About this time last year, I cashed in on my 13 non-resident preference spots for Wyoming elk, applying for a unit known for its large bulls but with tight hunting access.
This equation is becoming more common in the West, and it’s hard to know whether limited entry will produce mature longs, or whether the reputation of a big bull will limit entry. But this unit in Wyoming seems like either or both might be true. The access to the unit’s best public land—a long ridge of timber that levels off to grassy benches before going deeper into the canyon—is completely surrounded by pasture and no hunting is allowed, at least not to people they don’t know or who don’t pay.
I would probably avoid this area, despite its appeal, due to limited access. I don’t want to burn through a dozen years of preference points in the process of driving around looking for hunting lands in one season. Then David Faubion, a friend and magazine editor who lives in Sheridan, told me a solution to the access problem: fly over.
The helicopter lands in Wyoming. Photo by Keegan Keidel
Forbien field-tested the idea of flying into the Outback by helicopter a year ago, when he flew onto Bureau of Land Management land and successfully hunted mule deer and elk on land that was cordoned off by surrounding ranches equipped with the unit. Fabien said that through this adventure he found a very good helicopter pilot and learned about Wyoming’s land use and hunting laws that guide where we can land, camp and hunt.
Our target area has intrigued me for many years. Its interior is too steep and rugged for any aircraft to land safely, but there are dozens of places where helicopters can land hunting parties. The promise of adventure enticed me enough to share my Elks points with my good friend Ryan Chuckel and have a great chance to win as a non-resident party.
The idea was so bold that we decided to ask photographer/videographer Keagan Keddell to document it. Our friend Ben Rogers, a die-hard Wyoming hunter who knows the area, joined in. Helicopters are expensive, but by spreading the cost over several helicopters we can do it much cheaper than a fully equipped elk hunt.
And so, the five of us met last November at a designated landing zone to pack up our gear for a week’s safari while waiting for the helicopter pilot to descend from the sky.
This hunt exceeded my high expectations. The first night we saw a herd of about 20 post-estrus bulls feeding in the woods at sunset. I didn’t expect it to be done so early, but a large 6×6 bull stood tall and it wasn’t long before we were skinning and quartering that bull.
The author and his companions immediately got on the elk. Photo by Keegan Keidel
The next day, Ryan and David killed two dandy bulls lying in thin shade in a steep ravine. Unlike most elk hunts I’ve been on, this one was full of elk. The weather is very nice. Our tent was tucked into a bay filled with ponderosa pines and sagebrush, overlooking the beautiful countryside. Our team bonded and we hunted and camped together, just like we had been doing for years. Thanks to the lift from the helicopter, we ate well. We witnessed the most dramatic Northern Lights we have ever seen.
But the hunt took a turn when on the morning of the third day, as we were wandering around camp, preparing to pack in a long day’s worth of meat in the unusually hot mountain sun, we heard three gunshots nearby. We considered the other elk hunter lucky and noted appreciatively how hard it must have been for the hunter to find a way in. It turns out the footage was likely a cover story. Less than an hour later, Ben and David spotted a man in blue jeans descending the mountain with an elk head and antlers. Turns out this was one of the ranchers we flew over. It turns out he absconded with Ryan’s elk head.
Glass for bulls. Photo by Keegan Keidel
The confrontation with the man, captured on cell phone video, was tense and embarrassing, but he eventually admitted that he had taken the head from the killing scene to prevent us from hunting in the area.
The landowner’s intention may have been to make us question our decisions or temper our enthusiasm for the place, but the opposite happened, perhaps because the incident broke the surface tension surrounding a problem that continues to grow as more land is blocked off and hunters are willing to work harder to gain access to prime sites. While we’re not particularly happy that this conflict happened, we’re not going to go quietly either.
When we returned to paved roads and the Internet, we received waves of feedback from hunting partners, friends, and strangers as stories of our hunts and confrontations spread outward. Video of the confrontation went viral on social media. Fabien and I were in Wyoming’s statewide media to talk about our adventures. We covered the entire unexpected story outdoor living channel. I heard from my friends that they wanted to know exactly where we were hunting, how much the helicopter cost, and the pilot’s contact information.
But we also encountered some pushback from friends who felt the helicopter was too radical and upset the fragile balance between landowners and sportsmen. I’ve heard from outfitters that they maintain the rules for allowing helicopters on public lands are unclear but flexible enough to subject helicopters to the same restrictions and political influence that governs commercial pack stockers.
Load the elk meat and skull back to camp. Photo by Keegan Keidel
The legal consequences of the ranchers’ actions have been mixed. While we were on site, our group reported the incident to a game warden. We offered to help if the warden wanted to investigate, but we were more interested in documenting the incident than seeking a legal solution. Our team is well aware of what we observed—the theft of a trophy elk—but we also think the rancher may share our regret about the incident. On the way off the course we visited the local game warden and provided him with a copy of our video. We each provided a witness statement to the Sheriff’s Office.
We thought the judicial process was slow and that our judicial process was not particularly important, but we were surprised to learn that a month ago no charges were filed by the Wyoming Game and Fish Department. One of us was told that the warden had investigated but concluded that since we were tagged, we were not hunting (or technically “hunters”) when the incident occurred and therefore hunter harassment rules did not apply.
But just this week, we learned prosecutors in the county where the incident occurred charged the rancher with misdemeanor theft of property valued at less than $1,000. The rancher pleaded not guilty at a preliminary hearing, according to court documents. The case could go to trial this summer.
An epic hunt is over. Photo by Keegan Keidel
I still enjoy roasting elk and reliving our November hunt through photos and videos. As the Wyoming big game application window narrowed in January, I considered contacting Forbien, Rogers, and the helicopter pilot to plan another hunt. But I stopped. I wanted to see how last year’s high-profile adventures shaped the conversation about access, the risks and rewards of taking extraordinary measures to reach special locations, and whether there was an access solution that might make helicopters unnecessary. So, at least this fall, I might be walking into elk country.