In pursuit of my first bull - nothing like I had planned.

Paul in Idaho

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Southwest Idaho
I’m not much of a storyteller, but will share my elk season as I attempted to tag my first bull. This is long, since I had 3 separate trips during my season. Spoiler alert - if you’re looking for a story about a hardcore backpack hunt that ends with taking a trophy bull, this isn’t one of those.

I started learning this unit by hunting general seasons and controlled cow tags so I could hunt every year and have a good chance of putting meat in my freezer. Once I was familiar with a few parts of the unit, I started applying for a bull tag. Draw odds being what they are, my earlier applications were unsuccessful. I kept learning the unit and had success filling cow tags. I also bought and tested various items for backpack hunts so I would have reliable equipment for solo backcountry hunting.

In the summer of 2022, I got sick. A year and a half later, after numerous doctor visits and tests, I still have no diagnosis and am dealing with a variety of health problems. Last year, I hunted as much as I could, knowing that if I gave up on hunting, things would be worse. My stamina was reduced, hunts were shorter, and I didn’t fill a tag, but I did as much as I could.

In the 2023 application season I was still weak but decided to try again for a bull tag and do everything possible to be healthy enough to hunt. When the results were announced, I was surprised to see that I finally had a rare opportunity to hunt a bull with a rifle during the rut.

My original plan for a bull hunt had been to have a wall tent base camp far up a remote drainage that has become my favorite area in the unit. I also had picked good spots for spike camps. Those plans changed to using a mobile camp in more accessible spots, and driving more than I like.

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Due to schedule complications I arrived late in the afternoon of opening day. After setting up my camp, I hiked up the closest saddle to glass and make plans for the next day. I watched 2 does exit a timber pocket and feed out into the open sage.

After sunset, I started working my way back toward camp. I saw 3 elk emerge out of the timber across the canyon. With binoculars, I could see one was a mature bull. He started chasing one of the cows, and the pair headed my way. I moved to try to intersect their path, but they ran into a timber pocket. I worked through the timber but it got dark before I could find them.
 
The next morning before sunrise, I was near where the bull had come out of the timber, but saw no elk. I decided to stay on that ridge all day so I could be in a good spot if the herd came out in the same area at sunset. I explored the area, saw 2 little bucks, walked through a sleet storm, and spooked a bedded herd of elk near the timber line. I heard a few bugles from further up the drainage, and spotted 1 elk down in the bottom.

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As sunset approached, I found a spot with a clear view of where the elk had been the previous evening and set up my rifle on a large rock as a combo blind and shooting rest. I kept watching all around, but saw no animals.

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In the last minutes of legal light, elk appeared, but not where I expected. They were 200 yards behind me, at an angle where I had no shooting rest or any cover to hide my presence. They had already seen me before I saw them. A large bull stepped out of the trees, facing me.

I knew they had all the advantages, but had to do my best. After a quick review of options, I laid my pack in the brush, set my rifle on it, and got in the prone position. By the time I settled in behind the scope to wait for him to turn broadside, they had seen enough and faded into the timber. I was disappointed, but was thankful to have seen 2 mature bulls in my first 2 days of hunting.

I had pushed my physical limits and needed to rest. The next morning I slept late and decided to move camp to another drainage. The advice “never leave elk to find elk” nagged at me but there were a lot of hunters in this drainage. At the other spot in the past, I had seen several herds of elk and few hunters.
 
After a rough drive and setting up camp again, I hiked up for an evening hunt. I spooked an elk, and saw only a brief glimpse of its back half through the trees. I spent some time trying to find it, then resumed my hike to the top.

Just as I arrived at the ridgetop, dense fog settled in and visibility dropped to a few yards.

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I reversed course and hunted beneath the clouds.

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I saw 2 mule deer does that weren’t a bit concerned with my presence even when I walked directly upwind of them 50 yards away. I didn’t see any more elk or hear any bugles, and started to doubt my choice to move camp.

The next morning I started hiking in the dark so I could be in a good glassing spot by first light. I covered several miles, saw one cow elk from a distance, and bumped two elk in a timber patch. I found a wallow with no sign of recent use. I hunted all day and returned to camp after dark. It was another day without hearing any bugles.


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I decided to move camp again. After driving to check out a few places I hadn’t been recently, I decided to return to a spot closer to the main road. My plan was to spend the evening glassing an area I used to frequently see elk in. When I approached my destination, I saw there was a large camp set up where I had planned to sit and glass.

I adapted my plan and drove further, into an area I was less familiar with. When I stopped the truck to glass an avalanche chute, I thought I heard an elk bugle. I drove further, heard it again, and estimated its origin. I found a place to park and planned my approach.

The wind was a consistent downhill thermal. The bull was bugling frequently, directly upwind. I walked toward the sound, keeping the sparse trees in front of me and the wind in my face. I finally reached the final finger ridge that was between me and the elk.

Just beyond its crest, I set up for a shot with my pack as a rest. It was getting late and the sun was low. I bugled once. The bull was still bugling frequently, and no two bugles sounded similar. They seemed to be short random noises and occasional full bugles. Many were tinny or plastic sounding. I bugled again. No change.

I wondered if it was a bull, or a hunter trying to learn how to use a bugle tube. I had seen no elk sign on my stalk. When I had settled into my shooting position, I saw a road going into the draw where the bull was. That raised more doubts about these sounds coming from an elk.

Since no bull had come to my calls, I started moving toward the sounds again. I noticed this area had been torn up by cattle. There was no elk food. My expectation increased that instead of a bull, I would see Mr. Fudd sitting on his ATV in the road, with a bugle tube in one hand and beer in the other.

Time was short. In the dimming light, I started moving faster, looking at the ground to avoid stepping on dry twigs. I heard a thump, and saw a flash of motion at the top edge of my vision.

I looked up and saw an elk running directly at me. I looked for antlers, but it was a cow. She slammed to a halt less than 20 yards from me, facing me head-on. A calf was following her but had hung back at around 50 yards. After staring at me for a few seconds, she circled downwind of me, then ran back up the hill.

Despite not getting to see the bull, this was one of the highlights of my season.
 
I spent the first half of the next day scouting water sources. My plan was to go after the same bull as soon as the downhill thermals were steady. In the late afternoon, I prepared my equipment and reviewed my stalk route. I could hear the bull bugling close to where he was the evening before.

The breeze was steady in my favor. The bull was still bugling frequently as I walked. I decided I would only cow call. As I walked, I reviewed everything I could remember about how to move in on a bull, thinking about wind and cover and shot placement and BOOM.

A rifle shot shattered my thoughts and I realized another hunter had beat me to the bull from a different route. The disappointment hit hard. I recovered quickly enough to look around in case any escaping elk would be visible, but there was only silence.

I needed a quick plan B to salvage the rest of the evening. I remembered a nearby spot where I had seen elk sign. After driving and a short walk, I had a good view. I spotted a lone small bull feeding near the edge of a timber pocket, chose a route to get within range, and started walking. My choice wasn’t good, and I never saw the bull again. My consolation prize was finding a nearly complete skeleton of a 5-point bull in good condition. I hauled the deadhead out with me in the dark, expecting it to be the only antlers I would carry this season.

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That was the end of my first trip. I had plans to return later in the month with a friend.
 
My next hunt was during the general deer season in that unit. Several months ago I started planning for a friend to hunt with me in a place I have been wanting to hunt muleys, in the same unit as my elk tag.

We were able to set up a wall tent camp in a great spot. We went to a glassing spot in the evening and saw a few does.

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Things went downhill from there though. I started feeling sick and weak. The next morning I wasn’t able to get up and hunt with him. I was discouraged and very self-critical for inviting him to hunt then leaving him to hunt alone in a place he’d never been. Eventually I recovered enough to do a few light camp chores.

Later that afternoon, we decided to go to a different drainage to glass. I was still weak, so we were limited to staying on the road. We talked to a few other hunters who reported seeing no deer. We set up and spotted a herd of elk a few miles away, in a place that was inaccessible to me. A small raghorn was chasing cows. On the side closer to us, we saw one doe and a couple cows, but no bucks or bulls.

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The next morning I was still too weak to hunt with my friend. He left long before sunrise while I was still sleeping. Later in the morning, I decided to take my optics and rifle and drive to a spot close to camp that had caught my interest. I set up my optics, and soon saw the back half of an elk at the edge of a timber pocket. I looked all around in every gap in the trees but never saw any other animals.

At noon I was still not feeling well and the warm weather made it seem likely the bucks would stay higher than I could go. My friend suggested we break camp and he’d take his daughter deer hunting closer to home for the weekend. This was another low point for me, but I knew he was right. We packed up camp and drove out. I decided to stay nearby, and went back to town to rest. I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

Later that afternoon, I was tired of looking at 4 walls and decided to drive to a high point where I had seen animals previously. Even if I couldn’t hike to any bull I might see, being on the mountain is better than being indoors. I walked a short distance from the road and set up my optics again. I didn’t see any deer or elk, but did get to see other wildlife and a beautiful sunset.

I went back to town for the night and rested until late the next afternoon. It helped. Even though I wasn’t fully recovered, I decided to go back to an area near where we had been camped and make the best of it.

My strength was slowly returning, so I decided to go to my favorite drainage. I arrived about 2 hours before dark and set up my optics. Soon I had spotted 2 distant herds of elk, and watched them until dark.

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I set up a cot beside the truck, ate a hot dinner, and started thinking through my options for the morning. It has been a while since I slept in the open, and enjoyed watching the stars overhead until I fell asleep.

I set an alarm clock so I could be awake before first light to relocate the elk. When I woke up, I packed up my bedding so I could leave quickly. I spotted the closer herd before 7:30. I watched them just long enough to see where they were going, then packed up my optics and got in the truck to drive to where I would start hiking.

When I turned the key, there was no sound, not even a click. I posted earlier about this morning. I’ll never again forget to check my truck battery and cables before leaving for a hunt. I was able to get the truck started with a jumpstart unit, and limped it back home. This was one of the most discouraging and frustrating trips I have had in my life, but I was determined to return and keep hunting until my season closed.

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I returned for the final 4 days of my season. It was now post-rut, the moon was full, and cold weather had returned. I stopped a few places near the main road to glass distant ridges, but didn’t see any animals. I kept driving further into the unit. My truck thermometer read 1˚ mid-morning. With the mature bulls likely having left the cows, I expected the cold and fresh snow were likely the only things in my favor for this last attempt.

My next stop was a point that had a good view of a mountain I have frequently seen elk on before. I saw no animals and no disturbance in the snow. I kept driving toward higher elevation.

At my next stop I saw a cow and calf feeding near the top of a hill. Seeing them at that elevation made me wonder how much higher I would need to go to find a bull.

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I drove further. Another hunter was parked where I had planned to glass from, so I drove back out to figure out an alternative. I heard a faint sound I couldn’t quite identify, and eventually spotted a flock of swans high overhead, migrating south.

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After reviewing my options I decided to drive to the furthest end of the unit. I arrived early afternoon. Within a few minutes of setting up my optics, I found a large trail in the snow and knew elk had to be close. I spotted them a while later, a few miles away from me near the top of a ridge.

I hadn’t driven the road in this area before, but it looked passable. I was able to drive more than a mile and get a better view of the herd. I watched until mid-afternoon but never saw a bull bigger than a spike.

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(I should buy a proper digiscoping setup)

For this cold hunt, I was spending nights in town. I decided to drive back on a longer route so I could glass parts of the unit I hadn’t hunted yet this year. I didn’t see any animals on public land, but passed several elk, including mature bulls, on private property. I noted their location, though I knew the chance of them crossing to public land was low.
 
I let myself sleep late the next morning and stayed indoors trying to recover my strength. By late afternoon, I was feeling better enough to try again, but knew I’d be limited in where I could go. After reviewing options I headed toward a place that had good visibility for glassing. It is more of a winter range area, so I didn’t expect to see much. Maybe the sudden cold weather had pushed a small herd lower. It was worth trying.

This glassing point was on my mind for one spot where I have seen elk many times. I set up my binoculars on a tripod and decided to scan the entire area before focusing on the main ridges of interest. As my field of view passed over a hillside closer to me, I was surprised to see a herd of elk. I had never seen elk there before.

I locked my binoculars in place and started looking carefully at each elk. One had antlers. I was far enough away I couldn’t judge size, but he definitely wasn’t a spike. I wasn’t holding out for a big mature bull and had plenty of daylight left to try for this one. I started looking at my map to figure out a stalking route. I was surprised to see a legal open road within a mile of the herd. That put them within my hiking range, but would require me to drive almost directly at them. Would they spook?

I prepared my rifle, pack, and boots, verified I was looking at the correct road on the map, and started driving. I lost sight of the elk behind a ridge, and had to hope they didn’t leave before I could cover the distance on foot.

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I parked the truck at the end of the road, loaded myself with rifle and gear, and started walking toward the landmarks I had selected earlier. My plan was to walk a large loop on the opposite side of the ridge, stay in the trees, and get above where the herd had been feeding. The wind was consistently in my favor as I started walking uphill.

The timber edge guided me to a point above the herd. I recognized landmarks and turned toward the elk. Were they still on this ridge? I left the trees and without anything to hide my approach, worked downhill toward the last place I had seen the elk. The curvature of the hill limited how far I could see. The wind was still consistently in my face.

I knelt as low as I could and kept moving in that awkward position. After a while I looked to my left and saw a cow elk standing on the next finger ridge. I froze, then carefully looked at her through my binoculars. She was looking at me. I expected her to run and take the rest of the herd with her, but she didn’t. I was sitting, and decided the best way to minimize movement was to just scoot forward.

After a few minutes of that slow progress, ears appeared on the hill below me. The herd was starting to move toward the ridge where the lone cow was still standing. They moved into the draw between ridges and I could see their entire bodies. I scooted forward a bit more. It seemed they could tell something wasn’t normal, but they weren’t yet alarmed.

Antlers finally appeared below me. I didn’t count points, since any branch-antlered bull would make this hunt a success. As he moved into the draw, I could see his entire body. He crossed the bottom of the draw about 120 yards away and started slowly walking up the other side, almost directly away from me. I kept him in my scope and waited.

After he walked about 20 yards up the other side, he took a step to the side and stopped. That gave me a quartering angle. My rifle was resting on my knee, and I squeezed the trigger.

He dropped almost instantly. He started trying to get up so I shot again. He started sliding on the snow, back down into the draw. He slid about 50 yards before brush finally stopped his descent.

It took a while for me to fully realize my hunt was finally successful.
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After notching my tag, I started to work. My first step was to tie a hind leg to several sagebrush so he wouldn’t slide further. The temperature dropped fast after the sun went down. I was able to get backstraps and the other 3 quarters removed before my fingers were too cold to work. I hauled out one load of meat and headed to town.

I returned around sunrise the next morning. When I arrived at the bull, I plucked at the paracord tied to the hindquarter to see if it was tight. It sounded like a bass guitar string. I resumed my work and spent all day cutting and hauling meat. A few minutes before the sun dropped behind the mountains, I put the last load into the truck. I was exhausted and sore, but thankful I didn't give up.
 
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Great story and congrats on the bull. Looks like an awesome area. Good luck with the health issues as well
 
Great write up and great story of persistence. I can imagine how frustrating and, at times, demoralizing having a mystery illness would be, and I’m really sorry you’re going through that. But man, it’s impressive and a testament to your character that you’re not letting it stop you. Congratulations on the fine bull!
 
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