An Aoudad Adventure with Weatherby's Model 307 Alpine CT Rifle

Weatherby's new Model 307 Alpine CT passes a tough test in Texas with flying colors.

February 21, 2025 By Colton Heward

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Experience, paired with modern technology, lends a strong hand to the savvy hunter. Yet, adversity still regularly weaves its grip into our adventures via variables outside of our control. Adversity leaves the discerning hunter but two options: gripe about the misfortune and wallow in sorrow or roll with the punches and grind through the suffering. The pursuit of a monarch-worthy barbary sheep, in the remote and rugged expanses of the Glass Mountain range in extreme West Texas, provided a welcomed reminder of this reality. Fortunately, good people, a positive attitude and a shared drive and desire to find success concocted an ideal remedy.

Though native to the Barbary Coast of North Africa, free ranging herds of barbary sheep (also referred to as aoudad) not only survive but thrive in numerous isolated mountain ranges throughout the Trans-Pecos region of West Texas. Having had the opportunity to hunt these incredibly unique, mountain dwelling sheep before, my infatuation for them and the mountains they call home only grows with each passing year. When a last-minute opportunity to hunt aoudad with my good friends from Weatherby, Tyler Grethen and Koby Owens, on a field test of their new Alpine CT Model 307 rifle arose, I jumped at the opportunity.

Woes and Triumph

inclement southwest weather — (Photo courtesy of Koby Owens)

The “Flight Delayed” notification flashed across my device; unfortunately, I wasn’t surprised. Our connecting flight was supposed to depart out of Denver, which was currently caught in the fury of Mother Nature’s wrath, receiving a whopper of a late-winter snowstorm. Discouraged but not dejected, our flight was pushed back 24 hours. Déjà vu reared its ugly head the following day with another cancelled flight. Determined to go sheep hunting, we called an audible and decided to skip the Denver connections and booked a direct flight to San Antonio instead. The downside was we now had a 6-hour drive to camp once we landed. Most importantly, we were going hunting.

It was nearly 10:00 p.m. when we arrived at the little town of Marathon, Texas, nestled at the foothills of the Glass Mountain range. Mentally worn, I settled into camp, sorted gear, and hit the hay, eager to get behind the glass in search of a worthy ram come sunrise. When hunting a new area, I always enjoy arriving in the dark to experience its beauty for the first time with a backlit sunrise to light up my surroundings. However, we awoke to a disheartening cloak of impenetrable fog descending the valley floor, engulfing the rocky peaks above and diminishing our hope of locating any sheep. Given our travel woes thus far, the inclement weather seemed par for the course.

By lunch time, the clouds slowly started to dissipate. It didn’t take long before we laid eyes on our first sheep, a small band of rams feeding up a distant ravine. Though I had hunted aoudad before, the rams provided a stark reminder to how well these sandy-blonde colored sheep blended into the Trans-Pecos landscape. One group of sheep turned into another and then another. They were as anxious to soak up the sun as we were to get out of camp. Our plan for the evening was to hike a couple of miles back into a remote corner of the ranch that rarely gets hunted due to its isolation and lack of road access, rightfully dubbed “God’s Country” by our guides Ky McNett, owner of Texas Hunting Resources and his manager, Jon Garcia.

a group of men hiking down mountainside — (Photo courtesy of Koby Owens)

“I’ll know it when I see it.” That was my answer to Garcia when asked what caliber of ram I was holding out for. Sweeping horns exceeding 30 inches is the widely accepted “trophy” benchmark when hunting aoudad. But, as with most horned and antlered critters, the length of the horn rarely tells the full story. For me, I was looking for an old ram with massive, battered horns and battle scars that told a story of survival in this hostile landscape. Length was merely secondary to the previous requisites.

The legs burned and lungs constricted as we made our way into “God’s Country.” Cresting the saddle, the vast expanse before us gave way to rocky bluffs surrounded by cliff bands and deep canyon fingers as far as the eye could see—sheep country. Meticulously, we picked apart the scape before us for the next couple of hours. Elk (yes, there are healthy herds of free-ranging elk in Texas), mule deer and a few sheep were spotted but nothing that got the blood flowing. With an hour of light left, we worked our way out a finger ridge to change our angle and see into the bottom of a deep gorge. McNett excitedly whispered “ram,” inducing a momentary panic as we all scrambled for cover and spotting scopes. Working up the bottom, 430 yards below us, was a solitary ram. His flowing mane and chaps were mesmerizing as he slowly picked his way up the rocky slope below. “One of you boys should probably shoot that ram,” said McNett. Grethen politely looked my way gesturing I have the first go. This was a beautiful ram, a trophy no doubt, and a jaw-dropping location, but it was the first night and he didn’t provide the immediate rush of excitement that I heeded to when I said, “I’ll know it when I see it.”

When I declined, I saw a cheeky grin spread across Grethen’s face as the reality of taking his first sheep set in. Closing the distance to a little more than 350 yards, Grethen sent a perfectly placed 129-grain Hammer bullet into the chest of the ram, rolling him down the mountain. With darkness setting in, and miles from the trucks, we cheerfully made quick work of the downed ram and began our trek back to the vehicles under the wide-open Texas night sky. Not only was this Grethen’s first sheep, but it was also the inaugural hunt for Weatherby’s newest addition to the Model 307 family of rifles, the Alpine CT.

Weatherby Alpine CT Model 307

hunter shoots rifle at bench — Time spent at the range has a direct correlation to success in the field. (Photo courtesy of Koby Owens)

Last year, Weatherby launched the Model 307 rifle, their first new bolt-action design in more than 50 years. The Model 307 action builds upon one of the most proven and customizable modern platforms, the Remington 700 action, and incorporates some much needed and appreciated upgrades. These include the addition of a crisp, TriggerTech trigger, tool-less bolt takedown, convenient bolt release button above the receiver stock and an M16-style extractor to ensure reliable ejection. Put simply, reliability and precision lie at the core of the Model 307. With the original launch, Weatherby released the Model 307 Range XP and Alpine MDT. Both with noteworthy features but they also left plenty of room for additional Model 307 iterations.

accuracy results chart — (Chart results provided by the author)

New for 2024, Weatherby released the Alpine CT Model 307, featuring a flashy and equally functional, carbon Peak 44 Bastion stock and BSF carbon-fiber wrapped barrel. The Alpine CT Model 307 is right at home in the unforgiving and rugged spaces of the West where weight is a premium and precision is expected. My test Alpine CT, chambered in 6.5 Weatherby RPM, mounted with a Leupold Mark 5HD 3.6-18x44 scope, tipped the scales at 7.8 lbs. (call it an even 8 lbs. with cartridges in the magazine) and consistently produced sub-MOA 5-shot groups. The Alpine CT also features a newly designed Directional Self Timing muzzle brake and utilizes a hinged floor plate magazine as opposed to the Magpul bottom metal featured in the previous Model 307 renditions. For those that shoot suppressed, the Alpine CT is threaded with a 5/8x24 pitch for easy installation of suppressors or QD attachments.

The damp, cool air settled overnight, once again engulfing the sheep-filled peaks and valleys of the Glass Mountains. Already down a day due to travel woes, and a big storm predicted to set in the following morning, all we could do is hope that the fog would once again clear like it did the day prior. Following a hot breakfast and kicking the can around camp for a couple of hours, the ceiling began to lift ever so slightly. We still couldn’t see the mountaintops the sheep called home, but visibility improved enough to allow us to burn some powder at the range. The resounding “ping” of bullets impacting the steel gongs time after time out to 500 yards instilled a level of confidence in the rifle that would soon prove worth its weight in gold.

By noon, we could see ¾ of the mountain range from the valley floor and started picking out scattered bands of sheep, albeit mostly ewes and small rams. Carrying on, we worked our way back into an isolated canyon. “There’s got to be sheep in here,” I muttered as we picked apart every crag of the daunting, rock and cliff covered mountainside to no avail. Changing our glassing point ever so slightly revealed a band of 30+ sheep littered across the shale face at the head of the drainage. Peering through the spotting scope, my heart rate spiked as a massive, old ram revealed himself. The first thing I noticed, despite his impressive head gear, was how dark his hide was. The rest of the aoudad sported light, sandy-blonde hides while he resembled a dark, rust-colored brown unlike anything I had ever seen. When another mature, 30+ inch ram stood next to him we realized the enormity of this ram. He was easily 25% bigger bodied than the other mature ram, towering over him in height, length, and muscular disposition, not to mention the proportionately bigger horns both in girth and length, carrying his mass all the way to the ends of his sweeping tips.

Remember my statement, “I’ll know it when I see it?” There was no doubt about this ram. It was go time. Just over 600 yards from the band of sheep, we needed to cut the distance. The only problem, the elevation of the sheep gave them the birds eye-view advantage, making getting close undetected an arduous task. Slowly but surely, we delicately picked our way from shrub to shrub, closing the distance to just over 500 yards. At that point, the majority of the sheep had bedded down for the afternoon unaware of our presence. However, like a true centurion looking over his command, the ram had us pegged from his perch 50 yards above the rest of the band, intently squared up to us and on full alert. We were out of cover and were as close as we were going to get. I knew I could make the shot, especially after my range time earlier that morning, but settling my crosshairs on an animal with rattled nerves is much different than ringing a steel plate.

close up of old aoudad horns — (Photo courtesy of Koby Owens)

Following an intense stare down that lasted many minutes, the impressive ram miscalculated the present danger and reluctantly bedded down. With a portion of the sheep bedded 400 yards from our location, I elected to hold out, in hopes he would rejoin the band when he rose from his lookout. With a good rest and a well-constructed bullet, I felt confident I could deliver a lethal blow if the ram were to cut another hundred yards or so. After nearly two hours, the ram finally stood from his bed, examined his surroundings, and worked his way down to the rest of the sheep, checking for ewes coming into a late estrus cycle. Laid out prone, I settled the crosshairs on the center of his shoulder to account for the ever so slight breeze, took a deep inhale and exhale to calm the nerves, and squeezed through the TriggerTech trigger. At 427 yards, the 124-gr. Hammer bullet impacted snuggly in the crease of his shoulder, delivering a lethal blow that sent the ram rolling down the mountainside within seconds of impact.

Walking up on the downed ram, everything from his enormous body, to scarred up face, to his chipped and battered horns left me in awe. Near the base, along the top of his right horn, a deep, gnarled divot sparked my imagination of what might have happened to cause such damage. If those horns could talk, I can only imagine the stories they would tell. Upon further inspection, based on his annuli rings, we estimated the old warrior to be 12 years old. He was, for me, the epitome of what I was hunting for, and I felt an extreme amount of gratitude for the opportunity to hunt such a ram.