I Thought I Was Going to Jail on My First Elk Hunt
Wesley Littlefield 01.27.25
I experienced a roller coaster of emotions on my first elk hunt, from pure excitement to frustration and disappointment.
The excitement began when I read the email that I’d drawn into a once-in-a-lifetime elk hunt at the Witchita Mountains in Southwest Oklahoma. Since it’s a National Wildlife Refuge, a minimal number of tags are awarded to hunters through the state’s hunting lottery to help manage the herd.
I knew that giant bulls and many cows call these rugged mountains home, as I have camped there many times, and my dad had successfully drawn and harvested a cow elk a couple of years prior.
The likelihood of drawing a bull tag is ridiculously low, and since I’d never had a chance to hunt elk, I was excited to draw the cow tag. I sighted in my .270 Winchester rifle for 200 yards and headed to the mountains (some might call them hills).
The Hunt Begins
After the hunt meeting, where the rules and boundaries were established, we were allowed to scout for a few hours. I picked a spot near a watering hole where I saw a herd of cows and decided to hunt there in the morning.
My chances seemed promising, so I went to bed excited about what the next day might bring.
I reached my spot about an hour before daylight and sat down to wait for sunrise.
As shooting light drew closer, I heard elk approaching, and sure enough, that same group of antlerless elk came within 200 yards of me as the sun began to rise.
This was the moment I should have set my crosshairs on the biggest cow and pulled the trigger… but instead, I did the unthinkable and let them pass by without raising my rifle. I thought I wanted to hunt for more than a few minutes… well I got my wish!
I watched the herd until they walked over a hill and disappeared forever. I spent the rest of the day trying to find them or a new herd to hunt and only saw a few coyotes and some deer.
I returned to camp frustrated with my own stupidity of breaking the number 1 rule in hunting; (If you’d be happy with it on the last day of the hunt, shoot it).
Thankfully, I had two and a half more days of hunting left.
The Hunt Continues
I woke up the following day determined to find a herd and harvest an antlerless elk. The morning started slowly, so I started walking and glassed the area.
Eventually, I found a large herd of bulls and cows, but there was no way I could get within my 200-yard max without spooking them. At this moment, I wished I had brought my dad’s .308 Winchester and practiced with it out to 400+ yards.
I watched the herd for a while until something spooked them, and they took off over the hilltop and disappeared. I decided to follow from a comfortable distance. Eventually, I caught up with them grazing in a valley, but once again, too many eyes were alert, and it was impossible to get close enough for me to make an ethical shot.
I decided to search for another herd for the rest of the day but only saw a giant whitetail buck before heading back to camp for the night.
The Mishap
On the last full day of hunting, I tried another promising area. As shooting light drew closer, I heard elk calling in the meadow, and I knew this was the moment I would harvest my first elk.
Instead, this elk herd was larger than I thought, and I ended up spooking one I didn’t see until it was too late as I approached from below and spent the rest of the morning trying to catch up to them. I eventually gave up and headed to a spot one of the Wildlife Department guys mentioned.
I walked along a ridge for a while, not seeing anything, until there, off in the distance, was a lone elk.
I glassed it with my binos and didn’t see any antlers, so I moved closer and glassed again, and still no antlers. I made my final approach, hiding behind a large boulder to close the distance to about 100 yards, well within my limit.
I checked for antlers one last time with my scope and didn’t see anything, so I set my crosshairs just behind the front shoulder and pulled the trigger. The boulder I was lying on exploded!
In my excitement and haste, I neglected to check if my barrel cleared the boulder I was lying on. Well, it didn’t, and it caused me to miss my first shot.
Luckily, the elk only ran 25 yards, so I quickly ensured my barrel cleared the boulder, put my crosshairs back behind the shoulder, and pulled the trigger!
The elk dropped!
With my heart thumping and adrenaline surging through my body, I walked over to the elk, and my heart shattered into a million pieces; it had antlers.
The antlers had grown down, and the longest one was on the other side of the elk so that I couldn’t have seen it.
I reluctantly called my dad to tell him the news. He happened to be standing by the game wardens. They told me to bring the head in so they could look it over at the weigh station to decide on a fine or possibly jail time.
Now depressed, I began field-dressing the elk as my dad headed to my location to help me pack it out.
My dad agreed that it would have been impossible to tell it was an antlered elk from nearly any distance, but I wasn’t worried about his opinion! We packed out as much meat as possible that evening and headed to the weigh station. The wardens looked at the funky antlers and decided that the elk was still considered an antlerless elk because the antlers were below the hairline.
They could tell I didn’t maliciously shoot the animal, knowing it had antlers, so they let me off scott-free.
The next morning, my dad and I packed the rest of the elk out and headed back home as the roller coaster of emotions on my first elk hunt finally ended.