5 Archery Elk Hunting Tips I Wish I Knew Sooner | Change Your Bowhunting Season

5 Archery Elk Hunting Tips I Wish I Knew Sooner | Change Your Bowhunting Season

Lessons That Cost Me Elk | 5 Hard Truths from 33 Years of Bowhunting

Archery elk hunting has a way of humbling even the most experienced hunters. It’s not just about drawing a bow or sounding like an elk—it’s a test of patience, precision, and composure under pressure. Over the last 33 years, I’ve made just about every mistake a hunter can make. I’ve drawn too early, drawn too late, moved when I should’ve waited, waited when I should’ve moved. I’ve had bulls inside 20 yards and watched them walk away without ever getting a shot.

But through all those failures came lessons that reshaped how I hunt—and how I think in the woods. These aren’t just “tips.” They’re lessons that cost me elk, time, and opportunities. My goal here is to help you shorten that learning curve so you can step into the elk woods next season with more confidence and fewer regrets.

1. Silence Kills—Not Just the Arrow

When I started bowhunting, I thought success meant sound—bugling, cow calling, raking. I thought filling silence was the key to drawing in elk. But the older I got, the more I realized the quietest hunter often kills the biggest bull.

Elk live in a world of signals. Every snapped twig, clumsy step, or unnatural call tells them something. Early on, I was telegraphing my presence long before I saw a single elk. I’d whisper to my buddy, crunch through deadfall, bugle too loud, and end up warning everything within 400 yards not to trust what they were hearing.

Then one day, I shut up. I slipped into a dark timber pocket before daylight and just sat. I didn’t make a sound—just listened and moved when the wind told me to. A bull walked out at 38 yards, feeding quietly, unaware I was there. That encounter changed everything.

Movement is louder than sound. Drawing too early, pivoting on crunchy ground, even turning your head too quickly—all of it can blow an opportunity. Stillness is a weapon. I train for silence now—shooting from a seated position, drawing slowly, and practicing control under fatigue.

Archery elk hunting rewards discipline. Sometimes the best move you can make is no move at all.

2. The First Bugle Isn’t Always the Best One

In my early years, every bugle was a green light. Didn’t matter if it was a growler, a spike, or a herd bull—I’d go charging in. The problem? The loudest bull isn’t always the right one to chase.

Some bugles come from bulls surrounded by cows who won’t leave them. Others are satellites just posturing. The bulls you can hear aren’t always the bulls you can kill.

Experience taught me to pause and listen. Before moving in, I ask questions:

  • What kind of bugle was that—short, guttural, aggressive, or nervous?

  • Is he moving or holding ground?

  • What’s the wind doing now and in an hour?

  • Is the terrain huntable, or am I setting myself up for failure?

Sometimes the more killable bull is the quiet one—the herd bull letting satellites make all the noise while he controls the cows.

Be patient. Analyze every sound. Don’t treat a bugle like a command—it’s a clue. The hunters who fill tags aren’t the ones who chase every sound; they’re the ones who choose the right sound.

3. Stalk With Your Ears, Not Just Your Eyes

Bowhunting elk is close-range chess. You won’t see every piece on the board—but if you listen, you’ll still know the game.

Your ears can give you more intel than your eyes ever will. Elk are noisy animals. They rake, grunt, breathe heavy, and shuffle through brush. I’ve heard bulls raking 150 yards away in thick timber I couldn’t see 20 yards into. I’ve heard cows exhale and hooves click softly on rock.

Most of my best stalks didn’t start because I spotted elk—they started because I heard them. The sounds tell you direction, cadence, and mood. Heavy, deliberate steps often mean calm elk. Erratic movement usually means they’re nervous.

Train your ears before the season. Sit quietly in elk country and learn the difference between a squirrel, a bird, and a bull moving through timber. Build that awareness before you’re in range of your next opportunity.

In bowhunting, the guy who moves with his ears always beats the guy who moves with his eyes alone.

4. Calling Is a Tool, Not a Crutch

Every elk hunter hits a stage where calling becomes everything. You buy every reed, mimic every YouTube clip, and think if you can just sound like a pro caller, you’ll fill your tag.

I’ve been there. And I’ve also watched bulls blow out the moment I called.

The truth? Calling doesn’t kill elk—credible setups do. Every sound you make tells elk something. If your wind is bad, if you’re too far away, or if you’re calling from a spot that doesn’t make sense visually, you’re not fooling anything.

Timing beats tone. You don’t need to sound perfect—you just need to sound real, at the right time. Sometimes a single soft mew or one rake at the right moment beats 30 minutes of perfect calling.

I’ve killed more bulls by shutting up and letting curiosity work than I ever did by calling non-stop. The best callers know when not to call.

Don’t use calling to make up for poor positioning. Use it to tip the odds when everything else is already in your favor.

5. Closing the Distance Is an Art, Not a Race

Getting within 100 yards of a bull is easy. Getting within 40 without being busted? That’s the art form.

Most hunters rush the final approach. They get caught up in the sound, the adrenaline, the fantasy of the shot—and take one step too many. A branch cracks, a cow looks up, and the basin erupts in chaos.

The closer you are, the slower you move. Crawl if you have to. Use shadows and natural noise cover. Rehearse every draw, every angle. Treat every step as if the elk is within sight.

Wind and thermals dictate everything. Check them constantly. Adjust often. Don’t assume they’ll stay steady just because they’re good now.

And when you finally get close—stop. Many encounters are won by the hunter who waits. Patience kills elk. Rushing kills opportunity.

Closing the distance is not luck. It’s a learned skill. Master it, and your odds go way up.

Final Takeaways

The five lessons I wish I’d learned sooner:

  • Silence kills, not just the arrow.

  • The first bugle isn’t always the best one.

  • Stalk with your ears, not just your eyes.

  • Calling is a tool, not a crutch.

  • Closing the distance is an art, not a race.

I didn’t learn these from a book—I learned them by screwing up. By watching bulls vanish I should’ve killed. By slowly piecing together what actually works in pressured elk country.

If this helps you avoid even one mistake I made, that’s a win. Because every lesson learned with humility makes you better—not just as a hunter, but as a man.

Join TEAM BACKBONE

If this hit home for you, that’s exactly why I built TEAM BACKBONE.

It’s more than a membership—it’s a tribe for hunters who train hard, hunt smart, and live relentless. Inside, you’ll get:

  • 20% off all Backbone Unlimited gear

  • An exclusive t-shirt mailed monthly

  • Full access to the digital vault with guides, training plans, and backcountry strategy

  • Private Facebook group with direct access to me and other serious hunters

  • Direct call, text, or email access for personal advice

  • Monthly gear giveaways and exclusive content

This is for the hunters who refuse to quit, who learn from every failure, and who want to sharpen their edge alongside others doing the same.

Join at BackboneUnlimited.com under the Membership tab.

Train Harder. Hunt Smarter. Never Settle.

Back to blog