On the Adventure Trail

by Ken Nowicki

GREAT SUCCESS

“He got ram, I must get ram — “Very Nice and Great Success” — wisdom from Borat

This year my old friends Lead-On Highfee and Packtrain MacNamee did not attend the Sheep Show® in Reno.

“We wuz dragging a horse trailer out of the Yukon for an old friend,” said Packtrain. “Started south at New Years and pulled it down to the Cowtown (Calgary). Took a month coming down the Alaska Highway stopping at all our friends.”

“Sure was fun,” allowed Lead-On. “Then we just turned it east and joined a convoy headed for Oddawa. Ended up camped right downtown.”

“Right comfy in a horse trailer, Boy,” said Packtrain. “Swept out the horse apples and a few mice and we bunked like a couple kings. Didn’t cost a thing.”

“Got noisy at times with all the honking,” chuckled Lead-On. “But we was busy making friends with all those gals from Queebec and brushing up on our French. Ate a lot of poutine. Drank a lot of that Labby Blue.”

“Fiddle music and western hoedown. What a blast, Boy. You should have been there.”

“I don’t want to know, guys,” I said. “The G-men could be watching.”

I was serious. The news media said it was a violent insurrection and locals were disturbed. They had a protest themselves when some gawdawful smell started permeating the city streets. Cops had to clean house and tow all the trucks and trailers to the edge of town. Trudeau declared it an emergency. Shortly after that the Old Outfitters came home. The air is just starting to clear.

“There’s a convoy starting down at Bozeman this summer and we sure

intend to join it,” said Packtrain. “If they’ll let us cross the border.”

“I ain’t getting no shots,” grumbled Lead-On. “That’s what we were convoyed about.” “Danged if I will.” Then he started pounding the counter. (So much for non-violent protesting.)

That brought Ruby on the run. “You three settle down and get your masks on or get out. Cover your faces or fill them.” I quickly ordered three more coffees and the daily special.

I needed to get them talking about sheep, and more particularly where I could find a great ram. “Guys, I picked up a bunch of brochures down in Reno and now I’m trying to figure out whether the outfitter has big rams and lots of them.”

“I told you before that a smart outfitter don’t put pictures of big rams on the brochure. That’s what brings the resident hunters in. Probably you too, Boy. You are too cheap to hire an outfitter.” (This from a guy who hasn’t paid for his own coffee and pie in years.)

“There aren’t many brochures now anyway. Most of the outfits are using websites and all they hand out is a business card.”

“That would save a pretty penny,” gurned the old Scotsman MacNamee. “I found a bunch of mine in the tipster one year. Somebody was cleaning them off the tables before the show opened in the morning.”

“You wuz never in the booth by noon so how would you know?” The old coots needle each other.

“On topic, please. How do I guarantee I’ll get a big ram?”

“Gaaranteee? What a laugh, Boy, you can’t gaarantteee a sheep.”

“You think an outfitter can just dial up a book ram for every Tom, Dick, and Harry and Jane that books a sheep hunt?”

“He’s daft,” said Lead-On. “Always figured him for gullible.”

“But I got told by several outfitters that they have great success. Like 90 percent of the hunters take home rams. One booking agent told me his outfitters have 100% opportunities on legal rams.”

Lead-On and Packtrain laughed and laughed. Then they started coughing and wheezing and I thought for sure Ruby would clear us out. Maybe they had pandemic disease. Tears was coming down their cheeks.

All I could do is look bored. Finally, they settled down.

“See Boy, I’ll tell you what, the truth is darn few sheep outfits can produce more than 50 percent kill rates. Most times it’s worse than that.”

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Lead-On added, “When I was in B.C. I had a quota on kills, but I could take any number of hunters I wanted to make that quota. The truth be known, I was more like 30 percent on hunter success.”

“I run Alberta bighorns,” said Packtrain. “I had it tough. My allocation was four licenses a year and it was darn hard getting two kills for four hunters. I didn’t have the luxury of running eight or ten clients for each tag.”

“But he advertised 100 percent,” snarked Lead-On. “It weren’t his fault the horses ran off.”

Mean looks were exchanged, but I knew they were funning. Lead-On did the same when he ran his outfits.

“There’s a simple explanation. It’s the hunters.” They both nodded like a couple of wise old dobbins.

“It don’t happen like a fairy tale. You can’t expect to just climb on the horse and spot a band of rams the first day and then dally up and pussy foot up and snipe at 500 yards and yodel and sing and get home early.”

“Nope, Boy, the hunters ruin the success. Mine would get sored up just hiking out to spike camp,” said LeadOn shaking his head. “They’d be blistered and limping the first night.”

“And my hunters—hardly got one that could set a horse for more than a day.”

“Whine, whine whine,” continued Lead-On. “There was blisters, and swollen ankles and knees, and chaff, that chaff was something else.”

“You mean from carrying packs?” I wondered.

“No, from fat little legs rubbing together, or from fat rumps sliding in the saddle on Packtrain’s nags.”

Packtrain ignored that and continued, “And the heart conditions and the gut aches, and the allergies and the earaches and the tooth aches and the rashes and anything and everything you could think off as an excuse to pull up stakes.”

“You mean you blame the hunters for not getting a sheep?” I was incredulous.

“Of course, it was always their fault. Hunters talk about excuses all the time—they say it’s too hot, and them rams are tucked into the timber. Or too early, they ain’t moved from the summer range. Or too cold, and they’s timbered up. Too late, the rams are gone south. Always those no-italls would tell me why we couldn’t find a ram.”

“Hunters come up with a million reasons for not getting a ram. Too much rain or snow or smoke is a good excuse. And they always know more than the guide.”

“Put a blister on their toe and a cloud in the sky and they are ready to pack up.”

“Somethings always sticking in the craw. A griz can give them a case of palsy.”

“So, they go home early and I never argued,” said Lead-On. “If they leave, I save on groceries. Anyway, I didn’t count anyone who left early as part of the percentages.”

“That’s right,” said Packtrain. “I only counted hunters that stayed the entire hunt.”

“You’d be surprised how many hunters talk themselves into going home,” added Lead-On.

“I started with 21-day hunts,” said Packtrain. “You need time to travel into good sheep country and time to ease into the routine and lots of days spotting and you need to ride out the rain and set out the weather in a snug tent with a wood stove popping and a deck of cards.”

“Over time I got many hunters who wanted less time booked and a faster hunt that I reduced it to 17 days and then 15, and then 14, and then 10, and I swear, some of them outfits now are booking seven-day sheep hunts. I kid you not.”

“Don’t matter how long,” said Lead-On. “I had lots of them quit after three or four days.”

“But when I was asked, I would say my success rates were near 100 percent,” said Packtrain. “And

success is relative anyway. Do you really need to shoot a sheep to say a hunt was a success?”

I was gobsmacked. I never thought there was so many ways to rationalize hunting success or the lack of it. But then I had to concede, it took me 42 days to get my first Stone’s sheep. I had four different trips, and each time the travel to and from the areas was four days with either truck or plane. That’s 16 days wasted. Then I got rained out and snowed out for close to eight or ten and a bunch of days in camp twiddling my thumbs and a couple days with late planes and a broken boat motor and I probably only actually hunted for twelve days out of the 42 and precious little was glassing at prime time and even less on a stalk of some kind. So my success was a bit better than 30 percent. (And, thank you very much, but I did go with outfitters for all of those trips.) I always hope I can get some good intelligence out of LeadOn and Packtrain—like where to go to find the big rams.

“I had no idea success was so low,” I pondered. “I always wanted my face in the Wild Sheep® magazine with a huge ram in my hands. What can I do?”

“Well, you can start with the basics, Boy,” said Packtrain. “Hire an outfitter and don’t pay no nevermind to the statistics he spouts. Understand that success is relative. You are not in a competition with other hunters. You got to make the hunt a success for yourself.”

“Get your body into shape so you don’t have no ailments to bitch about. Try and put some muscle on your calves and do some walking. The best training you can do is clamber up and down an icy stream in wet boots in the spring. It’ll toughen the skin on your toes.”

“Do some push-aways Boy. Don’t keep a plate of grub in your face and fill your mug so much. You is starting to look like a chipmunk in a pile of peanuts. But you could order us a pie and some more coffee. This talking is thirsty work.”

“Whatever,” I shrugged. “We might as well gorf.” I didn’t like the advice and I knew they were just starting to lecture. I signaled Ruby to bring us shoe-fly pie and more mud. I’d start training later.

“Naturally, you want to practice shooting, Lad,” said Lead-On. “I can’t tell you how many stories I have about broken guns and faulty scopes and tangled reticles and stupid turrets and handloads bombing and strafing and a million others. Find a simple gun and simple scope. Something a simpleton could use.” He looked askance at me slyly.

“Get yourself to a Sawbones and a prescription bottle of happy pills for depression. You don’t know how many hunters can spin into a funk when they miss a ram.”

“I haven’t had that problem,” I lied, and Lead-On just kept talking.

“I venture to guess that attitude is as big a problem as physical conditioning and equipment failure,” he said. “Maybe you need to read that Malcolm Gladwell or Norman Peale —you know the positive thinking stuff you see on the racks.”

“You can train all you want in the gymnasium and at the shooting range,” said Packtrain. “But nothing beats actual hunting for training. Hunt deer, hunt elk, hunt mice if you have nothing else. Sheep may be the pinnacle of hunting success, but you should learn the ropes from taking some trips for lesser game. And never go home early from a sheep hunt.”

“And here’s a tip, pick up some of those old magazines from the 60’s and 1970’s. We wuz outfitting then and lots of stories were written by famous hunters about our areas. There might even be some geographical information on where to go and how to do it. You can find them on E-Daze or Amadong.”

“Ok, I might just do that,” I said. (I didn’t need them telling me how to surf the net. I spend a lot of time looking at pictures on-line.)

“Well, I better get on home and start my training.”

“Boy, you know the worst disease that hunters get when they go on a guided sheep hunt, don’t you?”

“Well, no,” I said while paying my tab with Ruby at the till. “What’s that?”

“Homesickness.” WS

Editors Note: Nowicki has been studying statistics that reflect harvest success per license issued that he obtained from Wildlife Agencies and biologists in Canada and the U.S. He has learned that there are no guarantees in hunting wild rams, and that limited entry and draw tags are not always a sure thing. Many limited entry tags are won by people who give up after only a few days. He has been trying to interview some of the unsuccessful hunters to figure out what the reasons are for getting skunked and to see if there is a skew to the data that would factor in the variables he has identified from the apocryphal and anecdotal information he gets from the old time guides and outfitters. He hopes to be able to formulate a theory that he can use to zone-in on high-probability locations for hunting genetically superior strains of mountain sheep. He believes the research will also help him choose the best u’/nits for applications for permits and the highest likelihood of success on obtaining a tag and subsequent harvest of a superior ram. He is planning to give a seminar at the next Wild Sheep Convention, providing he is allowed to enter into the United States under the pandemic restrictions prevailing at the time.