SC Living Outdoors
Well-known member
This year, I was fortunate enough to draw a West General elk tag in the random draw and a pretty good antelope tag in the random draw. I wasn’t expecting either, but that’s why you apply. I suppose my plan was to get out to Wyoming a few days early to scout. Then, my buddy, who lives a couple of hours away in Idaho, would meet me, and we would hunt for a week or so. After that, I would drive over to my antelope unit, which was about five hours away, and hunt antelope.
I made the 27-hour drive with only about four hours of sleep along the way, which was pretty good. When you don’t regularly drink caffeine and then you do, it works insanely well. Even still, western Wyoming is a long way from South Carolina.
I arrived in time to scout that first evening, so I quickly changed clothes, grabbed my binoculars, and ran up the hill to a spot about a mile from the truck. I ended up seeing about 15 elk and a couple of bulls, which was encouraging, but this area was kind of a backup spot in case the other areas didn’t work out.
The next day, I hiked three miles back into an area and got up on top of a ridge. I didn’t love the area, but I felt like it might be a little overlooked because of its location. There were a few other people camped down low. That evening, I saw a couple of good mule deer bucks but no elk.
The following morning was opening day, and I didn’t see any elk that morning either, but I saw a few more bucks. I might finally have to burn those Wyoming deer points I’ve been building for close to a decade and go in there and kill one of those good deer I saw sometime in the next year or two.
I decided I would hike back to the truck and move to a new area. Then I got a message from my buddy telling me his truck had broken down. He was going to have to order some parts, but he was still planning on coming. That was disappointing, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault, so I adapted my plan and headed back to the area where I had glassed the first evening of scouting.
That night, I saw a few cows and one small bull and heard a couple of bugles, but nothing I wanted to shoot on opening day.
Over the next five days, I hunted that bugling bowl almost exclusively. I stayed in contact with my buddy and the shop. He took his truck in, but they kept having problems getting him the correct part, and they weren’t able to get his truck fixed in time for him to join me.
I only laid eyes on that big bull one time, but I was really close to killing him twice. One time, I had him in some thick timber with openings at 300 yards. I had the gun set up and was literally waiting for him to come into an opening so I could kill him. Somehow, he never did, even though I saw cows in those openings.
The second time, I called him in with a cow call. However, I didn’t realize he was coming in, and we saw each other at the same time. I wasn’t able to get a shot. He was a really nice, mature 6-point bull.
I saw elk every day, including a few spikes, but no good branch-antlered bulls. By day seven of being in Wyoming, I was ready to kill a bull and head to my antelope hunt. I wanted to make sure I gave the elk hunt plenty of time because I knew there was potential to kill a big buck over there.
The evening of my seventh day, I climbed back up to my very first glassing point, where I had spent my first evening in Wyoming, and set up to glass for the night.
About an hour and 15 minutes before dark, I saw a few cows come out of the timber along the border of the wilderness area. I watched them for 10 minutes or so, and then a bull came out behind them. I was hoping he would be a bigger bull because there were a dozen or so cows, but he was the only one.
I decided he fit the bill for this trip, so I made a game plan to try to kill him.
I took off down the hill to the bottom of the creek and worked my way up the creek to a ridge where I could peek over behind some deadfall. If the elk were still there, I should be able to see them.
As I came up over the top of the little ridge, I saw a cow feeding in the valley below me. I set up behind a big dead log and began looking for the bull.
I had about 30 minutes of legal light left, and I kept picking out cows here and there as they moved through the small trees and bushes below me. I kept checking my watch, and finally, with about 17 minutes of legal light left, the bull came out of the trees along the border of the wilderness and began feeding with a group of half a dozen cows.
They were about 300 yards away, but I didn’t feel comfortable shooting the bull that close to the wilderness. He was right on the border, and I knew that if I didn’t fold him, the odds were that he would run back where he came from. I also didn’t know what the regulations were for retrieving a bull in the wilderness if he was shot outside of it.
So I waited. After about four minutes, he began working toward me quickly. The cows were coming down the small valley in front of me, and he was right on their tails.
As he came down the valley, I felt more and more confident about shooting him because I knew the odds were good that he wouldn’t run back uphill into the wilderness.
When he got to about 150 yards, I was ready to shoot, but he wouldn’t stop. He just kept getting closer and closer. When he got to about 80 yards, he was too close for me to see while sitting behind the tree, so I stood up, and he paused for just a second. I shot offhand and hit him right behind the shoulder.
He ran about 30 yards down the hill and flipped over right below me. I shot him with 12 minutes of legal light left.
I actually didn’t see him go down because of the ridge I was on, but as I went to look for blood, I almost stepped on him right below me.
I should mention that I was hunting in grizzly country. I had seen one track and one pile of scat that wasn’t super old during the week. I had been careful the whole time, but once I had a dead bull, I wasn’t trying to stick around.
That night, I skinned and quartered that bull faster than I ever have before. I had him completely broken down and in game bags, with the bags moved away from the carcass, in 70 minutes, solo.
At one point while I was working on him, he growled. You know how sometimes, when you’re working on an animal, some air gets pushed out of the diaphragm and they make what sounds like a growl? Well, when you’re hunting solo in grizzly country and you hear a loud growl while you’re elbow-deep in a bull, it will make your heart rate skyrocket!
The next day, I packed out the bull solo. I made sure there was good light and made a good bit of noise when approaching my meat, but I didn’t have any issues.
There was a road I could drive my truck around to that led to a trail, allowing me to basically just hike in and out along the valley. It was only two miles in to my bull and two miles back out on a flat trail. It wasn’t too bad.
All in all, it was a fun hunt, even though it wasn’t at all what I had planned.
I made the 27-hour drive with only about four hours of sleep along the way, which was pretty good. When you don’t regularly drink caffeine and then you do, it works insanely well. Even still, western Wyoming is a long way from South Carolina.
I arrived in time to scout that first evening, so I quickly changed clothes, grabbed my binoculars, and ran up the hill to a spot about a mile from the truck. I ended up seeing about 15 elk and a couple of bulls, which was encouraging, but this area was kind of a backup spot in case the other areas didn’t work out.
The next day, I hiked three miles back into an area and got up on top of a ridge. I didn’t love the area, but I felt like it might be a little overlooked because of its location. There were a few other people camped down low. That evening, I saw a couple of good mule deer bucks but no elk.
The following morning was opening day, and I didn’t see any elk that morning either, but I saw a few more bucks. I might finally have to burn those Wyoming deer points I’ve been building for close to a decade and go in there and kill one of those good deer I saw sometime in the next year or two.
I decided I would hike back to the truck and move to a new area. Then I got a message from my buddy telling me his truck had broken down. He was going to have to order some parts, but he was still planning on coming. That was disappointing, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault, so I adapted my plan and headed back to the area where I had glassed the first evening of scouting.
That night, I saw a few cows and one small bull and heard a couple of bugles, but nothing I wanted to shoot on opening day.
Over the next five days, I hunted that bugling bowl almost exclusively. I stayed in contact with my buddy and the shop. He took his truck in, but they kept having problems getting him the correct part, and they weren’t able to get his truck fixed in time for him to join me.
I only laid eyes on that big bull one time, but I was really close to killing him twice. One time, I had him in some thick timber with openings at 300 yards. I had the gun set up and was literally waiting for him to come into an opening so I could kill him. Somehow, he never did, even though I saw cows in those openings.
The second time, I called him in with a cow call. However, I didn’t realize he was coming in, and we saw each other at the same time. I wasn’t able to get a shot. He was a really nice, mature 6-point bull.
I saw elk every day, including a few spikes, but no good branch-antlered bulls. By day seven of being in Wyoming, I was ready to kill a bull and head to my antelope hunt. I wanted to make sure I gave the elk hunt plenty of time because I knew there was potential to kill a big buck over there.
The evening of my seventh day, I climbed back up to my very first glassing point, where I had spent my first evening in Wyoming, and set up to glass for the night.
About an hour and 15 minutes before dark, I saw a few cows come out of the timber along the border of the wilderness area. I watched them for 10 minutes or so, and then a bull came out behind them. I was hoping he would be a bigger bull because there were a dozen or so cows, but he was the only one.
I decided he fit the bill for this trip, so I made a game plan to try to kill him.
I took off down the hill to the bottom of the creek and worked my way up the creek to a ridge where I could peek over behind some deadfall. If the elk were still there, I should be able to see them.
As I came up over the top of the little ridge, I saw a cow feeding in the valley below me. I set up behind a big dead log and began looking for the bull.
I had about 30 minutes of legal light left, and I kept picking out cows here and there as they moved through the small trees and bushes below me. I kept checking my watch, and finally, with about 17 minutes of legal light left, the bull came out of the trees along the border of the wilderness and began feeding with a group of half a dozen cows.
They were about 300 yards away, but I didn’t feel comfortable shooting the bull that close to the wilderness. He was right on the border, and I knew that if I didn’t fold him, the odds were that he would run back where he came from. I also didn’t know what the regulations were for retrieving a bull in the wilderness if he was shot outside of it.
So I waited. After about four minutes, he began working toward me quickly. The cows were coming down the small valley in front of me, and he was right on their tails.
As he came down the valley, I felt more and more confident about shooting him because I knew the odds were good that he wouldn’t run back uphill into the wilderness.
When he got to about 150 yards, I was ready to shoot, but he wouldn’t stop. He just kept getting closer and closer. When he got to about 80 yards, he was too close for me to see while sitting behind the tree, so I stood up, and he paused for just a second. I shot offhand and hit him right behind the shoulder.
He ran about 30 yards down the hill and flipped over right below me. I shot him with 12 minutes of legal light left.
I actually didn’t see him go down because of the ridge I was on, but as I went to look for blood, I almost stepped on him right below me.
I should mention that I was hunting in grizzly country. I had seen one track and one pile of scat that wasn’t super old during the week. I had been careful the whole time, but once I had a dead bull, I wasn’t trying to stick around.
That night, I skinned and quartered that bull faster than I ever have before. I had him completely broken down and in game bags, with the bags moved away from the carcass, in 70 minutes, solo.
At one point while I was working on him, he growled. You know how sometimes, when you’re working on an animal, some air gets pushed out of the diaphragm and they make what sounds like a growl? Well, when you’re hunting solo in grizzly country and you hear a loud growl while you’re elbow-deep in a bull, it will make your heart rate skyrocket!
The next day, I packed out the bull solo. I made sure there was good light and made a good bit of noise when approaching my meat, but I didn’t have any issues.
There was a road I could drive my truck around to that led to a trail, allowing me to basically just hike in and out along the valley. It was only two miles in to my bull and two miles back out on a flat trail. It wasn’t too bad.
All in all, it was a fun hunt, even though it wasn’t at all what I had planned.
