Nebraska Elk Hunting: A First and Last Trophy Chance

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Early April 2024, and I open an email from The Kansas Department of Wildlife and Parks that reads, “We are sorry to inform you that your application was not selected in the drawing.” It was a whitetail tag with a nearly guaranteed draw, but I was included in the 3 percent rejected this time around.

Then comes early June, and an email from the Wyoming Game and Fish Department. The first year of applying since Wyoming had made changes to its general elk regulations. I was confident I had enough points to draw my general bull tag, if not, I figured I would at least get my second-choice cow tag, which has saved my September in the past. Nope. Unsuccessful on both counts.

Now what? I had been so sure that I would be sneaking through the pine and aspen covered slopes of Wyoming in September, then transitioning to the Kansas creek bottoms in October, a picture-perfect fall lineup. I told my wife she better get used to seeing me around, because I just had the worst draw luck of my life.

I’m sure thoughts of pumpkin patches and apple picking dates ran through her mind, but in my head, all I could think was this would be the first September in a very long time that I wouldn’t hear a bugle. It was a depressing thought.

The Secret is Out

I reside in Nebraska, a state known for corn, Cornhuskers, and maybe the Runza sandwich (If you know, you know). But what many people don’t know is that Nebraska is home to some of the nation’s largest elk. While we may not have the numbers that our neighbors to the west do, we more than make up for it with the quality of the bulls.

Now, don’t get too excited just yet. This isn’t some untapped gold mine of antler. Unless you call yourself a Nebraska resident, you’ll never get your hands on such a tag. Shoot, many residents won’t even get the chance to hunt with that tag.

Nebraska runs on a bonus point system for residents. To summarize that, it means if you have five bonus points, they put your name in the pot five times. However, that doesn’t mean that Joe Blow down the street, who just put in for the first time, won’t draw before you. Basically, it’s a random hat draw.

Those Nebraska hunters lucky enough to get their bull tag better make the most of it. As a resident, you are only allowed to shoot one bull in your lifetime, then you can never apply again. If you don’t fill the tag, you must wait 5 years before you can even apply again and drawing another could take 30-plus years if your luck is bad. Talk about pressure.

Disbelief

Which brings me to an email from the Nebraska Game and Parks in late June. “The elk drawing has taken place, and you were successful, congratulations.” Put those apple picking dates on hold, honey, my fall is booked!

Funny how things work out. Naturally, the first thing I did when I received the news was call all my buddies to brag, and to see if they had the same fortunes, (none of them did). The excitement of drawing had me blinded for about 48 hours, I was buying new reeds, bugle tubes, broadheads, all sorts of things I already had, but needed fresh new ones for this hunt of course.

The initial excitement eventually morphed into an immense feeling of pressure. I knew the stakes were high for this tag, and I had serious decisions to make on how I was going to give myself the best chance to fill it. My options were to hire an outfitter, pay trespass fees to hunt private land, or hunt public land. Everyone told me trespass fees would be upwards of $7,000, and an outfitter well above that. Ouch. I grew up a DIY hunter, and the thought of emptying my pocketbook to fill a tag didn’t excite me much. After contemplating the decision for a couple weeks, I concluded that I wanted to take on the challenge of making this tag completely DIY, just as I always have. Time to get to work.

Nebraska does not have much public hunting land, and the little we do have is usually hit extremely hard by the local hunters. I couldn’t help but think that I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t at least try to talk to some landowners. Who knows? Perhaps I’d get lucky and find the right one. So, I sat at my desk, opened OnX, and started making phone calls.

Dealing With Rejection

“No, sorry, my grandson hunts it.”… “I would let you, but I have cattle in there.”… “I have never seen an elk in there, you would be wasting your time.”…

These were just a few of the responses I got, but most of the answers were some iterations of the same line. I couldn’t give up though. After all, it only takes one yes. Eventually I stumbled onto a few good people who were happy to let me hunt their land, and surprisingly, throughout all my calls and door knocking, I did not have one single landowner ask for a trespass fee. I guess it’s myth-busted on that one.

As September was inching closer, the public lands were no more than ghost towns. I decided my time was best spent on private land, in hopes that less pressure was the ticket to more elk. I ventured into a few different properties I had permission on, and I finally found what I was looking for, fresh elk sign. Tracks walking down an old trail, a well-used wallow in the overflow of a stock tank, torn up cornstalks from a herd of hungry elk. For the first time since June, I felt some pressure lift off my shoulders and the excitement start to creep back in.

I finally made it to September, and I wasted no time getting out to the woods, or in this case, the corn. One of my best-looking spots was a corn field surrounded by wooded hills. The two-track leading in was riddled with elk sign and the corn along the edge was earless from the browsing. It was archery only for the first 21 days of the month, so I grabbed my Hoyt RX7 Ultra, slipped two rows into the corn (adjacent to a wallow), waited till light, and let out the first location bugle of my season.

Meant To Be

Silence. While I certainly didn’t expect the surrounding hills to light up with the sounds of screaming elk, it was still a bit of buzz kill. That disappointment didn’t last long, though, as I caught movement off to my right. Approaching was a cow elk, and behind her, a spike bull. It wasn’t the elk I was after, but it was a huge sigh of relief to know that all my scouting and hard work had led me to elk. However, this was the first morning of the season. Surely, I would have many more opportunities, right?

Weeks later, I’d had no more elk sightings, no fresh new leads, not even a bugle back. Doubt was creeping into my mind. What do I do? Is it time to call an outfitter?

Before making any drastic changes, I decided to visit some landowners in a new area. After sifting through all the denials, I eventually stumbled onto a gracious gentleman with some prime real estate. He wasn’t just willing to let me hunt, though. Rather, he was excited that somebody wanted to hunt on his land. A truly incredible person.

We struck it off immediately. He was an avid deer hunter himself, but he lived a few hours away. He thought it would be incredible if someone were to take an elk off property he owned. I told him I would happily give it my best shot!

The Moment Is Here

On Sept. 19, with two days left to give it my all with my bow, I left home anxious to hunt this new ground. The weather was hot still, but it was well beyond the point where weather didn’t matter, the elk were rutting either way. I rolled up to the new property for the first time, a couple hours early, knowing I had a long, steep haul to get to where I needed to be. I shut the truck door and immediately heard the sweetest sound in the world; a long, majestic bugle.

A grueling hike had never seemed so easy in my life. I was up and over the top before I knew it, accompanied by bugles the entire way over. I closed the gap to my destination and began to decrease my speed and increase my sneakiness. I inched up to the exact tree and I wanted to be under, and at this point I was surrounded by bugling elk. The wind was perfect, elk were seemingly everywhere, and I was in the perfect ambush spot.

I let the night give way to morning, and with 5 minutes left until shooting light, I let out my first soft, subtle cow call. The answer was immediate, and close. I didn’t want him in my lap before I could shoot, so I didn’t make another peep until I had the legal and necessary light. I could see glimpses of tan fur pacing on the hillside across the bottom as I waited.

The light arrived and as soon as I was out of direct sight of the bull, I turned my head and let out another subtle mew. Sure enough, here he came right at me, quickly closing the gap to 80 yards. I grabbed my release and got ready.

Cat and Mouse

As it often goes solo elk hunting, the bull hangs up. He wanted the cow to show herself before he went a step further. I tried to turn and call behind me each time he gave me a window, but he wasn’t having it. We played chicken for about 10 minutes before he wandered off.

I played that same game with that bull three times that morning and I could never get him within 80 yards. He was big—as big of a bull as I have had the chance to hunt—but maybe he wasn’t the king of these woods. Was that why he was scared to close the gap? Could there really be a bull bigger than him out there?

Two more long, hot days of hunting later, and I still haven’t shot at an elk, but not all hope was lost. This time I was leaving home with a forecast high of 55 degrees, a cool but light north wind, and overcast skies. It was the first cool day of the month, the elk were really ramping up, and I now had my Horizon 7 mm PRC in my hands. Things were looking promising.

Now, I am a bowhunter at heart, so even with a rifle in hand, I wanted to make sure I was still hunting these elk. I wanted to have the experience of a bowhunt; the close encounters, the interactions, and the connection a bowhunter often feels with his target. So, I set out that morning with that goal in mind.

Excitement and Restraint

When I arrived, I expected the woods to be ringing with bugling elk, as they had been the last few days. I got to my spot about 45 minutes before shooting light to listen, and…nothing. Trying not to get discouraged, I waited patiently for legal light, and slowly started walking the bottoms, making my way to a known glassing point.

About 200 yards down the trail a cow suddenly appeared, followed by her calf, followed by a nice 6 x 6 bull. The bull was silent bugling at them, tipping his head, opening his mouth, but he refused to make noise. He eventually stood broadside at 150 yards, and it was all I could do to not pull the trigger. He was nice, but I had caught glimpses of true giants over the last few days, and I knew they weren’t far. He got the pass.

I made my way to a vantage point where I could see for miles across multiple canyons. The wind was a steady 8 to 10mph in my face, blowing right back from where I came. Perfect.

I sat for 30 minutes with zero activity, until finally a bull sounded off north of me. His bugle set off a chain reaction of bugling bulls all the way down the canyons, and the last bull that bugled was on my property, but on the move. I waited 5 minutes and gave him a weak sounding bugle. He responded immediately, but this time he sounded at least another 200 yards away from his original spot. After another 5 minutes I bugled again, he answered just the same, and again, another 200 yards further. I needed to turn him around.

Fired Up

I set the bugle to the side and began to cow call, starting off with some loud lost calf calls. That fired him up instantly. Now he was screaming unprovoked—and often. I could tell he had turned and started making his way my direction. I moved to a better shooting location and began calling every 5 minutes or so. Each time he would answer and be a little closer, until he finally made his way onto the densely covered hill side directly across the canyon from me. I could hear him raking trees, and snapping branches with each step, but he didn’t seem to want to venture down into the bottom where I had my only open shooting lanes.

I gave him ten minutes to see if he would make his way down, and by this time another bull had shown up. I knew I needed to do something to keep him engaged with me, so I switched up to an estrus cow call, a long, drawn-out sound. Both bulls answered before I finished my first call.

Moments later, branches began snapping again, the first bull was finally working his way down the hillside toward the bottom. I noticed a small finger that dipped into the hillside that was clear of trees, and my instincts told me that was a likely spot for him to come out to survey the bottom before he fully committed. I gambled and got the tripod and rifle positioned to shoot that small gap.

The gamble paid off. The bull stepped out into the clearing and paused to bugle, which gave me time to survey his antlers. Yep, he was the one I wanted, and he was close.

Bringing the Wallop

He stopped his bugle, and I squeezed the trigger. Solid contact, but he was still standing, so I quickly ran the action and put a second shot in him. This shot also rang true, and he dropped where he was standing.

I stood there in semi-disbelief of what had just happened. Had I just filled my Nebraska bull elk tag? Did I just take the biggest bull of my life?

I took a seat to soak in all the emotions I was feeling, and at this point the adrenaline dump began. The first thing I did, naturally, was call my wife. She had been a huge support system for me and my family during a long tough month of hunting, and I had to share this moment with her.

She answered the phone with “Did you get one!?” I had so much adrenaline pumping through my veins, the only thing that came out of my mouth was something like “Yehai Juschsht abigwhun.” I eventually was able to compose myself enough to put a sentence together, and we had our shared moment of excitement and relief.

Joy and Elation

I followed up with phone calls to my father, a good buddy, and the gracious landowner whose property I was standing on. After that, I made my way down to my bull. I walked up to him, knelt next to him, and took some time to appreciate his beauty, and his sacrifice for my family.

I’d be lying if I said that my eyes didn’t water at this moment. I’d been waiting to harvest a bull elk like this my entire life. I had put so much time and work into this hunt. I was hit with a lot of relief, excitement, sadness, and an array of other emotions all at once. Of course, that is exactly why we do this, for that feeling right there.

Although this had been a Do-It-Yourself hunt, I was, ultimately, far from alone. I already mentioned my wife, and she is more than worth mentioning again. She was my anchor back at home with our son and kept our lives in order so I could put my tag on this bull. My buddy hadn’t been in the woods with me, but he was on the end of the line each time I left the field, and he kept my mind right when things got tough. Then there was my dad, who as soon as I called him, was already packing up knives and game bags to come help me take care of the bull.

This elk hadn’t brought joy to me alone, no, it has brightened the lives of the all the people that have had a hand in this process. As we move further into a pay-to-play hunting world with each day, this bull shows that with some hard work, and a few good people, anything is still possible. I hope this bull brings a sense of appreciation and a can-do attitude to anybody who reads this, and that his legacy lives on through these words. As for me, this isn’t just a once in a lifetime bull, it’s a once in a lifetime story.

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