I have had many great hunting experiences this past season at Elkhorn that have made this year especially great, but there is one hunt that reigns at the top of the list. Two weeks before the end of the season I had a hunter, whom after a long day of hunting in frigid weather and not having much luck, told me that “Our luck is gonna change, it just takes one ridge.” The comment instantly reminded me of a special hunt that took place at our high camp much earlier in the season.
The man I was guiding was a decorated navy seal who was on his first ever elk hunt. The hunt started out great; we saw a lot of elk the first day, passing up a couple smaller bulls. Thinking the hunt was only going to get better, we went out the next day to disappointment, seeing only rag horns and cows. The next couple days passed with no opportunities to harvest the bull we were looking for. The last day the hunter’s hopes had all but gone and as we rode the long trail to the bottom of the canyon I couldn’t help but join him. We parked the horses and rounded the corner to an open meadow. I let out a couple cow calls, fishing for a response. To my surprise not only one bull, but four answered with a bugle giving up their exact location, the stock was on. As we crept into the meadow a handsome five point met us only one-hundred yards away at the opposite edge. The brush alongside the horse trail made it impossible to get a shot and the beast, no stranger to experience, ran back into the dark timber. Instead of blowing out completely the mature bull sat just 30 yards inside the impenetrable wall of pines only allowing a glimpse of his massive horns as he furiously shook his head. We slowly moved to the middle of the meadow taking cover behind a small group of pines trying our hardest to draw him out into a shooting lane. After thirty minutes the big bull decided that he had enough of our bantering and disappeared into the thick timber, our hopes had all but gone. While we sat trying to gather our thoughts, another bull came to the opposite edge of the meadow screaming, giving us a brief glimpse of his impressive head gear. I quickly set my hunter up, hoping that this would be the opportunity we were waiting for. This bull too was wise in his years showing off only his ivory tipped horns while managing to keep his body out of a clear shooting lane. As he paced back and forth I kept cow calling, finally I was able to convince the big bull to show himself. At a hundred yards my patient and diligent hunter was able to get a clean shot off, dropping the bull in his tracks. After four hard days of hunting and overcoming an emotional roller-coaster, it was that “one ridge” that allowed us to harvest such an amazing animal.


