The Beginning: A New Hunter's Journey Into the Rockies
A Colorado native shares his first steps into western big game hunting. No mentor. No family tradition. Just a guy who heard an elk bugle and never looked back.
This is the story of a young man who became a western big game hunter through all the trials and tribulations imaginable. Zero experience. No family tradition. No mentor to show me the ropes. If I can do it, so can you.
From the Front Range to the Mountains
I'm a Colorado native who grew up on the Front Range near Littleton. My first job was at a skate shop inside a shopping mall. On weekends, I'd do everything I could to convince my mom to let me drive the dreaded I-70 corridor into the mountains. Something about those peaks was calling to me. I had no idea what that call would become.
In 2004, just before graduating, I found myself moving to Steamboat Springs to attend Colorado Mountain College. Truth be told, I didn't even want to go to college, but it seemed like the perfect excuse to escape the concrete jungle and live in the mountains. My plan was simple: go snowboarding every day.
Little did I know that twenty years later, I'd be totally over winter and obsessed with something entirely different.
Discovering Something Deeper
As time went on, most of my friends who'd chased the "ski bum" dream packed up and left. But I stayed. I didn't realize it then, but I was living in one of the greatest hunting regions in the world.
I spent my free time camping, hiking, fishing, and enjoying bonfire parties like any mountain-town local. But something was missing.
One September weekend while camping north of Steamboat, I saw a few archery hunters emerge from the timber. Watching them, something clicked.
"Wow. That's who I want to be."
Mike Kozer, watching archery hunters for the first timeA few weeks later, I bought some Primos calls and a couple of elk hunting DVDs. One of them broke down the sounds elk make and how to replicate them. Before long, I was driving everyone crazy practicing at home. So I moved my calls to my truck and practiced every time I drove.
The First Encounter
Northwest Colorado has the largest elk population in the world. Colorado Parks and Wildlife estimates the state's total elk herd at roughly 280,000 animals, with Game Management Units near Steamboat Springs and Craig holding some of the highest concentrations anywhere on the planet.
One fall afternoon, I decided to go on an off-trail hike just to see what might happen. I ended up high on a ridge, sat down, and started making cow calls.
A few minutes later, I heard crunching below me. Then I saw him. A small bull cautiously making his way up the slope. My heart was pounding out of my chest. He was what I now know as a raghorn 5x5, within 60 yards and closing.
Before I could react, the wind shifted. He caught my scent and bolted.
"HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS AWESOME!"
The moment everything changedI couldn't believe my calling had worked. From that day on, I brought my calls every time I went camping. I'd wake up early, hike to ridgelines, and try to recreate that same moment. After several more encounters, I decided it was time to save up for a bow.
The pieces were starting to come together. Or so I thought.
The First Shot and the First Heartbreak
The next summer was full of scouting, shooting, and networking with anyone who'd talk to me. By the time archery season rolled around, I finally had a buddy willing to let me tag along.
We hiked straight uphill before sunrise and bumped a bull right away. Later, we sat on a meadow until after first light but saw nothing. Moving uphill into the pines, we found a few beds.
I asked my buddy, "Hey, mind if I call a little and see what happens?"
After just a few calls, three bulls appeared out of nowhere. I knocked an arrow and tried to steady my breathing as they closed in. Forty yards. Thirty yards. This is it.
I drew my bow, settled my pin, and squeezed the trigger. WHAP. The arrow sank right behind the shoulder.
Everything happened so fast it barely felt real.
But not every hunting story ends with a tag punched. Blood was sparse, and after tracking the bull all day, we came up empty. We returned the next morning and tracked for another full day. Still nothing.
Finally, on the fourth day, I found him. Bloated, wasted, and with the antlers cut off by another hunter.
I was absolutely crushed.
I never imagined I'd get a shot at a bull on my first day of archery hunting, let alone lose him. That moment stuck with me for years. For the rest of that season, I hung back and became the dedicated caller. And I was okay with that.
Redemption, Five Years Later
It would be another five years before I'd get another opportunity. But when it came, it was perfect.
A bull closed in to twelve yards. I drew, settled my pin, and made a perfect frontal shot. He ran about forty yards and piled up.
"The moment I reached him, all the years of failure, hard lessons, and heartbreak came rushing back. Packing that bull out was one of the hardest physical challenges of my life. But every step burned satisfaction into my muscles."
Mike KozerI had done it.
Why We Hunt
It's been a long road. Countless miles on foot. Long hot days in September. And just enough success to keep me coming back. As archery hunters, we know our success rate hovers around ten percent, yet we still do it.
Why? Because for me, it's about more than just filling a tag. It's about the connection to the land, the challenge, and the satisfaction of doing something the hard way.
That's my answer. What's yours?
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I’m so proud of you son! 🦌
Totally Awesome, keep it going Mike!