Copenhagen, Chunk & The Bull

Copenhagen, Chunk & The Bull

By Trayson Gardner | ELK-WY-DIY-PL

We spent countless hours shooting our guns and scouting areas where we thought elk would be. Summer and early fall in Wyoming was spent legging up and conditioning our horses scouting and hunting mule deer, patiently waiting for the day we all dream of, September 15th, the opening day of the elk rifle hunt, a day we had all anticipated for months.

 The night before the opener I hardly slept, as it felt like waiting on Christmas morning and woke up at 1 a.m., as usual, to get the horses ready and pack all of my stuff. I had the feeling that it was going to be a successful day. We got to the trailhead around 3:00 a.m. and loaded the pack horses and began our three-hour horse ride to a glassing knob. 

On the ride in, as I looked up and saw the stars doing what they do, I just couldn’t help but think to myself how lucky I was to be there, doing what I love. It was about 28 degrees with a slight breeze. I looked back at my buddy, Weston Nield and said, “I have a good feeling today pal.” 

He replied, “I’m happy someone does.” 

We continued the ride that seemed to take forever. We finally reached our glassing knob about 6:20 a.m. We sat around a fire warming up with the anticipation of all of us tagging out. I looked at the hill to the east and saw the sun coming up and starting to light up the horizon. I grabbed my rifle and walked over to where I would get setup and be ready. I sat down and got my spotter set up, my bipod put on my gun and a backpack under the stock. I heard the footsteps of Weston and Kenzie. They came and set up a couple feet down the little knob that we were sitting on. It was getting light enough to glass, so we all started scanning the opposite hillside. 

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A gunshot from a couple ridges over broke the silence of opening morning. This gave me a fire to find some elk so I could pull the trigger as well. I was glassing the areas where I thought the most elk would be. As I was scanning the skyline, I caught a glimpse of a bull’s antlers. I told Weston I found a bull on the skyline. I looked through my spotter to see if it was a shooter. His horns were all I could see at first. Then he came over the ridge and I realized he was a shooter. I got my phone out and ready to go in case he presented a good shot. We started scanning the hillside for other elk. Weston grabbed a range for me and we agreed that was a shot we had practiced time and time again with the same conditions while preparing for the hunt. The only difference was this shot would be on a dream bull instead of a rock or metal target. 

I got my ballistic data out and dialed the MOA correction on my scope. I got down on my gun and ran through the checklist in my mind; parallax, MOA, bubble is level, and breathing in check. . . I settled into my rifle, preloading my bipod. I found the bull 20 yards from the skyline, right where he had been standing for the last five minutes. I asked Kenzie and Weston if they were ready. I made sure I had a steady back rest and racked a shell into my 7MM that 307 Country Rifles helped me build. I double checked my bubble to make sure it was level. Weston informed me of a slight right to left wind. I settled my crosshairs on his chest as he was quartering to us. 

I lightly squeezed and the crisp, clean break of my trigger, ignited the powder and sent my 162 grain ELD-X Hornady bullet his way. I watched with anticipation as it seemingly took my bullet forever to reach the bull. I watched through my scope as the bull jumped and hunched up. I speedily racked another round in and put the crosshairs on his ribs as he began trotting over the ridge. All I could see was his horns on the skyline. I jumped up and cleared my chamber and added a round to my mag. I reviewed the video taken and made sure it was a good hit. It looked picture perfect. I told Weston, “I’m going to jump on my horse and work my way over there to start tracking him and make sure he is down.”

 As I got on my horse named Copenhagen, a big half draft, and started riding to the next ridge, the shot replayed in my mind a million times. I rode out of the trees and hit the ridge line. I nudged my horse to a stretched out walk as I edged over the last little rise to where I shot the bull. 

Standing on the ridge where I had last seen him, I started looking around. I was scanning to the right when a shiny glimpse of something caught my eye. I stopped scanning and realized what it was; the left antler of my dream bull. I stood there in shock at the bull of my dreams that was lying 20 yards down the ridge from me. 

As I slowly led my horse down to my trophy, the bull kept growing and growing. I felt paralyzed as I looked at the bull-of-a-lifetime.  

I looked back and made sure my friends knew I had him down. They grabbed my pack horse named Chunk, a big stout Percheron, and headed down the same trail I was on 20 minutes earlier. This bull was much larger than we all expected. 

There was some shouting, hugging, and fist bumps that happened right as we got to him. I remember looking around and thinking that it was a dream and that I’d wake up. 

We stood there and admired this big ol’ bull that I was lucky enough to harvest. We took some pictures and started the breaking down process of the animal. We quartered the big bodied bull and laid him for loading up. I grabbed Copenhagen, and put the head on her. Then started loading Chunk with the quarters and the rest of the meat. 

We started down the hill back to the other members of our hunting party. We got to where we had left all of our stuff and showed our buddies Ave and Farrell the bull, revisiting the memory of how it all went down. We grabbed lunch and loaded the rest of our gear on our horses and began our journey out. 

As I was walking, I couldn’t help but think about how lucky I was to have a supportive family and friends that help me in any way possible. The last couple miles drug on forever with the anticipation of showing my friends and family. We rounded the last corner, saw the truck and trailer and felt like we had just conquered a marathon because we had been up since 1:00 a.m. and were just barely getting back to the truck at 7:30 p.m. We unloaded everything off the horses and put everything in the truck and trailer and hit the road.

 As soon as I got service, I called my parents and informed them I got a bull and was headed home. I couldn’t believe that I had just killed a giant bull on an over-the-counter tag. I got home and started unloading and unsaddling the horses as I told my parents the whole story. When I opened the tack room on our trailer. All we could see was HORNS! My parents just smiled and said, “Congrats on harvesting a stud bull elk!”  We pulled the bull out and put the horns up against the trailer and finished taking care of the horses. 

I loaded the truck with meat and horns and headed to Weston‘s house to put a rough tape on the bull. We all had our guesses on what he scored, but we were all shocked when he came out at 368 ¾”, unofficially. 

I just feel so blessed for the opportunity to harvest this giant bull with my best friends and family. It’s a great feeling having a freezer full of meat headed into the hard Wyoming winter months ahead. Even though it’s sad tagging out on opening day, I look forward to many other adventures with family and friends in God’s beautiful country.  

“Go afield with a good attitude, with respect for the wildlife you hunt and for the forest and fields in which you walk. Immerse yourself in the outdoor experience. It will cleanse your soul and make you a better person.” ~ Fred Bear