(Photo courtesy of Vic Schendel)
September 18, 2025
By Jim Zumbo
Some elk hunts are physical; some not so much. This one was profoundly physical. I’d spent much of the day playing hide and seek with a herd of elk. The terrain wasn’t flat enough to play a game of poker. Quaking aspens riddled the slopes and stands of Douglas fir stood tall on the ridges. Thick Engelmann spruce and alpine fir blowdowns created obstacles everywhere, and an old burn left scorched logs lying like pickup sticks. Fresh snow covered the ground, allowing me to follow the herd with much difficulty. I jumped them twice when they were unseen in the timber. I smelled them once, stopping to make a plan. Too late. They busted out of the cover and all I saw was a blur of tan bodies hurtling through the trees.
An hour later I was about to enter an opening. I immediately saw a dandy six point bull munching on some grass 150 yards away. It would have been a perfect shot, but I held my fire . The elk tag in my pocket was valid for an antlerless elk only. What a letdown. My binocs allowed me to see more elk in a pocket of brush. A cow stepped out but she looked ancient. Her face had the look of an old weathered cow, not robust but weathered with deep wrinkles. I would have taken her if there were no more options but the herd was unaware that I was in their world. I had time. I continued to glass and spotted a sleek cow that appeared to be fairly young.
Meat Motivated The author with a freezer-filling cow. (Photo submitted by the author) She offered a broadside shot as she nibbled grass, but I hesitated. Her off-shoulder was directly behind the spot I was aiming for. Had I fired, the bullet would likely have torn into that off-shoulder and ruined plenty of meat. I needed her to take a step. She finally made the move and I sent the 180 grain Core-Lokt bullet directly behind the crease of the facing shoulder. She lurched forward, took a few steps and went down. My Winchester Model 70 .30-’06 came through again and I had meat for my family. Luckily there was a two-track a quarter mile away. I quartered the carcass and backpacked the meat down to the road, completing the chore just after dark.
Cow elk hunting is vastly different than most other forms of hunting because the quarry is almost always in a herd which can number a half-dozen to several hundred. Hunters have one agenda—to kill a cow for meat. There isn’t much decision-making on the hunter’s part as there is when bulls are hunted. A cow is a cow, though many hunters won’t shoot a calf or a very old cow if they can help it, many typically preferring a young dry cow. Since cows are almost always in a herd, groups of hunters often pursue them. Because there are many targets and many hunters, pandemonium and chaos can quickly erupt when the shooting starts. Competition among humans has always been part of our personalities which translates to plenty of action when hunters are within range of a herd.
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Easy To Get Tags (Photo submitted by the author) Cow tags are not difficult to get in many western states. In fact, some units offer leftover tags on a first come, first serve basis after the draw. Cow elk harvests are vitally important in properly managing herds. When warranted, biologists offer enough tags to meet herd objectives. For example, in Colorado, the king of all elk states with almost 300,000 animals, recent data shows that hunters annually take an average of 18,000 antlerless elk. Idaho, Montana and Wyoming each have cow harvests numbering 12,000 - 14,000 annually.
Given the popularity of cow hunting, hunters often get together with family members and buddies and hunt in a party. Since everyone has expectations of obtaining great meat, there’s plenty of motivation in bringing home a cow. In the heat of an encounter when everyone is firing, it’s often difficult to keep track of what everyone else is doing. Ethics often come into play.
In a perfect world, every hunter would kill his/her own elk without wounding other animals or killing “extra” animals. Indeed, there are many perfect worlds. But each hunter has his/her resume of experience in the elk woods. Some are veterans, some are novices, some are poor shots, some use rifles that aren’t accurate, some get uncontrollable shakes, and most importantly, each has a human brain that reacts differently to a variety of scenarios.
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A while ago I hunted with a group of guys for cow elk. There were four of us; we each had a tag. We were all in our thirties and our level of knowledge in the elk woods was fair to very good. As it turned out we encountered a herd of about 30 cows with some spikes mixed in. After the shooting was over we had four cows down. Two dropped where they stood, one fell a dozen yards away, and one, liver shot, had to be followed a quarter mile before being recovered. The hunt worked perfectly with no ethical or legal issues.
Stalking In On A Herd (Photo courtesy of Vic Schendel) Competition comes into play when making a stalk on a herd of elk that are somewhat in the open and are visible to other hunters. Once, a friend and I spotted about 50 elk a half mile away just before legal shooting light. Each of us had cow tags. My friend had just moved to Wyoming from the east coast and had never hunted elk. I was really excited for him, and hoped we’d have punched tags soon. We made a plan and I selected a route where we could use the terrain to our advantage and approach unseen within 200 yards of the feeding herd. While working our way on the backside of the ridge crest where I could peek over and see where the herd was going I saw two hunters sneaking in on the elk from another direction. I couldn’t believe it. My friend and I had started our stalk in the dark and had eased our way to the elk for more than an hour. Now we were about to have our hunt go south.
The other hunters were far closer to the herd than we were. Minutes later I saw them raise their rifles and fire. Each got their cows. We followed the herd after they ran into the timber, and snow on the ground allowed easy tracking. We’d covered almost a mile and I was certain we were fairly close to the herd but my friend complained of a bad headache and nausea. I believe he had altitude sickness so we abandoned the hunt and quickly dropped down to lower elevations. Had the other hunters not showed up I think we would have had a good chance of scoring. It was a perfect example of competition between hunters.
When a large herd of elk is spooked they normally don’t immediately vacate the area and run for cover en masse in the timber, though that can happen. Rather, they’ll often mill around in confusion, seemingly unsure of an escape route. Then the lead cow inevitably sticks her nose in the air and trots off. The rest of the herd follows, often strung out single file. During this state of confusion, some elk will be standing and looking about and some will be slowly walking. This chaos can last long enough to allow hunters opportunities for follow-up shots. Given this amount of time, hunters can more easily make ethical decisions. Then there are scenarios when the herd vacates the area in seconds, wasting no time to vamoose.
Since cows vocalize year-round, they can be called with a cow call. They respond for a variety of reasons, but most of the time it’s to hook up with other elk. On several occasions I’ve unintentionally busted a herd in the timber and was able to entice them back together by using the call. This is similar to hunting fall turkeys where you purposely scatter a flock, often with dogs, and then quickly build a makeshift blind, restrain the dogs, and call the flock together. I’ve done this with elk minus the dog and the makeshift blind. This works best after the rut when they’re not being commandeered by a herd bull.
Effective Tactics (Photo courtesy of Jason Loftus) The cow call is also effective in stopping running elk long enough for a shot. This works with bulls and cows. When they hear the call they’ll typically come to a halt and look toward the sound. This trick works so often that the hunter should be ready to shoot instantly. I carry my cow call around my neck (unless it’s a diaphragm call that’s in a handy pocket or in my mouth) so I can quickly use it.
In all my years of elk hunting I’ve only seen two solo female elk during hunting season. Both were spotted shortly after a cow shoot. The first sighting occurred when I saw a cow elk bedded in a sagebrush area. She appeared to be alone which was highly unusual. The sage was low enough where visibility was good. Though I glassed intently with my binoculars I couldn’t find another cow anywhere. I eased within range of the animal and blew a cow call. When she stood up and looked at me I fired and dropped her where she stood with a .30-’06 bullet. When I approached her I could see where she had a wound in her hind quarter which was evidently caused by a bullet from another hunter. From the fairly fresh tracks in the snow I figured that she was hit the day before so I wasn’t worried about her being fevered or having an issue with the quality of her flesh. I removed the wound area and processed her at home as I would any elk. There was no problem with the meat.
The second time I saw a solo elk was the day after a cow shoot when three or four elk were harvested. The loner appeared to be a big calf and was feeding just inside a stand of quaking aspens. Visibility was good in the trees and I couldn’t see any more elk. I assumed this animal had become separated from the herd and never rejoined it when the elk were scattered by the hunters. Perhaps it lost its mother. Whatever the case, I didn’t hesitate to shoot the calf. It looked as big as a large muley buck and weighed 200 pounds when I hung it on a scale. And by the way, if you’re a big fan of elk meat as most of us are, a calf is as good as it gets. The meat is tender with a fabulous taste.
Some hunters will undoubtedly balk at shooting a calf but by doing so you’re helping to accomplish objectives established by wildlife managers which is to maintain the herds according to the carrying capacity of the habitat. Too many elk results in crop damage, broken fences, collisions with vehicles, increased diseases and parasites and other issues.
Management (Photo submitted by the author) For years I cut firewood on a ranch owned by a couple I knew well. I received a call one day from the woman, asking if I had a cow tag for the unit where the ranch was located. When I answered affirmative she said she had one as well and told me to get there pronto because there were 150 elk bedded in the timber and she knew exactly where they’d head to forage for the evening. When I arrived we hiked two miles together to get positioned with the wind in our favor. Our destination was a pile of rocks and brush that would put us within 200 yards of the herd once they moved out of the forest to feed. When we arrived we found comfortable positions from which to shoot.
“You shoot first,” she said.
“No,” I responded. “This is your ranch, you shoot first.”
We flipped a coin. I won, but insisted she take the first shot.
She and her husband were veteran hunters and I assumed she’d easily get her elk. She knew the drill. I whispered and told her which cow I intended to take so she’d be prepared to fire after my shot. When we were both ready with our rifles on firm rests I took the shot. The cow lurched a couple yards and went down. She fired a few seconds later and I heard some mild cussing.
“I think I missed,” she whispered. “No sign of an impact and never heard the bullet hit. I’m 99% sure I shot over her back.” I grabbed my binoculars and glassed the herd, looking for a wounded cow. The herd was now milling around and I fully expected her to shoot again, but she couldn’t positively confirm the correct cow. She didn’t shoot, and continued to observe the herd with her scope, ready to fire if she saw a wounded animal. Her ethical decision not to simply shoot another elk was a class act. On top of that, this was the last day she could hunt elk before the season closed because she had knee surgery scheduled the next day.
My neighbor had been hunting cows hard for most of a long season but had been unsuccessful. On the very last hour of the last day he had stalked within 300 yards of a herd. The wind was blowing, but it wasn’t very strong. Before he was ready to shoot the wind picked up considerably and presented a problem, creating a strong crosswind. My pal understood wind drift. He was also a good shot. He laid there hoping the wind would lay down briefly enough to allow a shot but it didn’t happen. Though he could have tried calculating the wind speed, direction, aiming point and taking a Hail Mary shot he didn’t. Shooting light ended and he went home with an unpunched tag. That decision made him a hero in my eyes. Ethics at its very best.
Strategies Cow hunting strategies depend on the time of year, weather patterns, accessible land to hunt and the terrain. In many areas elk head to winter range on private land where they’ll remain until spring. Alfalfa fields are magnets to elk, though most fields are closed to hunting. However, many of those acres are bordered by BLM lands where elk may bed during the day and return again to feed in the fields. Savvy hunters use GPS devices and know precisely where those public lands are located. Persistence is often rewarded with success.
There’s a worn-out saying that “you can’t eat the antlers.” While most of us would prefer to shoot a big bull if we had our druthers, a cow fills the bill nicely if we want quality meat. With more than a million elk roaming the west and all states offering cow tags, we can get in on the action and put terrific meat in the freezer. That, of course, is one of the objectives of elk hunting, whether the quarry is a bull or a cow.
Taking a female big game animal can engender a host of emotions. As humans we often have feelings for an animal whose life we’ve taken. I won’t deny that I’ve looked at a deceased animal with some remorse, especially a cow which obviously would have produced a calf had she lived. But in the grand scheme of things, all animals die with a measure of pain whether they’re violently attacked by a predator, suffered from a disease or parasites, starved to death, hit by a vehicle, or other means. I know that my bullet put her down humanely, and I’ll admit that when I field dressed, skinned and removed and admired her backstraps I was thankful for her gift of wonderful meat. From another perspective, my role as a hunter to help wildlife managers achieve their objectives was accomplished. For all those reasons, a cow hunt is on my bucket list every year. As it should be.