No More Waiting: A Dream Bull Elk After 13 Years

Where do I even begin? From the time I became a bowhunter at 15, I was hooked for life. Born and raised in southern Arizona, I cut my teeth on bowhunting javelina and deer. We have a cool mix of Coues deer and mule deer. My first big-game animal with a bow was a javelina. The sense of accomplishment was overwhelming because of how proud it made my Dad. I spent the next few years trying my luck with deer and filled a few javelina tags. Then, it happened. I drew my first archery cow elk tag when I was 18, and again at 19. At 20, I drew my first Arizona archery bull tag. At the time, I had no idea what a big deal that was. You see, for me it has never been about the kill or the thrill. It was and forever will be about the challenge and the respect I have for the game. From the moment I went on my first elk hunt, I absolutely loved every single second of it. I studied every part of each hunt to sharpen my skills. Each time I stepped foot in elk country was a learning experience, and hunting the September rut became my passion. So, way back in 1992, after getting skunked in my first two seasons, I took what I learned and shot a 5x5 bull. To this day, I can still replay it in my mind like it was yesterday. Once again, Dad was dang proud!

Fast-forward to the next several seasons. We were drawing elk tags in Arizona almost every other year, and sometimes back-to-back years. I was able to fill a few tags along the way, and unfortunately, we lost a few bulls along the way too. Because of our respect for the animals we hunt, it is tough on a hunter to shoot an animal and not recover it. Those encounters are equally burned in my mind, right next to all the great memories of successful hunts. Like my old hunting partner Bobby Doris once said, “Hey, Bud, you don’t have to like it, but you have to learn to accept it”. Boy, was he right. If you bowhunt long enough, it is an inevitability. I will never be an expert at this game, but I sure have learned a lot over the years. Eventually, I was willing to wait (not patiently) for a tag in a premium archery unit in Arizona. It took 13 long years, but I finally drew “The Tag” in 2024.

I have an amazing group of guys I hunt with. As soon as I drew, without hesitation they all said, “I’ll be there!” I spent several months getting to know the area and shooting my bow as much as I could. I waited so long for this opportunity, and I wanted to stack the odds in my favor as much as possible. Like most elk hunters, I drove everyone around me crazy while I practiced using my elk calls every chance I had.

Opening Day

Opening day finally arrived, and as any elk hunter knows, opening day with a tag in your pocket is pure magic. I don’t think any of us slept a wink the night before. My plan of attack for this hunt was to locate bulls early in the morning, long before sunup, and move on them in the dark.

The first stop we made revealed a few bulls talking. We grabbed our gear, checked the wind and moved into the timber — each of us with an understanding of what and how it was going to go down. We’d get in tight, stay on them until the sun came up and hope to get a good look at the “guys” who were calling. If we were lucky and they wanted to play, we may be able to set up and convince a bull to make his way into bow range.

We set up the shooter, which was me this time, with a few callers positioned around 40 yards behind, hoping the bulls would be interested enough to investigate. I got as close as I comfortably could while two of my guys set up behind me, blowing the sweetest cow calls they could. Through the thick timber, I could see antlers coming our way. I quickly grabbed my rangefinder and ranged each shooting lane I had from my position. The guys continued to cow call, along with some other sounds I still cannot explain, and the bull kept coming until he emerged from the timber. I couldn’t believe it! Is it all going to be over at first light on opening morning? I thought. There stood a beautiful 5x5 at 34 yards, broadside, with no idea I was there. With my bow up and release clipped to the D-Loop, I let him walk. I didn’t care about inches, but my goal on this hunt was a solid 6x6 or better. If this encounter was any indication of how the hunt would go, it was worth holding out. My guys were well aware of our goal.

After breakfast and a power nap, I was back in the timber in a ladder stand over what I thought was a well-used wallow near a drinker. It was an unusually hot season, so I just knew they were either going to come for a drink or take a dip. Either way, we had it covered. Well, I sat for six hours and didn’t see a single elk!

The Dream Comes True

On day two, we were up early and drove to a spot we had on our list only to find another hunter already parked right at our marked location. I like your style, buddy! I hope you had a successful hunt. No worries though; we drove down the road another mile with plenty of time before the sun was ready to greet us. We got out of the truck and found ourselves right next to a bull, just uphill from where we parked. The wind was right, so we grabbed our gear and began the slow hike up the hill in the dark. As we crept through the woods, getting further and further away from the road, we heard another bull or two singing. Now, we were almost two miles into this hike as we followed these bulls into their sanctuary. As the sun peeked out, the canyon came alive. What began with us tailing a single bull led us to seven or eight screaming bulls. It was the kind of morning elk hunting dreams are made of. The bulls responded to every call we threw at them. Yet, not a single bull would come to us. As hard as we tried, and as bad as we wanted to call one into range, they would not come. It was too early in the rut for it to be that easy. Still, we were in the middle of several great bulls.

By now, the bulls had thankfully stopped climbing and were in their midday bedding area. I surveyed the landscape, checked the wind and decided that if they weren’t going to come to us, I was going to them. Even though the bulls would not come, they would eagerly respond to calls. So, I told the guys to “rip a bugle” whenever the bulls got quiet and headed out. The boys kept the bulls talking, and I was able to sneak into 76 yards of a solid 6x6 raking a tree. The next several moments were what I dreamed about — the sights and sounds you only see and hear when you’re up close and personal with God’s creatures. Bugles from a distance are music to my ears, but close enough to hear him growling and glunking was an entirely different experience. I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment just to get that close undetected.

The sweet sounds of all the cows nearby had me excited, as well as on edge knowing I had to be aware of them too. From where I stood, the terrain would not allow me to get any closer. I once again studied the land in front of me and ranged any possible shooting lane if he was to come my way. I knew if he stood clear from the tree he was raking, I could confidently make the shot, but he deserved better, and I was going to do whatever I could to get closer.

A moment later, he emerged from the brush, facing my direction, and began walking my way. Again I thought, Is this really happening? My hands were now shaking so badly it was all I could do to get my release clipped to my nocking loop. Getting to full draw without him seeing me was the next challenge, but I managed. He continued in my direction! My sight pin buried on his chest. My index finger tightly wrapped around the trigger. Suddenly, he turned and stopped broadside next to a shrub that I had just ranged at 22 yards.

I pulled through the shot like I was standing on a target line. The arrow impacted right behind the pin and punched into the vitals. The bull lunged, then stopped to look back, wondering what the heck had just happened. The next few moments brought waves of emotions, from the excitement of getting that close and getting a shot to a sick feeling of doubt as I watched the bull walk away. Within the next few minutes though, my emotions soared to the highest of highs as I watched the bull stop, lie down and expire. The guys hiked down to meet me, and we all moved in together. As we approached, seeing the bull in his final resting place, a new wave of emotions hit. I was so thankful the bull went down fast and would be recovered quickly, thankful for the many great meals he’d provide my family, and thankful for the guys who had joined me on the mountain. The wait is OVER!

A lifelong Arizonan, Bobby Vargas has been a dedicated bowhunter since 1986. When he’s not hunting or shooting his bow, he enjoys spending time with family, golfing, playing softball, and building custom cornhole boards.

Author's Notes: On this hunt, I used a PSE Carbon Air Stealth Mach 1 bow outfitted with a Trophy Ridge React Pro 7 bowsight, Gold Tip Airstrike arrows, Evolution Outdoors 125-grain HYDE broadheads and a custom bow sling made by Eric Vargas. I wore Mossy Oak camouflage and used a Horn Hunter pack.

---