62 minute read
Legislative Affairs
by Greg Schildwachter
WSF Lobbyist
THE BEGINNING OF THE END OF 2022
This is the last year of the 117th Congress. It will take us to the mid-point of the Biden Administration’s term. “Mid-term” years are a good time to assess the agenda because time is short for final action on issues.
The possibilities for final passage of bills in Congress narrow as the days pass, and the Administration begins to bear down on the issues that will define their time in office. The entire House and one third of the Senate will stand for election in November. Presidential campaigns will begin to form soon after.
Your policy agenda is based on your conservation agenda. The most recent version is the WSF Conservation Vision 2025. Goal #1 is to enhance wild sheep habitat.
The highest policy objective for Goal #1 is to reduce the risk of disease transmission. Disease is one of the “special factors” that together with food, water, shelter and space define habitat quality.
Advancing toward this objective through policy is a tough slog, but necessary. We could use—and have proposed—that the Forest Service create a new coordinator position because it is hard for us, woolgrowers, and the agency itself, even to know when and where a grazing permit or forest plan is being revised. When we can more clearly line these up, we can deploy our strengths in solutionoriented, science-based, self-funded working relationships with agencies and woolgrowers. We are also pursuing changes in law, regulation and other policy to make this winning formula the standard operating procedure.
Mitigating invasive weeds and developing water sources are other important policy issues. Wilderness Area rules and practices have been obstacles to both. As we have overcome some of them, we have gathered the best ideas for improving wilderness rules to make it easier. We are promoting these ideas with the sponsors of new wilderness designations.
Many other active issues also contribute to CV2025 goals.
On the Desert National Wildlife Refuge, our success in protecting the joint management authority of FWS and the Air Force has fallen into a lull. We are still building the ideal cooperative program that includes NDOW and tribes.
The US Sheep Experiment Station has moved to step two in the direction of a new mission for that facility. The most immediate risks of disease transmission have been addressed and we are now advocating in partnership with woolgrowers for a broader research agenda.
We are teamed with effective partners on several bills that would reopen hunting on the Castle Mountains National Monument, eliminate unfair permitting rules for film crews on Federal land and improve the Qualified Volunteer Program by which hunters can participate in wildlife population control interventions.
The November 2021 “Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act” opened several opportunities that will begin to ripen in the remainder of this year. This bill committed significant funding to conservation. The most direct effect for wild sheep will be funding for highway crossing projects and some flexibility for the Forest Service to resume efforts on issues other than fire.
As more crossing projects proceed, we may see renewed momentum on the larger issue of migration corridors. USDA Farm Production and Conservation, led by Undersecretary Robert Bonnie, is developing a program to bring a share of the Farm Bill’s $60 billion conservation program to bear on migration habitats. This may help boost the commitment of the Forest Service. USDA’s focus is likely to be in Wyoming. Compared to the wide-ranging Department of Interior program which focused on a few species, the USDA program will be narrow geographically, but for a wider range of activities and species. Either way, this initiative is a base to build on.
Longer-term developments are also in play, such as the Administration’s “America the Beautiful” initiative (which is headed in a positive direction) and the push for wind and solar energy (which may incidentally make wildlife a stronger consideration in the early steps of energy project development on Federal land).
Your Legislative Affairs Committee is homing in to complete work on as many of these as possible. We are eager to have your ideas and help in advancing the agenda. WS
7 - DAY - ALL INCLUSIVE ALTAI ARGALI HUNT IN MONGOLIA
Here is a rare opportunity for what can only be described as a true “hunt of a lifetime.” One hunter will win this all-inclusive adventure for the largest mountain sheep species in the World, the Altai Argali! This hunt is an all-inclusive package, includes permitting, is guided by English-speaking guides and all in-country ground travel and services, including round trip economy air travel, $5,000 USD in guide tip money, and $2,500 for in-country incidentals, plus expert assistance with import permitting and other planning needs.
The tradition of hunting in Mongolia spans over eight centuries, back to when Genghis Khan ruled the largest empire on Earth. This tradition has changed very little over those hundreds of years. It is a land of an ancient culture of nomadic horsemen and unspoiled wilderness at the World’s apex, and above all, friendly people. As Mongolia has existed, the tradition of welcoming the traveler has been an essential element of their heritage.
INCLUSIONS • R/T economy airfare Meeting and Greeting - pickup & transportation in Ulaanbaatar city • Airport VIP lounge fee • Domestic Flights & in-country travel & lodging • All ground transportation (airport-to-airport service) for the duration of your hunt • State Veterinary certifi cate & export documentation • English speaking interpreter 1x1 • Experienced professional hunter(s) accompanied by skillful tracker(s) 1x1 • Ger Lodging & meals at camp, camp staff services • Unlimited bottled water, soft drinks, and alcohol drinks in moderation • Ger lodge and tent accommodation • Trophy skinning and preparation $5,000 in guide tips $2,500 for incidentals • Community fees and fi eld care of the trophies
OUTFITTER: Muugi Dori of Zevhunting.com DATES: July - September 2022. This hunt cannot be delayed? WSF REFERENCES: Craig Boddington, Gary Hansen VALUE: $140,000
A “PRO BONO” MID-ASIAN IBEX HUNT
BY ALEXANDER SHARIF PHOTOS BY DARRYN EPP
A SUCCESSFUL TAJIKISTAN CONSERVATION STORY
When it comes to implementing a sustainable game conservation program, there are typically two approaches. The approach here in North America is from the top down, and by that, I mean the involvement of the government agencies which in turn employ wildlife biologists who understand game population management strategies and put them in place every year after considering variables such as winter mortality, feed availability, aerial surveys and male to female/juvenile ratios etc. The alternative approach is for landowners to take things into their own hands and determine quotas, harvestable species, etc,. as present in many parts of Africa and even Europe. While healthy habitat for wildlife is the key to robust wildlife populations and a balanced ecosystem, let’s also not discount the fact that for local people who share that same habitat, access to wildlife is often the only means of securing the necessities of life.
In Central Asia and many other parts of the world however, the
governments often do not have the resources to instill and enforce such measures to the extent we see here in North America—and the same applies to landowners in certain cases.
The other part of the equation is the big question of who should benefit from a conservation program? Should it be just the wildlife, a handful of individuals who have the power and the connections in the government, or a whole community? There is no one answer to this question, but what is crucial is that the wildlife itself should take
The spectacular Pamir mountains are truly the roof of the world! precedence and receive the most protection/benefit—and with that comes the benefits for the supporting community.
Roll back the clock to the 2015 Sheep Show® in Reno. As I was perusing the convention halls, I came across a booth from a group
of passionate wildlife biologists who told me they had started a community-based hunting program in Tajikistan that will not only provide protection for the ibex/sheep that act as a robust prey source for the snow leopard, but one that has also benefited the local communities that are hosting and implementing the program. I am a skeptic by nature, but took note.
In the months that followed, the more I read and researched, the more I got interested in their cause. Over the years to come, I established a healthy dialogue with their program director Khalil Karimov and understood that this is the type of grass-roots organization I would like to hunt with and support in my pursuit of a Mid-Asian ibex in Tajikistan. In a country like Tajikistan, the needs of the wildlife and the local people that share the same landscape should be the bedrock of a sustainable-use conservation program.
Khalil, a graduate of the University of Vienna in wildlife ecology/ management and his Tajik/Kyrgyz colleagues started ANCOT, an NGO, in 2009. They realized that creating sustainable community-based hunting is the best way to ensure that the game is protected through an incentive for the locals to stop killing the game animals for sustenance and instead reap the financial benefits brought in from the funds donated by the foreign hunters. This was a model that had worked in many parts of Africa, so why not in Central Asia? They currently manage four concessions throughout Tajikistan: Yaguti Darshay, Parcham, Borgut and Yuz Palang. These concessions are all in the southern Pamirs. Each concession has a director in charge with a team of guides, porters, shikaris, skinners, cooks, etc. They do not deal with volume, and the tags/hunts are limited through government regulations— but what they do and the way the hunts are carried out is the real McCoy. Most of the proceeds from the hunters go back directly to the hosting village. In some instances, funds are used to build schools, buy school supplies, provide solar panels, purchase coal and flour, and the list goes on. In North America,
The Pamir Highway can get tricky; travel only during daylight!
the rewards of good conservation programs result in citizen access to the wildlife resources. The same reward is also occurring in Tajikistan for conservancies that are managed under the ANCOT umbrella.
In short, if you want to experience a real mountain hunt where you will get to spend time with locals, stay in their homes, eat their food and be guided by them, then booking a hunt with ANCOT is your passport. My good friend Jack Atcheson, Jr. has been involved with ANCOT since its inception and acts as their sole agent in the U.S. Jack is also very passionate about their programs and promotes it widely. You can also book directly with ANCOT, and they also have agents in Europe (Fairhunt.net).
Now to our hunt this past November….
My longtime pal Carl Tatarin and I decided to book with ANCOT for a Mid-Asian ibex hunt back in June of 2021. With COVID still looming around the globe and creating uncertainty, we delayed buying our travel tickets until mid-October. Also knowing how passionate and active my friend Darryn Epp is about conservation, I extended the invite to him. It took him a couple of weeks, but he accepted my invitation to join our group—not with his rifle this time—but with his carefully packed series of powerful digital cameras, his array of lenses and his knowledge of photography. This addition to our team was a gift because we all know how a few distinct and powerful images can create curiosity and inspire readers.
We left Calgary on November 2nd, arriving in the capital Dushanbe in early morning hours of Nov 4th. After the CIP clearance (well worth the $70), we were greeted by our facilitator Mustafo and other staff from ANCOT, and right away, were on our way to the southern Pamirs. Before embarking on this trip, we all had a trifle of concern over the current security situation with Afghanistan as the two countries share a very long border separated by the “Panj” river, and a good 500 kms of it was along our route. We were soon to discover that this was a non-issue and the real danger lay in the section of the Pamir highway between Darwaz and Rushan. This 380 km segment is basically a oneand-a-half-lane gravel road with potholes, rock falls, many blind corners, some traffic and no guard rails. On average, you can only do about 30 km/hr., making sure to travel during daylight hours.
Night fell and we arrived in Khorog, the capital of the Pamirs and the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Region (GBAO). The following day we still had a aix-hour drive to the tiny village of Darshay. This segment of the road was in far better shape, and the scenery was absolutely breathtaking. All along we would pass through tiny villages where it seemed as though time had slowed down to pre-WWII era. Farmers were still plowing their land with draft animals and life was lived at a very slow pace. We could also see
the Afghans across the border doing basically the same thing with no signs of Taliban. Several check stops had to be navigated between regions, but clearance came quickly when our visas, gun permits, and other paperwork copies were presented.
Upon arrival at the Darshay village which is located at the west end of the famous Wakhan corridor, we were greeted by the conservation director for the area, an affable man by the name of Munavvar Alidodov. He introduced us to our crew of 15 guides, shikaris, packers, etc., and this is when we distributed a couple of small gifts (toques with a Canada maple leaf and packs of warm socks) between them all. They were all jazzed to see the Canadian maple leaf! Our entourage was mostly composed of Munavvar’s extended family, brother, cousins, brother-in-law, and nephews. We had a great lunch in his house, a typical Pamir style home with simple but beautiful decorations. The gear was quickly loaded on the donkeys/yaks and by 2 PM, we started our hike towards camp one. This was to be a 12 km hike up a steep set of switchbacks followed by a side-slope approach. We arrived at camp one in the dark around 8 PM. The camp was a mud and stone hut with a small stove and a separate room for the guides, packers and cooks.
The next morning, we checked the zeros on our rifles and were comforted that they were both spot on, breaking rocks at over 450 yards away. We then pressed on towards the main camp, located at an elevation of 3,500m (11,500 ft) above sea level and located next to the Darshay river. There were horns of ibex adorning the roof top and it was a beautiful setting for an ibex camp. Our meals were prepared daily and were all excellent. All along, we were mesmerized by the shear natural beauty of the surrounding
As classic as a true mountain hunt gets: a harmonious blend of guides, packers, shikaris, skinners, hunters, supplies, donkeys and yaks.
Ordinary folks with ordinary tools growing their consumables!
mountains and thoughts of past hunters such as Elgin Gates, Prince Abdorreza and others who had hunted in the Wakhan in the early days of international hunting. To our south, the towering peaks of the Hindu-Kush range that extended to the Karakoram and shared borders with Tajikistan, Afghanistan and even Pakistan were decorating the landscape. The 7,700 m (25,200 ft) snow-covered Tirich Mir peak was immersed in the clouds and made us feel we truly were on the roof of the world!
On a trip like this, one often has beaucoup time at hand because of staying awake due to jet lag, and the lack of disruptions from work and cell phones. For yours truly, memories of the distant past with my late dad and uncle hunting the Urials and the Bezoars of my native land came to mind. I realized how blessed and fortunate I had been to have experienced that, even as a youngster, and how their teachings had shaped and influenced my entire life. I could almost hear my dad’s voice, murmuring this timeless classic from poet Bubba Taher Hamedani about hunting:
I am a hunter from the land of Hamedan, Nestled in the mountains from times long gone, Hopping from a valley to a peak’s face, To bag down my prey in fair chase.
A sound hunting strategy is also essential in this area. Obviously, one cannot physically afford to aimlessly climb ridge after ridge for days on end in this altitude while seeking game in a four- to five-day hunt. To avoid this, the concession manager has picked out a few spots along this 20 km valley where it was possible to effectively glass and scope certain promising drainages. This allows the hunting party to know which drainage they need to climb to, and the challenge is then trying to beat the shift in mid-day air currents carrying your scent up to the game. This means that you need to get to your basin before the shift, which in turn, means starting in the dark and climbing several hundred meters of elevation gain in a short time. This area only holds the majestic MidAsian ibex, and according to Khalil, an estimated 400 animals live in this
Guides were fascinated by our armaments—especially the custom turrets!
Age and character before beauty and size!
valley. There are snow leopards and wolves which also prey on the ibex.
Both Carl and I followed this strategy and connected with respectable billie’s. We were also content that a major portion of our financial contributions towards this hunt went directly into the betterment of these villagers lives, which returns me to the title of my article—“A pro bono hunt”—for the benefit of all. I also like to quote what one other patron (Bill Campbell) said about his contributions to hunt Marco Polo sheep with ANCOT in 2017; “My personal foreign-aid donation program!”
After hunting was over, we still had a day to just relax and indulge in this paradise. Unfortunately, I was fighting a severe chest infection, but didn’t let that bother me. We had loads of ibex shashliks with dunba, drank tea and reminisced our experiences on the mountain with Darryn skillfully capturing it through his lens. On that same afternoon, as Yours truly with a Billy taken in fair chase at 4,600 meters. My guide was Nurali wearing orange gloves.
Sometimes things are just meant to work out the way they are supposed to.
The best part of the whole trip was the warm and hospitable Tajik people!
I stared at the mighty Hindu-Kush peaks across the valley with my cup of Chai in my hand and immersed in the moment, the following poem that has been a pilar of my life from the renowned Persian poet Omar Khayam came to mind:
Why worry whether wealth I have or not, And life in happiness shall end or not Come, fill the cup; for ‘tis unknown to me, The breath inhaled shall be exhaled or not
On that same day, after the capes were turned in salt, dried and the skulls boiled, we loaded the pack train and slowly walked the 20 km out to the village, some of it in very sketchy sections. After arrival and unloading the pack train, we visited a hot spring, shaved and took a muchneeded shower.
The following morning, it was time to say goodbye to our new friends at Darshay village and take on the treacherous drive back through the Pamir highway to the capital, which we made safely in two days. We even had time set aside for some sightseeing, food tasting and souvenir shopping. Being of Persian background, the sightseeing part meant a lot to me and it echoed memories of a country that I left behind 50 years ago as a young man. Even though the Tajiks pronounce the Persian language somewhat different, I could understand parts of their conversations. Our guide Mirzo Mirzoev was of course a big part of this wonderful experience with his vast knowledge of the Persio-Tajik culture. This was truly an epic classic mountain hunt in the Pamirs with some unique cultural experiences, and we were delighted to have partaken in it.
On our last afternoon, we were fortunate to visit ANCOT’s headquarters in Dushanbe to meet the entire staff, look closely at their conservation programs, their data collection protocols and their success stories—and as a small token of appreciatio—we invited them to a grand supper at a newly opened Turkish restaurant. I register a big thank you to the entire staff at ANCOT for their hospitality and accommodating every request we put in front of them prior to and during the hunt. This includes the logistics staff in the capital and at Darshay, the guides, packers, skinners and even the donkeys and the yaks. We arrived as clients, but left as friends, and they all made it that much more special.
Who knows, maybe one of these days, we will win the lottery and go back to hunt for a Bukharan urial or a markhor with the ANCOT team. It requires hope as well as optimism and there are no limits to either! WS
Carl with the conservancy director Munavvar and his ibex.
42 WILDSHEEP® ~ SPRING 2022 X
CALIFORNIA BIGHORN DREAM HUNT
BY DAVE TURCHANSKI
t was early this spring when my wife and I were enjoying some nice weather after the long winter when I received a text from my good friend at GOABC, Scott Ellis, “Dave...I want to talk to you about a sheep tag. Are you free to discuss later today?”
“Sure Scott, just give me a call this afternoon on my cell.” Scott called, and after a 20-minute phone conversation, a well-known outfitter that I didn’t know at the time (he has become a good friend now) had a Cali tag for sale. Scott asked, “You are well known in the sheep hunting world—I know hardly anyone— can you help Melvin Kilback get rid of a Cali tag?” This was limited to Canadian residents at the time because of COVID, but I said I would check it out with all the sheep hunters I know in Canada and get
IIt was official when I received a contract from his wife, Tammi, and at that point, I knew it was going to happen. It seemed like the summer went by fast as we where getting very close to September and hunting plans would have to be made. Melvin stayed in touch through August, keeping me posted on the sheep that they were seeing. It was getting more exciting each day for me as I heard about the rams that were being spotted. I spoke with Melvin early in the last week of August, and told him I planned on being in Oliver September 2nd. Then I received a call August 27th informing me the date was pushed back. I wasn’t sure when I should arrive. At the time, it was not a problem given the backcountry smoke—it was one of the worst fire years in the Penticton, Oliver area.
back to him. I asked for Melvin’s number as well to get some more information on the tag. As soon as I hung up with Scott, I called Melvin. I had a great conversation with Melvin and he discussed his new Cali area and the tag he was looking to get rid of. I asked him to give me a week to see what I could do to help him out and track down some great sheep hunting friends. However, before hanging up, I asked Melvin how much it would cost. He remarked, “As long as I can make a mortgage payment on my new area, I would be happy.” The weekend went by and I talked with my wife and then called Melvin on Monday to tell him I would take it. The Cali was the last North American sheep that I needed, as I already have my FNAWS and a Fannin sheep. I was very excited and could not wait for September.
Visibility was terrible and roads were also closed to accessing the backcountry because of the fires. There were also issues in the transfer of the area into Melvin’s name, but with the help of some great people at GOABC, as well as Andrew Walker and others, it finally happened late on September 27th.
I arrived in Oliver on September 26th with the season due to close on September 30th. Needless to say, given the short window, there were two really nervous people in BC, Melvin Kilback and Dave Turchanski. A seven-day sheep hunt just turned into a three-day hunt— plan B. However, I stayed positive that we could get it done fairly quick. I arrived at 5 AM at Kilback’s house to meet my guide, Robert Mattess, and enjoyed a great breakfast prepared by Tammi.
After eating breakfast, we headed into the high country above Okanagan Falls. We got to a point on a back trail, parked, and put our packs on. From there we hiked to a vantage point where we could look over an area where a lot of sheep had been spotted. We shortly spotted ewes and lambs, but no rams. After more glassing, we finally found a group of six rams, but no shooters. We then noticed a second group of eight rams moving fairly fast through the underbrush and trees.
We focused on this group throughout the late afternoon until they finally slowed down and started feeding. The wind was now blowing 30-50 kmph and it was hard to tell what possibilites were in the group, even with binoculars. We backed out and headed for camp knowing chances were good we could relocate them in the morning. We got the green light form Melvin that we could shoot the following day.
Up and at it at five AM we were heading back to a new vantage point to look at the rams we put to bed the night before. It wasn’t long before we located the rams, and the absence of wind definitely worked in our favor. After carefully watching the rams, we decided there was a shooter in the group. However, we had not checked out all the areas where sheep had previously been seen. So, we pulled out mid-morning and moved into some of these other areas. We found more sheep as the day progressed: rams, ewes, lambs—but no big rams. Knowing that there was a shooter ram and it was the second-to-the-last day of our hunt, we decided to see if we could relocate the rams.
We got up early again and were on the mountain at daybreak. We found a group of ewes and lambs along with some new rams that were small, but not the group of eight with the bigger ram in it. Robert split up from me and was not gone long when he came back with, “I think I found them.” In the trees about 950 yards away we could see sheep butts. They were milling around and there were eight sheep. It was just after noon. We looked at each other and knew we needed to make our move. We carefully made our way to where the rams were, knowing they were just on the other side of a rise between us. As we made our final stalk, Robert was to my right about 15 feet away. Suddenly I saw sheep horns coming over the rise and I hit the deck. Robert did as well and had his binos on the sheep. The first ram that came into sight I recognized as the biggest ram in the group. I looked at Robert and he concurred. He was head on, so I let him corner away, and when he did, my 300 short mag came to life. The ram spun around and disappeared. I knew he was hit. We carefully walked over the rise
and we found sheep horns again looking at us. We hit the ground as the sheep milled around, but as they moved away, we could only count seven sheep. In only a few more steps, we found the monarch dead on the ground. There were handshakes, hugs and the Cali was down. The rest is history. My thanks to Robert, Melvin and Tammi from Kettle River Outfitters for a great trip and the first Cali taken in their new area. If you are looking for a California bighorn sheep, reach out to Kettle River Outfitters and Melvin Kilback! WS
TODAY’S SHEEP RIFLE
Stable, accurate, better-scoped!
BY CRAIG BODDINGTON
Sheep hunting culture emerged in the postwar world. The sheep rifle took two primary forms. Jack O’Connor championed his .270 Winchester, preferring a short, light package: Slender, 22-inch barrel and a trim stock. O’Connor had a loud voice, but many of his contemporaries took different paths, embracing faster, more powerful cartridges, in heavier rifles with longer barrels. Herb Klein and Elgin Gates were early adopters of the .300 Weatherby Magnum; John Batten’s favorite was a .30-.338. Warren Page championed a fast 7mm, and globetrotting brothers Bert and Chris Klineburger shared a battered 7mm Remington Magnum. Stocks were wood, and by 1950, fixed-power scopes up to 4X were universal.
LOCK, STOCK, AND BARREL
Actions have changed little: Among mountain hunters, the bolt-action rules! This is because of strength, stability, reliability, and adaptability to a broad range of cartridges. Any other action could be used, but on the mountain is almost an eccentricity. Traditional blued steel has given way to stainless metal and rustproof finish.
The most visible change is probably in stocks. O’Connor passed away in early 1978. The Professor
Boddington took this mid-Asian ibex in Tajikistan in February 2022, using his Jarrett .300 Win Mag with Leica Amplus 2.5-15X and Hornady’s new CX bullet. His first use of Leica’s new Geovid Pro system, the correction was spot-on. The trim American Classic stock is pretty much the only feature that prevents this rifle from being a “today” sheep rifle. (Photo by Byron Pace)
was aware of synthetics, preferring his beautiful walnut; it’s unlikely he ever saw a synthetic stock on the mountain. Laminate and synthetic stocks were developed by the benchrest community, neither for weight nor aesthetics, but for accuracy-enhancing stability. I have the .30-.338 rifle John Batten described as his “favorite sheep rifle.” It was built about 1960 on a Mauser action and, astonishingly, it’s an early sporter-style laminate, clever and trim; you have to look closely to realize it’s a laminate. Obviously, Batten appreciated the strength and warpage-resistance of laminated wood.
Unfortunately, laminates are heavier than solid walnut…and heavier than synthetics. Synthetic sporter stocks were pioneered in the 1970s by Chet Brown and Lee Six. Today, synthetics are dominant across all sporting rifles. For the mountain hunter, they make sense; carrying a nice piece of walnut up into the rocks is, well, another eccentricity.
A synthetic stock is stronger than walnut, weatherproof, and cannot warp. It is not necessarily lighter than wood; it depends on the construction and material, and there are choices. Solid synthetics are often heavier than wood, while hollow, foam-filled synthetics are lighter…but not as strong. Synthetic reinforced with Kevlar or other material is almost unbreakable. Today, fiberglass and various plastics have given way to carbon fiber in the “best” synthetic stocks.
Style has also changed. Early synthetic stocks—and, to this day, most of my own—emulate the slim lines of American classic walnut. Hand-checkering on good wood gave way to molded checkering panels…or just plain rough crinkle-paint finish, but trim fore-ends and straight combs were almost universal. As scopes have improved and gotten larger, the straight American classic buttstock no longer works so well. Larger
John Batten, lifelong friend of O’Connor, with his last Alberta ram, taken with his .30-338. Boddington has this rifle, made in about 1960 with an early laminate stock. It still wears Batten’s 2.75X fixed-power Redfield, apparently plenty of scope!
Boddington used an Allterra in 6.5mm SST to take this Montana goat in 2020. With carbon fiber stock and carbon fiber reinforced barrel, the Allterra is lighter than it appears, and very accurate…a fine example of today’s sheep rifle.
scopes—with larger objectives— must be mounted higher to clear the barrel, and we find ourselves lifting our heads to obtain sight picture.
In response, today’s stocks are likely to have higher combs. To avoid an ungainly appearance, fore-ends are also bigger. Adjustable-height combs are now seen in both wood and synthetic. With today’s “big” scopes so much in vogue, they make sense.
There have always been “extragood” barrels that shot especially well, but today’s “average” barrel is better! We can still argue the advantages of button rifling, cut rifling, and hammer forging. I lean toward the latter as the most consistent, but, by any method, some barrels will be better than others. This is why “select” or match-grade barrels are more expensive.
Although not necessarily more accurate, heavier barrels tend to be more consistent—and are slower to heat up. Sure, but how many of us want to carry a heavy-barreled varmint rifle up the mountain? Fluting removes barrel metal without reducing strength, and exposes more surface, which aids in heat dissipation.
The new kid on the block is carbon fiber. The proper term is “carbon fiber reinforcing.” Not really new, but these barrels have gotten more popular, and also increasingly better thanks to improved reinforcing techniques. A “carbon fiber barrel” starts with a plain old barrel, turned down to minimum dimension, and then wrapped with carbon fiber. Better start with a good barrel! Carbon fiber is lighter than steel, so there is some weight savings. More important: The thick outer layer of carbon fiber stiffens a barrel and reduces vibration, which tends to make accuracy more consistent. The greatest benefit to carbon fiber is heat dissipation: You can fire a longer shot string before the bullets start to walk.
This reduces idle “cooling time” on the range and is wonderful for prairie dogs, but means little to the sheep hunter. Two or three accurate shots from a cold barrel should do everything we need done! Although increasingly popular on our “new” sheep rifle, I find the carbon fiber barrel of neutral benefit on the mountain. But, provided it shoots well (and the good ones do!), there is no down side, other than the barrel, and thus the rifle, are bulkier.
CARTRIDGES
It is not true that Jack O’Connor shot “all” of his sheep with the .270 Winchester. Except for his last in 1946, O’Connor took all of his Sonoran sheep with various other cartridges. However, from the 1940s he took “most” of his sheep with his beloved .270s.
The older I get, the more convinced I am that Professor O’Connor knew his stuff. The .270 Winchester is a wonderful sheep cartridge. I’m a “gun guy” and I write about this stuff. I’ve experimented with numerous cartridges; there are many good choices. Wife Donna is not a “gun gal.” She likes what she likes: It would be difficult to convince her that the .270 is lacking in power or range (and, for her purposes, is lacking in neither)!
Me, I’ve gone back and forth.
Left to right: 6.5 PRC, 6.8 Western, 28 Nosler, .300 PRC. These seem to be among the more popular new cartridges headed up sheep mountains today. All four focus on long, heavy-for-caliber “low drag” bullets with very high BCs.
Not sheep country, but these .300 PRC cartridges are ready to do business. The bullet is a long, heavy 212-grain Hornady ELD-X. Velocity cannot be as fast as lighter bullets, but with off-the-charts Ballistic Coefficient, long-range performance is outstanding.
I’ve used the .270 Winchester a lot, but also the .270 WSM and .270 Weatherby Magnum. And I’ve used fast 6.5mms, various 7mms, and a bevy of fast .30 calibers. Although I’ve used larger calibers, there is no justification for cartridges above .30…unless it’s a rifle you are compelled to use, which is justification enough.
I haven’t used them, but a case could be made for fast .25s for some sheep hunting. Goats are tougher than sheep, and some goats (turs and some ibex) are bigger than any sheep. So, for worldwide use, I’d rule out the .25s and anything smaller. I’d also rule out the slower 6.5mms, 7mms, and .30s as not having enough velocity. This group includes: 6.5 Creedmoor, 6.5x55, 7mm-08, 7x57, even the .308 Winchester and .30-06. Great cartridges all, but I don’t see them as ideal mountain cartridges. That leaves us with: Fast 6.5mms; the .270s; 7mms from .280 Remington up; and the large group of fast or “magnum” .30s.
That’s a wide array of cartridges, old and new. New cartridges bring a new twist (literally). The latest cartridges and their projectiles come from the growing community of extreme-range shooters. This movement has been enabled by better optics (which we’ll get to). We can see farther…so we’ve needed bullets that will get there!
Ballistic Coefficient (BC) is a comparative index of a bullet’s ability to resist drag and retain velocity. Most often quoted is the three-decimal “G1 BC.” We used to think a G1 BC approaching .500 was spectacular. Today, BCs into the .600s, are fairly common, in part due to computerized aid in projectile design. Modern “low drag” bullets include Berger’s VLD, Federal’s Terminal Ascent, Hornady’s ELD series, Nosler’s AccuBond Long Range, Sierra’s MatchKing, and more.
Higher BC is often achieved by increasing bullet length and weight, creating two interesting dichotomies. American hunters have long craved velocity. As a combination of physics and pressure limits, in any given cartridge case, a heavier bullet must be slower. So, the 200-grain ELD-X that I’m now shooting in my .300 magnums cannot be as fast as the 180-grain bullets I used for decades. The race isn’t always to the swift; at some point downrange, the higher BC will tell and the heavier, slower bullet may pass the faster, lighter projectile. This is a sea change, as many of us consciously trade maximum velocity for optimum downrange performance.
Second, the “twist” I mentioned. When cartridges are “legitimized,” standard rifling twists are specified… based on the existing range of projectiles. As our low-drag projectiles get longer and heavier, this can cause problems. Most .30-caliber rifles have 1:10 twist, which should stabilize bullets up to the once-standard 220-grain bullet. Most 7mms, with 1:9 or 1:10 twist, will be okay up to 175 grains, but accuracy may suffer with new bullets up to 200 grains.
The .270 is one of the biggest problems. The long-standard 1:10 twist will usually stabilize a 150-grain bullet…but that’s about it. We .270 fans have long been aware that our pets would benefit from longer, heavier bullets…but the standard 1:10 twist won’t stabilize them. Winchester’s 6.8 Western is primarily about the bullets. The cartridge was introduced with bullets from 162 to 175 grains, weights that have never existed in .277 diameter. Rifles are specified with a faster 1:8 twist. I’d love to try some of these heavy bullets, but we don’t have a .270 I’m willing to rebarrel. Similarly, shooters adopting new cartridges like 28 Nosler and .300 PRC usually specify faster twist (1:8) barrels, enabling them to use heavy new projectiles.
In the 1990s, cartridge design shifted to unbelted cases that were relatively fatter in relation to length. This creates burning efficiency, resulting in more energy produced per grain of propellent. Efficiency would be even better if our cartridges were still fatter, but existing actions can only accept cartridges of finite
dimensions, both width and length.
Recent cartridge design has been very specific as to action length, taking into account case length and the extra length of long bullets. The Nosler family of cartridges (now 26, 27, 28, 30 and 33) uses a 2.590-inch case that can be housed in a standard (.30-06-length) action…but fulllength (.375 H&H-length) actions are often used to accommodate today’s extra-long bullets.
Winchester’s 6.8 Western took the opposite approach: It’s a short-action cartridge but, in order for shortactions to accommodate the new long bullets, they slightly shortened the .270 WSM case. Hornady has gone both ways with their PRC family (currently 6.5 and .300). The 6.5 PRC is based on a .375 Ruger case shortened to 2.030 inches. It can be housed in a short action, but is often used in a standard (.30-06-length) action, leaving plenty of room for long bullets. The .300 PRC uses the full-length (2.580-inch) .375 Ruger case. Similarly, it can be housed in a standard action…but many use .375-length actions (with faster twist barrel), allowing use of the longest and heaviest .30-caliber bullets, now up to 250 grains.
The significance depends on your purposes. There is no sheep or goat that can’t be taken with a .270 Winchester and traditional 130-grain bullet, at least to 500 yards or so. These days, many shooters desire the capability to reach farther, but many do not!
OPTICS
Improvement in optics has been colossal! Batten and O’Connor started hunting sheep with aperture sights; the big shift to magnifying riflescopes came in the 1940s. Batten’s .30-.338 still wears his scope, a 2.75X Redfield; O’Connor’s famed “Biesen No. 2” sheep rifle wore a fixed 4X. O’Connor reckoned that was all the scope he needed…not much more was available! Variables existed, but significant zero shifts between magnification settings were common.
The variable-power scope was finally perfected in the 1970s, and gradually took over the market. In those days, “three-times zoom” was pretty much the limit. Not long ago I bought a beautiful O’Connor-style left-hand .270, made by Joe Balickie in the 1980s, wearing its original vintage Leupold 2-7X. The scope still tracks perfectly, but it showed me how spoiled I am by modern scopes with better glass and more
25 years ago, Leica’s Geovid was the first rangefinding binocular. Their new Geovid Pro has an internal weather station. Interfacing with Leica’s smartphone app, it both ranges and delivers a correction based on ballistic input and local atmospherics. (Photo by Byron Pace)
On a recent ibex hunt, all four hunters used bipods. Checking zero, David Draper is using the light, carbon fiber Javelin bipod from Spartan, perhaps the most advanced bipod system.
Technology continues to advance. In Tajikistan, this was the first time Boddington had seen a chronograph in a sheep camp. The light and simple Magneto-Speed chronograph allowed real-time checking of altitude and temperature, ensuring all data was perfect.
magnification!
For decades, the versatile “threetimes-zoom” 3-9X was the most popular hunting scope. I could argue that more magnification isn’t necessary for big game…but nobody would listen. Four, five, even six times zoom capability has changed the game…and I’ve happily played along! A primary mountain rifle wears a Leupold VX6 3-18x44mm. I’ve used other scopes from Swarovski and Zeiss in the same power range, and right now I’m using a new Leica Amplus 2.5-15x50mm scope. Such scopes, with 30mm tubes are, of course, larger and heavier. With larger objective lenses they must be mounted higher to clear the barrel, which gets into the stock fit issue mentioned earlier.
Larger objectives are “brighter,” but this is rarely critical in sheep hunting. It’s uncommon to get onto a ram at first light, and equally unusual to take a last-light shot, because you must get down the mountain safely. Better to come back in the morning. The current preference in scopes is to more magnification (and larger objectives) than we really need. No harm, except we’re packing more scope than is essential.
Improvements in optics aren’t just about magnification. Space-age lens coatings enhance clarity and light transmission. Perhaps most important of all: Today’s “good scopes” have consistent and accurate adjustments. Think about this: Before you can consider “dialing the range” you must know your adjustments are perfect!
With today’s top brands, you can put that in the bank. This technology has led to a wide array of turrets and systems that facilitate dialing the range.
Leupold’s Custom Dial System (CDS), with turret calibrated to your load and conditions, is wonderfully simple. I like simple, but I can’t switch loads, or readily adapt to atmospheric (altitude or temperature) changes. On buddy Zack Aultman’s range in Georgia, last deer season we spent a lot of time zeroing his new Allterra .300 PRC with a Swarovski scope, zeroing their color-coded rings for 400, 500, and 600 yards. Essentially, you customize your own turret!
In conjunction with the Leica scope, right now I’m messing with their new Geovid Pro rangefinding binocular, the most advanced system I have seen. There is no interface between scope and binocular, and it is compatible with any scope. Using the Leica smartphone app (linked via Bluetooth to the binocular), you input your load data and desired correction format. The binocular acts as a weather station, taking into account atmospherics. Press the ranging button and the field shows true range. A few heartbeats later the field shows the correction. I need to spend a lot more time with this system! Two weeks ago, I trusted it enough to dial the correction for a shot at a big mid-Asian ibex. Not terribly far, but an acute uphill angle. One shot, one ibex, hit exactly where I wanted it!
THE PACKAGE
That ibex hunt, in Tajikistan, offered a small snapshot of “today’s sheep rifle.” We were four hunters, me much the oldest. All of us carried fast .30s: Two .300 Winchester Magnums, two .300 PRCs, appropriate for bigbodied goats! All rifles wore “big scopes” in six-times zoom: 3-18X, my 2.5-15X. One barrel was carbon fiber, another helically fluted; two were medium-contour. My rifle has a plain muzzle; the three younger guys all used muzzle brakes. This may be a generation-gap issue: I’m already deaf as a post; I’ll bet they’re more religious about hearing protection! My 24-inch barrel was the shortest; the rest had longer tubes. With muzzle brakes, they seemed even longer. All of us brought bipods, two Javelin and two Harris.
All four rifles wore synthetic carbon-fiber stocks. Three of four were heavy in contour, with higher combs, wider butts, and commensurately thicker foreends. What I’d call a mix between “tactical” and sporter. None had adjustable combs, and one of us used a strap-on cheekpiece to raise the comb. Mine, of course, was the
Brittany Boddington took her goat with a .280 Remington with Bansner synthetic stock.
exception: American classic, straight comb, slender pistolgrip and fore-end.
My rifle is exactly the way I asked Kenny Jarrett to build it: His medium-weight “Ridge Walker” configuration, compromising weight and stability, with slim, classic stock…and slim, classic lines. Had I wanted one of his famous “Beanfield Rifles” I would have ordered one! Mark Bansner, also a traditional gunmaker, is making me a rifle right now (can’t wait to see it). He could make it “tactical” if that’s what I wanted, but it will wear one of the sleek, classic hand-laid synthetic stocks Bansner is best-known for.
I suspect this is another generationgap issue! The current style, perhaps preferred by younger sheep hunters, and definitely by longrange enthusiasts, is bigger, thicker, and longer. With carbon-fiber stocks (and barrels), the result isn’t always heavier, but definitely bigger. Which, for long-range shooting, lends greater stability. Many major manufacturers offer rifles in this kind of configuration; my Weatherby AccuMark in 6.5-.300 is definitely right there! Dozens of smaller makers specialize in “today’s sheep rifle.” I don’t pretend experience with all. I’ve spent time on the range with awesomely accurate rifles from Best of the West and Gunwerks, and I’ve hunted with two Allterra rifles, one in 6.5 SST, and Zack Aultman’s .300 PRC. Awesome accuracy, and, with carbon-fiber-reinforced barrels, not as heavy as they look. Allterra has just announced a left-hand receiver, so I’m interested. Maybe I should have one of “Today’s Sheep Rifles.” WS
I have hunted with JEFF PRALLE and HIGH COUNTRY ALASKA in 2017 & 2020. Both hunts well exceeded my expectations of both customer service/amenities and the quality of animals that I was able to harvest. In 2017 I harvested a grizzly, moose and caribou. In 2020 a Dall sheep and a caribou. Thank you High Country Alaska for the adventures and the memories - Mike Evans
PROMISE AND SACRIFICE
BY ASHLEY McENROE PHOTOS BY SERVANDO FRANCO
In 2017, my husband Jim McEnroe, after 40 years of applying, drew a Montana bighorn tag. Together, we hunted his ram and the two of us packed it out in triumph from the Missouri Breaks. It was his fifth wild sheep—he has three Dall’s and a California bighorn taken in North Dakota—and he promised that, while his next exploit would be a Marco Polo in Tajikistan, the ram afterward would be mine—my firstever. Jim announced that promise to the world in his summer 2018 Wild Sheep® magazine story about his Breaks ram. Within two years, he made good on his word: after bringing home an epic Marco Polo ram and ibex from eastern Tajikistan, Jim immediately started talking with our friend José Antonio Vallina of Rancho La Guarida in Chihuahua, Mexico, about booking a desert ram hunt for me.
Of course, Covid got in the way, and then a sudden health problem cancelled our La Guarida hunt scheduled for April 2021. Eventually, everything came together. We set our arrival in Chihuahua for the end of October 2021, as the addendum to attending our daughter’s wedding in Ixtapa, Mexico. (Like our sheep hunt, her wedding had been postponed, thanks to the pandemic.) The wedding was the ideal prelude to our desert hunt, with everyone happily toasting the newlyweds at the outdoor evening reception under the full Hunter’s Moon, as shooting stars from a meteor shower zipped overhead out of the constellation Orion, the Hunter. Both the bride and groom are hunters, so the celestial show seemed a fitting accent for their marriage celebration and an exciting portent of the desert sheep hunt to follow.
José met us at the Chihuahua City airport, and the next day, he and his wife Esperanza (a name which translates to both “Hope” and “Wait Expectantly”) drove us the 130 miles out of the city, past agricultural villages and into the mountainous desert. Not long after entering the ranch gate, we paused to photograph 80 rams, ewes and lambs—our thrilling first desert bighorn sighting. The last stretch of track led us to the charming La Guarida ranch house, perched at 4,500 feet above sea level, with a backdrop of 7,000-foot peaks rising into the cloudless electricblue sky. The hacienda’s exterior, complete with crosses, tiles and a bell, reminded me of an old Spanish mission.
Because our journey to Mexico started with a weeklong wedding stay in a different state, bringing my rifle was impossible, so José let me use his .257 Weatherby. As soon as we had unloaded our luggage and met Servando Franco, José’s guide, we got down to business zeroing in the rifle. Then, we drove on to spot more desert sheep. In addition to bighorns, we also encountered a few of José’s impressive mule deer, one of them with thick antlers measuring about three-feet wide—sufficiently showstopping to divert us from thoughts of desert sheep hunting, at least temporarily.
As we explored the ranch that first evening, José recounted the rich history of this place. The only desert bighorns back when José first came to La Guarida were the ones dancing in his dreams. José had first seen desert sheep as a boy, but by the 1960s they were extinct throughout his home state of Chihuahua. In 1972, José
embarked on his first desert sheep hunt in Baja California, then the only place in Mexico with specimens left to hunt.
“When I got back from Baja, it was almost an obsession. I had to get the sheep back in Chihuahua,” said José.
In 1982, José bought a ranch 80 miles south of the border city of Presidio, Texas. The previous owner had used it to range cattle, domestic sheep and goats, but José knew it was just what he had been searching for. Quiet and remote, with no nearby roads, arid, with only one well and little promise of rainfall: Not good for livestock but ideal for deer and desert sheep. He called it La Guarida, meaning “The Den.” After getting rid of the last livestock on the property, he started restoring the local plant life and laid the foundation for a new ranch house. At the same time, he waged war on Mother Nature, who gave the area only seven to 15 inches of rain yearly, by installing water tanks to collect and hold precipitation and dew. José then built an underground network of plastic pipes hooked to drinking troughs all around La Guarida. Soon, mule deer bucks and quail were visiting the water. José made sure small rocks were set in the bottom of the drinkers so the small birds could escape and not drown. In the desert, he had created oases of life.
Meanwhile, José began applying for permits to import desert bighorns from Sonora, Mexico, which now had some of the same wild sheep subspecies that had formerly roamed Chihuahua. Though he was ready to receive them in 1985, it would be over a decade before he finally obtained the government permit to bring 12 bighorns to his ranch.
It wasn’t until 2000 that José saw his first sheep arrive. After 40 years, the desert bighorn had returned to Chihuahua.
A helicopter crash during the 1998 attempt to capture Sonoran sheep for transfer to Chihuahua ended with three dead men and a complete halt to the project.
It wasn’t until 2000 that José saw his first sheep arrive: three pregnant ewes and a ram. It was a tiny herd with a huge impact: after 40 years, the desert bighorn had returned to Chihuahua.
For the next three years, José purchased 10 sheep annually in lots of eight ewes and two rams. Private ranches and Tiburon Island were his sources for these, then came five rams José bought from CEMEX, Mexico’s conservation-minded building materials company. His 39 imported wild sheep were multiplying behind a protective fence. The lambs were thriving. Breeding and survival were so successful that, in 2006, he entered an agreement with the government of Mexico to provide two private ranches 14 sheep apiece. Today, those two ranches and others who started desert herds in Chihuahua boast 500 sheep. Added to José’s current 500-plus population, the state of Chihuahua is now home to over 1,000 desert bighorns, an historic conservation triumph.
Yet, the La Guarida of today is the product of an even gutsier move. While other ranches maintained desert sheep in enclosures, José decided in 2007 to let his go. He tore down his high fences and watched 54 ewes, rams and lambs scamper off into the wild. As a precaution in case of disaster, he held back the remainder of his herd, only around 20. The worst never happened. The free desert bands flourished.
“Two to three years ago,” José explained as we drove around the ranch, “I saw a ewe still with ear tags. She was one of the original herd I brought here. I estimated her to be 18 years old.”
While they could wander right off of his ranch lands, the hundreds of desert bighorns José has liberated have mostly stuck around, ranging the mountains and quenching their thirst at the guzzlers and drinkers he provides to raise their odds of survival. Those odds are not favorable: This past year, La Guarida
received a mere 7.5 inches of rain.
During our hunt, we would stop to examine some of the water projects José has installed. Some are located in the most improbable hideaways, far into the mountains removed from any access roads. Under one of these metal-roofed water catchment buildings were housed six tanks holding 5,000 liters each. In his soft-spoken, gentlemanly manner, José explained how the system works and noted that 80 sheep require 30,000 liters of water a year. This was just one of four such structures that capture the scant moisture to sustain the area’s wildlife.
“They don’t look pretty, but they work well,” José said as we joined him during his inspection of one catchment’s water tanks and pipes.
Most of the construction and installation was manual, with all the ranch hands pitching in for weeks at a time to transport the infrastructure up roadless, cactusstrewn pitches and get everything operational. Burros pulled each tank up the mountains: a stunning feat. Each water catchment building with tanks took a month to install. A few years ago, WSF funded a catchment project that employed a helicopter to deliver a building and four tanks: transportation took just an hour. With the exception of this WSF-supported project, all the water systems at La Guarida were financed by José. Like most wildlife conservation in Mexico, costs are largely borne by private individuals and enterprises, not the general public.
In all, La Guarida features three catchment buildings holding six tanks each, plus the WSF-supported structure with four tanks, adding up to 22 of those 5,000-liter reservoirs. In addition, over the past six years, José installed 16 wells to pump water around the ranch to various drinking sites. Twenty-some watering spots are available high and low all over La Guarida’s vast landscape.
“We have made it so the sheep don’t have to walk more than a mile to drink,” José said. “One mile to walk means less stress on the animals.”
On the first full hunt day, Jim, José, Servando and I met up with José’s sharp-eyed cowboys Juan and Ricardo, who made sure the horses were ready for the long trek through an arroyo then deeper into the mountains. Juan was a particularly striking figure, slightly built, impossibly lean with thick old-school eyeglasses, yet he proved shockingly strong with superhuman sheep sight. My horse was a laid-back bay named, naturally, Bayo, and Jim rode Escorpion, in English “Scorpion,” so named for his proclivity for biting the other horses.
Their skills as guides were immediately apparent as Juan and Ricardo spotted the distant rams,
hiding from both the heat and from us. It was scorching, as José had warned us it would be during this early part of the season. We soaked up any hint of coolness that arrived on the occasional faint breeze or in the rare moments in shadow. Hours in the saddle offered ample time to sink into the experience, which was a cross between sheep hunting and costarring in a Western movie set in the Sierra Madres. Like a film on the big screen, the romance of La Guarida swept us into a fascinating new world.
Not that mountains and wild sheep were anything new to us: Back home in Montana, Jim and I live on a mountain frequented by bighorns. The desert sheep of La Guarida were their delicate, exotic cousins, and instead of trees we found a variety of desert curiosities: the sotol plant’s starry spray of long, thin, thorn-edged leaves, its fruit a source of tequila; the palm standing tall with a green crown of fronds at the top and its trunk a cascade of dry leaves; prickly pears, aka “nopales,” with quilled edible paddles that turn both green and purple, particularly striking when the plant sprouts its bright yellow flowers; mounds of yucca reaching low out of the rocky earth; and the short scrubby mariola with its small sagey tufts that desert lambs love.
One other peculiar desert gem: the “false peyote” cactus, unfurling its pink blossoms close to the ground, much like Montana’s bitterroots. Wherever we found these flowers, or the vestiges left of them, telltale scratches and excavations surrounded them like shallow craters, betraying the desert sheep’s hankerings— whether the benefits were nutritional, hallucinogenic or medicinal.
Stopping to glass a mountainside herd, we glimpsed a few heavy rams, but the approach was long and under their full observation. Counting them, Jim and I realized that this day we had seen 80 desert bighorns, including 40 rams, and even during this, the final days of the rut, all appeared fat and healthy. Faced with these spectacular specimens, the only logical thing to do was keep calmly admiring then move on to look for more abundance. It was unreal, magical. No need to get excited: it’s only a record-book desert bighorn ram...
Day two brought another ride, this time in even more searing conditions, with few bighorns in sight until the end of the blistering day. It was a blessing. We were hunting, sweating, surrounded by desert marvels—plant life so seemingly parched yet vital to survival, the purity of the sky, where not even the contrail of a passing airplane broke the azure. The stillness where the only song for miles was horseshoes on sand and stones, and the only media was what you saw and heard with your own senses. Everything stretching to the most extreme horizon seemed to reflect José’s reserved dignity and resolute purpose.
Back at the ranch house, we watched a few enticing mule deer bucks from our post on the north patio until Esperanza suggested we scan from the south porch. There, we scrambled for our binoculars and spotting scope as 40-plus sheep grazed slowly across the mountainside. Though they were 700 yards off, our optics hinted that a supply of intriguing rams were demanding closer inspection tomorrow. In all, it was another day counting 80 bighorns.
At the dawn of day three, I changed into fresh hunting clothes and announced that today was going to be “the day” since I was now armed with my lucky shirt. We climbed into the saddle and headed south to explore, but turned back after finding no promising signs. Our pivot brought us right to the group we had examined the evening before. Ewes and rams were gamboling across the rocky slope, with a few of them taking turns to leap aboard a large boulder as if merely to strike a pose. As the rut wound down, the rams and ewes were still mingling before the females would bolt for the sanctuary of higher ground, leaving their suitors to ponder the season’s amorous escapades from below. For now, the ewes remained peacefully feeding with the rams, even cuddling with them as they snoozed together under a blaring sun, while bachelors darted about flehmenfaced—the curled-lip, scent-hoarding inhalations that make impassioned rams look like roguish muttonheads.
Riding closer to the herd, we spied a heavy ram along with 40 other sheep prancing across an adobe
False peyote flower
cliff and nibbling the arid flora. On an uphill perch, he bedded down with a ewe, whose body was now completely covering his vitals. José set up the spotting scope to glean the details from 250 yards away. Broomed a bit more than we wanted, he was still heavy and beautiful. Yet, it was only 9 a.m., and I knew that I would be disappointed if the hunt ended so soon. We decided to leave them alone and continue the hunt.
Not long into the mountainside ride, Juan and José glimpsed another group on a far hillside to the east. Dismounting on a ridge to glass, we looked down to witness in the saddle below a few decent, young rams feeding and meandering through the brush. From these, we gazed up to reacquire the hillside herd. One among them really stood out to José and Juan, who paused for a while to debate his merits. So faint in the spotting scope, this ram begged a much closer inspection. Our horses zigzagged down to close the distance.
Leaving our mounts, I pulled the rifle from the scabbard and we hiked up a short way to a better vantage while 20 ewes and very young rams huddled together to observe our every movement. Juan and José quickly found the large ram, who promptly settled down in the shade of a palm tree, a ewe at his side— nearly the same tableau we had left two hours ago when we passed up a very similar ram. We took cell pictures through the spotting scope eyepiece, as we had done with the earlier ram, and as José compared the images, he announced, “They could be twin brothers.” We glassed, mused, discussed. Yes, the two rams were similar, but to me this ram was simply more beautiful. “This is the one,” I said. It was not all my decision. José was the father of these animals, and when he nodded his assent, I felt as if I had received the necessary and weighty blessing.
Unlike so many hunts where the sliver of opportunity affords no seconds to reflect, these slow minutes under the Chihuahua sun, with José, Servando, Juan and Ricardo conferring in hushed Spanish, drove home the gravity of the choice I was about to make. At age 56, I knew this likely would be my one-and-forever-done ram for a variety of reasons, foremost among them time I have left, the longevity of my damaged joints and money we are able to invest in such lofty pursuits as this. Moreover, I would be taking a life any human should feel unworthy of, this luminous king. A rushed or botched shot or any sort of mistake now was out of the question in the presence of this man: these were José’s children, his legacy. All the chips were down, the intensity roared, the decisive moment had arrived.
I set up my rifle on the foottall remains of a withered desert palm for the 120-yard uphill shot, with Servando’s backpack and my binocular bag as cushions to raise the barrel’s height. Jim stood at my side, maintaining tabs on the ram while I put the Weatherby’s crosshairs on him. Of course, there could be no shot until the ewe was out of danger, but the couple persisted in their listless siesta, with the ram sleepily sweeping his heavy curls slowly from side to side.
Suddenly, the ewe popped to her
feet, and the ram eased up to follow her. She led him down the hill, slightly closer to us, then dipped behind a bush. I watched through the rifle scope as nothing but the topmost hint of one horn lingered above the fronds. The ewe pushed on after a moment, luring him to remain in her orbit. He offered a quick frontal view, then he slipped carelessly behind twigs, where of course he turned to show me his side body. I passed up the temptation, certain that he would eventually give me a perfect, unobstructed shot. At nearly 100 yards away, the pair turned, with the ewe safely in the lead and out of harm’s way and the ram hesitating for just an instant in a clean broadside. I inhaled and held, steadied my gun, body and soul and gently pressed the trigger.
At the bang, the two sheep dashed into a small draw and vanished. A bush trembled, but José and the others standing higher up announced that the ram was still on his feet. I had reloaded as he bolted off and now as two ewes crested the rise above the draw, we could all see the ram, head hung low, stalking after them. I prepared to shoot a second time, but the ram paused unsteadily and José declared, “The shot was well-placed.” As if finally accepting José’s word, the ram stumbled, then tumbled.
Tears pooled like a desert spring. Touching the fallen ram, his powerful dark body, perfect shimmering coat and majestic ribbed crown, I turned to José.
“You are the reason this ram is here,” I said. “You made all of this possible. You created this.”
There was much more to this adventure. After the cowboys carried the ram away for skinning and processing, Esperanza threw me a surprise fiesta, complete with balloons, horns, streamers hanging from the antler chandelier and decorations on the dining room’s shoulder mounts. On the subsequent day, she drove Jim and me around in search of javelinas. As we glassed for wild pigs, three majestic mule deer bucks trotted up a hillside. That alone would have been sufficient satisfaction, but motoring around a bend in the road, Jim and Esperanza simultaneously exclaimed, “Javelina!” and out of the truck we bailed with her rifle. With three rounds, Jim took
three of the animals, and I downed two more with the two remaining cartridges we had on hand. These five javelinas would serve as the highlight of Esperanza’s green chili sauce that the next La Guarida hunters would enjoy.
That chili sauce was just one of the delicious concoctions Esperanza crafted in her spirited style. Always joking, managing 100 things at once, Esperanza made the kitchen a comfortable refuge, where we could always find treats and cocktails, and my bad Spanish was always accepted. Wearing camo pants, her ebony hair pulled back to showcase her lovely face and mischievous smile, she effortlessly cooked up a variety of Mexican delights with the help of her attentive assistant Guero, a nickname translating to “Blondie” because of his blue eyes.
Chicken with chocolatey mole sauce, her multi-layer apple pie with fruit sourced from a local orchard, homemade tortillas, and from them empanadas stuffed with “huitlacoche,” a prized delicacy made from a fungus that grows on corn. Some call it Mexican caviar. When I expressed interest in learning her art, Esperanza coached me in pressing tortillas and frying up the empanadas, which were, like my Spanish, imperfect but patiently welcomed.
On our final morning at the ranch, we stood outside listening to the haunting echo of rams settling a dispute with their battle-scarred helmets. Forty more rams and ewes formed a farewell party witnessing our departure. It was an honor to have ridden with the patriarch, protector and provider of these sheep, the visionary who freed them and watched them walk into their destiny, fulfilling a prophecy that they one day would become a great desert tribe.
My husband had fulfilled his promise, in stunning style. More than this, he gladly sacrificed the desert ram he had wanted so that it could be mine. Since our La Guarida hunt, Jim has bitten the bullet and, with my enthusiastic support and some serious financial gymnastics, booked a Stone’s hunt for this coming August. Had he been the successful hunter at La Guarida, Jim would now stand within reach of his FNAWS. “Some day,” he says of his own desert bighorn. “Maybe when we’re older.” I hate to remind him that, with both of our arthritis woes, failing hearing and fuzzy eyesight, we’re kindof older now.
Promise and sacrifice: it’s what we do for people and things we love. It costs a lot and makes us richer. Billionaire investor Warren Buffett is fond of saying that “Someone’s sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago.” As I watched my ram and his ewe doze in a palm tree’s shadow, I knew that perfect moment had been sown here ages back when there were no wild sheep and almost no water. Back when there was only José’s hope-filled vision and enduring patience—Esperanza: hope and waiting. And a promise made to himself and to the earth. All it would take was sacrifice. WS
José Vallina, Jim McEnroe and the author
