Effort Pays Off on Backcountry Elk Hunt
"I don't really care if this story gets shared, but I just wanted to share with you guys.
After four seasons of running up and down ridges chasing and calling elk in September, I was able to kill a bull on 9.11.24. As any archery elk hunter knows, you pour so much into preparing for a shot. Our year is dictated by the ebbs and flows of scouting, shooting, driving, discussing and plotting for just a few weeks of opportunity.
When you do get that precious chance, when the stars align, you've poured over maps, hiked dozens of miles, shot a thousand arrows, sacrificed weekends and laid it all out there, you want that chance to count. When it came down to it for me, on my first real chance at a bull, I trusted Iron Will 125 grain single bevel broadheads.
We glassed this bull twice on the burned ridge across the canyon from our camp. The second time we caught him he was running a cow ragged with desire. This was ideal elk country. Big south facing burn, gentle north facing timber and tucked back just far enough that most hunters in the unit wouldn't attempt to get back there. We did.
Our first approach was setting up an ambush in the evening, so we trekked down the canyon and up the steep hillside WAY too early in the day. So we waited. As evening approached a thunderstorm blew in and we bailed off the bald ridge, retreating from lightning. The next day we hiked back out there in the AM, hoping to encounter the bull heading to bed, but the wind was swirling, so we backed out.
Finally, we made a play two days later. We had set up a spike camp a mile from the burn. That morning we made our way across the burn and set up at the edge of the timber. As we let out some soft cow calls, we were immediately answered with a bugle 200 yards away, just over a small rise. A few more cow calls and the bugles came closer, louder and more intense as the bull approached.
He cautiously stepped out of the trees and in front of me at 20 yards. His head down, scanning the area for the cow, he needed some more encouragement. Luckily, we were set up perfectly and my partner was down slope in some trees about 70 yards away. I signaled to let out one more cow call. The bull immediately raised his head and licked his chops then started down the slope toward my partner, perfectly broadside to me at 18 yards.
Waiting for an opportunity to draw, I felt oddly calm as he slowly walked by me. Then he stopped, dropped his head and all those hours of practice resulted in an involuntary muscle memory as I drew back and let an arrow fly. I knew it was perfect, but I also knew that I'd shoot him again if he allowed. With a call still in my mouth I immediately called to him again as he whirled back toward the timber. He stopped at forty yards and I already had another arrow knocked. I went through my shot routine and put another in him at that distance.
As I heard him crash just over the rise, not 50 yards from the last shot, I knew I had my first archery bull. It happened in slow motion and sped up all at the same time.
Shot one was double lung, splitting a rib on the far side of his rib cage. Shot two liquified his liver. I couldn't have scripted it better.
Can't thank you all enough for making such a high quality product. The amount of effort that goes into taking an elk with bow and arrow is so massive and when it comes down to that very moment when it all aligns, the bull drops his head and you let an arrow fly, I want to know that my broadhead is going to get the job done. Iron Will gets the job done.
Many thanks and to many more bulls!"
— Adam Peters
After four seasons of running up and down ridges chasing and calling elk in September, I was able to kill a bull on 9.11.24. As any archery elk hunter knows, you pour so much into preparing for a shot. Our year is dictated by the ebbs and flows of scouting, shooting, driving, discussing and plotting for just a few weeks of opportunity.
When you do get that precious chance, when the stars align, you've poured over maps, hiked dozens of miles, shot a thousand arrows, sacrificed weekends and laid it all out there, you want that chance to count. When it came down to it for me, on my first real chance at a bull, I trusted Iron Will 125 grain single bevel broadheads.
We glassed this bull twice on the burned ridge across the canyon from our camp. The second time we caught him he was running a cow ragged with desire. This was ideal elk country. Big south facing burn, gentle north facing timber and tucked back just far enough that most hunters in the unit wouldn't attempt to get back there. We did.
Our first approach was setting up an ambush in the evening, so we trekked down the canyon and up the steep hillside WAY too early in the day. So we waited. As evening approached a thunderstorm blew in and we bailed off the bald ridge, retreating from lightning. The next day we hiked back out there in the AM, hoping to encounter the bull heading to bed, but the wind was swirling, so we backed out.
Finally, we made a play two days later. We had set up a spike camp a mile from the burn. That morning we made our way across the burn and set up at the edge of the timber. As we let out some soft cow calls, we were immediately answered with a bugle 200 yards away, just over a small rise. A few more cow calls and the bugles came closer, louder and more intense as the bull approached.
He cautiously stepped out of the trees and in front of me at 20 yards. His head down, scanning the area for the cow, he needed some more encouragement. Luckily, we were set up perfectly and my partner was down slope in some trees about 70 yards away. I signaled to let out one more cow call. The bull immediately raised his head and licked his chops then started down the slope toward my partner, perfectly broadside to me at 18 yards.
Waiting for an opportunity to draw, I felt oddly calm as he slowly walked by me. Then he stopped, dropped his head and all those hours of practice resulted in an involuntary muscle memory as I drew back and let an arrow fly. I knew it was perfect, but I also knew that I'd shoot him again if he allowed. With a call still in my mouth I immediately called to him again as he whirled back toward the timber. He stopped at forty yards and I already had another arrow knocked. I went through my shot routine and put another in him at that distance.
As I heard him crash just over the rise, not 50 yards from the last shot, I knew I had my first archery bull. It happened in slow motion and sped up all at the same time.
Shot one was double lung, splitting a rib on the far side of his rib cage. Shot two liquified his liver. I couldn't have scripted it better.
Can't thank you all enough for making such a high quality product. The amount of effort that goes into taking an elk with bow and arrow is so massive and when it comes down to that very moment when it all aligns, the bull drops his head and you let an arrow fly, I want to know that my broadhead is going to get the job done. Iron Will gets the job done.
Many thanks and to many more bulls!"
— Adam Peters
