The Average Joe: Looking For Something Special

I’m about to head out for an early archery elk tag here in Arizona. It’s not a premium unit, not one of those tags people wait for over a decade or more to draw, but it’s still a rut hunt. The odds of killing a bull sit around fifty percent, and while this area isn’t known for giants, it does hold a good number of elk. And with numbers comes potential.

But potential for what?

That’s the real question. What’s special? What does success even look like on a hunt like this?

Truth is, I don’t really know what to expect. I’ve never archery hunted elk in the rut. It’s on damn near every western hunter’s list of shit to do, it’s the big show. Why? Because of the chance to see something special.

But the idea of “something special” is where it gets tricky. Because that part is personal. What’s special to me might look like a letdown to Nate Simmons. And vice versa.

I’ve had exactly one other hunt in my life that could be called “premium.” I drew an antelope tag in 2018. I killed a decent buck on opening day, and it was a good hunt. Solid memories with my dad. But I’ve never felt great about how it played out. He’s a good buck, right at seventy inches, symmetrical, with that heart shape I had hoped for. A beautiful representation of the species. But I shot him eight hours into a hunt I waited twenty-two years to draw.

And even though he’s not small, I wasn’t pressured by size. I felt pressured by time. I kept hearing that old advice in my head, “don’t pass a buck on the first day that you would shoot on the last.” I just wish I gave that hunt more. More time. More effort. More struggle. I left too much out there in the dust of antelope country. In a weird way, I feel like I did a disservice to that tag. I feel like it deserved more from me.

I don’t plan on making that mistake again. I’m older now. I know a little more. And this time, I have the luxury of time on my side. That might not be very Average Joe of me, but I’m not sorry about it either.

This time around, more than anything, I want to experience elk hunting in Arizona, in September, in the rut. I want the heat, I want the monsoons, I want the silence, and I want the chaos.

I saw a reel recently. Just a regular guy standing next to a log, completely surrounded by cows. Eight, maybe ten of them, and then a decent bull filters in, bugling, lip curling, and pushing those cows. I thought, “That’s it, right there. That’s what I want. I want to be in the middle of an elk rodeo.”

I want to hunt hard. I want to sweat. I want to figure things out the hard way. And sure, I’d love to kill a giant. But if I grind for days and let the air out of a raghorn toward the end, I think I’ll be satiated. I think I’ll be proud. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it, hunting isn’t just about the kill. Not for me. It’s about the experience.

And on this hunt, I have the chance to experience something special.

Special might just be soaking in everything, the good, bad, and ugly, of an Arizona early archery elk hunt.

Whatever it is, I plan to give this hunt everything I’ve got. And if I’m lucky, maybe it’ll give something back.