10 Best Archery Elk Hunting Clothing

Best Archery Elk Hunting Clothing in 2023

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Elk Hunting Intensified

I've been smelling fall in the early morning air for quite awhile. It's time to put some fresh meat in the freezer.

Wapiti is the Indian name for elk it means white rump. If you are an elk hunter than you know how important that term is and so did the Indians. Its a road sign in thick brush or at a distance. Of course their yellowish colored bodies help catch your eye also.

I have my own name for a huge bull elk, Yellow Ghosts. This monarch that can weigh in over a thousand pounds, sport a rack of antlers that one person has a hard time packing out. He can move through dense foliage at a high rate of speed and never be heard. He can be close enough to blow snotty steam on the back of your neck and the only thing you'll see when you look behind you is a pine bow bouncing up and down. The beast has left the scene with all the information he came for- it's a human! Don't bother to bugle anymore and feel free to stand up and stretch maybe even talk to your hunting partner because this particular bad boy is not going to play anymore today. Most likely if he's a seasoned fellow with a few close calls you'll probably never see or hear him in that drainage again.

Now of course the above statement is made assuming that the hunter is seeking a larger bull. If your not picky and just looking to fill your freezer with a younger bull than you might put the show on for a bit longer one might actually come along.

I really don't believe the desire to hunt is born into the outdoorsman and if it is than it is measured out in different intensities. Perhaps the word passion would be more suiting, whatever. One things for sure there are those that become very proficient at it.

In the past the plains people depended on the hunters of the tribe for their very existence, but still, only a percentage of the hunters were consistently successful. Their high success rate was fired by their ability and intense desire to pay attention to the things going on around them while on the hunt. Add to that the love of the outdoors. I'm sure even though they were very much a part of the raw wilderness twenty four seven they still reveled at mother nature. Their constant success on the hunt can only be attributed to their being consumed by the hunt and all that went with it. They in fact understood the sounds, smells, and even learned to predict the movement and emulate the calls of their prey. From the moment they decided that they would hunt for meat they began strategizing. They traveled light but precise carrying with them their most dangerous weapon their knowledge and understanding of the animal, its habits, and surroundings. They became one with all those things on the hunt.

This is the reason that a huge percentage of past and present hunters are only marginally successful. But for those of us that have that burning passion to bring home the bacon, nothing less than meat on the poll will suffice. For others a huge Dagwood sandwich and a ice cold beverage after the hunt is paradise.

Introducing, Bill Mott, Elk Hunter Extroardinaire

You don't have to live, eat, sleep and breathe hunting. But Bill Mott would never agree with that statement. Which is probably why he enjoys the degree of success in the field that surpasses most others. It is no secret which big game animal is his favorite challenge. Bill lives for elk hunting all other big game comes in second. Don't look for him on guided hunts or private land, he hunts public land exclusively. Why wouldn't he? His kill ratio is nearly a hundred percent. If you are a bow hunter and you hunt public ground then you already understand the weight of this statememnt. Especially when it comes to elk hunting. I have hunted with Bill for quite some years now. I should say that we hunt out of the same camp. Bill prefers to hunt alone, a one on one basis with the elk. I can tell you though when I have accompanied him on elk hunts I witness technique that runs against the grain of the normal.

I'm a sneaker in the woods that's what my dad taught me. Keep the wind in my face, move slow and quiet. The wind thing always applies but Bill has been known to toss the rest out the window. He meets the bull elk on its own terms. I have seen him run a hundred feet on top of dead fall lodge poll towards the bugling elk. His theory is if you get into the bulls back yard he doesnt't like it. Especially if he has a harem of cows with him. If you have ever been close to a mad bull elk then you know they are anything but quiet. This is waht Bill has learned and applies, quite successfully I might add. I f you ask him what has made him break the tradidion of technique for elk hunting? His explination would be something like; The elk are educated now. The older bulls have patterned our bugling and are wary of it. So you have to figure out what they do and don't know and work out from there.

Sounds simple enough but now were starting to understand that, live, eat, sleep and breathe hunting thing again. Bill didn't suddenly figure all this out he has spent a lot of time with elk to learne it. He has honed trial and error through the years and perfected a lethal formula for taking his elk. Perhaps the best way to get close to Bill's elk hunting techniques is to join him on one of his hunts. I'll try to tell it to you the way he described it to me.

Late September in Idaho's hight country. I've been smelling fall in the early morning air now for quite some time and my insides have been knotted with anxiety because of it. Its time to put some fresh meat in the freezer and the mighty Elk now beomes my contender.

It's an understatement to say that hunting elk with a bow is a challenge especially if your trying for a herd bull. Something in the 325 and up class. Genes have got a lot to do with it too. Even a young spike bull can have prudence beyond his years. Even during the peak of the rut when the big boys have lost their minds over the ladies and it seems a sure thing. Trust me the hunt can go sour on you in an instant. A dry twig snaps, a tiny branch in your arrows flight path, leg cramps forbids you to keep still. The most dreaded is the breeze suddenly hitting against the back of your neck. These are just a few of the hurtles you will come against. You will have no choice but to accept them and move on. I have come to appreciate them as they can be learning experiences.

I don't consider myself a bone hunter although I do hold out for the first week or so of bow season in hopes of sticking that big yellow boy. But on this hunt the date above tells the story. I'm three weeks into the season so its looking more like a meat hunt.

I've never really weighed the pros and cons of my hunting curse. Meaning that I would rather hunt than do much else. My job and pretty much everything I do revolves around my hunting, especially elk hunting. There is just something about hunting the mystical elk that I greatly enjoy. Make no mistake I hunt for a whole bunch of reasons but topping the list is my love of the outdoors, the challenge of the hunt, and I enjoy a good piece of meat. If I didn't like eating wild game I would hang up my weapons. If you happen to visit my home you would see that there is very little room left on my walls for additional mounts. As many of you hunters know if you spend a lot of time hunting your going to take a certain amount of good racked animals. Its just the law of averages. But that same law of averages has caused me to lose out on quite a few dream animals. I chalk that up to, it wasn't met to be. I try to console myself with, I'll get him the next time. But precious few times have I ever crossed the path of the same animal again. Enough said about that for now, lets get to the hunt.

As I said my life is all about the hunt even my log house is within in minutes of some great hunting. Its 5 a.m. in the morning my red Ford pickup is idling in the driveway and I'm sitting on my couch trying to figure out where I'm going to hunt. This has been a tough year so far the weather has stayed warm and the elk aren't bugling a lot on the count of it. I closed last nights evening hunt out trying to get a bull to sound off enough so I could work towards him but he shut up. I guess he didn't want to play. The decision is made I'll give the old boy a second try this morning. I noticed that when I slid my to go cup on top of the broncos dashboard that there was dew on the windshield. Maybe the temp dropped down enough to urge some bugling, I thought. It's the optimism that keeps us hunters going. The drive to the hunt is an interesting one. They are logging in the area and there is nothing quite like meeting a fully loaded log truck on a hairpin turn. It's the mother of all surprises especially when your mind is immersed in elk hunting strategies. I'll just say that it has a profound sharpening effect on all of your senses.

After about 45 minutes I roll to a stop in a wide spot on the shoulder of hog back near a stand of yellow pines. Elevation 6,500 feet I'm pleasantly surprised to see my breath when I step out of the rig. It has cooled substantially during the night. I slide my elk bugle out and let out a modified rag horn bugle-I don't want to start out intimidating everything on the mountain with a snotty herd bull bugle. I'm immediately cut off by a rather shrill bugle from above me and a second bugle rings out from deep in the canyon below. The elk above is probably a spike, maybe a two point. But the one in the canyon is a better bull. The bull that I decide to hunt totally depends on which way the morning wind has decided to blow. I give my small puff bottle a squeeze and as usual the puff of white dust drifts down the canyon in the direction of the larger bull, game over on him. I push a second less intimidating bugle through my tube and once again the smaller bull cuts me off. This time he's closer. Typical action from a smaller bull, he's coming in but even he isn't sure why. But this is why I never blow an intimidating bugle first thing. He knows that he'll get his butt kicked if he gets close to the cows of a herd bull. No time to waste I've hade these young fellows walk right in on me without hesitation. As I said earlier this late in bow season it's become pretty much a meat hunt. Let me take a second to say again that taking an elk with a bow is a task and any elk, cow or otherwise, is a pleasing accomplishment to the bow hunter.

With no time to waste I strap my fanny pack on slip into my camo jacket, with bow in hand, I disappear into a line of smaller doug firs above the road. Now it becomes a bit iffy the morning light is still pretty low in the forest. If I can pull it off I'll stay put for a few minutes trying to gain more light. Like I said these smaller bulls are impatient and careless and I can hear him crunching small twigs, he's still coming. There is a small opening about 60 feet in front of me it will be my best chance for a clear shot because of low the light.

This is where pure luck of the hunt comes into play. I decide to quietly move towards the opening. I mew out a short cow call in hopes that the young bull will rendezvous there with me. It's a long shot but that's the only strategy for the occasion. This young bull is hot he's even talking back to the brief cow call. Seems like I might actually get a shot at this one. I can tell by the crunching foliage and moaning sounds he is making that he might be headed for the open spot. I quietly nock one of my carbon arrows and get ready to draw my bow. It's the time when all seems to stand still, you know, its like you can hear your heart beating in your chest. I can see movement at the edge of the opening apparently my plan has worked all he needs to do is take several more steps and he'll be broad side. My attention span is broken by the fast crunching of brush beneath me across the road suddenly a loud full bugle shatters the morning air. The big fellow from down in the canyon has come to investigate and he's on fire. This may be good and it could have a very sour ending. The boisterous bull stopped the small bull in tracks. I squeeze my puffer again the ball of smoke drifts out in front of me instead of down the canyon towards the approaching big bull. I have to make a decision. I blow a full bugle and follow it with the raking of a branch against a small tree trunk. And then the greatest bribe of all a series of cow mews. I was expecting a snotty reply from the big bull but there was nothing. Not a sound from either of the bulls. Not surprising about the small bull he's having visions of horn tines stabbing into his rump and is strongly considering a fast departure. The big bull as they will do is probably trying to sneak around me trying to get a better look at his adversary. I made quite a challenge with my technique. Even a big bull doesn't want trouble if he can avoid it. If he is a mediocre bull with only a few cows he doesn't want to lose any of them. But he will still strut his stuff after all its what they do during rut. However even in rut they are only so predictable. Attempting to call his bluff and get him to make some kind of noise I put out a short grunt followed by a cow mew.

It was a little too much for him to put up with and he breaks the silence. I was right he had crossed the road and was actually in the vicinity of where the smaller bull was. His full bugle tells me that he's still interested. I grunt back at him and rake the tree again. Dead silence again, wonder what's wrong? I give my puff bottle a squeeze the ball of dust drifts directly in the direction of where I last heard the bull. I figure its the swan song now for sure. He had to have winded me. Its time to put my cards on the table. I let out a volley of cow and calf mews which are quickly followed by the stomping of hoofs much to my surprise the small bull steps out into the lower part of the opening just under me. I watch as my arrow hit directly behind his shoulder right where his pump station and lungs should be. The fletches go completely out of sight. The young bull reeled around and disappeared into the trees. I can tell by the crashing sounds that he isn't going very far. I sit back Indian style on the ground and munch down a power bar. Funny how some things never change I notice my hand shaking when I take a bite. That's what its all about there is nothing like matching wits with a big game animal and actually sticking him in the sweet spot. You know that he's yours. After a half hour or so wait I start working my way to where he had been standing I cut good blood and follow it. The final thrill of the hunt is when you come onto your animal bunched up. I was surprised to see that he was a four point with a pretty big body. Man there is just nothing like it.

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