Mentorships embark on their first hunt together.
It was pitch black in Paradise Valley pulling into AMB West, just before 7 a.m. and a couple days shy of the New Year. Shooting lights weren’t set to flicker for another forty minutes. Inside basecamp, 12-year-old Soren, a Little, and his Big, Mark, were geared up finishing waivers at the center table. Next, 16-year-old Mathew and his Big, Mike, came through the door—boots crunching with frost and cold air trailing behind them.
Both pairs were matched through Big Brothers Big Sisters of Big Sky Country (BBBS-BSC), a nonprofit organization serving youth across Gallatin, Park, Madison, Sweet Grass, Yellowstone and Beaverhead counties. Rooted in the concept that connection is a basic human need, BBBS-BSC matches youths under 18 with adult mentors. The program entails careful vetting and oversight, as well as fun activities and opportunities provided for pairs or “matches”. While there is ample data to support the powerful impact mentorship has on Littles (such as increased graduation rates), the strongest evidence is that many of these relationships grow into lifelong bonds.
Soren was so excited that he'd been wearing his camouflaged jacket to school weeks beforehand.
The matches on this hunt had been spending time together for many years. Mathew’s mother enrolled him as a Little in 2018, shortly after he lost his father. While a Big's job is never to replace a parent, they provide guidance and serve as a role model, like an ideal older sibling would. They expose their Little to opportunities, but more importantly, are caring adults who don’t have any agenda other than accompanying through the challenges of youth and adolescence.
This was the first elk hunt for both Mathew and Soren; a milestone made possible by BBBS-BSC, AMB West and MeatEater. Ready for the big day, the Littles wore their MeatEater jackets and gear. Soren was so excited that he’d been wearing his camouflaged jacket to school weeks beforehand.
Established in 2020, the AMB West Hunting Program offers Montana residents the opportunity to experience guided elk hunts across AMB West properties at no cost, through an online lottery. The program has also extended these experiences to community organizations aligned with its mission, including BBBS.
Director of Land and Livestock, Terance Eichhorn, has been with AMB West for more than twenty years and leads the hunting program.
“Being outside is always good for humans,” Terance began as everyone layered up, “when you’re hunting, you’ve got a goal. You’re solving a problem. You’re engaging a different part of your brain.”
Before heading out, Terance and fellow guide Sam Blanton, ran through the basics—CWD awareness, clear communication, ethical shots. “You don’t need our permission to pull the trigger,” Terance said. The responsibility belonged to the hunter.
Ten minutes before shooting light, we split into groups—Sam with Mathew and Mike, Terance with Soren and Mark—and climbed into the trucks. Cold breath fogged the cab. The radio clicked onto an upbeat girly pop song.
“Hey Soren, it’s your song,” Mark said.
“It is not,” Soren retorted, smiling.
“How long have you two known each other anyway?” I asked.
“5 years now,” Soren answered. I could tell.
Soren has been hunting deer with his grandfather for four years now and was more than comfortable with the basics and beyond, but this would make his first time going after elk. Mark and Mike were both coming from experience as well, while Mathew was stepping into his first ever true hunt.
Mark had been sick just the day before and was still feeling rough around the edges, but told his wife that morning he couldn’t let Soren down.
As Terance drove away from basecamp, stories filled the cab—past seasons, close calls, a bear spray mishap or two. The chatter stopped when a herd of elk materialized across the hillside, silhouettes moving steadily through the field. Shooting light rose at 7:42 a.m., and just as quickly, the elk disappeared.
We crossed the fence and moved on foot toward where we’d last seen them, but ended up having to drive around the mountain to a clearing. The quiet sharpened. Every step felt louder than it should have. Terance set up the tripod, and Soren settled in. A cow stepped into the opening. The first shot hit her right in the neck. We waited. She stood, then re-joined with the herd, still in plain sight. No rushing. When the moment came again, Soren was ready. The second shot dropped her clean, another shot to the neck. The herd dispersed.
Earlier, I’d asked Mark if he planned to shoot too. He shook his head. “No,” and smiled, “I don’t want to mess up the shot for Soren.” Mark had been sick just the day before and was still feeling rough around the edges, but told his wife that morning he couldn’t let Soren down.
Soren and Mark; geared on the field.
Mark grew up hearing stories about his dad’s involvement with BBBS. When he later met his wife in Bozeman, she was working for the organization. “It felt familiar,” he said. “Something I knew I wanted to be part of.”
Asked what mentors get out of it, he said, “It’s easy to underestimate. You learn a lot spending time with someone whose world is different from yours. Soren teaches me a lot about how kids are growing up now.”
Above the kill site, the scent of sagebrush thickened. “What are you throwing on the grill first?” I asked Soren. “Definitely the loin,” he said in excitement. Field dressing wasn’t new to him. He worked alongside Terance and Mark, confidently harvesting the organs.
“Are you a heart guy?” Terance asked. Soren seriously considered, then declined.
They slid the cow down to the truck, gravity doing most of the work, and loaded her into the bed. As they finished, Sam’s truck cruised past us farther up the mountain.
Some point during the on-site CWD testing, Terance’s phone rang. Another cow was down, but the pack-out would need extra hands. We drove to a ridge overlooking their location and waited, binoculars trained on the scene below. When the call came, we hiked in.
By the time we arrived, Sam had most of the hide off and was guiding Mathew through the work—where to cut, how to keep meat clean, how to move deliberately. It was Matthew’s first pack-out to compliment his first hunt, shoulders squared under the unfamiliar weight. “I’m giving the tongue to my little sister,” he joked.
Like Soren and Mark, this was Mathew and Mike’s first hunt together. Outside of hunting, they ski, fish, and hang out. More recently, Mike has been helping Mathew explore future career paths and schooling options. They’ve been spending time together for eight years.
Mentorship is many things. Some days it’s dragging yourself out of bed so you don’t let someone down. Other days, it’s just listening to music and hanging out. This day, it was getting out of comfort zones and honing in to a new experience.
By late morning, both elk were loaded, tags filled, and hands numb. Eagles soared across the Park County skyline, likely drawn by the scent of field dressing. George Strait drifted through the pickup on the way back, underscoring quiet smiles, the humble satisfaction of success, and the steady bond of a lifelong friendship.
Interested in enrolling in or supporting Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Big Sky Country? Visit bbbs-bigskycountry.org for more information on how you can be involved today.
To learn more about the AMB West Hunting Program, visit www.pvrhunting.com.
