The Hunt of a Lifetime: Our Wyoming Super Tag Mule Deer Story
There are some hunts you dream about your whole life—tags you talk about around campfires, tags you hear about, tags you never expect to actually draw. And then one day, God sends you a miracle in the form of a phone call with caller ID “Government of Wyoming”.
That’s exactly how our Super Tag mule deer hunt began. To be honest… Broc thought it was a prank at first.
We knew from the start it was an incredible blessing to draw a tag like this. But what we couldn’t have known was just how much this experience would shape us, test us, stretch us, and ultimately change us as a family.
A Season Cut Short, and a Determined Heart
Broc entered this season with big archery plans, but life had other ideas. Some unexpected family circumstances cut his archery season short, so he had to rely on October and November to chase a buck he’d spent a lifetime dreaming about.
And he wasn’t about to settle.
So we packed up our crew, camper, loaded the Jeep and side-by-side, grabbed Starlink for homeschool/business on the road, and hit the mountains together.
Home became wherever we parked. School happened between ridgelines. Coffee tasted better at 5:30 in the morning. Life slowed down and sharpened all at once.
Thousands of Bucks… But Not The One
We spent most of our time hunting Units 141, 130, and ultimately 128. Day after day after day, we saw thousands of bucks. Some were truly world-class. Many hunters would have tagged out ten times over. But Broc knew exactly what he was holding out for. So the search continued.
We covered so much ground looking at deer that we followed their migration route. In fact, one unique deer in particular (with a broken antler) we had photographed twice in one week- 60 miles apart.
We battled wind that rocked the RV, snow that swallowed our boots, and mud that tried to take the Jeep with it (seriously). We saw grizzly tracks, wolves, elk, and more mule deer than we could ever count.
Before long, locals didn’t know our names—but they knew “the Jeep with the Super Tag.”
A Month in the Mountains, and the People Who Made It Magic
One of the most unexpected blessings of this hunt was the people. The connections. The community.
We homeschooled Tinsley in the mountains for nearly a month, and somewhere between her online classes and mule deer glassing, we met folks we’ll remember forever.
We crossed paths with several dream-hunt foundations—organizations that help kids with life-threatening illnesses experience hunts they’ve always wished for. Any time Broc turned down a shooter buck, he’d snap pictures, drop pins, and send the info straight to them to help their youth hunters.
He also helped random strangers locate their buck, pack out deer off the mountain, lifted an older gentleman’s buck into his side-by-side, and swapped stories and phone numbers with more people than we could keep track of.
It felt like God kept placing the right people in our path, over and over again.
The Big Buck Appears… Then Vanishes
Three days before the end of the season, Broc finally spotted him. The buck he’d been waiting for. A giant. Everything he’d prayed for. But he wasn’t in a spot Broc could get a shot, and by the next morning, he’d moved 1,400 yards. Broc made a huge hike trying to relocate him, but the buck never came back out.
Discouragement started creeping in. After nearly a month of grinding, the clock was running out. So Broc called his good friend, Matt Tillotson who owns Hunt Quarters. Matt had begun helping him plan his hunting season. Matt worked through game plans, reviewed countless photos and helped keep his spirits up throughout the hunt. Then, God moved again.
A Divine Appointment
One of the dream hunt foundation owners we’d met over lunch days earlier, Tev Kelly, sent Broc a message the night before the last morning. Their hunters had all tagged out. He was free. And he wanted to help.
So at 6 a.m. sharp on the last morning of the season, we met Tev at the gas station and headed up the mountain. Tev and Broc up front; me, Laura, and the kids crammed (and giggling) in the back. We glassed the first spot and saw does and a couple bucks, but not our buck. Just one more place, Broc said. One more ridge. One more look to see if he was there.
We pulled up and Broc and Tev walked out to the edge. At that exact moment, Indie let out a yell, her little one year old voice echoing across the ridge. They both turned around to look at us… then froze. “Broc Buck,” Tev said. Broc didn’t even hesitate. “It’s the big one.” There he was. Six hundred yards away. The exact buck Broc had been chasing, on the very last morning of the season.
They dropped to the ground, got steady, and took the shot.
We filmed the entire thing from the backseat… me, Laura, Tinsley, and Indie holding our breath. When we saw their arms shoot into the air, I have never felt such joy, relief, and awe in my life.
After everything, the miles, the weather, the doubt, the grind, the prayers, the passing of so many great bucks, the almosts, the setbacks…
It all came together in one perfect moment.
“I’m so happy I could cry. I’m so proud of Dad, I’m going to give him the biggest hug,” Tinsley said through tears.
That’s a memory I’ll replay for the rest of my life.
More Than a Score
His buck measured well over 200+ inches… a true giant by any standard.
But in the end, it was so much more than inches.
It was the story.
It was the people.
It was the mountains.
It was the faith.
It was the perseverance.
It was the memories made in the Jeep, the RV, the snowstorms, the early mornings, and the very last sunrise the season allowed.
Broc set out to accomplish something extraordinary with his family in tow every step of the way. And he did it. God is good. Always.