Elk Hunting: The Bulls of Mongolia

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As we wait for the sun to rise over the horizon and bring the extra light needed for proper glassing, we patiently listen in hopes of hearing the first bugle. It is the second week of September, and according to the hand signals of Enkhbaatarr, our local guide, I think he is trying to say that the animals aren’t in rut yet. The cold wind hits us hard on top of the vantage point, but from there we can monitor most of the area that we can hunt.

We are in the northwestern part of Mongolia, in the area of Uvs, probably one of the most remote places in the world that you can chase elk. Unknown by many, Asia holds several populations of native elk, divided into several subspecies, mainly the “Altai Wapiti” (Cervus elaphus sibiricus) and the Tian Shan Wapiti or Maral (Cervus elaphus songaricus). These two subspecies, located across Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Mongolia, have only slight differences from the American elk. In particular, the Altai, which is the one we are chasing, is a little lighter in color and slightly smaller in body and antler size compared to the Rocky Mountain elk.

Kazakhstan is the main destination for those looking to hunt an elk in Asia, known for having larger quality and quantity of elk, but bowhunting there is still illegal. So, our best option was Mongolia. A good number of elk are shot every season here, typically by spot and stalk in the wide-open country, but most are taken as a bonus species by argali or ibex hunters.

While there isn’t anything wrong with that, in my opinion, the most beautiful thing about hunting elk is to hunt them inside the forest during the rut. The excitement of bugling in the timber, the interaction with the animal, the uncertainty and expectations behind a mysterious call…there is nothing like it. For this reason, against the outfitter’s recommendations, my dad and I chose to hunt the forest.

As the light of the day increases, we start picking up a couple groups of elk in the shaded faces of the mountains. We set up the spotting scope and to our surprise, the herds were all bulls! This may sound exciting for many, but the reality was that if all the bulls were still hanging together, the rut was still very far away, and the hopes of chasing bugles during our stay vanished. Bulls hang together during the summer, but as the rut starts to warm up, the brotherhood breaks, and they can’t tolerate each other. They separate to take their own paths, spend some time alone, and then go looking for cows. We were way off, so it was time to assume that the rut wasn’t happening and that our tactic was going to be spot and stalk.

Although several things were against us, there was one thing that I really liked, and that was the terrain. This part of the country is mostly a desert, with some big patches of forest in the shaded hills of the mountains. Relatively isolated from the surroundings, the elk habitat was mostly limited to the forest areas. So, despite the vastness of the hunting area, the places that were holding elk were very easy to identify.

Add to this that Mongolia is a country of nomads and shepherds. During the summer months, the higher terrain holds a large amount of cattle, horses, and sheep. These herds of animals eat a lot of the food source and are actually the biggest threat to the wild mammals like argali or elk, as they are direct competitors. On the other hand, they help keep the pine forest free of low bushes and plants, making the terrain a stalker’s dream. I couldn’t imagine a better terrain to bowhunt.

Back in the “yurts” or “gers” as the Mongolians call them, I sit down by the stove with a tea to put a plan together with my father. We are living out of three yurts, which can be assembled fast and packed down to be transported by horses as they move along with the cattle. Covered with several layers of thick wool, they offer amazing and comfortable protection from the elements. Spacious enough to hold five of us, it’s probably one of the best options as a tent that you will find all over the world.

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Each morning, we would go to the glassing spot. The only good thing about being early in the season is that the elk are still following patterns. They feed, bed, drink, and hang around the same areas, so we just needed to figure that out as quick as possible before they changed their habits. I wanted to properly understand what was happening before messing around in the forest and risk pushing the few bulls that were there completely out of the area, as that could be our end.

The guides had never hunted with or even seen a bowhunter before, and without an interpreter it was hard to get in their minds to understand their concerns or ideas. I could feel that, after a couple of days, their excitement for me using a bow was already gone — if there ever was any — and their gesturing for me to use a rifle was more and more recurrent, to the point it was irritating me. They do not understand. Why would someone want to make things harder? But I am used to encountering that mentality.

After four days of glassing and hiking to several glassing spots, we have a good idea of what the herds of elk are doing. There is only one nice-looking 6x6 bull, which does not look old, but it is way bigger than the rest of the herd. In Mongolia, the trophy quality is not good, so it seems this bull is the best we are going to find and may be our only option.

I was so concerned about spooking that 6x6 that I agree with my father that the best plan would be for him to shoot that bull with his rifle. I would then bowhunt whatever bulls were left. I would be happy with any bull, and I’d be thrilled to see my dad succeed.

With our homework done, we spent the afternoon sitting on the area where the big bull had been feeding. Sure enough, as the sun went down the bull came out. We quickly snuck into range and my dad took the bull down with a perfect shot. A beautiful representative of the species that offered an awesome stalk and a lifetime father-and-son memory. I was over the moon and happy to lay my hands on the animal and enjoy its beauty, as I wasn’t sure that I’d have that chance.

With the first bull down, our strategy changes. It was time to walk and stalk the thick forest. I streamlined the team, which in Asia always tends to be quite numerous, to go just with one local guide and the cameraman. Still too many people, but the guide agrees to leave us alone for the final stalk. We consolidate all our equipment on my pack, so we are lighter and quieter, and I would drop my pack with the guide for the final stalk. We are in full camo, have thick socks ready for stalking barefoot, and are armed with a huge dose of motivation, as we only have five days to make it happen.

My dad and the team relocated the herd of bulls the following afternoon, and it looks like a new, decent-looking bull has joined them, but it’s hard to tell from that distance. We start hiking, get above the elk to use the thermals to our advantage, dropped the pack and boots with our guide, Recep, and start sneaking to where we last saw the elk. I start hearing a bull raking a tree when I suddenly pick up a leg. There are at least seven bulls and only one is worthy. I take the forest apart with my binos and start picking up each bull one by one. All of them are relaxed and doing their thing at less than 50 yards. It is a spectacle that honestly made my whole trip. The feeling of being surrounded without being noticed is unreal. Unfortunately, I never spotted anything worth sending an arrow at, and we let the herd feed away undisturbed.

The following morning, at first light, we start walking in the forest, slowly watching each step, carefully listening all around us, and occasionally throwing out a locating bugle to see if I would get a response. The morning passes by and as the temperature rises, we decide to sit by a wallow that we located at the beginning of the trip, hoping to make the most of the day.

The wallow is in a little meadow where we have been seeing elk feeding, in the middle of a prairie surrounded by a thick forest. We stack a few fallen branches against a fallen tree to build up a little ground blind along the treeline. The closest edge of the water is at 67 yards, the farthest is 82 yards. Not ideal, but there isn’t any other way to sit closer.

Everything is quiet. We can only hear a few crows in the distance, as well as the wind waving the tree limbs. Four hours later, everything changed in a second. Suddenly, Josh, my cameraman, hits me in the arm and whispers, “Here he comes!”

I raise my head to see a giant, lone bull coming through the trees straight to the water. I slowly lift my bow while grabbing my rangefinder with the other hand. The bull reaches the edge of the wallow and starts drinking. The view is overwhelming. Part of me wants to stay still and enjoy the view, but I know that I need to react quickly. When an animal comes to water, they typically offer the best shot while drinking. When wallowing, its always unpredictable chaos because the bulls do not stop moving.

The bull drinks, offering a slightly quartering-away shot at 67 yards. I remind myself to pick a spot. These animals are so big compared to what I am used to hunting that hitting them seems easy, but it’s dangerous because you must hit them on the right spot. The arrow flies perfectly and hits right where I was aiming. The bull runs five yards and stops to analyze what just happened. He is not scared, not in pain, just confused. As his blood pressure drops, he takes a few more steps and expires. The meadow returns to silence. Only the trees around us know what just happened. The pressure inside me explodes in happiness and adrenaline, followed by an immense sense of peace.

I told Recep to not tell anyone through the radio yet what has happened. I wanted to sit for a while in the blind in silence, before going to check the bull. I had worked hard to get to lay my hands on one of these elk, but I know that as soon as that happens, the hunt was over. I want to enjoy the awesomeness of bowhunting for a little longer. I want to close my eyes and soak in as many details as I can of what just happened so I would never forget it. The smell, the temperature, the sounds…we made it happen!

No one had ever seen that bull before and, for some reason, the mountain forest decided to give him to us. Why? I do not know. The bull turned out to be an absolute giant, perfect shape, long, thick beams — he had it all. We had all the action on video to share with the team, but one thing would have made this a perfect hunt. And that would have been if my dad had been in the blind with me.

The author is a highly accomplished international bowhunter from Spain. This is his eighth feature published in Bowhunter.

Author’s Notes

On this hunt I used a PSE MACH 34 bow set at 80 lbs., Victory VAP SS arrows, Grim Reaper Fatal Steel broadheads, Spot Hogg Hogg-Father sight, QAD Ultrarest, America’s Best Bowstrings, Bee Stinger stabilizer, Carter Wise Choice release, Bohning X3 Vanes, TotalPeep, clothing from KUIU (Kenai jacket, Strong Fleece, Attack Pant, Ultra Merino 145), Leupold BX-4 rangefinding binos, and a Leupold RX-FullDraw 5 rangefinder. My bull measured 345”.