Reaping the Benefits of Well-Managed Elk Habitat: Utah Utopia

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This was not how an early October hunt was supposed to go. Blowing snow plastered everything sideways, sticking to the roads, the trees, the truck windows and to all of us, as we hustled to put on the noisy Gore-Tex outer shells we’d planned on never wearing.

On the way to the ranch, I’d cursed my typical terrible elk luck, driving into a cold storm and rain during normally glorious early October, like a grim reminder of the killer winter that had wiped out the ungulates across parts of the west…just when it was finally my turn to get to hunt some of that special Utah country known for whopper bulls.

The outfitter had told us to lower our expectations. The winter had been so hard on the elk and they took so long to recover from it, the bulls were late growing their antlers and didn’t “finish” out like normal.

I pushed back the negative thoughts like any elk hunter must. The next morning, we stepped from the truck to gear up in the darkness as snow turned into freezing rain. We hadn’t even started hiking when a deep bull elk grunt resonated through the nearby trees in the blackness.  My stomach knotted, and my young guide Colton Heward shot me that huge grin of his when he saw the wide-eyed look on my face.

A Resilient Bunch

And just like that, none of the killer winter stuff mattered, proof that even on an elite, once-in-a-lifetime elk hunt, you just gotta stay positive. We’d soon run into more elk than I’d seen in years on my southern Colorado public land exploits back home. True, the deadly winter had left the northern tier of Utah and Colorado, and most of western Wyoming a ravaged mess of winterkill, slashed tags and depleted deer and antelope herds. But this ranch showed what well-managed habitat—and supplemental winter feeding—can do for wildlife, and we were about to reap the benefits.

Total elk numbers were in fact down 20% (far worse for deer and antelope), and so was antler size. This hunt with wildcountryoutfitters.com normally yields 340-class bulls, and only one had been taken that size out of a few dozen so far in 2023. The place is so well-managed, they only shoot 8-year-old bulls and have an unheard of 1-to-1 bull-to-cow ratio.

“On this hunt, this year, if you see a 320-class bull even early on you better not let him walk,” Colton said.

Yet there were still more elk than I’d ever seen. Every elk hunter should get to experience a place like this once. I was here to test Hornady’s excellent 7 PRC with the 175-grain ELD-X bullet, but in truth, I’d already killed a big-bodied young bull with it a year prior at a camp where mostly raghorns were taken. There, I’d mentioned to Neil Davies, Marketing Director for Hornady, that I’d hunted elk all over and killed a pile of them but never really had a crack at a big bull. Well, once. I shot a big six point years prior with a .300 Weatherby at 389 yards, and he ran off a cliff, we figured out much later, after five guys searched for days. I’d come close a few times with the bow, and shot my first elk with one years ago on Utah’s Wasatch Front. But I’d never broken that 300 mark.

300+

Neil was surprised, and simply said, “we’ll have to fix that.” He killed a monstrous muley-whitetail hybrid buck on that hunt, and I shot that huge-bodied ag-land bull with the then-new 7 PRC, stunned at the performance. I was eager to take up his offer and test the newest 7mm on a big, tough, mature elk. Better still, Neil joined me on this  northern Utah hunt, where we hoped to film a big bull getting walloped, most likely at distance, to further solidify the 7 PRC’s fast-growing reputation as the shining do-it-all caliber for North America.

Heading to Utah, the chaotic weather was doing its darndest. It was 93 degrees when Neil left Nebraska and 92 in Minnesota, where the Twin Cities marathon was canceled because of heat. I drove across Colorado and then Wyoming, seeing the impacts of the deadly winter; virtually no antelope in sight where the year prior they were everywhere.

The weather was slated to turn sour fast and did it ever. Laying in the lodge that first night, we listened to the wind and rain strike right on time, turning to snow and pounding down as we drove out to hunt in the dark.

Then that bull’s grunt cut the dark, like the end of a bugle with no whistle. I wanted to chase that elk, right now. “Just wait,” Colton said. “You’ll be hearing elk all day.”

Boots on the Ground

We set out hiking down through quaking aspen and a line of black timber, across sage flats and we bumped right into a bull feeding in the open. A looker, a mature 8-year-old with a six-point rack. In the pre-dawn he was magnificent, one I’d be proud to take home, but Colton shook his head. I quivered with excitement as the bull walked toward us before turning and prancing away. Well, hello Utah!

Our boots find the way to the edge of a vast high-country bowl with a pond and wallows at the bottom. A few still-rutting elk appear as scattered blonde specks far below amid the red maples and golden quakies, interspersed with sage and grass flats. The mountain is on fire with fall colors despite the gloom. It is a picture-perfect pristine habitat, full of flushing grouse that make us flinch.

What happens next is hard for an old public land hunter to believe. The storm breaks, the clouds split and filtered sunlight comes gleaming through. The elk stir. From our ridgetop spot, we hear them bellowing across the bottom below, and a bull appears, antlers looming right in the quaking aspen below us, 500 yards. Not a shooter, but we hear another in there that sounds like the boss. To the north, coming down a ridge pushing a cow, a different wide-racked beauty with long beams appears a half mile away. We agree right away he is a target. I have a thing for width.

Neil at this point started calling the place Jurassic Park, and Colton joked we need to carry a clicker-counter like a South American dove hunter to count all the bugles.

Assessing the Situation

Across the pond another stunner appears with a sidekick, cruising for cows. His rack is weak toward the back but he has crazy giant hooks up front and bizarre 20” third tines like I have never seen. We watch him and a few others, waiting to see if he gets some separation from the cows. Suddenly that invisible boss-sounding bull roars from below us again, and Neil spots him deep in the aspens with thick antlers and long tines that are oddly black with white tips. Stunning.

The more we look at him the more we realized he is a good one despite shortish beams, and he is pretty close at 500 yards.

“Told you there was another one down there,” Colton says. “And he’s bigger than you think.”

The black-horned beauty is in and out of sight, though, surrounded by cows and there is not a great approach for any of the bulls, too many elk in the way, so we decide to come back in the evening.  “There’s going to be an elk party around that pond this evening,” Colton says as we head back.

Dialed In

I take advantage of the chance to shoot my rifle again and the Browning X-bolt Speed SPR is dead on, dropping kill shots on steel at 300 yards with a cold barrel. With the Leupold CDS ballistic dial tuned for that specific load, barrel length, twist rate, BC, climate and elevation I was good to go, my guide was grateful for the Silencer Central Backcountry Banish titanium suppressor. A perfect elk setup: compact, soft-kicking and light. Topped with a Leupold 3-15x44 VX-5HD,  with that 20” barrel and the silencer it weighs just over 7 pounds.

The evening brings more dumping rain, bitter cold wind and blowing snow, nothing like the first week in October in the high country should be. We hike a mile back in again to overlook the bowl, and the elk party is going full bore despite the weather. There are elk right cavorting in the water, cows being split up and chased, and satellite bulls standing all over.

I am in heaven, hearing elk vocalizations I’d never heard, strange long growls and lowing sounds like cattle. What an intense spectacle. Neil spots Mr. Blackhorns again in the same aspen patch below us and we decide to get him if we can. But the wind is a problem and there are feeding elk in the way. It is getting dark fast and we are pinned down. The dark-antlered stud bull leaves the aspen patch and cruises down to join the party. This is when we realized he is indeed bigger than we thought—another of Colton’s correct hunches—when he approaches a few nice bulls and dwarfs them. We agonize over the decision whether to attack or not: 20 minutes of light left, but with elk in our way in a race against dark in awful weather we decide, “Hey, it’s day one, let’s try again in the morning.”

We’d seen the elk party Colton promised even if the weather had made it unlikely. It was a long day full of beautiful animals and country, and intense fun with good pals. I had come here so excited to finally kill a nice bull, but by mid-morning realized I did not want my experience to be over so quickly. On the hike out we stopped and called in one more bull, too small.

Black-Horned Beaut

I am on fire to find that black-horned bull in the morning and think about him all night. There is one much bigger running around, reportedly in that 330+ range, and I hope we catch a break and spot him first. Rain and snow greet us at 5 a.m., and before daylight comes, we hike into our vantage spot for the third time in 24 hours.

Again, Neil, with the magic eye for this bull, finds him far away in thick brush on a hillside despite rain, snow and bad light. You could not see him without the spotting scope. If this marketing guru thing doesn’t work out for Neil, he has a bright future as an elk guide.

Colton thinks we can drop behind a ridge to the south, hook around through a smaller aspen patch down below, get in the bottom of the vast bowl where the pond is and get close enough to our bull. We make the decision and go like hell. Colton’s “kill switch,” as his dad calls it, flicks on: He locks his brain on a target and takes off at a blistering pace. I don’t like moving that fast through the woods, afraid I’ll bump other animals, but Colton knows the country and knows how to get elk on the ground far better than anyone his age should. He was a seasoned veteran his early 30s and a favorite guide of Joe Rogan.

We speed-hike down through the aspens out of sight and work to the north toward where we last saw Mr. Blackhorns, just as we start to run out of cover.

Making a Play

The wet, grizzled old bull is there, on the hillside, holding court, running off suitors. I get set up and watch a 310-class bull cruise past the thicket and stop. We are sure he will pull the black-horned bull from the thicket with a challenge, and give me a shot. The old man screams back at him but stays with his girlfriends instead. I am seated, back to a tree, rifle in the locking tripod rest, dialing for the distance, right around 500 yards.

But a spooky cow keeps staring at us, and finally takes off. She quickly leads big boy over the ridgetop 750 yards away. My heart sinks, and his antlers are breathtaking as he crests the top and disappears. Will I ever see him again? We are about to give chase, and it’s a gonna be a hell of a hike, when to our disbelief, the huge antlers appear on the ridgetop again. He’s coming back. Pushing cows down the hill toward the same scrub patch, the old bull is once again right at 500 yards, once again holed up in the brush. Long minutes pass. Rain falls harder.

Then, he does the unthinkable. Every single step he’s taken for two days was dictated by the cows. But he just leaves them. He bellows at them to stay put, and starts walking down hill toward the pond, all alone. “450. 430. 400,” Colton hisses at me while rain spatters loudly on my jacket. “He hits 350, stop him,” I say.

Colton’s cow call pierces the air and the great bull stops on cue, swings his head to look at us. A thick layer of grass and reeds hang tangled from those long front tines. He is posing for the camera.

Support System

We all dream of hunting a place this special, but even dream hunts in elk nirvana come with pressure. They’re expensive, for one thing, and you don’t want to screw it up. My very well-known guide buddy Colton hissing in my ear, and Neil, my old friend with Hornady, who is footing the bill, right there with him. Topping that off, we have a video cameraman staring right up my backside. I settle down, feeling confident through the Leupold, now that the bull is out of the brush. Colton had shoved my pack under my armpit for more stability. It works.

I exhale slightly and squeeze the trigger, just as fast as I can go slowly, knowing he won’t stand there long. The loudest click you have ever heard rings out.

The ranch does not allow hunters to carry a loaded gun until the guide says load up, and Colton and I both forgot it was time to play ball in our rush to get there. The bull hears it at 350 yards, locks on us wondering why this strange cow went click.  I run the bolt, settle again, and send one right where you would put your finger on a dead elk to show somebody where you should shoot one.

“Perfect shot!” Colton said aloud as the old warrior runs about 30 yards and to the ground. I am in disbelief.

Reverence

I didn’t truly earn this magnificent bull on a 2-day hunt. I earned him from all those years of eating non-resident tags, and a youth spent tromping around Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Rainier just trying to see an elk. I earned him when I was a single dad with an empty freezer, who stubbornly held out for a bull. I earned him from beating my brains out on the Wasatch Front, and from all the elk called and tracked and packed out for someone else in 30 years of elk hunting across many states.

I can’t tell you what this one means to me. That old bull took my breath away from the moment we spotted him and chased him through the snow and rain and sleet for two days. The ecstatic hugs after one clean 350-yard shot were of the back-cracking variety. I was humbled and grateful for a clean kill and thrilled as ever for the coming year of elk steaks. Not the biggest bull on earth—his fifth and sixth points didn’t quite “finish out,” just like they said, but he’s just perfect for this old elk hunter.

I’d grown as an elk hunter, too, on this adventure, just from getting to see so many animals: Seeing their behaviors, learning to age an elk on the hoof and hearing vocalizations I did not even know existed.

And that bull will live forever in my mind, standing there in all his glory, grass and brush swinging from those antlers, long after the meat is gone.

The Right Stuff, Rifle Set Up

I put together a light, soft-recoiling and suppressed package for this hunt, a tack-driver that carries like a sheep rifle but hits like a .300. The 7 PRC is quickly living up to the hype, unquestionably the sweet spot of Hornady’s outstanding Precision Rifle Cartridge (PRC) family for all North American big game. Our rut-charged, heavy-boned old bull was zapped at 350 yards right through the boiler room.

THE CARTRIDGE: Neil Davies spelled it out: “This cartridge is right at home hunting deer in the southeast U.S., but where it really shines is hunting elk out here in the Rockies. With the 175-grain ELD-X, we got a pass-through shot, dumped a tremendous amount of energy into this great big old mature bull. It does everything really well, but this is it’s bread and butter. You are talking big country and sometimes you just can’t get real close. This gives you the opportunity to air it out and have lethal effects at range. It’s THE cartridge for everything out in this part of the country.”

You can feel over-gunned carrying a .300 for deer-sized game, and undergunned with any of the 6.5 iterations for bigger game. The 7 PRC feels right for everything and is match-accurate (tight freebore!), with high twist rates to throw the longer 160 to 180 grain bullets we want for downrange energy, wind deflection and penetration at distance. Simply better BC. That is what distinguishes it from the 7 mm Rem Mag, which was built for 140 to 160 grain bullets.

THE BULLET: That Precision Hunter ELD-X 175 gr. bullet expands at any range and packs more than 1,100 foot pounds of energy at over 1,000 yards; better than many .300 loads due to one of the highest BC ratings in showbiz.

THE GUN: I’ve had a crush for some time on this little Browning X-Bolt Speed SPR, with its match grade 20” fluted bronze barrel. It’s a joy to shoot and carry with that ultralight, stubby, 7.8 oz. Silencer Central Banish Backcountry titanium silencer.  I dropped a big muley near home first shot with that setup right after this elk hunt and have scored one-shot kills on two bull elk and a whopper red stag with the 7 PRC. The X-Bolt ll will be out by the time you read this, (see p. 42-43) with refinements to the bolt and receiver for added smoothness, a better trigger and more adjustable stock.

THE OPTICS: The Leupold CDS system is one of the coolest shortcuts in shooting. No more fumbling around with gloved hands for your phone or card data when you should be watching your target. With CDS dials pre-tuned for your load, barrel length, twist rate, BC, environment and elevation, you just turn the turrets to the exact yardage, relax, and send it. That gun and silencer topped with the Leupold 3-15 VX-5HD is a quiet, compact setup totaling just over 7 pounds that hammers anything that walks the continent as far as you can comfortably shoot. A looker, too, in that Browning OVIX camo pattern.