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Ram Awards Rules
For the 2023 Convention, January 12 - 14, in Reno, NV, WSF will be accepting officially scored rams taken August 30, 2020 - August 30, 2022. All entries must be received in the WSF office by the absolute deadline of November 1, 2022. *Rams that have already received a WSF award will not be eligible. Rules & Regulations
1. Only official 60-day dry scores will be considered. Green Scores will not be accepted. 2. Rams taken August 30, 2020 - August 30, 2022 will be eligible for the 2022 -23 Ram Award Program. The absolute deadline for the 2023 Convention will be November 1, 2022. *Rams that have already received a WSF award will not be eligible. 3. An official Boone & Crockett Scorer must score rams taken by a firearm and the entry must be on an official B&C score sheet. 4. An official Pope & Young Scorer must score rams taken by archery and the entry must be on an official P&Y score sheet. 5. A photograph of the sheep (acceptable for public viewing) must accompany an official B&C or P&Y score sheet.
6. All entries must have the name of the outfitters and guides if they were used. Hunters entering MUST be a MEMBER in good standing of WSF PRIOR to the hunt. Gold, Silver, and Bronze awards will be given for the largest sheep entered in both the Rifle and Archery categories. Rams which do not receive one of the top three awards, but which exceed the all- time record book minimum will receive an Honorable Mention Award. California bighorn rams exceeding 165 B&C, which do not receive a top award, will receive an Honorable Mention Award.
California bighorn sheep must have certification from the Fish and Game Department that identifies the ram as a “California Bighorn.”
Youth Awards will be given to any youth not more than 18 years of age who takes a legal ram. A score sheet is required to receive a youth award, however an official B&C or P&Y score sheet is required for a youth to be eligible to receive the Youth Award of Excellence.
A photograph of the sheep (acceptable for public viewing) and names of the outfitters and guides are required for all youth entries.
Please submit all B&C, P&Y, and SCI score sheets and Hunt Report Forms to:
WSF World Headquarters Attn: Kim Nieters 412 Pronghorn Trail Bozeman, MT 59718 knieters@wildsheepfoundation.org www.wildsheepfoundation.org 406.404.8764
Boone & Crockett Minimums
Pope & Young Minimums
Bighorn – 140, Desert – 120 Dall’s – 120, Stone’s – 120 CA Bighorn (though not recognized as separate species by B&C or P&Y) - 140 recognized as separate species by B&C or P&Y)
IMPORTANT DEADLINES TO REMEMBER!!
Entries must be submitted by: NOVEMBER 1st, 2022 Ram/FNAWS/Mountain Monarchs Award Program: Thursday, JANUARY 12th, 2022
THE HOR$E ECONOMY
BY ANDREW MCKEAN
HED: The Horse Economy DEK: Pack strings and trail rides make precious little economic sense for sheep outfitters. So why do they continue to saddle up?
Jarrett Dueling fidgets and glances around before he tells me how much money he spent on hay for his horses a couple years ago.
It’s not that this is privileged information. It’s that Dueling, owner of Dueling Stone Outfitters, a Yukon big-game outfit based out of Whitehorse, is self-conscious talking about the lengths he’s gone to keep his string of saddle horses and pack stock in feed.
“It was a drought year, and there had been a lot of fires in British Columbia, where we buy most of our hay,” says Dueling, who runs a string of several dozen head of big, blocky northern horses on his sheep, moose, and caribou hunts. “I was lucky just to get a line on hay, but then we had to truck it from farther than we were expecting. All in, I spent over $100,000 on hay that year. That was a bill I wasn’t expecting and hadn’t planned for, and it just punches you in the gut.”
Dueling could have done what many of his competitors have done, not only in remote Canada but in many places in the United States. They’ve traded their horses—
and the corresponding bills from veterinarians, farriers, saddle makers, hay growers, and wranglers—for quads, tracked Argos, and side-bysides.
“We have a lot of outfitters up in the Yukon who have gone away from horses and now run their hunts by ATV,” says Dueling. “To each their own, but I find that decision heartbreaking. I also find ATVs to be invasive. They tear the crap out of the ground and you see scars all over the bush. But I don’t blame guys for turning to them because the cost of horses is crazy right now. And so is the cost of hay to feed them, and the cost to transport them when I’m paying $9 a gallon for diesel. And it’s harder every year to find good horsemen. So, I get it. That ATV that sits parked for 10 months out of the year makes a lot of sense.”
But to Dueling, and many other traditional saddlestring sheep outfitters, the decision to stick with horses isn’t entirely about making sense. It’s less a business decision than it is a way of life, and one that has both intrinsic rewards, and if they play it right, an opportunity to upsell their hunts precisely because they’re hard and honest and on horseback.
Still, hunting outfitters don’t stay in business long if they lose money— and cultural preservation, which is how some of them describe their decision to stick with horses—rarely resonates with loan officers and accountants.
Donna McDonald has invented creative ways to turn a few more bucks, figuratively at least, from her horse herd. Along with husband Jake, Donna McDonald runs Upper Canyon Outfitters in southwest
Montana’s Ruby Valley, where they’ve expanded the seasonal use of their hunting string by offering summer trail rides and ranch-based courses in natural horsemanship and “equine facilitated wellness” sessions. The value-added courses give them something that Deuling, up in the Yukon, can’t deliver: a two- or even three-season horse.
To the south of Upper Canyon, on the Wyoming side of the Yellowstone Plateau, Cody-based hunting outfitter Lee Livingston has been horsebacking sheep hunters into the forks of the Shoshone River for almost 30 years. But earlier this year he expanded his operation, buying a backcountry concession in the Wyoming Range south of Jackson mainly in order to offer summer trail rides.
“It’s a way I can get more value out of our horses and keep cash flowing” during a shoulder season for hunting outfitters, he says.
THE CASE FOR OWNING
Just as with other commercial fleet managers, every horseback outfitter has considered the economics of owning versus renting. It’s an easy calculus for those without a land base, the decision to get away from the fixed costs of owning year-round horses and the pasturing they require, by renting stock from the equine equivalent of a wholesaler. It pencils out for outfitters who need horses for just a week or two a year. And it can work for the owners of the horses, too, who might rent their string to several different outfits in the course of a year: horsemanship camps in the springtime, trail riders in the summer, and a number of different hunting outfitters come fall.
Derrick Mohr has a term for these rental steeds: “pasture punks.”
“They’re like foster kids that get treated badly at one home and then another,” says Mohr, the former owner of Driftwood Valley Outfitters in British Columbia, “so they grow up without any consistent rules. Every new dude who rides them tries and fails to enforce another rule, to the degree that they get away with just about everything, because they know they’ll have another rider in a few days. Pasture punks are a pain in the butt at best and dangerous at worst. But they’re an option for an outfitter who can’t have their own stock, for whatever reason.”
For her part, Donna McDonald, who grew up on the ranch that’s still the base of operations for Upper Canyon, would never consider renting stock.
“Personally, I like to own my own stock and get to know their personality prior to having a client ride them,” says McDonald. “Sometimes it can take months for a horse to fit into your program. I have had to borrow a horse or two once in a great while, but I would rather invest time into a horse that will hopefully be with me for 15-plus years. I’d rather spend money on a good horse than a lawyer.”
Up in the Yukon, where his concession sprawls across 10,000 square miles of roadless bush and alpine basins, Deuling says he wouldn’t consider either renting someone else’s stock, or letting his own string be conscripted for another purpose.
“I’m so horse-reliant that I have to make sure my horses are in perfect conditions in July,” when he trails in to establish backcountry camps. Deuling is so protective of his horses that he doesn’t winter them to the south, where the weather is gentler and they might eat less hay. “I’m always worried that if that horse trailer had an accident on the way back north in July, I’d be screwed. If I don’t have those horses, I don’t have a season.”
Neither can Deuling afford for one of his horses to develop an injury in someone else’s string.
“If a horse isn’t saddled properly and gets a wither sore, it’s done for the season,” he says. “I cannot risk that,” he says. “We’re so isolated that I can’t just bring in more horses.”
Hiring competent wranglers who can handle not only the desolation of the wilderness and hardship of hunting camp, but also manage a string of pack and saddle horses is another consideration that weighs on backcountry outfitters.
“Finding a crew that’s good with horses is getting harder and harder,” says Deuling. “My biggest success has been finding wranglers from First Nations villages, and developing them into guides. These kids are true horsemen,” and because Deuling’s hunting area is essentially part of their traditional hunting area, many First Nations wranglers are also familiar with the country.
“But I worry about the decline in people who know how to work with horses,” adds Deuling. “And I worry about finding someone to replace my saddle guy, who is almost 80 years old. Where will I find someone who can repair all our saddles and bridles and headstalls, which take a beating after a season.”
In Montana, Donna McDonald is also having difficulty finding capable
horse handlers.
“There just aren’t as many horse people as there were in the past,” she says. In its search for wranglers, Upper Canyon used to be able to tap local ranch kids who had grown up working and showing horses and who knew their way around saddles, tack, and horses of all temperaments. “A lot of our neighbors are now using ATVs on their land instead of horses, so you can’t assume a local kid knows much about horses.”
UNHAPPY TRAILS
Equal to the decline in horse sense among ranch kids is the ignorance of the hunting public with horses. That’s a problem for outfitters, who have to trust when they let go of the lead rope that these clients can handle their mount.
But how do they know?
“My clients have to be honest with me,” says Deuling. “I can’t take, respectfully, a 350-pound, one-legged guy on a horse. Our country is too hard. We make our guys get off their horses and walk them up and down steep pitches, so it would be a miserable hunt for someone who couldn’t handle that. If I’m booking directly at a show, I can sort of assess a hunter and guess how they might handle themselves and horses, but if I’m booking over the phone I ask them direct questions that is trying to get at the same thing. I just have to be careful. I can’t in good conscience put a 400-pound client on a horse. It’s not fair to the horse, but it’s not fair to the client, either.”
For those hunters who might not be comfortable on horseback, Deuling has boat hunts for moose and even caribou that can accommodate a wide variety of client capabilities.
Sources for this story haven’t had significant horseback wrecks that resulted in injury, but McDonald says one of the fixed costs of stock outfitters is insurance, which she says is “very much more expensive” than for other types of business equipment. In Canada, many outfitters pool their liability and are able to purchase group insurance at a reasonable premium to cover property loss and liability on the trail.
Additional expenses don’t end at insurance. Most public-land concessions in the States require outfitters to pay stock-specific specialuse fees.
“If we used horses in our outfitting business, we have to pay a use fee [on U.S. Forest Service] land,” says McDonald. “Plus, if we overnight our stock we pay for grazing, and more often than not the Forest Service wants you to bring your own weedfree hay to feed your stock.”
Up in Canada, Deuling ticks off all the costs that come with running stock.
“Just like with a boat or an airplane, buying the horse is the cheapest part of it,” says Deuling. “Hay will run from $60-70,000 per year. Farriers are getting more expensive, and sometimes I have to fly them into camp,” he says. “There’s vet bills and dewormers. I probably spend $30,000 on repairs to my trailers and pickups
to pull them. Our country just tears up aluminum horse trailers. Then there’s a single pack rigging—a pack saddle with boxes—that is an easy $3,000. I have four pack horses per string, and four strings, so do that math. Riding saddles cost anywhere from $500 to $3,000. Just the stupid pads and blankets are $60 to $100 apiece. A rifle scabbard is $200. Saddle bags are another $200….”
If all those costs are discouraging many of his competitors, Deuling says sticking with horses can be a smart business decision.
“I’ve found there’s a good market for horse hunts because there are fewer and fewer of them all the time,” he says. “You can go to the Northwest Territories and do a helicopter hunt, or you can come to the Yukon and do an ATV hunt, but the pack train is getting to be sort of quaint. It’s a lot of work, but there’s nothing better than to sit up on top of a horse above the brush. It’s beautiful. It’s peaceful. And it connects you to the tradition of the wilderness outfitter.”
SADDLE STEALTH
There are plenty of reasons horse packing remains a key part of the backcountry hunting landscape. Pack strings effectively deliver hunters and their gear to remote areas. They can tote out meat and horns and entire camps following a successful hunt. In many wilderness areas, they’re the only non-human powered conveyance allowed by land managers.
But Deuling says one of the overlooked assets of horses is that they make his hunters more successful.
“On a cold winter day in the bush, you throw a leg over that saddle and you are above the brush, and you become a part of the landscape,” says Deuling. “It gives you the true wilderness experience with no impact, following trails that were made by moose and caribou, and the only sound is maybe the tinkling of a bell every once in a while. You can ride up on game without spooking it.”
Deuling says he’s killed many moose because of one particular horse, now departed.
“He would spot game for me,” says Deuling. “If he just stopped, I learned that it was for a reason. I killed so many moose and caribou and bears because of old Whiskers. He made me look good a lot of times when I had nothing to do with it.” WS
CHEMO RAM
BY WILL LEE
Alaska 2021
There were a lot of stories that developed in 2020, and this one is not just about sheep hunting. This story is about living life and taking advantage of every wonderful opportunity. Like many of us, Brad is a professional and an active person who hunts ducks, works out and tries to keep up with his two boys’ schedules and his loving wife’s desire to be outdoors. They always have something going on.
It appeared that the changes brought on by Covid-19 in 2020 actually provided more time for hunting. The surprise flexibility of online schooling allowed for a very last minute deer hunt on Kodiak Island. Brad was able to bring his sons, Brody and Gray, to join in on an already planned deer hunt. No one expected that deer hunt to change everything.
The hunt itself was exciting and one for the all-time memory books. Limits of bucks were harvested and the trip turned out to be a shocking success. In the midst of the excitement, Brad identified bleeding that he had not previously seen, and it continued during and after the trip.
With some caution, Brad disclosed the symptoms to a friend, and he made an appointment with a specialist. It took some prodding from both his wife and a family doc to convince him to get a colonoscopy. The diagnosis was colon cancer, which was a shock to this healthy, active hunter in his early 40’s. Surgery went as planned, but the results from pathology indicated that he would still need more treatment.
Brad met with a medical oncologist to formulate a plan for a grueling six months of chemotherapy treatments that would last through the Alaskan summer. For an avid outdoorsman, the prospect of losing most of his summer to chemo is a disaster.
Once the snow melts, life blooms, and everything turns an amazing, lush green. Fishing season starts when the salmon make their instinctive migration upriver. Locals fill the freezer for winter, and everyone tries to enjoy as much sun as possible before it dips away again for winter.
Hunting season comes quickly with sheep season starting August 10th. Chemo interrupted the annual excitement; there were no hunts planned. Unsure how the chemo was going to break down his body, Brad was hoping for a late season push.
August 10th came and went, but work took priority. A meeting wouldn’t allow for an early season caribou hunt. A plan was made to take a test trip to see how Brad’s body would react and feel during some backcountry days in the field. Due to the colon surgery, Brad’s digestive tract was less than
predictable. Foods normally packed for the backcountry like nuts and Mountain House were not tolerated.
There were only a few weeks to figure the food out before the close of the season. Without much thought, we took to the idea of checking out some new country just to see if something could be planned for the 2022 season. The idea was to work back into shape by hiking into sheep country and hopefully see something worth chasing later.
We left on September 15th and headed for the mountains. After a long day of driving and hiking we were finally camped in sheep country. Weather was perfect for late fall in the mountains. A few young rams were located and we ate dinner watching them feed before we headed to bed. Brad could not eat dinner as his stomach was acting up most of the evening. This would be a recurring theme for the trip.
On day 2 we arose to overcast skies and some new rams in the valley. They were on the move but nothing about them called for a closer look. We had a little oatmeal for breakfast with coffee and off we went hiking further into new country. After a brutal climb it was time for a break and some glassing over a new valley. No sheep were found, and it was a punch to the guts. Nonetheless, the upper third of the 10-mile valley was hiding behind a ridge across a bowl, and we had to take a look.
We crawled on hands and knees to crest over the ridge and there on the other side we found 13 rams a mile across the valley. We pulled out the binoculars and set up the spotting scopes. Rams? Is there a legal one? With a little time we determined that two of the sheep needed a closer
look, but they had 26 eyes covering the entire valley, and it was going to be a struggle to get to them.
We worked down the bowl and slowly across the valley. Though progress was slow, our actual closing distance was even worse. We found ourselves going further down the valley instead of across the valley. It was not a very good approach. The day was getting away from us and we decided it was best to pull back and set up camp. Brad was able to finally eat an Rx Bar and a bagel. Dinner was a chicken and rice Mountain House, his only one of this entire trip.
The night was not kind to Brad. His stomach was all flared up, but he handled it like a champ and slept when he could. The daylight came and we arose to nine of the sheep still in sight. We skipped breakfast and made a plan to use the deep drainage to get up valley. We closed to within 700 yards, and it was a quick run to the mountainside and up one of the side drainages.
We climbed and moved behind as much as the terrain would allow. Finally sheep were in view, but the range was 585, we needed to get closer. The rams weren’t making this any easier by feeding away from us up the valley. We formulated a new plan to move up and to the next fold over. On our way up the situation got worse when the wind went from being in our face to swirling. Then a band of ewes and lambs appeared behind us about 600 yards up; sheep sandwich.
After another 450 yards we finally made it to the next fold. It was workable but not great, and the sheep we were after were not the seven in sight. We kept pushing forward, and this move proved to be enough. We were able to get within 380 yards. The two rams were bedded above the other seven and looking right in our direction. Once we figured out the ram was legal, Brad set up as well as he could. On a rounded side slope there wasn’t much to build a good rest. Packs, pads and anything else was used to get a solid rest put together.
The ram had already stood up once but settled back down. Now with the new movement he got back up yet again. He looked eagerly in our direction, but finally spun around and hooved some of the dirt and laid back down yet again. There was no shot.
We waited patiently for what seemed to be hours. Finally, as Brad was getting reset again trying to improve his rest, the ram stood, but this time was different. He was going to move up the mountain and get out of harm’s way. As he turned, he looked up the mountain, took a few steps, turned to his right and BOOM, the first shot rang out. A miss! That’s something of a rare occurrence, and I was stunned. After a few more shots the ram took a tumble down the mountain. Ram down.
We collected our gear and headed over to find the ram. He had fallen into a small steep drainage. Brad did it. Nearly a year from that fateful deer trip, he had just harvested a Dall’s sheep. It was nothing short of spectacular to watch a friend fight through, not just to remain alive, but to keep living. Brad and I took a moment with the sheep on the mountain for everyone who has battled cancer to enjoy life again.
Though Brad was not yet 100% we had to drag this sheep out and back though the long hike that started this trip. We couldn’t make it all happen at once and there was no way it could end easily. As soon as we had the ram staged, we made a beeline back to camp. As we were packing camp up it started to snow. We worked through the whiteout to pack everything out over the frozen wet tundra with snow and ice. Brad was still only eating a bagel and nut butter for dinner, and it took us two days to get back off the mountains. We drove home already talking through plans for our next adventure now that the Chemo Ram is in the books.
I want to thank Brad for letting me join him on this wonderful adventure, his family for putting up with me all these years, and especially my wife for letting me keep the adventurous side alive. This trip will forever be a memory for the rest of our lives. WS
LISTEN WITH YOUR HEART
BY XAVIER CERVANTES
Everyone dreams with the stars… I guess in my case, I reached out and found heaven on earth through hunting. Fair chase hunting will take you places you can’t even dream of and allow you to discover the beauty of our world. And nothing, nothing is more majestic in hunting than the four wild sheep of North America.
In the fall of 2006, in one of my letters to my wife Cecilia, during a hunt in Vancouver Island, I wrote, “I believe, I have learned in the wild to listen with my heart. The mist reminded me that we live in paradise and I thanked our Lord for this wonderful journey.” I realized then that I needed to do the FNAWS. It was a huge endeavor and a great commitment by all means, but also, I thought it was going to be one of the best lessons that I could ever take in my life. I have to address that this was possible with the advice and support of great men and women that I met through the years. I like to start with my key friends that was instrumental to designing and drawubg the path of these hunts. Eric and Lorna Mikkelson. They are a eautiful couple, avid hunters and smart teachers, and simpley the best outfitters who taught me a lot of the art of hunting—and that working ahead—perfecting your ballistics and keen patience will give you the strength and tools to harvest your prey with a perfect and ethical kill. Not only that, but Eric aligned me with his best wing man, Craig Walls, who became a dear friend and a man I will trust forever in any situation. I was extremely particular and detailed on every step of this journey thanks to my prior years of hunting with them. The Collingwood Brothers Ray and Reg, with their adventure spirit and knowledge of the outdoors, took me to the last frontier in the most beautiful way. The Brandow Family, Barry and Bear have a love and passion for conservation, and are amongst some other great hunters.
DALL’S SHEEP: NORTHERN LIGHTS
On my first sheep hunt, I traveled to one of the most remote and beautiful places in the wild. The Mackenzie Mountains in the Northwest Territories, above the 60th parallel is the most rugged mountain range with alpine basins, and home of some of the best Dall’s sheep hunting in North America. I was accompanied by my son Jeronimo. The flights were long to reach Norman Wells, where we got stuck for a couple days due to a storm that kept us in the little village with less than five hundred people, 90 miles south of the Arctic Circle. With not much to do but to visit their little History Museum and sit in a bar to listen to hunter’s tales and local legends, we were finally able to board our float plane to fly out and landed in the Mackenzie Mountains in our camp at June Lake in the fall of 2007.
After the storm, the weather was perfect and our hunt began
FOUR NORTH AMERICAN WILD SHEEP
the next morning. We were able to cover long tracks of terrain as we were hunting on 8X8 ARGO XTVs. There is no better vehicle in the wilderness, unless you are able to do a horseback hunt and take longer time in the wild. We would move camp every couple of days after carefully scouting the area with long hikes and hours and hours of glassing this magnificent place. August 25, 2007. I started our hike with Craig, Clay and Jero with our backpacks loaded for the day with gear and meals. The days were long, but not longer than our hikes.
It was well in the afternoon when we spotted the herd with the ram
we wanted to harvest. The pack was large and moving slowly on rolling hills. This allowed us to have a great view of the herd, but we were not able to get really close. But, as they moved, we got closer and closer until we reach a good position. It was a long wait but we got to a perfect situation to make the shot and get our ram from a fair distance and in a comfortable way. The only real problem was, it was late and we needed to move fast in order to get the job completed. Once all the excitement passed, we packed our ram and were ready to go back to camp. Light was gone and we had a long hike ahead of us. We got lost and it took us longer to get to camp than we predicted. By the time we got there we were exhausted and hungry. We decided to do a little celebration party: light from a nice fire to warm up and cook those delicious sheep tenderloins, and as you can imagine, I always have my celebration kit with tequila, fine wine and cigars. The great reward. I have always told my son that hunting will take you to unbelievable places and that nobody goes there unless they are on this endeavor. Well, as we were enjoying our prey with wine, the northern lights started to glare in the sky to entertain, for hours, one of the most spectacular events that nature gives us in this wonderful world of ours. We could not believe our eyes, and I was most grateful to have had this experience with my son and great friends.
To make it more special in the following days, back at June Lake, my son Jeronimo was able to harvest a dandy mountain caribou. I asked him to pack and carry his trophy back to camp. When we arrived he told me “Dad this is the toughest thing I have ever done.” Nothing better than hard work!
STONE‘S SHEEP: RIDING FREEDOM
“In riding a horse, we borrow freedom,” Helen Thompson wrote. I can’t hardly explain how beautiful British Columbia is, and in particular, the Spatzisi in the Stikine Region. I was enchanted by this place and I can’t remember how many times I have been at Highland Post, an encampment with so much history run by the Collingwood Brothers, but I just kept going back. One key element was their incredible pack of horses that made the journey amazing and complete, allowing us to reach extreme and remote places in the most elegant, efficient and quiet way. I’m a horse lover and the world would not have been conquered without horses. I landed on a lake in one of the Collingwood Brothers camps where we had a fun night remembering adventures and preparing our provision for the journey ahead.
The next morning after some good laughs about packing a heavy load
of wine with cooks, wranglers and guides, we saddled up and started our journey. The long riding hours on a horse felt short, a fresh breeze fed our spirits. The closeness to nature on a horse allows you to see more game, and for some reason, appreciate better the magic of wilderness. Setting up camps and procrastinating in the wild is a meditation, it makes you humble and sets you in the right place to realize that all things are connected. We moved on every two or three days. It was amazing to see the amount of wild life we encountered, the diversity of landscape and the richness and beauty of it. One realizes then the importance and great effort in the conservation of the habitats. The Stikine River and Spatzisi Plateau known as the “Land of the Red Goat,” gets its name from the beautiful red color of the majestic coats of the Rocky Mountain goats that roam the hill sides between the river and the lava plateau high above the mountain ranges. The Provincial Parks established in the 1960’s protects over 1.7 million acres of key habitat for the Stone’s sheep, woodland caribou, Rocky Mountain goat, moose, wolf, grizzlies and black bear, among other important wildlife species. We reached the Spatzisi Plateau where we located a herd of sheep at Marion Creek. We found a big herd with lots of ewes, lambs and rams to choose, but very little cover. We left the horses and wranglers behind to follow the herd for a few hours and get closer without being seen. It was such an exciting stalk and sport to look for the pick of the pack. One clean shot and the beast was harvested. How can we give thanks for it but to assure its conservation? Like Chief Seattle said “What is man without beasts?”
The next day we proudly arrived to Highland Post to spend few rewarding rest days. The are few places left in the world like the British Columbia wilderness, and to be able to ride around on a horse gives you that real sense of freedom and to really be a part of this wonderful wild world.
BIGHORN: CONSERVATION LESSON
I was introduced to Barry Brandow and his beautiful conservation program by Eric Mikkelson. It was a humble experience meeting Barry and his family. Meeting a gentleman that truly loves nature and dedicates his life to its conservation is a unique opportunity. They hosted me at their home and I really felt special because they opened up their heart and home to me and I was part of their wonderful world. I have always loved British Columbia, but this little corner in the Southwest, past the Okanagan known for their fine wines, is a beautiful and remote area close to the US border where Barry based his conservation program. A rare
valley that runs east to west and was a perfect habitat for bighorn. They picked me up at the small airport and took me to their home. The little charming cabin next to their house was warm and cozy and they really made you feel at home right from the start. I didn’t know anything about them or their work and it was such an interesting experience that I started to write about it and learned so much during our time at the table together. The next morning we started our hunt with his son Bear as my guide— the only one guide in their area. He was not only cool, but caring, and extremely knowledgeable of the valley. We glassed for hours and hours until we found our ram. I’m fond of naming my trophies, and this one I called “Marco Polo” because he traveled all the time. We followed him for days, but he never let us get close. The day we harvested him, he was fighting with other rams—it was the window of opportunity he gave us—and still is was one of the longest shots I have ever taken in my life. He really gave us a lot of time as they were in this fighting ceremony and gave me time to set myself in a perfect position for a clear and clean shot from afar. I remember holding my breath and even the shot was quiet… The ram fell and I remember it took us a long time going down and then up the ridge to get to him. We took great photos of the ram and before we started to skin the trophy, I took out my celebration kit with a fine cigar and told Bear to enjoy the moment. He immediately said to me, Xavier, you are really different… What are thinking of when you hunt? I told him that it is not about the kill, but more about the experience, the lesson, and being able to live and be part of the wilderness. Most times, I wonder and I think like Chief Seattle, Teddy Rosevelt or Barry Brandow on how beautiful our world is and how important it is to take care of our wildlife.
DESERT SHEEP: MEXICO MAGICO
I took me more years than expected to complete my FNAWS. A ski accident put me off for few years. Although the surgery was a success, one has to know that hunting for sheep is hard and the wait list is long. But, it was worth the wait! I was lucky to finalize my task in my country at Isla del Carmen in the Sea of Cortez. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth. Jacques Cousteau named it “The Aquarium of the World”. It is also home of one of the most successful sheep conservation programs lead by The Sada Family and Sergio Jimenez in Mexico. The island is a short boat ride from the town of Loreto. Carmen Island was basically a salt mine back in the 19th century and shut down in 1984. It wasn’t until 1994 when the Sada Family rescued the place from the government to become a Wild Sheep Conservation area for desert bighorn sheep. The ideal habitat for desert wild sheep is magical, the visits to the abandoned salt lagoon and the historic and humble town is unbelievable. The island is magnificent, but the ocean surrounding the land is mind blowing! The richness of the sea is indescribable, the fishing trips with rod and spear were so much fun, not to mention the fresh and delicious food that the ocean provided every day. I also had the privilege to be with my son Jeronimo and my long time friend Craig Walls, who made my hunt not only easier, but extremely fun and fancy free. With the support of our friend and guide Gaspar Bautista on the island, the experience was perfect but the hunt was tough. The hikes, the heat and the steepness of the mountain made it challenging. Every day we would return to camp exhausted, but an incredible ocean feast awaited for us every night and made the workout worthwhile.
On November 11, 2016 in a beautiful and rugged corner of the island called “Punta Tintorera”, I
harvested our “Cimarron”. Such an amazing beast that has come back thanks to the conservation efforts and support of many hunters—man and woman committed to this important resource—our wildlife and its habitat. I am Mexican and proud to be one. I love my country, its nature and its people. One who has been there falls in love easily with its coast, mountains, jungles and deserts, traditions, art crafts and food. With a fantastic history and cultures, it is truly a magical place. I pray for the conservation of our country as a whole…Viva Mexico, Mexico Magico!
THE LESSONS TAKEN
For me it is always about people and sharing. The experiences lived, every individual and place always teaches us something. In hunting, to love people and nature, to respect, to work, to be humble, to commit. It’s in the lines above the words from my friends, guides and mentors... not to mention Chief Seattle or Teddy Roosevelt. A lot of lessons by horses and beasts, that if we really pay attention, are key in this wonderful world of ours… Care, support and enjoy! Safe journeys! WS
he one thing that is certain (outside of death and taxes) is that nothing in life is static. It is ever changing. The Wild Sheep Foundation witnessed the winds of change along with the rest of the world this spring. We have done our fair share of bemoaning while remaining cautiously optimistic. While we know that things will eventually normalize, we have always been aware that the change 2020 brought us has no foreseeable end. Thanks to sound leadership and our staff’s willingness to pivot quickly, we have been able to adjust our sails.
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SHEEP CAMP
Stuff memories are made of!
BY CRAIG BODDINGTON
My first sheep camp was on the shores of Lake Denotiah, heart of the Cassiars. Back then, the lake was full of rainbows, the nearby mountains teemed with rams. Unimaginable today, in those days northern B.C.’s dark Stone’s sheep were the most available, accessible, and least costly to hunt of North America’s wild sheep. Camp was a cluster of white wall tents just back from the shore, roomy tents with stoves, possible in those dwindling days of big pack strings. Trout sizzled in a skillet while a rack of sheep ribs browned near the coals.
That first sheep camp, fifty years ago in balmy August weather, set a high mark to follow. Some sheep camps would be “better,” meaning only more comfortable. Most would be more Spartan and less permanent, often mobile by backpack or just one packhorse. Doesn’t matter… so long as you know what you’re getting yourself into and prepare accordingly. Whatever form it takes, the sheep camp is critical to the experience and the memories.
Set in a sheltered spot, magnificent country rising all around, every morning in sheep camp brings fresh promise. In the Brooks Range, possibly my last North American sheep camp (although I hope not!), we set our cluster of backpack tents in the last grassy saddle, broken ground behind us, big mountains rising to our front.
We saw rams right away, couldn’t close for a shot, couldn’t relocate them, spent a couple of days watching rain drops bead up, join, and chase each other down the slick nylon. The seventh morning dawned cloudy but dry, with three rams on the big ridge above camp. I’ve read too many stories about hunters who rolled out of their sleeping bags to shoot their rams. Never happened to me, but we started with a good ram in sight. Slipped out of camp the back way, climbed all the way to the top, circled around, and started back down. We got the shot in the early afternoon, up on the skyline, our bright orange tents visible far below.
Every morning in sheep camp brings fresh hope, but also new You come away with the satisfaction of having given it your best. Some of your fondest memories will be sleeping peacefully in crisp mountain air, and stepping out of your tent for that first look in the morning, confident once again that this first new day will be the day.
I haven’t seen many “cushy” sheep camps. Southeast of Spatsizi Plateau, Ron Fleming and Brenda use cabins alongside lakes, warm and comfortable, as good as it gets. In the ‘teens I did several hunts out of their Duti Lake camp, snug cabins along the south shore, looking north onto a massive ridge. We’d have Brenda’s pancakes with fresh blueberries, fill up cups with fresh coffee, and step outside to glass across the lake from a row of lawn chairs.
We’d sometimes glass sheep from the front lawn, but always goats, frequently grizzlies, and occasional caribou or moose. I always had a tag or two, but I never fired a shot from that camp. Either I was looking for the one species we couldn’t find, or it wasn’t my hunt. Didn’t matter.
challenges. From there, we sally forth, steadfast in our belief that this is the day we will find the ram we seek. That promise isn’t always fulfilled. Mountain weather is fickle, just part of the deal. There will be wet days, cold and snowy days, and days when fog and clouds blanket country you must see into. Twenty years ago in southern Yukon, it was a bad fire season, weather mild and favorable, but smoke drifted in so thick glassing was impossible the first half of the hunt.
Bottom line with mountain game: If you can’t see, you have little chance. Even if the weather cooperates, the ram you seek may not be on your mountain. Maybe he was, but maybe he and his buddies moved. Wife Donna just returned from her first attempt for Stone’s sheep, good country, well-scouted…rams hiding out down in the timber. Twelve hard days, no legal rams seen. These are bitter pills, but the risk must be accepted, also part of the deal. There are no guarantees. Despite best preparation and extreme effort, sometimes the mountain beats you.
Glassing from the lawn at Love Bros. & Lee’s Duti Lake camp in northern B.C. Don’t know what we might see, but for sure we’ll see something. Wayne Henderson on the right, next to Ron Fleming.
Freeze-dried Mountain House meals are pretty good, but in a lot of outfits pre-cooked, frozen home-cooked meals add some variety… at least for a couple of days.
It always went down much the same. In the early morning we’d glass goats from our lawn chairs, either on the big ridge across the lake or on tops to the east, beyond the head of the lake. Nannies and kids in clusters, with a lone billy or two off by themselves. Sometimes they looked approachable. Often not, because much of the stuff near the skyline was steep and treacherous. So, we’d wait them out, and if a billy offered a possible stalk we’d launch. First, across the lake by boat. From there, straight up, or up deep cuts on one end of the big ridge.
There would be days when the tops were cloaked with clouds, and even when things looked good it didn’t always work. Took five or six tough hours to get up there; sometimes the goats wandered off and disappeared, other times there was no safe approach. Mind you, if I’d needed another goat we could have made it happen. I didn’t, so I saw it work often enough. Both Brittany and Donna took their Rocky Mountain goats from that camp.
Seems odd, but my “fanciest” North American sheep camps were for desert bighorns. My Arizona tag was in the Virgin River Canyon, so we “camped” in a motel in St. George, on the Utah side, and did some of our glassing from Interstate 15. Almost seemed like cheating, but the hunt unit is what it is, and the
Sure doesn’t look like a sheep camp! Camp on Carmen Island once served as headquarters for a salt mine.
Not a camp, but a herdsman’s summer home in Mongolia’s Altai. More than 50 percent of Mongolians still spend at least part of the year out on the land, tending their flocks and living in the traditional round felt tent, locally called “gir.”
sheep are where they choose to be.
Mexico offered a different and completely wonderful experience. In Sonora, camp was a small hacienda on a remote ranch, looking up into rocky canyons. We never glassed any sheep from the yard, but we needed to clear everything we could see before we proceeded. The weemsi hunt on Carmen Island was different yet. Again, not my hunt, Donna’s and son-in-law Brad Jannenga’s, but probably the most enjoyable of all my sheep hunting experiences. Camp was at the head of a half-moon bay, once the headquarters of a salt mining operation. Behind camp, a vast salt flat bisected the island, white and shimmering, like fresh snow. Above the flats, both east and west, the island’s rocky ridges rose steeply. From the porch, we could glass rams up one canyon or another, perhaps plan a stalk. Field lunch was burritos in fresh-made tortillas. Dinner was most likely fresh fish from the bay… or the tasty little langostino lobster Baja is famous for. The island’s ridges are rocky and crumbly, treacherous footing with sharp cacti everywhere, but one of few sheep hunts I’ve done where I felt the issue was not in doubt, never a matter of “if,” simply a matter of when.
Elsewhere in the world, sheep camps vary but are always memorable…usually in a good way. In Mongolia, round felt tents are universal. We call them yurt, but that’s a Russian word, from the long Soviet occupation. Much preferred locally is gir. To this day, more than half the Mongolian people spend at least part of the year living in girs, tending their flocks and herds as they have for a thousand years. Sheep camp will be a neat cluster of girs, reminiscent of a Rocky Mountain
In Nepal, our Sherpas struggle through a tough spot. Using huge pack baskets, the loads these guys carried were amazing, always smiling.
tent camp…until you notice the round tents.
Although serious transport (camels or vehicles) is required, the gir is surprisingly mobile, quickly erected around a wooden frame, brightly painted to match the door. Inside, amenities usually include real beds and a wash basin, with generator power common today. The gir is snug and well-insulated, a good thing because in both Altai and Gobi, weather switches fast. In 2018, it had been a decade since I hunted Mongolia, and things had changed. The girs had not, but in the several camps we hunted from, camp food was consistently excellent and, different from a decade earlier, much English was spoken, with language barriers broken. Consistently open to hunting since the 1970s, with some of Asia’s most experienced mountain guides, Mongolia remains a prime destination for hunters wishing to expand horizons. Ibex hunting is inexpensive, her sheep not. Her mountains are not especially high nor steep, the short season summer into early fall, so generally pleasant, likewise are her camps and the Mongolian people.
Off to the west, in the rugged Caucasus, light backpack tents are most common, both in Azerbaijan and on the Russian side. Azerbaijan is like Mongolia: Continuously open for decades, with wonderfully experienced guides, many now multi-generational. Horses are commonly used (at least to get into tur country). Camps, though simple, are well-supplied, the people are great, and the country is magnificent. Azerbaijan would be another prime choice for a first Asian hunt, inexpensive and productive, but with one caveat: The Caucasus is one of the steepest, most abrupt ranges I have seen so it’s a tough hunt.
Outside of North America, the best of the best was Nepal. Purely a foot hunt in the tall Himalayas, but I didn’t have to carry much. We had fully two dozen Sherpas carrying the camp in huge baskets, including live chickens…decreasing in number as days passed. I went in spring, mild weather, with tropical flowers blooming along the trails. We started just below timberline, about 12,000 feet, tahr first. With that accomplished, we moved on
Blue sheep camp in Nepal was set in the last valley that offered firewood. After a long day up to 16,000 feet, the cluster of tents was a most welcome sight.
Glassing in southern Yukon. Looks like haze, but is smoke from a distant forest fire…so thick that the hunt was half over before we could see to glass properly.
up to hunt blue sheep, setting the camp in the last cut that offered a bit of firewood. It was a tough hunt and very high, but there was nothing better than topping the last ridge and seeing that welcoming cluster of tents down below.
Conditions in Central Asia vary so much camps are hard to characterize. In Turkey, with good road networks, a country hotel often serves as camp. In Kyrgyzstan, Pakistan, and Tajikistan, a remote farmhouse or village may serve as a base. Some of this hunting is best late, when the rut is on but it’s really winter; a small tent on the mountain may not be practical. I did two hunts from the famous Hot Springs Camp in the Pamirs of eastern Tajikistan, built around thermal springs piped through the rooms. Not fancy, but the high, open wind-swept Pamirs are brutally cold in November and December, when big numbers of sheep are in from China. Hot Springs is high on my list of most memorable sheep camps.
This past February I did an ibex hunt in central Tajikistan. Not being much for extreme cold (if I can avoid it), I was terrified of the weather. You don’t know what you don’t know; far west of Pamir, it was already spring, with cherry trees blooming in the valleys, temps rarely below freezing. Camp was the upper story of a tall, rambling farmhouse, upstairs fireplace and, rarely seen in Central Asia, running water. I had been advised the coldest weather should have broken, and the house (camp) was exactly as described. I was reluctant to believe it, so I had cold-weather gear that I
never used. Not the worst thing in the world on any sheep hunt to hope for the best, prepare for the worst… and expect to roll with the punches.
I have never been illprepared on a mountain hunt, but the weather will be what it is, likewise the camp, best be flexible. On a backpack hunt, camp is where darkness catches you, and there’s no room for extras. The most miserable I’ve been on a sheep hunt was another backpack hunt in the Brooks. Late August, how bad can it get? Well, that far north, anything goes. Glassed a band of rams from the bottom, marched up the hill to find them. The farther up we got, the lower the ceiling dropped, then came rain, sleet, hail, and snow. Lasted for days, never saw the tops… or the rams lost somewhere up in the clouds. Cold, wet, and hopeless. It happens.
You do the best research you can, hoping you know what to expect and pack accordingly. Horseback hunts offer more flexibility, but sooner or later you must leave the horses… and come back to them. And, by whatever means, you will go where the sheep are (or are supposed to be).
Read your O’Connor; his northern sheep hunting seems just a matter of riding up through gentle country, dismounting and tying up, then strolling over the top to shoot your ram. My first ram went pretty much like that…almost none since! We spiked out from the lake with horses; camp was a tarp secured to a downed tree. We woke up to a few inches of snow one morning, but the late August weather was mild. In a few days we rode back to Denotiah with a nice ram and a mountain caribou on a pack horse.
Since then, most of my northern sheep hunting has been by backpack in Alaska, plus a tough—and excellent—14-day backpack hunt in the MacKenzies with Arctic Red River, when Kelly Hougen had it. Note, please, that much of our lore of sheep hunting still comes from Jack O’Connor…especially regarding Yukon. Jack did all of his Dall’s sheep hunting there, never in Alaska or NWT, and always with horse outfits.
I did my first Yukon hunt in the Bonnet Plume range in ’99, with the late Richard Rodgers. Base camp was an awesome old cabin in a sheltered valley, a memorable camp, with the history of Yukon hunting written on the walls. I expected to ride horses from there up into sheep country.
Uh, not so fast. The sheep portion was backpack from the cabin and, unlike some of Yukon’s ranges, the Bonnet Plumes are steep and rough. Although not exactly prepared, partner Mike Satran and I were in shape for it. We both took good rams, mine my best Dall’s sheep. Later, we used horses for antlered game. I took a good caribou; Satran, looking for moose, shot a nice grizzly that charged the horses. When I was young, before B.C. put quotas on nonresidents for Stone’s sheep, the outfitters in southern Yukon could barely give away their so-called Fannin sheep. That’s changed, hasn’t it? In the early 2000s, Dwight Van Brunt and I did a hunt with Randy Babala in the Pelly Mountains, between Watson Lake and Whitehorse. This was a classic horseback northern sheep hunt. We flew into a strip to rendezvous with horses, rode half a day to base camp, complete with cabins, hunted on horseback from there.
Those sheep were a grab-bag; we saw bands of rams that had everything from very dark to almost white. By then, B.C.’s quota was tight. Every sheep with a dark hair was now a “Stone” and going up in value. Both of us took nice rams, Dwight’s dark salt-and-pepper; mine a near-classic “Fannin,” which is what I really wanted. I loved the country, much of it negotiable for horses, and the tidy, comfortable base camp in the middle of nowhere was a piece of heaven. No matter what we called the sheep, I’d have been back, but the area sold. The new owner doubled the prices, probably again since then. Too bad; it was a sheep camp I’d like to see again…but that applies to almost all my sheep camps. WS
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BEST OF THE DALL'S
A GALLERY OF SOME OF B&C’S TOP RAMS
BY SCOTT BESTFUL
There may be a more iconic North American big game species than the Dall’s sheep, it’s just hard to bring it to mind. As a budding young big game hunter, they lurked only slightly beneath the whitetail deer—which of course were most available to me—on my menu of bucket list species. Combine their incredible white pelage with those amazing horns and the most spectacular mountain habitat on the planet, and Dall’s sheep were truly the stuff of dreams.
Not surprisingly, Dall’s remain among the toughest rams to place high in the Boone and Crockett (B&C) record book. Only a handful of recent kills have cracked the top twenty rams, and taking a world-class animal may be among big game hunting’s top challenges. Here’s a look at some of the storied rams in the B&C archives.
Chugach Mountains, Alaska, 1956 185-6/8”
Cook was convinced the rugged Chugach Mountains were the place to kill a giant Dall’s and his hunt with friends Wally Wellenstein and Frenchy Lamoreaux proved him triply correct. All three men killed B&C rams in a handful of days on a hunt that forced them to navigate treacherous terrain and terrible weather (no surprise for sheep hunters of course). Wellenstein was the first to score, taking 1636/8” ram on the first day. Cook and Wellenstein packed the ram out to their pickup spot, where they met up with Lamoreaux, a guide who was scouting the area.
Lamoreaux and Cook agreed to
#1 Harry Swank Jr.
Wrangell Mountains, Alaska 1961 189-6/8”
Swank had been making scouting flights with his hunting partner, Perley Jones, and guide Jack Wilson when they found a chunk of the Wrangell’s that Swank described as “so shockingly rough and remote it is seldom, if ever, visited by hunters… The country was as hostile as any a man is likely to meet; forbidding glaciers bounded by treacherous crevasses; cliffs whose sheer faces seemed insurmountable; and miserable weather.”
Of course, Swank and Jones remained unabashed and managed to access this sheep haven and Swank caught up to a pair of rams late in the afternoon. Despite being caught out in the open, Swank worked his way to within range of his .264 on a ram he described as “bigger than any sheep I’d ever seen.” He made good on the shot, the ram collapsed, and the next morning Swank was putting a tape to a new World’s Record Dall’s.
Swank received B&C’s coveted Sagamore Hill award for his trophy that year. Sadly, he would perish only two years later, dying in a plane crash in his final solo flight as he studied for his twin-engine license.
hunt together and, leaving from base camp early in the morning they managed an ascent through rugged country past a band of ewes, lambs, and two lesser rams to finally come upon five mature rams Cook had spotted previously. Cook had the first shot and managed to anchor the biggest ram in the group. As the other sheep scattered, Lamoreaux dropped another big ram, an animal that netted 164-4/8”.
But Cook’s ram was something special, ousting the existing World’s Record—a ram killed in the Yukon Territory in 1948 that scored 1822/8—and bringing the B&C top Dall’s title back to the United States. According to Cook, the horns of his World’s Record sheep weighed 27 pounds and the right horn measured 49-12”. The ram would hold the B&C top spot for five years.
#3 Jack Lentfer
#4 Sherwin Scott
Jacksina Creek, Alaska, 1984 184-5/8”
Sherwin Scott had all the tools necessary to be a great sheep hunter; not only was he a gifted athlete (he attended the U. of Arizona on a baseball scholarship and had an offer from the Boston Red Sox before a knee injury ended his career), and he had a passion for the outdoors. In addition to tagging the incredible, Top-Five B&C ram, Scott hunted big game across the globe and was wildly successful as a dog trainer; one of his dogs won two national titles in a single year, and another won 12 national championships in a row, both feats were unprecedented. Scott passed away in February, 2013, at age 70.
#5 B.L. Burkholder
Wrangell Mountains, Alaska, 1958 184-4/8”
For three years, the only Dall’s bigger than Burkholder’s ram was the Cook sheep, and no doubt this incredible ram drew attention to the Wrangell’s as a possible destination for a world-class rams. Only a 1-6/8” side-to-side difference on the third circumference kept this ram from settling in as the number two Dall’s in the B&C book.
#6 Louis Breland
Chugach Mountains, Alaska, 2020 184-1/8”
While four of the Top Ten Dall’s rams in B&C have come from the Chugach Range, that fabled country had trouble producing a recent ram that could crack the top 50 mark in the B&C books; in fact, between 2005 and 2019, only two Dall’s made it into that elite company. All that changed in 2020, when Breland navigated the rugged Chugach and killed the largest Dall’s of the 21st century. Breland used a .300 Win. Mag and a 180-grain Barnes bullet to kill the top-scoring ram of B&C’s most recent scoring period. (no picture available) Chugach Mountains, Alaska, 1962 181”
#8 Tony Oney
Oney moved to Alaska in 1958 and set up shop as a dentist, but also worked as a guide and outfitter for hunters and fishermen. Of course, his avocation as an accomplished pilot was a huge help in his side job as well as his passion for hunting. Oney was hunting the fabled Wrangell Mountains in 1963, which had produced several record book Dall’s rams, when he tagged a gorgeous ram that not only cracked the B&C’s Top Ten, but sported only 1/8” of deductions.
#9 Jonathan Summar Jr.
Alaska Range, Alaska, 1965 183-6/8”
Yet another Top Ten Dall’s taken in the 1960’s—long recognized as the golden age of Dall’s hunting— Summar’s ram sported only 5/8” of side-to-side circumference differences.
#10 W. Newhall
#11 Gene Effler
Effler took his beautiful ram only a year before the 1960’s would rewrite the B&C record book for Dall’s sheep and sat at #4 for a few precious months. The symmetrical ram sported only 2/8” of deductions.
#33 Cody Miller
Why is the ram that sits 33rd in the B&C books listed in this gallery? Because only the Louis Breland Dall’s (which sits at 6th place) tops it for the largest ram entered in the 21st century. Miller was a state of Washington native and a decorated Vietnam vet who also happened to be a passionate big game hunter. He was in his late 50’s when he killed this fantastic ram, and sadly passed away just 13 years later.
*P&Y World Record Dan Reynolds
(Photo below) Ogilvie Mountains, Yukon Territory, 2012 174”
If there’s anyone more suited to claiming the largest bow-killed Dall’s ram than Dan Reynolds, finding him would be a tall order. Reynolds has been living, and hunting in, the Yukon Territory all his life. He learned to fly at age 17 and took over his father’s outfitting concession— which has been in the family since 1967—in the 1990’s. Reynolds has mastered the art of flying (and landing and taking off) small planes in the wilderness of the YT, and has an incredible track record of putting his clients on trophy-class game. Reynolds was hunting his home stomping grounds in the Ogilvie Mountains when he arrowed one of the finest rams taken in the 21st century. WS
FOR WANT OF A NAIL...
EVERYONE PLANS TO AVOID BIG MISTAKES. IT’S THE LITTLE ONES THAT TRIP YOU UP.
BY WAYNE VAN ZWOLL
“For the want of a nail …. The kingdom was lost.” Small things on a sheep hunt can also turn fortunes!
It lit like a butterfly on the burr of a ridge clearly not designed as a landing strip. The two hunters “had to leap from the plane and hold it from slipping back down over the rocky precipice.” After they had tossed out their Spartan kit, the aircraft spun about and dived off the spine, gaining air speed to lift in the distance over the Alaska Range.
“Our first impression,” wrote Bert Klineburger, “was of the difference between the temperature here and [that in] Anchorage, about 45 miles away. It was a lesson we would not soon forget.” Neither he nor his partner had a heavy jacket. Their pilot had tossed Klineburger a set of long woolen underwear – though the thermometer at take-off had read 80 F. “Two miles and two million panting breaths” after the hunters had set out from the ridge, conditions had become wintry. At 6,000 feet, closing in on a group of nine truly big Dall’s rams, they were both drenched in sweat from the hike and a steady snowfall. “Since we could not get any wetter, we lay flat in the freshly-fallen snow” to ready for a shot.
“My hunting companion took off his glasses to wipe them dry, [and cleaned] the snow from his scope.”
Just then, the rams saw something they didn’t like “and took off in a rush….” Klineburger killed the one he’d chosen; but “by the time Peter had his glasses and scope cleared for action...he had missed his chance.”
Benjamin Franklin is credited with this observation: “For the want of a nail the shoe was lost. For the want of a shoe the horse was lost. For the want of a horse the rider was lost. For the want of a rider the battle was lost. For the want of a battle the kingdom was lost….”
As much as hunters fuss about gear, hardware failures that once turned the fortunes of armies and expeditions are now rare. Rifles, optics and ammunition have become so reliable as to shed all blame for hunts gone awry. What we do afield matters more than what we carry. Wiping water, snow and fog from glasses and scope is as basic a routine as buttoning your shirt. If you can’t see to aim, you might as well be holding an empty rifle.
I was reminded of that not long ago, bellying toward a whitetail buck on a bright, crisp morning. Thoughts of fogged lenses were far from mind as I snugged the sling at 150 yards. But the sight picture resembled the inside of a cotton ball. Close against the rifle on my crawl, I’d breathed on the lens. A fog-proof scope clear inside can still fog outside! I dug awkwardly for a rag as the deer moved steadily away.
Peter might have salvaged a shot had he swabbed lenses before easing to where those rams could see him. After all, this was no surprise encounter but, like mine, a planned sneak. Still-hunting or moving between points to glass, periodic swipes of wet glass with a soft cloth from a handy pocket makes sense.
Later that day, Peter would bag a fine ram with a long shot. The two men packed heavy loads in ankledeep snow down to their small tent, gulped a can of cold peas and chunks of meat warmed over a weak Swiss burner, then climbed, wet, into thin sleeping bags. Neither was prepared for the cold. “There wasn’t a lot of sleep,” wrote Klineburger. Their great good fortune to kill two 40inch rams right away absolved these hunters from a hike next day in soggy clothes up the snowy steeps, and blessed them with an early pick-up. Had they needed more time, they’d have been hindered by their lack of warm clothing. If you can’t hunt in comfort, you can’t hunt well. An opportunity missed may be the only one you get.
In sheep country, small tasks, from lacing icy boots to boiling water, take more time and attention than at home—if indeed you even tackle them at home! They can steal your focus and dull your predatory edge. So can days without sighting game. Darrel Moberly couldn’t recall worse weather. His September bighorn hunt had started well, mustard aspens fluttering below as his party trailed on horseback to a spike camp high in the Sangre De Cristo range. Next
Practice from hunting positions, in hunting terrain! Toughen those elbows! Refine sling adjustment! morning, Moberly spotted a ram; but it had seen him too, and made off before he could catch aim. Several sheep-less days later the storm barreled in. Rain and hard wind, then a blizzard. Fog followed, knocking visibility to near zero. When at last the weather improved, hunter and guide climbed a ridge to glass. Easing down its flank, Moberly was looking far when suddenly an exceptional ram appeared, short yards away. But he hadn’t yet chambered a cartridge! Stepping back to run the bolt, he spooked the beast, which galloped off through a wedge of timber. Moberly’s luck held just long enough for a shot. His bullet struck home at 150 yards, and the bighorn buckled.
A second chance isn’t a reward, but a bonus. A memorable lesson in readiness came to me early, on a snowy Michigan hill raked by a bitter wind. Shivering under a heavy coat, I should have eased to the crest instead of trudging up. The buck in the hollow beyond flagged away as, with stiff arms and fingers, I fumbled to bring the Mauser to bear. The deer got away. Chronic bungling since has kept me humble. But a recent blizzard on a Dakota rise brought to mind that Michigan blow. Face nearly numb and squinting into the snow, I dropped to hands and knees and crawled forward to inspect the basin. In its bosom a buck with antlers that needed more time was nibbling shoots in a plum thicket. We met at eight yards. His eyes got big. He left in a hurry. A bit of redemption there. You’re smart to hunt only when you can hunt well. When you must break for a rest, do so when and where you won’t alert game. The unexpected takes many forms. Charles Hanawalt’s Colorado bighorn tag was a rare blessing. But he knew getting within bow range of a mature ram could be harder than finding one. Scouting, he’d located a small herd with a promising animal. Alas, he didn’t find the group again until near season’s end, and the wind that day was wrong for a sneak. Reluctantly he backed off, to approach on another path next morning. He paused after the climb to dry his clothes and body before easing to timber’s edge near where he expected to see his quarry. Binocular at work, Hanawalt suddenly heard foot-falls close by. Five rams filed from the forest straight toward him. The hunter sank to earth, lying flat as, upwind, the animals came within five feet! He’d never drawn his 70-pound Hoyt prone; he dared not try now! The sheep passed by, angling away. But the exceptional ram he wanted was obscured by another. He would have to wait until they separated enough for a clear shot to the ribs. At last they did.
Talk with your guide before you find sheep. Smart decisions on the hill can hinge on chats in the tent. From 40 yards, his arrow flew true.
Anticipating game movement is a hunting skill; not so counting on game to follow your plan!
Every decision on the hill can have knock-on effects. When you’re not hunting alone, you won’t decide alone. Flexibility is an asset; so is your ability to wring from a discussion the best course of action.
“Ya’d best git along with yer guide,” said one who’d entertained clients who didn’t. Sound advice, if not always easy to follow. Humility can earn you points in that effort. So does frank but pleasant talk, when time allows. Chat on the trail, horseback, may not help much, when you’re talking to the back of his (her) head four mule lengths away and he must mind the pack animals or wants to look for game. Waiting until you’re a short patch of greensward from a shot to say a bad knee won’t let you crawl won’t impress him. Use tent time to get to know him first, also to let him know what you hope to get from— and contribute to—the hunt, and any limitations that will help him make smart decisions with you on the ridge.
Your rifle may or may not impress him. But your obvious attention to details will. You will have asked earlier if he supplied a scabbard to fit your rifle, specifying not just its length but the scope’s front diameter and height above bore. You will have zeroed the rifle at 200 yards and equipped the scope with lens covers that flip up with a nudge or are transparent for urgent shots. You packed an ammo pouch that holds five cartridges securely but within easy reach. You brought a high-quality binocular (extra credit for laser-ranging capability). You included clothing to suit any local weather in a kit hewing to weight limits and packed per instructions to load on a saddle or in a Super Cub.
Handloads? Your guide might wince. But you will have inspected each at each stage of assembly, flash-
Handloads can be as reliable and deadly as commercial ammo. Check components at each loading step. hole cleaning to bullet seating. A friend didn’t. At his behest, I fired his rifle a few times to check its zero as we chatted. Then the hammer fell on a fired case. Forgot to cycle, thought I, levering a new round into the barrel. I had pressure on the trigger when an angel tapped me on the shoulder: Sure about that? I opened the action, peered down the bore. A black hole. I had cycled. The hammer had dropped loudly on a primed case with a bullet, but no powder. The primer had driven the 250-grain soft-nose halfway down the barrel. There it lay in ambush. Had I fired again, the rifle would surely have been a smoking ruin, and me a lacerated mess. In the heat of a moment afield, the possibility of a stuck bullet might not register. If it did, the shot would still be lost – and removing the missile would require a cleaning rod.
Handloads are wonderfully compliant; you control everything. Winds in the heavens have their own agenda.
Weathered off passes that would bring him near the source of the famous Prophet River, Grancel Fitz agreed to turn back. “I wish we’d come a month ago,” lamented his guide. The snow would stay, this late in the season; and sheep country was still a hard day’s ride ahead. They had already invested a week on the trail. Retreating to another area, they would re-focus, to finish the hunt nearer the Alcan Highway.
Just a day remained when Fitz spied a fine ram across a valley. By dusk’s last glow, the hunters had closed to within 225 yards. Fitz dropped prone behind a big rock, exhaled half a breath and pressured the trigger. Then “my oxygen-starved lungs raised hell with breath control and grabbed a load of fresh air in one convulsive gasp. The rifle butt rose ...the muzzle see-sawed down and the shot went low.” Bolting another
The Conklin Foundation board is pleased to announce the 2023 winner of the Conklin Award. Bradford T. Black, MD is the 21st winner of the “Tough Man” award, named after the late Dr. James Conklin, a Weatherby Award winner, who liked to pursue diffi cult animals throughout the world.
Brad began his big game hunting in 1997 at the age of 40. Since then, he has hunted 43 countries taking over 527 animals. 191 of these are Conklin animals, including over 70 sheep and goats.
Brad has practiced urology for over 33 years and is part of the Glickman Urology Department at the Cleveland Clinic. He lives in North Canton, Ohio with his wife of 40 years, Sharon, and has fi ve children, Danielle, Marissa, Alexandra, Bradford, and Victoria.
Brad was a fi nalist for the last three years. He persevered over the other challenging fi nalists: Jan Dams, Jeff Demaske, Mark Hampton, Wayne Farnsworth and Barbara Sackman.
The Conklin Foundation would like to gratefully acknowledge and thank the following businesses and individuals for their generous donations. The support of donors makes it possible for the Conklin Foundation to continue its efforts to educate youth about hunting.
Barranoff Jewelers Beauchamp Knives Fernando Saiz-Spain Giuseppe Carizosa Spain Go With Bo Booking & Guide Service Hunt Conexion Mexico Indus Safaris Pakistan Tony Hernandez Jewelers Laser Shot Legelada Safaris Link’s Wild Safaris M.J. Mitler & Company Safari Outfi tters S.M.C. Spain Hunting Ibex Vidale Safaris
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cartridge home, he caught aim again as the ram obligingly paused at 300 yards, looking back. “A perfect target, [but] again I just couldn’t hold my breath through the trigger squeeze! That bullet smacked into the rocks beyond….” In a masochistic fit, the sheep bounded off the ridge on Fitz’s side and stopped, affording him a third chance. This time the bark of his .30-06 brought the animal rolling down the slope.
Physical conditioning to reach sheep makes sense. But shooting in thin air merits practice too!
“We can’t get to that goat before dark,” said the guide on his return from the Idaho ridge. It was Fitz’s first goat hunt. “We’ll have to sleep here. We’ll need firewood too; the night will be cold.” So Fitz and his companion readied a spot on a ledge “seven feet wide” at the foot of a vertical rock jutting 10 feet into the sky. They built a fire against this buttress, then lay head to head a few feet from the blaze. “We were both dozing fitfully … when, [with] a muffled explosion and a shower of pebbles from above,” the front of the rock blew off! Frost or a seep in a crack had become steam. “The great loose slab jumped out … and stood there for an instant before it toppled away from us.” Had it balanced differently or overhung, “we’d have been two thoroughly squashed goat hunters.”
Even when day is done, mountains have their way. Who would suspect a natural act like building a fire against a rock would pose a hazard? Where sheep live, most hunters are fresh arrivals, their efforts to kill rams easily undone by the animals, but also by their environs. Success, even survival can hinge on a pivot in the winds of fortune. Or a small oversight. A loose nail. WS
