The first morning, my dad and I got up at 5:30 a.m. and saddled our mules for a long day. After glassing a deep draw for the better part of the morning, we started following a set of elk tracks through some thick timber. My dad circled the timber and walked slowly through it, hoping to push a big bull to me for a shot.
After our first push didn’t work, we rode to a spot where my dad had seen some elk in the past. Upon arrival, I could hear two bulls calling, and as we tried to determine which of the two satellite bulls was the biggest, they simply walked off without a single shot fired.
Confused about the situation, we sat to think and soon heard more bugling on the other side of a nearby ridge. As we glassed, I spotted a bull more than 300 yards away with numerous cows circling him. I found a solid rifle rest, aimed and dropped the bull in his tracks.
He was a great 5x4—and my first elk—and I was proud to take him home with me.