. I held to my word, and I ejected the shell, sat back, and watched the bull. I sat there for another fifteen minutes, soaking in the awesome morning hunt we’d just had, then started to work my way back up.
When I found Matt, his face immediately burst into shock. I told him that the bull had broken off some antler, and Matt looked him over closer in the spotter and saw the same thing I had found. I told him that the five-by-five was pretty dang cool and a little rarer to come by around here. I was pretty confident I’d have plenty of opportunities for a nice six-by-six later down the road. We both agreed that he’d be a good one to go after for the evening hunt and went back to camp for lunch.
The Big Five-by-Five
After some food and a much-needed nap, we headed out to go locate the big five-by-five. On our way there, it started to rain and sleet off and on, making it a little miserable. We pushed on and got to a good glassing spot. After some dramatic hail and thunder, the storm started to push over, allowing the evening sunlight to pour into the long, burnt canyon. About thirty minutes into glassing, I finally found the big five-by-five and excitedly told Matt, “There he is!”
We only had about twenty-five minutes to get down to the bottom and get a shot at the bull. Matt and I hustled down the mountain and found a spot to take a shot from—and just in time. The bull was 480 yards away. I dialed my scope, and Matt watched through the fogged-over spotter as I took a shot. Boom!
“You hit him!” Matt whispered to me excitedly as I put another round in my gun for a follow-up shot. I knew I’d hit him good, but I also remembered an outfitter I guided for always telling the hunters to keep shooting until they knew it was down. The bull was wobbling as I put another in him, but he was still standing. I couldn’t believe it. I took another shot. This time the bull disappeared from my scope as the sound of the shot rang through the canyon. “You dropped him!” Matt shouted as we both jumped up and gave each other high fives.
Packing Out in the Fog
We got up to the bull, took some pictures, and got to work. After further inspection, we confirmed that every shot had hit its mark. “Dang, these things are tough,” I thought to myself. We quartered the bull up and got half of it loaded. As we started our journey out, it started raining, and the fog blew in. Worst nightmare. I looked over to Matt and said, “We might be staying the night down here.”
But our luck continued, and the fog blew out after about thirty minutes—giving us just enough time to get to the four-wheeler. We made it to camp around midnight, and it was safe to say Matt and I had no trouble sleeping through the wind that night. A snowstorm blew in overnight, so we decided to wait a day to go back and get the rest of the meat out of the canyon.
After a much-needed day of rest, Matt and I spent that Friday packing out the rest of the bull. After making it back, we had some time to soak in everything and fry up some fresh elk steaks. Finally, our buddies Bryan and Luke made it up to camp to hunt deer and get in on the fun. After many laughs and many great memories made, it was time to pack up camp. On the drive home, I couldn’t fight back a smile. The hunt for a nice six-by-six will continue!
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