My name is Sam Garrison. Kyle, my brother-in-law and I hunted in unit 82 on public land, during the third season in 2010.
The first weekend of the season we saw a number of cows and several bulls, but had no clear shot. We had to work all week, so there was no opportunity to hunt. The second weekend, 5 1/2 miles in, we saw a herd of 500 or more elk. There were about 25 legal bulls, all surrounded by cows — no chance for a shot.
Sunday morning my wife kicked me out at 3:30 a. m. and said “go hunting, you’ve got a license, now go, and don’t waste it.”
We got to the area we were hunting well before sunrise. From a hill, we glassed 5 bulls in an aspen grove a quarter-mile away. They detected us, started to get nervous and took off.
We had to run and cut them off. It worked. This bull stopped in a shooting lane between trees at 100 yards. I chambered a round in my dad’s .270, knelt down on one knee and dropped him in his tracks with one shot.
After field dressing the bull, which later measured 330, we hustled out and brought horses back to take him out. It was a long but very rewarding day! It is my first bull, as well as the first of anyone in my family, and a memory that will last for my whole life.
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