Handgun Hunting Afield

Since moving to Wyoming, harvesting a bull elk has been one of my biggest goals. But I wasn’t content with just any hunt; I wanted a true challenge. My goal? To take that bull with a handgun.

 Ideally, bull elk would be harvested with a revolver, like I have taken my first elk, with a 44 Mag BFR, a few years ago. Since last season, for revolver I use a S&W 629 Stealth Hunter, topped with an Ultradot Gen 2 30mm red dot, and loaded with 200-grain Raptors from Cutting Edge Bullets. It’s a powerful setup that doubles as my bear defense rig.

However, hunting in the western states often means covering ground, and sometimes the distance just won’t close due to different reasons, usually terrain or lack of cover. For those longer range, longer than revolver range, opportunities, I carry a backup: a single-shot Remington XP-100 in 308 Winchester, loaded with 130-grain MTH bullets, also from Cutting Edge Bullets.

A week after finally tagging my first alpine mule deer buck, the elk season opened. Recovered or not, I was determined to go and to hold out for a bull. I was fortunate to have my good friend, Roger, join me. He’s in his 70s but still enthusiastic and capable on the mountain—a true inspiration. I hope to be going just as strong when I hit his age.

I was relieved when Roger suggested my “honey hole.” A successful hunt there meant a shorter, less brutal pack out—a necessity after the toll the deer hunt had taken on me.

We got in position little before legal light. Our plan was simple: glass the opposite hillside, hopefully find elk, and pursue them. Roger had cow tags, so practically any elk sighting meant game on. Within a minute of setting up, I spotted a herd, a “rag horn” bull surrounded by cows and calves, in the same draw where I’d taken a calf the previous November.

We were off. But as we closed the distance, we got a harsh dose of public land reality: we ran straight into other hunters. Disappointed but respectful, we decided to back out. The rest of the day was slow, with only a few distant elk spotted miles down the canyon, and far more hunters than we typically see on an opening weekend.

The next day, we moved to a new spot, a small valley, just a ridge over all crowds, outfitters and all that hunter traffic. Just like the day before, once we started glassing I spotted a group of elk almost immediately which doesn’t happen all the time. Those were few cows, no calves, and one impressive bull. They were 800 to 900 yards out.

We moved fast, dropping behind the ridge to stay hidden, with me periodically peeking to confirm their location. As the gap narrowed, I was starting to realize that getting into my desired revolver range would be nearly impossible due to the lack of cover the last few hundred yards. Worse, they would certainly wind us when we get to the saddle in front of us. I mentally switched gears, pulling the XP-100 from my pack.

We reached the final high point before the saddle, but the elk were gone. “Where are they?” I whispered, checking with binos. We moved twenty yards to a cluster of trees, figuring the foliage was blocking the view, but the basin was empty.

Then, they reappeared. The elk had been tucked away in a hillside cut, and the bull stepped out, looking straight at me. He must had heard us. He was alert, and I knew this was not a moment for hesitation. The last thing I needed was to waste time like I did on that cow hunt in January with Chris. My poor decision-making from a previous hunt was hard to forget, Chris reminded me of it many times and he even named two stages at Handgun Hunter’s Competition (HHC) after me. “Shoot Mladen, shoot!”

Plus, this was the first time I had a very nice bull elk within my effective range and a tag in the same time.

It took only a few seconds to range the bull, drop prone, and steady the gun. He was in my scope, but only offering a frontal shot. At 335 yards, I wasn’t taking it.

“He’ll either turn broadside, or he’ll start turning to runaway and give me a split-second window,” I thought.

Right on cue, the cows started moving. The bull swung to his left, offering his right side. In that narrow time window, I sent a CE bullet his way. As I worked the action, I saw him stop, and I heard the solid, unmistakable impact. He stopped and then spun, offering his left side, and I quickly sent a second round. He didn’t even flinch but I heard the impact again.

I prepared for a third shot, thinking I’d give him all I had if he kept standing, but in that moment, he vanished. The running cows were visible, but the bull was gone. Then, through my binoculars, I saw them: his legs sticking out of the hillside cut. He was down.

As the adrenaline subsided, I realized the entire engagement was eerily familiar. The setup, the distance, and the prone shooting position were almost identical to what we train for at the annual Handgun Hunter’s Competition. In fact, one of the infamous “Shoot Mladen, shoot!” stages had been almost an exact duplicate: a 350-yard prone shot through a narrow window. Practice truly makes a difference in the field.

When we reached him, the bull had rolled about 30 yards into the shade of an aspen patch. That’s when I saw his rack: a beautiful 6×7.

After taking photos, the grind began. During quartering that bull, the massive damage the CE bullets made was impressive. Once we were done quartering, we moved the game bags with meat away from carcass and placed in shade. Then made one trip, around a mile and half long, down a brutal, steep hill, jumping over deadfalls, toward the vehicle. Roger, made one trip with a lighter load. I returned that evening for one trip and again the following morning with Roger to finish the pack out. I had hope for a black bear scavenging the carcass—I had a tag—but no luck there.

There’s nothing easy about elk hunting, from finding them under heavy pressure in general units to the brutal, multi-day pack-outs in rugged terrain. Quality gear makes the impossible manageable; I’ll never skimp on my firearms, optics, ammo, boots, or backpack.

And while every pack out is punctuated by thoughts, “I’m crazy, I’m never doing this again,” the moment that heavy pack comes off my back, the planning for next year begins. That sense of accomplishment after a successful elk hunt is the strongest I’ve found in big game hunting.