The Secret is Now Out About Alberta Elk Hunting

It was midmorning when my binoculars found a young bull elk in the bottom of the coulee. Using the terrain, we snuck to a vantage point, and instead of a single bull, there was a bachelor herd of seven hidden there. A quick analysis of wind, sun and terrain took us in a big circle around the bulls to sneak into position. A couple of tall antlers were in the group, leaving no doubt of a chance at a trophy prairie bull.

The bulls were less than a half mile from a larger herd of 40 elk. Two hours after sunrise found us between the groups of elk. I could feel the wind change and hit the back of my neck. The big elk herd was now directly downwind, and it was like counting down for an Apollo launch. In less than 20 seconds, the big herd was on their feet, holding noses high in the air. Thankfully they headed south, leaving the seven bulls in the north coulee unaware of what had transpired.

Keeping the wind on my face, I slowly moved forward, scanning the area below with each advance. It was imperative to see the elk before one saw me. I edged forward a foot at a time until antler tips appeared in the tall grass. Slithering forward on my belly, I got behind a large sage bush at the break in the hill. My rangefinder put the bull at 62 yards. The biggest bull I’d ever hunted in Alberta was in its bed, eyes closed, chewing his cud.

I got on my belly, positioned my rifle and checked to ensure my barrel cleared the vegetation and terrain. There was no doubt the closest bull, lying alone to one side, was the biggest. The bull was quartering away, with most of his body hidden in the tall prairie grass. I located the dark hair on his neck and followed it to where tan hide covered his shoulder. My crosshair settled on a hair, and I slowly engaged the trigger until the gun fired. The bull’s head fell into the grass, tipping tall tines sideways. The other bulls jumped up, trying to figure out what had happened. I had waited eight years to draw the Alberta prairie elk unit and had just taken my largest elk.

Prairie Province Paradise

Alberta is well-known for bighorn sheep, white-tailed deer and waterfowl, but the elk hunting is just as good and a best-kept secret. Elk were almost extirpated in Alberta 100 years ago, but management and conservation have allowed them to flourish. Today, herds range across the southern prairies, western foothills and mountains and northern boreal regions, especially adjacent to good agricultural country. The central parkland has newer populations that are expected to grow quickly.

Alberta hunter Shawn O’Shea killed a nontypical elk in 2020 scoring 449 4/8 inches, making it the largest bow-harvested nontypical killed in North America. O’Shea arrowed the bull on September 14, 2020 in the parkland region of Alberta. The big, mature bull did not squeak by the old record, but surpassed it by 7 4/8 inches. Elk historians may remember the Clarence Brown bull, taken in 1977 in the mountains of western Alberta, with an official score listing the right antler length at 62 3/8 inches and the left at 62 2/8. The inside spread measured 49 2/8. The trophy bull has six points on the right and eight on the left. Total Boone and Crockett score came to 419 0/8. One of the most astonishing statistics is the 41-pound weight of the antlers. The point is that Alberta has, and is, producing big elk in all regions of the province.

Big Elk in the Backcountry

Jason and Bradon Frank, who operate Northern Backcountry Adventures invited me to hunt elk with them at the end of the archery season and, if needed, the first few days of the general firearm season. We chased elk every day, with many close encounters. It was hot and we put on many miles by foot, running game trails and following elk deep into the mature timber. When the sun started to set, the elk went crazy, shifting into high gear. Cows mewed, bulls screamed. We pushed a big bull into dense timber, where he safeguarded his cows. We ran out of legal shooting light, and the real magic happened after dark as we listened to ten different bulls. They worked into a frenzy and we knew morning would be exceptional. It would be the opening day of the firearm season, and after several close encounters with the bow, our luck might change.

The cool morning air was refreshing as we exited the vehicle to get after the bull. We had only been out for seconds when a distant bugle broke the silence. Jason and I looked at each other with a surprised reaction. We thought the elk would be deep in the timber, but they had worked several miles northeast. By the sounds of the chatter, the big bull was protecting his harem from the competition. We dropped into the timber to keep the wind in our favor and raced toward screaming bulls. There was a sense of excitement in the air, with cows mewing and chirping as they enjoyed having the boys fight over them. A long meadow brightened with the rising sun, and we raced to get into position. We covered a mile of rough country and closed the distance as we listened to the commotion.

Edging into the meadow, we caught a glimpse of elk. It was like a scene from a Terry Redlin painting, with ground fog hovering over the low-lying field and the elk ghosting back and forth like specters. The elk were too far for a shot opportunity and we dropped back into the timber to work closer. Several big cows were alert and keenly watching the bulls posturing. The big herd bull ran with his neck stretched out, bugling as loud as possible. Smaller bulls scattered along the flanks, not wanting to meet the wrath of the big bull’s tirade. Another mature bull stepped out of the timber less than 100 yards away. The big six point stormed towards the herd bull with ears cocked. The two big bulls met head-on and got right down to business. We took advantage of the distraction and cut the distance.

I quickly set up my shooting sticks and adjusted my riflescope. The fight was intense, even from 300 yards away. The bulls clashed antlers and tossed each other with the intent to kill. Grass and mud flew off hooves that dug deep into the ground for traction. The cows loved the show and all eyes were on the bulls. The battle did not last long before the challenger decided he had messed with the wrong hombre. There was little forgiveness for the challenger, and the herd bull chased his opponent off the field while trying to gore him. The duo hit the alders on the far side of the meadow and it looked and sounded like a D-8 caterpillar clearing brush. The growls and screams from the herd bull let his opponent know he would not be tolerated.

Jason tried to judge the bulls—both were big and deciphering the largest antlers was challenging. The dominant bull trotted back to his harem with his head held high while the loser circled wide across the meadow. The defeated bull turned and started directly at us, and Jason quickly decided that the dominant bull was the shooter. My crosshair found the big bull trotting through his cows as the losing bull marched toward us. Even after taking a beating and being winded, the bull caught our scent the second he came downwind and let out a sharp bark. The elk herd froze for two seconds before blowing up and heading for cover.

The target bull stayed in my scope as he ran away at 250 yards. A quartering shot was all I had, and I tightened up on the trigger. A loud “whack” confirmed a solid hit, but the bull kept running. The field was empty three seconds later. To be safe, we sat down to give the bull some time. There was no rush.

After 15 minutes, we started towards the willow and alder, where the bull disappeared. I had my head down, busy looking for blood, when Jason spotted antlers ahead. The bull was as big as I had dreamed and was a new personal best.

A Return Trip

The fight scene between the two elk was etched in my mind, and I often hit replay during the year. I returned to the Peace country the following September and chased elk in the neighborhood where I had shot my bull the previous year. We bowhunted for several days and caught glimpses of a huge bull. I couldn’t help but wonder if the challenger from the previous year was now the herd bull we were chasing. One evening, we called the bull into some dense alders and had him screaming at less than 12 yards, but we couldn’t see him.

Opening morning of the rifle season found us walking into the area in the dark. A throaty growl and bugle broke the silence, and we knew it was our target bull. It sounded like the bull was in a cut about half a mile away, so we picked up the pace to get there at first light.

We scurried down the trails like a rabbit chased by a fox. As we came to the edge of the clearing, a bull elk was running for cover. Our big bull bugled and showed up hot on the heels of his competition. We cut through the timber to a rise where we could watch the action. Shooting sticks steadied my rifle, and the big bull sauntered back toward his cows. Jason cow called, stopping it in its tracks. We looked at our watches and had three minutes until legal shooting light. The bull stared in our direction. Every time it commenced walking, Jason cow called to stop him. Time was ticking, and it would be a race to see if the bull stayed in the open until shooting light.

The bull walked to a rise and stood quartering toward us when Jason whispered we could shoot. My crosshairs locked on the bull. Jason called aggressively, causing the bull to take a few steps. The recoil was simultaneous with the bull lurching forward. My bullet had found its mark. Several cows stood staring back toward where the bull had stood.

We found him lying a mere 20 yards away. The bull was magnificent, with a huge body that would rival most moose. Once again, I had a new personal best on the ground, reminding me why I love hunting Alberta. I cannot wait to see what next year brings.

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