After elk hunting for decades, Randy Giesey (right) took his largest bull elk ever while bowhunting in his home state of Wyoming in 2023. Calling duties on this hunt belonged to me (left).
October 24, 2024
By Ron Nisiolek
We’d just completed a two-mile uphill climb and paused to catch our breath and listen. It was still too dark to shoot, and we didn’t want to continue up the trail if we could locate a bull here. After a few minutes listening to the forest wake up, I threw out a tentative bugle and we heard a faint response to our right.
We didn’t hear any other bugles, so we decided to give it a try. We hiked a few hundred yards and set up. I’d shot a bull a week earlier, so I was the caller. Tom Vanasche moved up toward the left and tucked himself in front of some small pines. Randy moved up to the right and did the same. It isn’t often we hunt with three people, but when we do, this triangle setup has worked well. The bull responded but wouldn’t commit — maybe Randy wouldn’t get his bull today.
Friendships Forged Randy Giesey has taken many elk over the years, most of them with a recurve. A Michigan native, he began bowhunting the West while in college. His first bull came on a Colorado hunt in 1984 after moving to the state with his young family, and he’s always dreamt of shooting a big bull, one above the 300-inch threshold. But although he has called in a few big bulls for others, his own goal had yet to be achieved.
In 2007, Randy and his family moved to Wyoming and he immediately started elk adventures here in my home state. After several years, we became friends and began sharing elk camp. Tom had moved to Wyoming the previous winter, and he and I had hunted a couple of days together before Randy showed up.
Advertisement
There’s no doubt that Wyoming’s snow-capped mountains are a majestic sight. The afternoon before this hunt in 2023, the three of us had climbed high into a basin full of excellent forage, thick bedding areas and nasty downed timber. We had moved in on a bugling bull and set up, with Tom to the left and Randy to the right. I got the bull’s attention and he finally committed, coming down the hill slowly and right toward Randy. I got a good look at him and although he was wide, he was a young bull and lacked point length and mass. It was mid-afternoon and I figured it would be fun to get some up-close action for Randy. The closer the bull got, the more focused Randy looked. I was not aware that Randy also had seen the bull and decided it was big enough to shoot, but I knew it was smaller than what he truly wanted.
We now could hear another bull about a mile farther up the basin. He had one of those growly sounding bugles with deep chuckles at the end. I wanted to see him or, better yet, have Randy or Tom get a crack at him. I stalked up behind Randy and got his attention. The smaller bull was only 40 yards away, but I convinced Randy to pass on him. We gathered up Tom and moved toward the growler. Although we ended up close, the wind and darkness tipped the scale in the bull’s favor and we returned to camp long after dark.
In the Zone Back at our current setup, the bull wasn’t cooperating. At times he sounded like he was close, but a minute later he sounded far away. I walked up to Randy and said we either have to get aggressive or go find another bull. We abandoned our packs and Randy started pushing higher toward the bull. I got Tom’s attention and we followed.
Advertisement
Tom and I also pushed up until I felt we were in the zone. Randy was nowhere to be found, but I trusted he was still to our right. Tom moved ahead to the left and got set, so I began calling again. The bull went nuts. All of a sudden, he sounded louder and bigger than ever. He was fired up and he was coming, or so I thought. The next bugle, however, sounded like he was going away. With nothing to lose, I cow-called through my tube, something I’ve rarely done. It worked and the bull was on his way, and this time he was close.
The next sound was one I’ve never heard in the elk woods. It didn’t sound much like a bull, more like a bear roaring or someone in pain. Tom and I exchanged glances and raised hands like, What the hell was that? Then it was silent. No more bugles or sounds. I stalked up 20 yards to a point of trees and saw Randy walking toward Tom and me. He was fist pumping with his bow. When he got close, he practically spiked his bow and grabbed me in a bear hug.
Upon hearing the news of his dad’s successful hunt, Randy’s son, Luke, met him on the trail, embracing him with a huge hug! Tom got our attention and indicated he could still see the bull and we were being too loud. He was right! Tom crept over to us and we headed for the packs so we could hear the story, grab a snack and get a drink. As we walked, Tom said the bull had run about a hundred yards uphill from him after the shot and just stood there. Randy was confident that’s where we would find him.
Randy had set up in the perfect place, and when that bull came by, he paused at 20 yards. With a large shooting window, Randy made what he knew was a perfect shot. He was unsure just how big the bull was, but he knew it was by far his best. The yell we’d heard was Randy just a few seconds after the shot. After 40 years of chasing the dream of a big bull, his adrenaline, the good shot and the excitement culminated in the bear-sounding roar we’d heard. That load of adrenaline is why we do this!
Family to the Rescue By the time we’d hydrated and had a snack, 45 minutes had elapsed. Randy was confident in his shot, and Tom knew where his last visual of the bull had been, so we shouldered packs and trekked back to Tom’s original position. From there we couldn’t see the bull, but it wasn’t surprising. The forest was a mess. The blowdowns and thick underbrush could have hidden an elephant. We moved forward 50 yards and glassed up an antler. The bull was down, and the antler we could see was big!
Following Randy’s harvest, the three of us began the exhausting project of packing out the bull, with Randy carrying the head and cape. I ran ahead to get video of Randy as he approached. Only the left antler beam was visible. It twisted after the 5th point but stretched out to 7 long points. The right antler was hidden in the undergrowth and had slid under a log when the bull had fallen. Randy and Tom worked hard to get it out. Being the generous guy I am, I let them. Actually, I was still busy filming the struggle. After that, we all battled to flip the big 6x7 bull over the log into a better position for photos and processing. As always, we kept a sharp lookout for grizzlies.
With those tasks done, we decided on what to take for the first load. Tom grabbed a front quarter, Randy carried the head and cape and I packed the bags of loose meat. It was a slow trip. Tom is in great shape for 70 years young and quickly left us behind. I was next but dropped my pack about 400 yards from the truck and went back to give Randy a hand. When we got close to where I’d left my pack, Randy’s wife, Pam, hurried up the trail to help. Tom was a rock star and hiked back and grabbed my pack. He and my wife, Carol, took it to the truck.
It was a family affair getting Randy’s bull out of the mountains, with Zach Cottrell (from left), Randy, me, Tom, Mike Turner, Randy’s son, Luke, and Randy’s wife, Pam, all lending a hand. It was after noon and we were tired and hungry old guys. Thankfully, our wives pitched in and fixed us some lunch. We were all dreading the next trip, but we had to do it. We tanked up on water, Gatorade and Mountain Dew, and then we slowly trudged back up the trail, Pam with us this time. We got the packs loaded with meat without any grizzly bear excitement and headed for camp once more. We made it about a mile when Randy’s son, Luke, came jogging up the trail. Luke was so excited for Randy that he almost knocked him down with a bear hug. Shortly behind Luke came Randy’s son-in-law Zach and buddy Mike Turner. They’d been packing out Zach’s first bull, had returned to camp and saw the monster rack. Carol told them where we were and they immediately came to help.
After dinner back at camp, I measured Randy’s bull, which gross green-scored over 380 inches and net scored over 370 (The bull was later officially scored at 373 net), making it one of the top bulls ever taken with archery gear in Wyoming. With the firelight flickering over the antlers, I saw Randy sneaking glances at it. It’s going to be tough to ever shoot another bull like it, but I don’t think he cares. He has his 300-inch bull, and then some!