COVER STORY

sheep meat and a grouse Chad had shot, and they started to think their luck might have changed. With the torrent ahead too swollen and swift to traverse the next morning, they skidded down sidehills to find a way.

“I’m ducking alders, and my rifle fell off into the stream,” Glenn says. “I looked for two hours with my walking stick to fish it out. Chad and

I searched 50 feet downstream. We knew the gun was gone. Before we left, one last time I put my walking stick in and hooked my rifle sling.”

It was another of Glenn’s good luck charms: that 300 Winchester model 70 had served as a handy crutch when he broke an ankle on an elk hunt.

At the main river, flat stones offered unbelievably easy passage, but as they proceeded, Chad was overcome by an uneasy feeling. Turning around, the men were confronted by a grizzly following them with interest.

“I couldn’t reach the rifle on my pack. I stopped. The bear stopped,” Glenn remembers. “I finally had my gun ready, but we didn’t want to shoot. Chad said it was a young bear.

His mother had probably just kicked him out, but he could certainly smell the meat. We threw stones at him, and he ambled off.”

That was their final close call. After the outfitter landed safely and picked them up, Chad pulled out the fiberglass shard they had brought back. Subsequently, the area’s search and rescue team revealed that, 19 years earlier, a plane had crashed in that area. The fiberglass in Chad’s pocket led to a renewed search, where investigators found a small aircraft in a tree with a skeleton still in the pilot’s seat.

YOU CALL THIS LUCK?

All over the world, through countless miles and memories, that silver dollar was there, offering itself up as a much-needed worry stone to quell the anxiety of frequently skirting disaster. It was with Glenn on four African hunts, including a run-in with a Zimbabwe crocodile that, after being dispatched and loaded into a boat with the hunter and his crew, had a post-mortem muscle spasm that sent a cooler flying right into the pilot’s head, knocking him out. One of the trackers grabbed the steering wheel before Glenn and his team capsized into croc- and hippo-infested Lake Kariba.

In Magadan, Russia, a snow sheep hunt brought Glenn and Marc Hansen together for what seemed to be an accessible herd, close to the seashore. As the guides steered the boats inland, the sheep immediately dashed up a 1,000-foot vertical cliff, forcing Glenn and his guide to ascend using ropes. From where they stood halfway up the face, a pebble would freefall straight into the sea. That was pretty much what happened after Glenn shot his ram, sending it airborne, plummeting 500 feet to the rocky beach. Hansen had taken his own ram from near the same height, but his sheep stayed put where it fell on the rocks. To Hansen’s horror, the guides kicked it, and his ram ended up landing close to Glenn’s. It was all tough, but fun, as Glenn remembers it, though he could have doorway, overhead bins lacking doors and excess passengers standing up in the back of the craft as if they were riding a bus. When Atcheson sat down, his creaky seat collapsed. done without the giant brown bear trashing everything in camp while they were fortunately out hunting.

Mysterious agents with manilla envelopes full of money, shadowy figures in leather coats loading the hunters into a van at night and confiscating their baggage tickets, waking up to gunfire as they slept in Dushanbe, waiting for days on the Afghan border and passing checkpoints while staring down the barrels of AK-47s—none of it seemed to rattle Glenn. Not even near sheep camp, when he dared to drink the local libation: tea spiked with fermented mare’s milk and blood. He might have been a little concerned on the return flight over Russia in a plane that glided low over the valleys because it couldn’t pressurize. Rain soaked the passengers during a thunderstorm as they descended into Moscow. The same plane, they later learned, ended up crashing in Siberia and killing all on board.

“I tell people I shot my snow sheep at 500-feet elevation,” Glenn says. “Compare that to when I shot a Marco Polo at 17,500 feet in Tajikistan.”

As for that Marco Polo, Atcheson accompanied Glenn on that escapade, which began with them landing in Moscow to board an old Aeroflot with holes in the plane’s

Glenn hasn’t kept the magic of his silver talisman to himself. A few years ago at La Palmosa Ranch in Coahuila, Mexico, he concluded his desert sheep hunt by giving all the staff an Eisenhower coin just like his own. During his stay, Heather Wise, the winner of WSF’s Life Member Breakfast desert sheep hunt, was also there for her first ram. Tears flowed at the breakfast table when Glenn presented her with a silver dollar to celebrate her success.

His takeaway after all the thrills and disappointments of mountain hunting is simple. When it comes to sheep hunting, Glenn’s advice is “Don’t wait.” When it comes to regrets, Glenn has one: he never hunted on a glacier. Now, he may never have the chance—but with that lucky dollar on his side, no one with sense would wager against Glenn doing it. Whatever you dream of, make it happen now. And, when you do, may you have along with you a silent companion sanded smooth by time, hardship and heart-pounding excitement to calm your doubts and settle your soul when the fleeting shot at glory finally stares you in the face.

Though hunters, especially ancient ones, may be rasped down by wind, water and rocks over long miles and longer years, they are kindred spirits with the solemn creatures they seek. Rubbed raw like the broomed tips of a regal ram, the old hunter endures, as does the worn-out silver he clings to like a faithful friend. Though dulled and pocked, the man, the ram and the metal all still shine with value that increases with age. WS

Every year, DSC hosts its annual Convention that raises funds for grants in conservation, education, and advocacy. The four-day 2023 DSC Convention is open to the public and will fill over 800,000 square feet with 1,000 exhibitors featuring outfitted hunts, firearms, gear, wildlife art and much more.

I want to send my sincerest thank you to Wade Derby at Crosshair Consulting. Not only is Wade the best in the consulting business, but has become one of my closest friends over the years. I can’t thank Wade enough for the amount of effort he has put in with aiding my sheep obsession, as well as helping me close in on finishing my Super Slam of North American big game. There is no one better in the consulting world than Wade Derby. Whatever your dream trip is or whatever your next hunting adventure is look no further than Crosshair Consulting.

Dall Sheep

I want to thank Ruby Range outfitters for an unforgettable Dall Sheep hunt. Ross Elliot and his outfit are top notch!

Stone Sheep

Quintin Thompson and Gundahoo River Outfitters are a first class operation. Their area is the premier area in British Columbia for stone sheep. Grateful for Quintin Thompson and my guide Justin Mcnain for providing me with a trip of a lifetime and a record book Stone!

Desert Sheep

Derick Lopez Outfitters and his team are the best of the best in Sonora. Derick knows sheep hunting in Sonora better than anyone! His private areas on the mainland, as well as his tags on Tiburon Island are the best in all of Sonora! Having hunted with Derick several times before for Mule Deer and Coues deer I was already familiar with his operation and had no hesitation in booking a Desert sheep hunt with his outfit. Many thanks to Derick Lopez and his entire outfit!

California Bighorn Sheep

I cant express my gratitude to Ben Stourac “Famous Ben” of Arcadia Outfitting for providing me with the privilege of hunting his famed Fraser River area of British Columbia for California Bighorn Sheep. Ben and his team are in a league of their own when it comes to hunting Bighorns. His area has a large number of mature rams due to the continuing conservation efforts of Ben and his team. This was a true once in a lifetime hunt and an unforgettable way to finish my Slam!

- Justin Falatok

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