My buddy, Mike Curtis, and I finally drew unit 38 for archery elk. We ended up hunting in the northwest corner due to the info from Huntin’ Fool and its members. We ran into elk every time we were up in the spot we were told about, but unfortunately, we ran into two different groups of hunters who claimed the entire ridge. After some frustrating hunts involving them, we decided to start hunting different areas.
Our first night in Wyoming, we got zero sleep due to the elk bugling the entire night right outside of our campsite. We initially hunted that area but of course saw and heard nothing so chose to hunt elsewhere (the ridge). We again decided to hunt closer to our campsite. All I have to say is that was an excellent idea. It was one of the most fun, enjoyable, and exciting hunting trips I’ve ever had. After we switched to the new spot, we were literally in elk every single time. We would drive, get out and bugle, and an elk would respond and we would go on a hunt. Due to winds, getting busted, and just plain bad luck, we would get in so close every time but couldn’t seal the deal. That was okay because we were having an absolute blast. When it didn’t work out, we would just look at each other and laugh or just shake our heads not believing what had just happened. Seeing so many bulls and getting so close kept our confidence high that it wasn’t a matter of if but when we would get our bulls.
After one particular morning of awesome hunting and not getting anything, we decided to go back to camp and relax. It was hot out, and the heat made it feel like naptime. My buddy went into the tent and quickly fell asleep, and I fell asleep in a camp chair outside in the sun after I took my boots, socks, and shirt off. At about 1:00, I woke up to a bugle (and snoring from my buddy in the tent) down in a huge meadow below our camp. I sat up, listened, and said to myself what idiot was bugling at one in the afternoon? I went back to sleep. This idiot just kept bugling and bugling and bugling, so now I was wondering if that was an elk. It couldn’t be, but he kept bugling. Now maybe that kind of sounded like an elk, and I was throwing on my clothes as fast as I could. Things were flying everywhere. I only grabbed my bow, mouth call, and license, really not thinking about everything I needed if I shot one.
I ran down the dirt road toward the meadow, stood in the tree line, and heard nothing. Not a peep. I saw nothing in this gigantic meadow. I gave out a couple cow calls and silence. That “hunter” must have gone back into the woods and left. After a bit, I turned around and walked back up to camp. My buddy was snoring. I took my boots and socks off and got ready to take off my shirt. Then I heard a bugle right where I was at. I immediately got my stuff back on and ran back down to see if it was an elk or a hunter.
I ran down a little further this time to the border of the meadow and stayed in the tree line. I looked to the right and noticed a newer camp with a fire going and thought to myself that this was where the bugle was coming from. Just then, I heard a bugle much to the left of the newer camp and down in a ravine. Since we had hunted this area the first day we were there, I was familiar with where the bugle came from. It was shaded, and there was a pretty good creek down there and secluded. I could hear this guy ripping off bugles and moving back and forth. That was an elk!
I took off and ran across the meadow and down the left side of a rocky knob that separated the ravine in the middle and hid just behind and to the left of a tree. I started cow calling and this guy was just ripping off bugles, running around, bugling like crazy. Then he was quiet. I looked up, and there were two cows and a 5x5 bull across the creek. They were all broadside and walking. That must be him at 56 yards. I drew back and shot. I watch my lighted nock fly through the air perfectly on target. It hit a twig and went right under the elk. He ran off, and then I heard a bugle. I had shot at the wrong bull! I gave another cow call, and he ripped off a bugle and came running over. He stopped on the other side of the tree, screaming just yards away. I didn’t see him at all due to the rocky knob and the tree. He turned around and started bugling away from me. I gave some more cow calls, and he turned around and came on a line screaming at me. Now I saw him through the trees walking right at me, and I pulled back my bow. I was up above him on my knees on a steep incline, and he turned and walked right at me. He stopped at about 10 feet and head on. I reminded myself to not shoot into the breast plate. I buried the arrow into him at the side of his neck. He immediately spun and ran off. Holy crap, that just happened! That stuff only happens in the professional shows.
With shaky legs and a heartbeat of 200, I walked down and looked around the tree and saw nothing. I was extremely worried about not finding him due to my shot being so high and not having any blood to follow. I walked back and forth by the creek, looking for any blood or my lighted nock but found nothing. I eventually found my lighted nock broken off just yards from where I shot him in some tall grass. I decided to walk back upstream and wake up my buddy to have him help me look for the bull.
As I was walking further up the creek, I found blood and a lot of it in addition to seeing an odd long, brown object in the grass by the creek about 70 yards away. I couldn’t believe it! I got a big bull. This stuff never happens to me. I was elated, and there was some jumping up and down and fist pumping. I had to walk back to camp because I had absolutely nothing.
As I arrived, there my buddy was up and just looking at me. He probably saw my gigantic smile and said, “How big is it?” I said it wasn’t bad and started laughing. He said he got up because he heard bugling (the second time), and when he came out of the tent, he saw my all my truck doors open and saw my stuff all over the ground. We had a good laugh over that, especially when I told him what happened. The bull was a 6x6 and rough scored 330". My buddy ended up getting his 5x5 bull the next day. What an excellent trip, one that I’m sure will be a top hunt for me for the rest of my life. A big thank you to my wife, Jennifer, for letting me go on all my hunting trips.
Our first night in Wyoming, we got zero sleep due to the elk bugling the entire night right outside of our campsite. We initially hunted that area but of course saw and heard nothing so chose to hunt elsewhere (the ridge). We again decided to hunt closer to our campsite. All I have to say is that was an excellent idea. It was one of the most fun, enjoyable, and exciting hunting trips I’ve ever had. After we switched to the new spot, we were literally in elk every single time. We would drive, get out and bugle, and an elk would respond and we would go on a hunt. Due to winds, getting busted, and just plain bad luck, we would get in so close every time but couldn’t seal the deal. That was okay because we were having an absolute blast. When it didn’t work out, we would just look at each other and laugh or just shake our heads not believing what had just happened. Seeing so many bulls and getting so close kept our confidence high that it wasn’t a matter of if but when we would get our bulls.
After one particular morning of awesome hunting and not getting anything, we decided to go back to camp and relax. It was hot out, and the heat made it feel like naptime. My buddy went into the tent and quickly fell asleep, and I fell asleep in a camp chair outside in the sun after I took my boots, socks, and shirt off. At about 1:00, I woke up to a bugle (and snoring from my buddy in the tent) down in a huge meadow below our camp. I sat up, listened, and said to myself what idiot was bugling at one in the afternoon? I went back to sleep. This idiot just kept bugling and bugling and bugling, so now I was wondering if that was an elk. It couldn’t be, but he kept bugling. Now maybe that kind of sounded like an elk, and I was throwing on my clothes as fast as I could. Things were flying everywhere. I only grabbed my bow, mouth call, and license, really not thinking about everything I needed if I shot one.
I ran down the dirt road toward the meadow, stood in the tree line, and heard nothing. Not a peep. I saw nothing in this gigantic meadow. I gave out a couple cow calls and silence. That “hunter” must have gone back into the woods and left. After a bit, I turned around and walked back up to camp. My buddy was snoring. I took my boots and socks off and got ready to take off my shirt. Then I heard a bugle right where I was at. I immediately got my stuff back on and ran back down to see if it was an elk or a hunter.
I ran down a little further this time to the border of the meadow and stayed in the tree line. I looked to the right and noticed a newer camp with a fire going and thought to myself that this was where the bugle was coming from. Just then, I heard a bugle much to the left of the newer camp and down in a ravine. Since we had hunted this area the first day we were there, I was familiar with where the bugle came from. It was shaded, and there was a pretty good creek down there and secluded. I could hear this guy ripping off bugles and moving back and forth. That was an elk!
I took off and ran across the meadow and down the left side of a rocky knob that separated the ravine in the middle and hid just behind and to the left of a tree. I started cow calling and this guy was just ripping off bugles, running around, bugling like crazy. Then he was quiet. I looked up, and there were two cows and a 5x5 bull across the creek. They were all broadside and walking. That must be him at 56 yards. I drew back and shot. I watch my lighted nock fly through the air perfectly on target. It hit a twig and went right under the elk. He ran off, and then I heard a bugle. I had shot at the wrong bull! I gave another cow call, and he ripped off a bugle and came running over. He stopped on the other side of the tree, screaming just yards away. I didn’t see him at all due to the rocky knob and the tree. He turned around and started bugling away from me. I gave some more cow calls, and he turned around and came on a line screaming at me. Now I saw him through the trees walking right at me, and I pulled back my bow. I was up above him on my knees on a steep incline, and he turned and walked right at me. He stopped at about 10 feet and head on. I reminded myself to not shoot into the breast plate. I buried the arrow into him at the side of his neck. He immediately spun and ran off. Holy crap, that just happened! That stuff only happens in the professional shows.
With shaky legs and a heartbeat of 200, I walked down and looked around the tree and saw nothing. I was extremely worried about not finding him due to my shot being so high and not having any blood to follow. I walked back and forth by the creek, looking for any blood or my lighted nock but found nothing. I eventually found my lighted nock broken off just yards from where I shot him in some tall grass. I decided to walk back upstream and wake up my buddy to have him help me look for the bull.
As I was walking further up the creek, I found blood and a lot of it in addition to seeing an odd long, brown object in the grass by the creek about 70 yards away. I couldn’t believe it! I got a big bull. This stuff never happens to me. I was elated, and there was some jumping up and down and fist pumping. I had to walk back to camp because I had absolutely nothing.
As I arrived, there my buddy was up and just looking at me. He probably saw my gigantic smile and said, “How big is it?” I said it wasn’t bad and started laughing. He said he got up because he heard bugling (the second time), and when he came out of the tent, he saw my all my truck doors open and saw my stuff all over the ground. We had a good laugh over that, especially when I told him what happened. The bull was a 6x6 and rough scored 330". My buddy ended up getting his 5x5 bull the next day. What an excellent trip, one that I’m sure will be a top hunt for me for the rest of my life. A big thank you to my wife, Jennifer, for letting me go on all my hunting trips.