How To Constantly Evolve As An Elk Hunter

Something didn’t feel right. After driving all night from my home in North Dakota, having breakfast at the Wilsall Café, and setting up elk camp in Montana’s Crazy Mountains, I was trashed. Maybe that was the problem.

By sundown, I was nauseous, weak, and tucked deeply in my sleeping bag. It was a night from Hell, and by morning I told my hunting buddy, Dean Albertson, to just go ahead and go hunting. I would stay in camp and rest. I never knew if it was a bad breakfast or altitude sickness, but the high country has never bothered me since that day almost 40 years ago.

By 9 a.m., I was feeling pretty damn good. I’d been hydrating like crazy and got some food down, so I decided to hike off in pursuit of my first elk. I didn’t know where Dean went, so I took off for a place we called “The South Fork”—a deep canyon at the edge of where we were willing to pack an elk out. I wandered mostly, hoping to hear a bugle. It was a spectacular, sunny, and cool day in the mountains, made infinitely better by the realization I was going to survive.

Right about noon, I heard a bull scream east of me, down in the canyon. It was my third year of elk hunting and I had discovered the virtues of a diaphragm call, so I let loose with my best bugle. The bull answered. I replied, as did he. Again, and again. When I started to hear the raspy “donkey” noises and the heavy breathing, I knew he was coming hard, so I took cover.

This bull was looking to kick somebody’s ass, but when he didn’t see his opponent, he drifted to my left, stopped broadside, and screamed. Since there were no rangefinders at that time, I estimated the distance at 28 yards, drew, and sent my arrow — an Easton 2219 with a 175-grain Zwickey broadhead on the business end. It blew through the bull’s chest, cutting him off in mid-bugle and sending him over a small ridge.

Over the terrifyingly loud thumping of my heart, I heard a couple of gurgling exhales. I tried to wait 30 minutes, but only made it to 25. Just 50 yards away, I found the most beautiful 5x4 raghorn bull elk that ever lived. He was my first. They just don’t get any prettier than that.

Even after four decades, I still remember I took that shot at 12:34 p.m. I also remember it took me and Dean nine hours over two trips to pack that bull out, and I relished every bead of sweat. The feeling of satisfaction I felt that day has never been equaled.

In the last issue of North American Elk, I covered the things I wish I’d known when it comes to prepping myself for an elk hunt and getting into position for the final leg of the journey—putting an elk on the ground. Here, I will offer some advice on how to make that happen.

Finding Them

Finding elk can be tough. Knowing when you’ve found them is easy. This is where the value of bugling comes in. If you hear an elk bugle, you know there is one there. Simple. Unless it’s a hunter. It’s usually easy to tell the difference, but never certain. Some bulls can’t bugle worth a damn; some hunters are great callers. Trust no one.

It’s when the bulls are silent that life gets difficult. Areas devoid of elk are obvious—no fresh tracks or rubs, and the scat is all hard and dried up. Go elsewhere. Drop deep into canyons, check creek bottoms and benches. Move SLOWLY! It’s possible to spot elk before they spot you, but not if you’re stumbling along trying to see how many miles you can walk. The number of miles should not be worn as a badge of honor. It is not. If you’re hiking 12 miles and can’t find fresh elk sign, you’re in the wrong place.

If it’s hot, search the cool, dark places. If it’s cool, check the benches up high. Keep searching until you find rubs, wallows, fresh well-worn trails, and most treasured of all— olive-green, shiny, squishy elk turds. If I’m not seeing them, I’m not happy.

If you can’t find sign close to the trailhead, go deeper. If you’re already deep in the high country and can’t find sign, back off closer to civilization. The elk will go where the pressure isn’t. You may have hiked right past them on your death march into the backcountry to join the “hunter/athletes.”

Finally, don’t argue with the elk. If you find them in a place they aren’t supposed to be, just hunt them. For the time being, the “why” is mostly irrelevant.

Get ‘em Close

Once located, you have three ways to get close to them: Sitting, stalking, and calling.

I can’t remember a single elk hunt when I didn’t find a place that I knew if I sat there every day, all day, I would almost certainly kill a bull. These are often wallows, waterholes, heavily used trails in saddles and creek crossings, or bottlenecks in rocky terrain. These spots scream elk. Although I’ve occasionally hunted such places of heavy activity, the truth is, I’ve never killed an elk over water, a wallow, or heavily used trail. I’m confident these spots would produce a shot opportunity given enough time, but that’s just not my style.

It is possible to stalk a bull elk, but high-percentage opportunities are rare. Finding a lone bull, especially one that is distracted by a rub or a wallow, can be a gold mine. Play the wind and give it a try. You might be surprised what you can get away with. Slipping in on a herd bull is more difficult because of all the eyeballs, but if you’re able to slide along on the downwind side of the herd, there’s always a chance the bull could drift your way as he herds his cows. The key to a stalk is recognizing the potential and acting on it quickly, before something changes.

Call Logic

The scream of a bull elk is what rocked my soul, so calling is my game. Here are a few thoughts. First, learn to use a diaphragm call. They are hands-free and can reproduce every sound an elk makes, bull or cow. It takes practice, but it’s the only way to go unless you have a gag reflex. You can be at full draw and still cow squeal to stop a bull if necessary.

Many experienced bowhunters have forsaken the call and opt instead for tactical positioning on a bull, whether he’s vocal or not. It’s a good strategy when called for, such as with a bull that will not shut up. Don’t call to him; just slip in and kill him. There are other times to remain silent, such as when a bull or a herd is working your way. Don’t interrupt the natural movement. Stay quiet, and let them come.

I am mostly passive in my calling, except when using a squeal to try to locate a bull in a large expanse of timber. When I’m in hot timber with fresh sign, I start with soft cow squeals first, just in case there is a bull close by. I don’t want to blast him with an aggressive bugle or loud cow squeal and blow him out. If the timber is quiet, I work up to louder cow talk, and as a last resort, if I hear nothing, I’ll squeal like a young bull. Even then, you can hurt yourself if a bull is quietly sneaking in.

My favorite scenario is when a bull answers my cow calls. That shows interest from a bull that may be workable. One calling mistake I see hunters and guides alike make is changing gender. If you’re cow-calling and a bull is responding, do not squeal or bugle. All you’re doing is blowing the bull’s fantasy that he’s sneaking in on a lone, receptive cow. Instead, he must now worry about a bull that could whup his ass. Such a mistake will often stop an incoming bull in his tracks.

As far as bugling, read the room. If you hear an aggressive bull, get after him. Mimic his bugles. If he gets mad, you get madder. Rake a tree, break branches. Match aggression with aggression. If that doesn’t work, go silent and let him wonder what happened to you. Stay alert, and don’t leave your setup until you are as confident as you can be there is nothing coming.

Choosing when to end your setup is a gamble, which is why I developed a signaling system back in the early 80s. We typically hunted in pairs, and if the caller felt it was time to quit, he would let loose with a single cow call. Most of the calling consisted of multiple squeals, so a single squeal would stand out. If the shooter was ready to quit, he would respond with a single cow call. However, if he had heard something, or could see a bull coming (since he was usually 20 to 50 yards ahead), he would not respond, thereby signaling the caller to keep calling. The key to this system is it doesn’t require a response from the shooter. If a bull is close, he doesn’t have to give up his position.

The Set Up

Now that we have a calling strategy, we turn to the setup. Setting up to call in a bull elk and kill him with an arrow requires experience, attention to detail, and some serious luck. The strategy depends on whether you’re alone or with somebody.

Hunting alone is a disadvantage because elk can pinpoint your location if you make any noise ranging from a broken twig to a full-blown bugle. You can cow call or bugle until the bull gets close, but then you must shut up or he’ll pin you down. You would do well to use a decoy like a bow-mounted Stalker Decoy. Not only does that give the elk what he’s looking for—another elk—but it conceals you and your drawing motion.

Two hunters work best. The terrain will dictate the distance between the two, but it could be as much as 75 yards. The shooter should cheat to the downwind side to intercept a bull that hangs up, gets suspicious, and tries to drift downwind to get a whiff of the elk he’s looking for. The caller can also use a decoy to help the bull feel more confident to walk in that crucial 20 or 30 more yards into bow range without going downwind. If an approaching bull starts to drift off to one side, the caller should be prepared to move to keep the shooter between the bull and himself.

Many bowhunters set up in too much cover, limiting their shot opportunities. Set up where you have cover behind you, with multiple shooting lanes in front. If you’re dead still, a rutting bull can look right through you, so don’t move. It’s quite possible you’ll have to hustle one way or the other to cut off a bull, so don’t bury yourself in noisy cover. If a bull is heading for your wind—go! If he winds you, it will be over, so get aggressive. You have nothing to lose by trying.

Never set up with a tree or brush on your bow-arm side. It will restrict your shot angles. Never set up within bow range of a rise or the horizon. If a bull comes from that direction, he will come just far enough that he can see over the horizon and will stop with only his head and neck visible. You’ll have no shot, and can only pray he decides to keep coming.

Picking a setup location is as tricky as predicting the wind currents, and because of the unpredictability of an elk, it involves an element of luck.

The Draw

The most important decision you’ll make is…drum roll…when to draw your bow. This fundamental motion, in close proximity to game, is what separates bowhunters from all other hunters. Nowhere is this timing more crucial than when hunting elk at ground level. You cannot wait until a bull is in your wheelhouse and expect to get drawn. They will not miss your drawing motion. Draw early!

Some fear drawing too soon and having to let down. The odds that you’ll have to let down on a hung-up bull are slim. However, the odds that you’ll get drawn with a bull standing 15 yards away on full alert, are crowding zero. It is common for a bull to look directly at you and not recognize you as a threat, as long as you do not twitch. It’s in this moment that you must already be at full draw.

If you draw late, or get recognized by a bull, get ready. If you’re not drawn, draw your bow the second he moves. If you are drawn and he bolts, stay at full draw. Elk have one weakness in that they sometimes hesitate if they see something that doesn’t look right or hear something odd. If they catch your drawing motion, a bull may bolt but will often trot 10 to 15 yards, stop and look back, usually broadside or quartering away because it’s easier for them to look back. This is why you must continue to come to full draw and be ready to take the shot. If you let down because you got caught and the bull stops, don’t expect to get drawn a second time. Many a bull elk has lost his life to this hesitation.

The Right Shot

Elk are big, strong, quick, and tough. Deliver a bilateral pneumothorax (double-lung) shot, and they will go down faster than a whitetail buck. Fail to do so, and things can get “Western.” If you only collapse one lung on an elk, you will not recover it. In fact, I’ve never heard of an elk with a single-lung collapse being recovered unless it also involved the liver or a follow-up arrow. Maybe it’s happened; I just haven’t heard of it. Getting enough penetration to collapse both lungs requires energy, momentum, strong broadhead construction, and sharp blades. We’re going to assume that you have already addressed those issues before taking on the challenge of elk hunting, so let’s talk shot placement.

Distance has a lot to do with shot placement on elk. Many advocate for aiming at the “V” created by the scapula and the humerus. This is excellent advice, as long as you’re close enough that you can pinpoint that shot. Once you get beyond 30 yards, this advice loses its luster for two reasons. One, there is not much room for error. If your yardage is off a bit or you punch your release, you could hit either the scapula or the humerus, and neither bone will yield to a broadhead. And two, if you’re beyond 30 yards, an elk can easily jump the string and alter your shot. If you don’t think so, I’m here to assure you that you’re wrong. A bull may not move, but if he does, you will not hit where you’re aiming.

For this reason, I’m a believer in aiming two to three inches behind a line straight up from the front leg, and just below mid-body depth. This gives me plenty of room for error or movement by the bull. Obviously, this is on a dead-broadside angle—the best there is. Quartering away is deadly if you aim for the opposite front leg, but it’s not better than broadside. With elk, especially, I want two holes.

Now to the enigma known as the “frontal” shot. I’ve written about this shot angle extensively and my opinion has not changed. This oft-encountered shot angle is deadly, if you follow some rules. You must pinpoint your arrow in what is called the suprasternal notch, which is typically just below the dark mane on a bull. This softball-sized hole is a boneless pathway to all the most important engine parts that keep a bull alive. The fur is short and the skin is thinner, and a well-placed arrow will drive deep and cause catastrophic damage. I have killed five bulls with frontal shots at 11, 16, 18, 19, and 20 yards, and none have made it more than 50 yards.

Frontal Shot Rules To Live By

• 1. This shot not be taken over 20 yards.
• 2. The bull should be somewhat level to you, and the more straight-on, the better.
• 3. Aim for the base of the dark mane and hold off if the bull’s head is low.
• 4. You must be under control and confident you can make the shot. If not, pass.
• 5. You need a strong broadhead and an arrow with some weight, preferably over 450 grains.
• 6. If the bull knows you’re there, 15 yards is better.
• 7. If the angle is a few degrees off straight-on, cheat to the one side a couple inches.

The danger in saying the frontal shot is effective is some hotshot will believe they can make it work at 35 yards. That is a huge gamble. The bull only needs to move a few inches and your arrow can slide between the ribcage and the shoulder and not even enter the body cavity. Don’t break the rules.

For me, bowhunting elk ranks far above all other bowhunting pursuits. It’s the bugling at dawn, the fickle breezes that can save your hunt or rip out your soul, the musky smell of a freshly violated wallow, the intense acceleration of my heartbeat, the welcome thump of a well-placed arrow, and the gravitational pull of 80 pounds of lean, red meat on my shoulders.

I knew none of these pleasures back in 1983 and have spent the last 40 years chasing and earning each one of those moments of agony and ecstasy. If even just one bit of advice from this article contributes to your success, I will consider it a privilege to have had a small part in helping you enjoy the same thrills every elk hunter comes to know. Good luck!

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