Wild Sheep Society of BC Magazine is published four times per year for the Wild Sheep Society of British Columbia by
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Spring 2023 Issue
Editor in Chief Kyle Stelter (CEO)
Editors
Bill Pastorek
Nolan Osborne
Peter Gutsche
Contributors
Sydney Goward
Laura Balyx
Design & Layout
Sportscene Publications Inc.
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Please submit articles and photos to communications@wildsheepsociety.com
No portion of Wild Sheep Society of BC Magazine may be copied or reproduced without the prior written consent of the Wild Sheep Society of British Columbia. The views and opinions expressed by the authors of the articles in Wild Sheep Society of BC Magazine are those of the author and not necessarily those of the Wild Sheep Society of British Columbia.
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Return Undeliverable Canadian Addresses to Wild Sheep Society of British Columbia
#101 - 30799 Simpson Road, Abbotsford, BC V2T 6X4 www.wildsheepsociety.com
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Chief Executive Officer – Kyle Stelter 250-619-8415 ● kstelter@wildsheepsociety.com
President – Korey Green 250-793-2037 ● kgreen@wildsheepsociety.com
Vice-President – Chris Barker 250-883-3112 ● barkerwildsheep@gmail.com
Vice-President – Mike Southin 604-240-7337 ● msouthin@telus.net
Secretary – Greg Rensmaag 604-209-4543 ● rensmaag_greg@hotmail.com
Treasurer – Joe Humphries 250-230-5313 ● joseph_humphries@hotmail.com
Jesse Bone 250-802-7468 jessetbone@hotmail.com
Tristan Duncan 778-921-0087 tb.duncan@gmail.com
Rob Englot 250-719-9607 renglot@telus.net
Peter Gutsche 250-328-5224 petergutsche@gmail.com
Benjamin Matthew MD 778-558-0996 ben.matthew@ubc.ca
Matt McCabe 250-320-6048 mattmccabe.wssbc@gmail.com
Greg Nalleweg 778-220-3194
greg@nextgenelectrical.ca
Colin Peters 604-833-5802 colin.peters12@gmail.com
Robin Routledge 250-262-9058 robin.wssbc@gmail.com
Communications Committee
Chair: Kyle Stelter ● 250-619-8415 kstelter@wildsheepsociety.com
Fundraising Committee
Chair: Korey Green ● 250-793-2037 kgreen@wildsheepsociety.com
Government Engagement Committee
Chair: Greg Rensmaag ● 604-209-4543 rensmaag_greg@hotmail.com
Hunter Heritage Committee
Chair: Jann Demaske ● 970-539-8742 demaskes@msn.com
Indigenous Relations Committee
Chair: Josh Hamilton ● 250-263-2197 josh.wssbc@gmail.com
Membership Committee
Chair: Peter Gutsche ● 250-328-5224 petergutsche@gmail.com
Projects Committee
Chair: Chris Barker ● 250-883-3112 barkerwildsheep@gmail.com
Jurassic Classic
Trevor Carruthers ● 250-919-5386 ● trevor.carruthers@shaw.ca
Raffles
Joe Humphries ● 250-230-5313 ● joseph_humphries@hotmail.com
Women Shaping Conservation
Rebecca Peters ● 778-886-3097 ● rebeccaanne75@gmail.com
Bookkeeper
Kelly Cioffi ● 778-908-3634 kelly@dkccompany.com
Executive Assistant
Michael Surbey ● 604-690-9555 exec@wildsheepsociety.com
Danny Coyne
Darryn Epp
Jeff Jackson
Trevor Carruthers
n the heels of our two large fundraisers, I want to thank all our members, donors, partners, and volunteers for their support and dedication at both our Northern Fundraiser and Kamloops Convention & AGM. We were elated to return to in-person events for both shows this year, with both events buzzing with enthusiasm. The Northern convention set an alltime high for that event with nearly 500 in attendance and generated an all-time high gross revenue. The Kamloops Convention & AGM also set an all-time high for that event with nearly 500 in attendance and setting all-time highs at that event for speaker session attendance, membership sales/upgrades, and merchandise sales.
Despite the challenges created by the ongoing COVID pandemic in 2022 and having to rely solely on online raffles and auctions and sourcing other revenue streams, the WSSBC was able to achieve the boards vision for growing the Society and expanding our footprint. With the great work by our full-time support staff, the 2022 fiscal year saw unprecedented growth in numerous areas over the previous, 2021, year. This included a 50% growth in income (from $1.125M to $1.687M), 60% growth in online raffle & auction sales ($525,000 to $850,000),
50% growth in conservation partnership funding (from $100,000 to $150,000), and 58% growth in project spend (from $396,000 to $629,000). In addition, Life and Monarch memberships increased nearly 20% and grant success reached an all-time high with a total of $182,800 in grants received. I would also like to acknowledge the new changes on the board as a result of elections at the Kamloops Fundraiser & AGM. On behalf of the board of directors, I would like to welcome director Matt McCabe to the board; we all look forward to working with him. We would also like to thank Josh Hamilton for his contributions the past several years. Although Josh didn’t let his name stand for the board this year, he has committed to staying involved
with the Projects and Indigenous Relations Committees, both of which he has been heavily involved with over the past few years.
The board is now turning its attention to planning additional opportunities to connect with our membership in various regions through pub nights, project opportunities, and other events. We thank you for your continued dedication and support during this time. Given the great start to the 2023 fiscal year, I am looking forward to what the WSSBC and its membership can achieve during the remainder of the year.
Yours in Conservation,
Korey Green WSSBC President
Jesse is a film producer and co-owner of the first 2% Certified Canadian business, Filter Studios Inc. He works with outdoor brands and non-profits to raise awareness about conservation issues with the mountains, oceans and rivers.
Jesse grew up in northern British Columbia, Canada. Being from north BC, it’s hard not to be immersed in the outdoors. Growing up in such a rich natural area of the planet instilled. A deep connection to the land. His family raised Jesse with a farm-to-table connection and an avid love of the outdoors. He now lives in a small village on Vancouver Island.
Jesse believes that the connection to food and the land is essential to our existence as a species. Therefore, working in conservation space is necessary as most organizations need help with communication and awareness.
Currently a resident of Kamloops, I was born and raised in the Lillooet area and continue to spend a significant amount of time in the Lillooet and Lytton region, especially during hunting season. I am an avid hunter and have been from a very young age, and incredibly passionate about all things wild sheep. I have been fortunate enough to hunt both stone and bighorn sheep, and I frequently find myself exploring the landscapes that they call home in hopes of learning more about them. I also hunt many other species throughout the season and have had the great fortune to see all sorts of habitats and wildlife across our province. I have a strong passion for hunting and conservation, and hopefully, by joining WSSBC I can contribute to the fantastic work that has been occurring across the province and help keep sheep on the mountain.
ur Society has grown beyond what we could have ever imagined just a few short years ago. During this time of rapid growth, our leadership team has expanded and increased its capacity, knowledge and ability to raise funds through numerous new and exciting avenues, enabling us to put more money on the ground for wild sheep than ever before.
During this time we have also expanded our communications reach beyond social media to include our podcast (we’re over 100 episodes in), YouTube channel and even film creation (transmission will be publicly released by the time you are reading this!). We are getting busier by the day and wild sheep across the province are benefiting from our labour.
The evidence of our continued growth was made abundantly clear most recently with the speedy sell-outs of both our Northern and Kamloops fundraisers, with many members wishing they had been able to get a ticket for either event.
We knew that our sheep family loved getting together and we now know that they want to do even more of it moving forward. Rest assured, we are looking into our options for a bigger event in the future and will bring you more information as soon as we can.
In the meantime, and for this article, we will turn our focus to gatherings of the outdoor variety. We’re talking about habitat enhancement work, sheep counts, sheep monitoring, and so forth.
As of this writing, we have the following schedule of events lined up for 2023:
● April 1 - Spences Bridge Sheep Count
● April 1 to May 15 - South Thompson Sheep Monitoring Program
● May 14 - Okanagan Falls Nature Trust Habitat Enhancement
● June 10 - Fraser River Sheep Count
● July 15 - Fraser River Sheep Count
● August 19 - Fraser River Sheep Count
● December - Pavillion Drop Net Capture
We will be back at it in the Okanagan, teaming up with Nature Trust for more habitat enhancement of ungulate winter range on May 14. For anyone looking to get into sheep shape, we will be doing the heavy lifting on this one, mostly by moving and chipping the bigger pieces of previously fallen timber to make way for future thinning work on the property. Food and drinks will be locally supplied and we’ll even have a giveaway or two. Additional projects are being discussed on various Nature Trust properties in the South Okanagan and we are always loking for more ideas!
in May/June. To date, we have received numerous requests to see counts happen in multiple areas of the Kootenays as well as support for something in Regions 6 and 7b of the North and are exploring our options, but we need your help locally to make it a reality.
If you are in any of these areas, want to see something happen, and don’t mind helping to lift the load, reach out to us and we will try to make it happen! Contact details are at the end of the article.
As for Spences and the Fraser, we are doing much of the same as in previous years, with the addition of a pretty cool prize package from Seek Outside to drum up some more support for our difficult, but critical, Fraser River counts.
In addition to our Spences Bridge and Fraser River Sheep Counts, we are exploring our options elsewhere in the province and may add a collaborative count with the Rocky Mountain Goat Alliance in the Similkameen Valley sometime
We’ve also got something new happening this year: sheep monitoring; and it’s taking place right now on the South Thompson between Kamloops and Ashcroft, in collaboration with Tkʼemlúps te Secwépemc, Skeetchestn Indian Band, and Provincial Ministry wildlife staff.
Currently scheduled to begin on April 1st and running for six to eight weeks, this project requires a heavy reliance on volunteers to keep tabs on individual, collared ewes and their newborn lambs. The scientific objectives are to determine what is causing the ongoing population declines we have seen in the area, and more specifically, what is leading to the continued lamb mortality year after year.
Wild Sheep Society of British Columbia and others have already funded and performed capture, testing, and collaring for these herds and have determined that we are not dealing with disease issues here, as is the case with the majority of our California Bighorn herds in the province. Something else is doing the damage,
and it could be a variety of causes.
So now it falls on us to take citizen science to a whole new level and become semi-professional sheep monitors, turning our attention to the wide range of potential causes for lamb mortality.
We will be out on the landscape between Kamloops and Ashcroft throughout April and May working alongside Government and First Nations, hoping to learn more about what is causing the decline of these iconic herds.
This project truly is putting Together For Wildlife into action for a sheep herd in need of our collective help, and it simply wouldn’t be possible without WSSBC funding and volunteer support. Through this work, we are continuing to demonstrate our
leadership for the hunters and outdoor enthusiasts interested in meaningful conservation work here in British Columbia, and that’s truly exciting stuff to be a part of.
Although outside, we have not included our inaugural golf tournament in Kamloops on June 17th or the Wild Sheep Jurassic Classic on August 18-20. These are both amazing ways to spend quality time with quality people for a fantastic cause and we highly recommend your participation, if you’re lucky enough to get a ticket!
In closing this article, we can’t say how thankful we are for your continued support of wild sheep here in BC, it means everything to us.
We hope to spend some time outside with you this year. Wild Sheep Forever
For more information on volunteer opportunities or to bring up an idea of your own, please contact WSSBC Director Peter Gutsche: at petergutsche@gmail.com
It’s easy to think of the term “sciencebased management” as the catch-all way to steward wildlife. However, sound science forms just one block of concrete in the foundation of wildlife stewardship. Other forms of knowledge & experiences, as well as relationships and societal values are a part of building a proper foundation. The new BC Thinhorn Sheep Stewardship Framework (the Framework) is an exciting example of wildlife policy that aims to do exactly that.
In 2019, the Province restarted the drafting of a management plan for BC’s Thinhorn sheep [Dall’s sheep (Ovis dalli dalli) and Stone’s sheep (Ovis dalli stonei)]. BC’s species plans have historically focused on biological and western science in developing management actions. However, with implementation of the Together for Wildlife (T4W) strategy and the signing of the BC Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act (DRIPA), the Province has committed to more inclusive pathways toward
wildlife management. The drafting of the Thinhorn Framework was the first of its kind, incorporating these new commitments, by including a dedicated Indigenous Perspectives chapter and broader plan content.
This reflects an important shift in BC’s approach to wildlife stewardship planning. By braiding management objectives, biological science, Local Ecological and Traditional Indigenous Knowledge, language, and cultural history, the Framework provides strategic guidance and direction for the stewardship of Thinhorn sheep in BC. In a meaningful way, the Framework enables greater collaboration between Indigenous communities, Nations, Conservation Stakeholders, and the Province that will also inform regional management planning initiatives.
by Sydney GowardSound wildlife management today should never be equated to a calculator exercise. There are always underlying challenges and emerging realities that really need a broad-minded,
interpretative approach when we are prescribing recommended best management for a species of wildlife and their habitats; there is an art to interpreting your science. At the end of the day, it’s as much about interpreting the observed trends and identifying emerging challenges that have the potential for positive or negative impacts to populations.
This was the type of approach taken with the Thinhorn Stewardship Framework (the Framework) where the authors merged cultural knowledge (i.e., both Traditional Indigenous Knowledge & Local Ecological Knowledge) with biological and scientific data, with a goal of reflecting on what is working (in terms of current management) and what could be done better.
To honour this approach & begin the drafting process, we established two working groups:
1. A conventional working group of Provincial species experts that assimilated existing data, identified existing and emerging threats, sought out new published literature
to support recommendations, and solicited input and incorporated advice from those who have had a longstanding relationship with Thinhorn sheep (i.e., Local Ecological Knowledge holders)
2. An Indigenous Perspectives working group comprised of First Nations members and representatives who shared personal and community wisdom and knowledge (i.e., Traditional Indigenous Knowledge holders) to enable a more complete understanding of past cultural practice and evolving relationships with wild sheep. The goal was developing a Framework that meaningfully and respectfully engages and communicates Indigenous science and perspectives.
Following outreach, an invitation to support the development of the Framework was made to all First Nations whose territories overlap Thinhorn sheep range. Several First Nations agreed to join the Indigenous Perspectives working group. The working group was co-chaired by Bill Jex, Provincial Wild Sheep & Mountain Goat Specialist and Hunter Lampreau, of the First Nations-BC Wildlife & Habitat Conservation Forum, and supported by myself. Through regular meetings, an openended space was created to discuss the development of the Framework, including everything from structure to content to relationships with Thinhorn sheep. The working group also provided comment and discussion on the biological content and management objectives being developed by the Province’s conventional working group. Concurrent to all the document review and meetings, Nations were supported to conduct engagement in their respective communities, and to provide any local knowledge content they wished for inclusion in the Framework.
What does the drafting process actually look like for a plan this large and comprehensive? To sum it up: lots (and lots) of drafts and revisions. The structure of the two working groups enabled a series of draft versions of the document (16 versions actually), and eventually a solid draft was sent out to an external subject matter expert for review and comment. After incorporating those recommendations and edits, version 18 was provided to a sub-committee of stakeholders through the Provincial Hunting and Trapping Advisory Team (i.e., Guide Outfitters Association of BC, BC Wildlife Federation, Wild Sheep Society of BC, and BC Backcountry Hunters & Anglers). This round of preliminary engagement helped us understand if the Framework was speaking effectively to our Conservation Stakeholders, and they told us what they liked and what perhaps needed more content.
Continued engagement with both working groups generated versions 1921, with a final review by provincial leadership and communications teams in Victoria, resulting in draft version
22 (Figure 2): the one posted online for full public engagement (engagement was open February 19th through March 27th, 2023).
Significant effort was put into defining the short, medium, and long-term goals for populations. As science progresses and collaboration increases, management goals & objectives change. As a specific example of changing objectives, 75 individuals used to be considered the minimum population size that could support a sustainable harvest. However, advances in population science and the desire for a lower risk management strategy has set the minimum to 100 sheep. You will find far more detailed information in the Framework itself, but here is a brief overview of the goals & objectives, at the broadest level:
1. Viable and ecologically sustainable populations of Thinhorn sheep throughout historical and suitable native range for ecological, cultural, economic and social benefits using science-based management, and locally relevant sources of ecological knowledge.
Figure 3. The Framework draft available for public engagement.
2. Populations that provide for cultural, consumptive, and non-consumptive opportunities
3. Protection of Thinhorn sheep habitat throughout the current range, considering landscape permeability/ access, fragmentation and development of linear corridors and anthropogenic disturbances (commercial, recreational and industrial developments).
With careful consideration of the holistic body of knowledge available, management recommendations come together quite organically, in similar ways as outcomes from the BC Sheep Summit (hosted by WSSBC in November 2022). These recommendations are meant to inform and support on-the-ground processes and regional plan development by the Regional Wildlife Advisory Councils. The management recommendations provided in the Framework are designed to support to both provincial and regional management goals and objectives, and are divided into seven categories:
1. Population Inventory and Monitoring
2. Harvest Management
3. Health and Disease
4. Habitat
5. Anthropogenic Disturbance
6. Predation and Mortality
7. Climate
Each section offers a concise yet comprehensive summary of related science and history, with Indigenous perspectives braided throughout, followed by a list of recommendations to meet the broad management goals. Complete with art, graphs, charts & maps, footnotes, pictures, and about 11 pages of references, the Framework is the product of a lot of collective effort & passion.
process, the Framework becomes a more meaningful product that can be used to support better management outcomes for Thinhorn sheep, across both time and geographic scales, and improve public understanding of Thinhorns and their habitat. The Framework identifies some current and emerging challenges for Thinhorn sheep and their habitats, that will require some changed perspectives on the way we’ve managed Thinhorns in past, if we want to protect them into the future. Strengthened relationships between government, Nations, wildlife professionals, land-users, Stakeholders, and the public, will be required in order to achieve the desired outcomes – the success of wildlife stewardship depends on a foundation of trust, respect, and relationships. Without speaking for others, it really has been such an honour to respectfully participate in this kind of species planning. Through this type of shared strategic development, decision making and species planning, we are making great strides for all wildlife, including Thinhorn sheep.
The final Framework is anticipated to be released in 2023 – stay tuned!
In taking an appropriate amount of time to develop content from the two working groups and complete this
I’d like to thank Bill Jex for his support with this article, and the entire Framework team for their contributions and dedication to this project.
Sydney is a wildlife researcher and forestry professional (nonpracticing), specializing in working with and for Indigenous research & management partners. She is currently a Master of Science student at the University of Victoria, where she is partnered with Gwich’in organizations, studying Dall’s sheep and mammal community ecology in the Northern Richardson Mountains, NWT. Concurrent to her MSc, she is also collaborating on the development of BC’s Thinhorn Sheep Stewardship Framework, as part of the Indigenous perspectives working group. Born and raised in the Interior of BC, she is an active hunter, fly fisher, forager, wildlife photographer, and overall backcountry enthusiast.
f you would have asked younger me, I would have told you that I was not an outdoorsy person. That title was reserved for those who were far more intense about it and if I am being completely honest, more of a masculine thing.
I grew up in a remote rural farming and ranching community with much of our small population being a two-parent household, mom stayed home with the kids as a homemaker and the men grew crops and tended livestock or went to their blue-collar jobs, some did both. They had the look of those who spend hours in the elements, deep creases in the corner of their eyes, weathered hands callused from years of pounding fencing staples and twisting wrenches. If you could have looked beneath the long sleeves and jeans, you would see pale white skin that has never been bared, only from the neck up and wrists down have the dark, tanned skin. These were outdoors people. I was a girl, content to just go with my dad and do what he did. I didn’t want to hunt as much as my brothers, I liked reading books and baking cookies. My brothers played sports and knew all the specifics with guns and ammo. I wasn’t into that. We lived between two rivers: the South Saskatchewan and Red Deer. Summers were spent at each one camped out in our ’76 Vanguard bumper pull. Catching goldeye in one river and walleye in the other. Running through the trees and climbing the river hills, finding cool rocks and arrowheads, even a dinosaur bone a time or two. Natural caves hidden on the backside, the perfect place to stop and cool off in the mid day summer heat. Seeing little bats curled up, slumbering until their nocturnal schedule resumed. Swallow nests along the steep sides of the river valley, the birds dive bombing the water catching their daily intake of insects that hovered over top. Seeking out the snake dens before it was warm enough for them to venture outside and then when it was, knowing where to tread cautiously because there was usually a rattlesnake sunning itself in the heat. In the water, finding clams buried in the silty bottom, catching minnows in our rinsed out yogurt containers, seeing the baby garter snakes swimming about, being able to tell the depth of the river by the shade of the water. In the early spring, waiting until the perfect day when the ice finally came out. Hearing the crack and bang
of the big gobs of dirty snow and ice as they pilled up on the banks and got pushed around from the force of the river current. Watching to see what kind of things floated by, what types of trees and debris from miles away had made their way to us. Making boats out of sticks and leaves to see how far down they would float before they fell apart. Catching fish with the five of diamonds lure, regretting when you caught a gold eye because you just knew every bite would have a bone in it. Not realizing the smell of woodsmoke was on you like a cheap perfume that lingered. Cooking everything from steak to smores over the fire. Knowing what time of day it was by what birdsong you could hear and where the sun was in the sky. Choosing your footwear depending on the time of year, was it late spring when the grass still new and soft and bare feet were an option or was it late summer when the ground cover was yellow, parched and crunchy and you needed something that would stop the cactus from poking in. Being sun kissed and tired, sitting in a lawn chair with your head tilted back to see the stars begin to show up. Your hair smelling like the wind and your toes still caked with the mud from that day’s adventure listening to the crickets and crackle of the fire.
Hunting and fishing were part of my life, always. I never questioned it, it just was. My dad was a hunter
and a fisherman and as much as he liked fishing, he loved hunting season; November was as anticipated in our household as much as Christmas morning was to a child waiting for Santa. Throughout the year whether you were riding the bus to school, helping move cows to the grazing lease, going to pick up someone on the tractor in the field, or driving down the gravel roads until you got to the pavement to head to the city, you were always scanning the landscape. Looking to see if you could be the one to see the herd of antelope, that mule buck on the horizon, or the white tail does in the stubble field. October was spent sighting in guns, spotting for deer, glassing the tried-and-true places to see if the big one was out there. November 1 was the day when we knew the regular routine of our day-to-day life was altered for the next 30. Sunrise and sunset times were talked about religiously, if the location of a big buck was revealed over lunch, we knew that telling anyone else was forbidden. Supper time was a best guess depending on the days hunt, late if they were out in the shop skinning an animal or earlier if they came back empty handed. Fresh venison backstrap would make its appearance on the table on successful days, those were the best. Hunting season was also kind of like a reunion. Sleeping bags in the family room, strange boots in the porch, yearly
visitors coming to spend a few days hunting with my dad. More than once, happy hour would extend into the wee hours of the morning catching up with these guests. Long after we were to have been tucked in, we would sit at the landing of the stairs eavesdropping on the treasure trove of hunting tales being told. Then waking up for school, you’d see the remnants of a card game and the bottle of the evening’s choice of libation, yet all of them out of the house already so they could be on point in the perfect spot when legal light hit. Our yard was not one featured in Better Homes and Gardens. This was especially true in hunting season. Deer hides and moose legs scattered on top of the snow, a rib cage here, a skull there, our dogs were in their glory. It would have been quite
a game, if we would have gathered up all the parts to see what we could make! As the season progressed, all the animals were boned out, bagged and wrapped, labeled and frozen for the freezer. Some of the meat we canned in the giant pressure cooker of my grandma’s. The rest got made into frying sausage, liverwurst, and summer sausage. Still, I wasn’t what I considered an outdoor person. I got married and had children and raised my kids the same way I grew up. Marriage moved me 300 km further north than in my youth, so some things were different. Geese showing up after a long winter were one of the most anticipated sights. It warranted a whoop and yell from the kids playing on the bale stacks for me to come out onto the deck to witness
that they indeed had spotted the first ones coming home. Spring was going to happen once more, even though it seemed to show up remarkably late for this girl who was familiar with chinooks and snow being gone in early March. But geese coming back meant the crocuses would surely be dotting our native prairie grass soon, each a happy colour surprise from the monotone palette of winter. Spring run off would start and would let us know which sloughs and dugouts were going to get us through the grazing season. This meant when checking fence lines for damage from the drifts of snow and fallen poplar trees, we would have to be familiar with the paths of the water and know which land was going to be too wet to drive over. For a girl being raised in drought country, this was a learning curve. Lilacs were out later in my new home, no longer in a Mother’s Day bouquet, we now waited until fathers day. I could plant a garden here, no longer would the grasshoppers eat everything that grew out of the ground. Being on a major migratory bird path meant I learned the names of plovers, sandpipers, dowitchers, and godwits. I got to see sharp tailed grouse strutting their stuff in the mating dance, watch owls build their nests to hatch their fuzzy babies. Knew when to feed bales to the cows on which side of the bush because a storm was definitely coming in, you could see the leaves turning in on the trees. Smelling the spicy scent in the tall slough grasses, none of which I grew up with. So many more animals per acre units when we did up the yearly grazing plan. I knew that every vehicle always needed a fence stretcher and hammer and staples to fix fence that inevitably had the top wire knocked down with a clump of wiry moose hair in it. Finding the best places for wild raspberries, saskatoons and chokecherries and being able to make pies, jams and syrups for cold room storage. Getting meat birds and knowing which grass they fatten on the fastest when waiting for them to be ready for slaughter. Having rose hips for tea and silver wolf willow berries for jewellery. When butchering our beef or
bison on our land, knowing our kids are learning anatomy from the parts they are processing on the animal. Giving thanks for the life we take each time. There’s a sacred moment when you see the last breath leave them and know you are doing the absolute most you can to harvest that animal ethically. Getting out to watch all the earthworms on the top of the soil after a rain. Always having an ice cream pail to catch frogs when we are moving cows because the sloughs are full of them. Hearing their noise, contented by the fact where there are frogs, there is water. Knowing how to light a fire with one match and where the best kindling is when we are out snaring rabbits and want to warm up. Keeping a .22 and shells in the truck when you are out in the spring to keep ahead of the nasty gophers. Knowing how to read the water when we are kayaking on the river to know what is coming up ahead. Learning you better keep up with
trapping the beavers that keep knocking down the trees around the dugout for their dam. The deer are harder to spot because they blend in perfectly with the bark on the poplar trees in the pasture. Seeing the muskrat huts showing up
and then knowing when its time to stop shooting coyotes for their hides by the way their fur is. Building a raft when fixing fence gets too monotonous and you need to amuse yourself.
Still, I wasn’t what I assumed an
outdoor person was. I am just a housewife. I made sure the coats were washed after playing in the mud puddles, I bought extra groceries in anticipation of having a neighbor stop by asking for landowner permission to hunt and them staying for lunch, or for having enough snacks to tide the kids over being gone longer than anticipated getting the days work done. I take the tallow after butchering and render it down to use for cooking and making lotion. And when tasked with it, I know what to do with all the extra milk we get from the milk cow. I gathered the shotgun shells and rifle casings out of pants pockets before they went in the laundry, the one who put the hunting draws in on the computer I am just someone who knows how long to soak the deer liver before breading and frying it and who has a great recipe for milk gravy, venison stew and moose roast. Occasionally I put my own draws in and harvest a deer if we need extra meat for sausage or want to have more variety to choose from in the freezer over the winter. Taking my hunters Ed course all those years ago was not something I deliberated over, you just
knew when you turned 12, that was what you were going to be doing. Now 4 of our kids have their hunting license and the fifth one will as soon as she is old enough. The new phrase of farm to table isn’t anything new to us or our children. It is simply how we live. When our daughter went to college she called us, distraught. She had run out of meat from home, so she bought ground meat at the grocery store. In a panic telling us over the telephone, she wondered what was wrong with the meat she bought. It tasted weird, there was so much grease in the pan, the colour wasn’t what she was used to, how was she going to manage? She didn’t forget to bring meat back to the city again. While the kids were away at school it felt so good to know they were advocating for our way of life and what we do. They were asked what their parents did and they said our dad is a rancher and our mom is a housewife. After hearing more about our life and what we do, they were in awe of the lifestyle we have. I don’t think up until that point our kids thought anything of it. The city friends they made while away from home would frequently bring
up how amazed they were by the way we live our life in accordance with the needs of the livestock, what mother nature has blessed us with that day, and how we procure our protein. I didn’t realize I made bone broth, I was simply roasting bones and making soup with them. I was doing things the way I grew up seeing the previous generation do it and had no idea that it was the trendy thing to do. It wasn’t until I heard these new friends of our children’s talking about us to their own parents that I realized somewhere throughout the years I had possibly transformed into an outdoor person. I wasn’t the biggest hunter; I had never climbed a mountain, nor did I make my living with an outside job. I was always just the helper and one who tagged along. But what I hadn’t realized was by doing that, I was doing all the same things the true outdoors person did.
I thank my dad for giving me the love of nature. There was never a set out lesson, it was just how he did things with us around. I ended up modeling the same things for my children and I hope they will be the next generation of nature lovers and stewards of the land and animals. I want to keep the land and animals on it, heathy and prospering. That means buying tags that help the monetary offset and hunting to manage the populations and herd health of animals. As well, supporting the conservations efforts of groups attempting to do the same. Maintaining our freedoms with guns and hunting through education and awareness. We are only borrowing the space we inhabit; we are wardens of it all for as long as we occupy this place. For those of us who live this life, just because that’s all we know or whether we were raised differently and chose to take this lifestyle on, it is our duty to keep it alive. I always felt I was less than the ones who knew more, had more experiences under their belt, were more athletically inclined, and all the rest. I did not feel like I was in the same class. But seeing what I have learned from my dad and what I have taught my children, I just think I might be an outdoorsy person after all.
by Evan Saugstad
n the stillness of a new day at dawn, a few degrees above freezing, we stand quietly and listen. A squirrel chatters as it sends spruce cones clattering through the limbs, bouncing their way to the ground. A bird chirps as the forest slowly awakes. Time for me to let out a bugle and see if a bull elk is talkative this morning.
We stand in the same place, at the same time, on the same date as the previous opening mornings. September 1 is the opening day of elk season and we are once again at our spot, our honey hole so to speak. It has been good to us before. I am here with my stepdaughter, Caitlyn; this has become our time together. I first brought her here in 2019 in search of her first elk. I had been here many times prior and knew elk called this place home.
I take a deep breath and then blow hard into my plastic tube, pushing air across the small elastic band, using my lip to control the pressure. I start by mimicking the deep and resonating sound of the bugle, then let it change pitch higher and higher, until running out of air. Pause. Then a quick breath and finish with a succession of grunts, the last coming
as my stomach puts pressure on the lungs. It’s loud, must be as loud as elk are. It’s taken a lot of practice to get it right and today it sounds good.
In the distance, an elk immediately bugles back, maybe 300 or 400 yards away, hidden in the dense timber. Ah yes, here we go again.
Will it be like 2019, when that bull came charging in, screaming in defiance, spoiling for a fight? Or like in 2020, when that bull just quietly appeared, facing us as it tried to find the source of his irritation? Or like last year, when we had to move further along the trail to get an answer and then have him cautiously approach us as he roared his challenge? No long shots in here, and no long-distance sightings either; maybe 75 yards at the best, more likely 30 or 40. We need to be close, and that is the conundrum. Do we move to him, or hope he comes to us? Another bugle, another answer. Yes, he is coming closer… more bugles, more answers... No, sounds like he isn’t moving, maybe still thinking if his challenger is worth the confrontation.
He knows where we stand, he knows the exact spot. That is
how good his ears are at pinpointing the source. Our ears are not so good, but we do know about where he is; been there before and know it is thick, too thick, and noisy to sneak in on.
This day, if we are to be successful, he must come to us. We will never get close but we do move up the trail another couple hundred yards, blow again, another answer, but still in the distance. Maybe he is taking his cows and backing off, or maybe he is losing interest. You just never really know for sure.
Try again, and again, but silence, no response, and with the rising temperatures our day ends. Although still early, warm temperatures mean bugling is over. We’ll leave him alone and try another day.
On the long walk out, I wonder if we should have done things differently. Maybe pushed him a bit, went right after him, or tried to quickly get closer while it was still cool. But we didn’t and can only wonder.
It won’t end like in ’19, when Caitlyn’s well-placed shot put her first elk on the ground, or like in ’20 when we could only watch as he stood partially hidden and then quietly walked away, never offering up an ethical shot.
Nor like last year, when we watched him slowly making his way through the trees, bugling all the way, only to have a gust of wind take our scent to him just as he was about to come into the open, and then watched him vanish in a flash — once again not offering an ethical shot in his hasty and noisy retreat.
This is one reason I still call the Peace Country home, why I don’t go south like the rest and find someplace warmer to hang out. No better place to be outdoors and hunting. No better place to be with family and friends.
I grew up hunting. Deer used to be my favourite but that ended when I discovered elk. Still enjoy my deer hunts, but nothing compares to elk, just as nothing beats elk as the best wild meat on the table.
I can only imagine what this country looked like in 1793 when Alexander Mackenzie (Sir) traversed the Peace River on his way through to the Pacific Coast at Bella Coola, becoming the first known person to cross North America by land. The following is from his account, Alexander Mackenzie Journal:
“Thursday, May 16, 1793... A considerable river discharged itself by various streams. According to the Rocky Mountain Indian, it is called the Sinew River (now known as the Pine River). This spot would be an excellent situation for a fort or factory, as there is plenty of wood and every reason to believe that the country abounds in beaver. As for the other animals, they are in evident abundance, as in every direction the elk and the buffalo are seen in possession of the hills and the plains.
“... killed two elks, and mortally wounded a buffalo… The country is so crowded with animals as to have the appearance, in some places, of a stall-yard, from the state of the ground, and the quantity of dung which is scattered over it.”
This is likely the first written account of elk hunting in the Peace. Somewhere after his 1793 account, elk virtually disappeared. Although remnant herds existed, scattered across the Peace-Liard, more recent accounts report elk as “showing up” in the late 1950s in the South Peace, and in 1984, elk were transplanted into the Dunlevy Creek area to increase numbers. Today, Northeast B.C. has an estimated 15,000–25,000 elk, with between 1500–1800 harvested annually, about 60% bulls and 40% cows.
Next week, my elk season continues.
hat are hunters going to talk about in the middle of winter while they are sitting around twiddling their thumbs? Hunting. Any kind and every kind, including Black Bear, as this is commonly the first season after a long winter of thinking, planning and preparing.
Black bears are awesome to hunt, but there are challenges that come along with selecting a big, old, mature boar. Questions that come up are: Where do you start looking for big bears? What time of year do you have the best chance? How do you tell the difference between a boar and a sow? How do you tell the difference between a trophy bear and a young adolescent bear? These are all good questions, so let’s talk about some answers. While Black Bears are arguably one of the most popular animals to hunt, they are also one of the most difficult animals in North America to accurately field judge. At a distance, it’s easy to make any bear appear big when you first look at them. It’s easy to make a mistake when looking at a bear in the field, thinking that it’s a large bear when you shoot it, then, when you walk up to it, it’s not what you thought it was. So how do you tell if a bear is big when you’re looking at it from a long way away? Plain and simple, you can’t. There are qualities that bears portray that tell you a lot about them. How they’re acting, what they’re doing and the habitat around them can give you a better idea of whether it’s a mature bear, or not, rather than strictly trying to judge size at a distance. Sometimes, when hunters see a bear, the first thing they look at is the ears. Are they on the top of its head or out to the sides? That’s not wrong, but there are a lot of other factors that are a better indication of a bear’s size than the position of the ears. You’ve got to look at a whole compilation of factors in order to make an educated decision on whether you want to get a closer
look at it or not. That’s why the first thing I look for while hunting bears is the location that they’re in.
Big, dominant bears live and hang out in the best living conditions that are available and will compete with other bears over these spots. These conditions obviously change depending on the time of year you’re hunting. Here are a couple of tips to help you pick an area to hunt. When I think of spot and stalk Black Bear hunting, what pops into my head as the best destination in Canada, is British Columbia. The thick forests that cover most of the province’s landscape and the plentiful food sources provide ideal habitat for these big bruins. In the spring, which is the most common time of year to hunt bears, some of the likely places you will find them are cut blocks, avalanche slides, old roads and along the coastal fjords and inlets. Basically, spots that are out of the way, quiet and secluded are ideal places to find bears and often provide the best chance at seeing and getting a shot at big, old mature boars. You want to hunt places that are off the beaten path, that aren’t pounded by people and where bears can live out their quiet lives without disturbance, for the most part. Bears are lazy and, when they can, they will take the easiest path. This is partly why they choose to walk those old roads and other places that are easy going – that is until they meet you.
In the fall, the habits of Black Bears change. They are generally found up in the high alpine eating berries. A lot of the time there are still leaves on the trees and undergrowth, making cover thicker and bears harder to hunt. If you find the right spot, fall hunting can be very productive, but for the most part, you have to put in a lot more work to get to the high mountain alpine where they are. Fall Black Bear hunting isn’t usually targeted, as most of the time hunters choose to pursue other animals that can only be hunted in the fall. Whether you
are hunting alpine Mule Deer, or Stone Sheep and Mountain Goats, packing a Black Bear tag in the fall can be a great add-on to your pocket if you have the time and resources for it and are willing to put in the additional effort. The principles of Black Bear hunting in the fall are still the same as in the spring. You just have to change the location where you hunt.
Early in the spring season, the best living conditions will often be south-facing slopes or avalanche slides that get the majority of the sunshine throughout the day, making things green up faster than other areas that don’t get the same amount of sun. When you find the best living conditions in the area you’re focused on and you hunt those spots, you greatly increase your chances of harvesting a big, old boar. Also, look for bear scat and pay attention to the piles. Not the volume of the pile, but the girth. The bigger the girth, the bigger the bear. Another thing I look at while choosing an area to hunt is vegetation. If you’re hunting in a geographical area that has dandelions, they can tell you a lot about what areas to hunt, whether that is a valley bottom or a mountainside. There are the obvious things to look for like lush, green grass, but sometimes areas can look like they should have bears living there, even when there’s no sign of them around. Although these areas look great, they don’t have the feed that bears are looking for in the spring. Some of the grass, although green, might be old and not as tender, or have the same nutritional value as other vegetation. When there’s an early spring, south-facing slopes, or avalanche slides, green up before bears really become active. When that happens, I’ve found that bears move on and find a different location where the feeding conditions are better. What I’m saying is look for new growth, new shoots and green grass. By paying attention to the elevation that dandelions are sprouting up and growing at, you can gauge what elevation to hunt based on that new vegetation growth. I’m not saying that areas that don’t have dandelions won’t have good bear hunting
because there are numerous areas that dandelions don’t grow that still have great hunting. In my experience, in the early-tomid-stages of spring, Black Bears love eating dandelions when they’re just sprouting up and budding, but not yet in full flower That in-between stage is prime time.
When you’ve spotted a bear from a ways away and you need a better look, the best advice I can give you is to get in close. That’s what I’ve found works best. Not only will this help you judge size, but it will also make you a better hunter. Bears have poor distance eyesight but have good hearing and a great sense of smell. When you can get inside a bear’s comfort zone (what I have found to be between 60-70 yards) you are fooling all three of the senses that keep him at the top of the food chain. The more frequently you can do that, the better a hunter you become. The closer you get, the easier it is to tell if he’s a shooter or not, and when you’re that close, big bears really do look big, plain and simple.
Also, don’t use your optics because looking at a bear in your binoculars at 60 yards always makes them look big, no matter how small they are. The only time I use my binoculars at that range is when I’m really studying the bear’s head. The more bears you look at, and the more bears you actually put a tape on, the better you will become at judging size.
It is next to impossible to be consistently accurate at judging the size and skull measurements of a Black Bear in the field because there are far too many variables to make this possible while looking from a distance. There are great looking bears with big, meaty heads that make them look huge, but they don’t have the skull measurements to score well, even though they are still exceptional bears. There are bears that have small looking bodies that end up scoring really well. There are short and stalky bears, long and lanky bears and bears that are big and bulky. When I look at a bear I try to “rack bracket,” so to speak, by putting bears into categories for size. Is he six feet?
Low-to-mid six feet? High six feet and bigger? Is he small, medium, large or extra-large? However you do it, don’t try to put an exact number on how big he is because, again, there are a lot of variables that change things in a hurry.
Attitude is an important quality I look for in a shooter bear. Think of that bully you know. He walks with swagger, confidence, and arrogance. He looks and acts intimidating. He knows he’s the biggest badass in the neighbourhood and everyone steers clear of him and gives him his space. Well, the biggest, “baddest” bears walk around with a very similar attitude. They walk like they own the space they live in, and they do. They don’t startle at every little sound and movement and they aren’t looking over their shoulder every second. Have you ever watched a bear feeding for a while and all of a sudden it lifts its nose to the air and looks in a particular direction and then bolts the opposite way? That’s usually a small or average sized bear living in a big, dominant boar’s area. The bear smells or sees the dominant boar and is getting the heck out of dodge when you see that sort of behaviour! Small bears generally don’t have the swagger or the attitude that the dominant boars do. Small bears generally pussyfoot around and don’t lumber from side to side. That said, however, I have, on occasion, seen smaller bears or even sows walk with attitude. That’s when it pays to get close.
Here are a couple of things to look for when determining whether the bear is a boar or a sow. A big boar will have a deeper, wider and longer snout than a smaller bear or a female.
His ears will appear to be wide apart and small. His ears won’t stand up on top of his head, they’ll seem to be aimed out to the side. A big bear will have well-developed biting muscles on the top of his head and will often have developed a crease down the middle of his forehead due to these muscles.
A big boar will have massively developed, big and bulky front shoulders. The lower forearm, wrist and the foot on a big boar are all the same width, while a sow’s wrist will pinch in directly above the foot. A big boar often appears to have shorter legs because the body is so much thicker. It’s important to remember, when looking at bears, that even from a couple of hundred yards, small bears can look as proportionately big as big bears do because you don’t have anything else compare it to. They both have their belly low to the ground, they both appear to have shorter legs, (though one of the two will, in fact, have short legs if you were to ground check it) and they will both look big and filled out. When you’re unsure, think about the location that it’s in and make a call based on that. If it’s in a spot that you think a big dominant boar would live, then it might be worth going in for a closer look. If it’s in a spot that isn’t a prime location, for instance, the top of a steep logging clear-cut with little vegetation growing, then you have a pretty good idea that it’s a small young bear. If you’re a couple of hundred yards away and still can’t tell, that’s when it pays to get really close.
Also, look for scars on the face and ripped ears. These things are a good indication that it’s an old bear who’s been around the
block a time or two. Finding a bear in a prime feeding location, who walks with attitude, has the physical characteristics I described above and has scars and ripped ears is exactly what you’re looking for in my books.
As far as the best time to hunt Black Bears goes, every month of the spring season has pros and cons. While hunting in April, you can expect to see fewer bears than in May or June, but the hides will be in better condition. You may have to put in more time to find a bear, but you also may not have to look through as many to find a shooter, because, generally speaking, the big bears are out first. If you are planning a coastal hunt, late April and early May are a great time to hunt the salt chucks and secluded inlets that Black Bears love feeding around. The shorelines green up first, giving bears an early feed source to kick-start their metabolism after a long winter in their den.
Mid-to-late-May is also a great time to hunt. Warmer weather brings new growth and more bears. While you have the chance to look at numerous bears, use it as an opportunity to compare, really paying attention to size. Depending on the area you’re hunting, late May or the beginning of June will be the time of year when bears start to rut. This is a great time of the season to find big bears. Boars will start to travel in search of sows and often that means they’re out walking old roads, cut blocks or clear cuts. When you see a breeding pair walking around, that is the easiest time to tell which bears are big and which ones aren’t. It’s the perfect scenario to judge size when you can look at two bears at the same time, side by side, because there will be a noticeable size difference between big boars and sows. Whether you’re hunting roads, cut blocks or avalanche slides, if there are two bears together that aren’t a sow and her cub, the boar will usually be the one in the back. Around any corner could be the bear you’re
looking for!
At this time of year, deer and other ungulates are giving birth to their young. If the bear has winded you, or is simply just walking away, by using a hand-held predator call, such as fawn in distress, you can get the bear’s attention long enough to get
a second look. Sometimes all you need is that extra couple of seconds to seal the deal. It’s also possible to call them in, giving you an up close and personal experience.
One of the cons to hunting late May or the beginning of June is making sure you shoot the right bear. The average size of a sow is between 5 and 5 ½ feet, with a really big sow being 6 feet. If both bears look the same size, chances are it’s not a bear of any great size.
The best time of day to hunt is in the evening, between 3 o’clock in the afternoon and dark. It’s not that you won’t see bears in the late morning—late morning is a great time to scout and find an area you want to hunt—you just have a much better chance of connecting on a bear in the evening. Pay attention to the temperature, you will be surprised at how much of an impact it has on bear activity. 16-17 degrees Celsius and overcast would be the ideal temperature and weather condition. I’ve found that in weather cooler than that Black Bears aren’t usually as active, as well, any temperature much above 20 degrees Celsius and bears again become less active. Find and pick your areas to hunt in the morning, so that you are in the right place at the right time for those prime evening hours. If you have found good sign you may want to hunt that particular spot all evening. Other times it’s beneficial to check one good spot after another until you find that right bear.
The last piece of advice I’m going to offer is to go with your gut instinct. Be logical and think rationally, of course, but sometimes you just know when the time is right. Whether that means letting the bear walk away or knowing the second you see it that you need to drop the hammer, I strongly believe that you should listen to your sixth sense when it’s telling you something. More often than not it’s right, even if you can’t explain it.
You may have to look at a few bears before you find the one you’re truly looking for, but that’s the fun isn’t it? Whether you’re new to hunting, a guide or an experienced hunter, when hunting is your passion one thing is for sure, if you’re not out there doing it, you’re thinking about it.
Thank you to our Monarchs for elevating us to new heights!
Monarch Platinum:
(30) Don Lynum
(29) Erik Skaaning
Adam Foss
Monarch Gold:
(1) David Heitsman
Frank Miles
Monarch Silver:
(4) David Hale
Terry Earl
Kyle Stelter
Monarch:
Chase Oswald
John Woodcock
Chris Wheeler
Omer Hrbinic
Nolan Wannop
John Davies
Tom Foss
Daryll Hosker (94) Cameron Foss
Malcolm Bachand
Bill Pastorek (24) Mike Southin
Jeff Glaicar
Chad Rattenbury
Oliver Busby
Jeffrey Brown
Greg Nalleweg
Darryn Epp
Steven Rochon (37) Peter Gutsche
Adam Janke
Trevor Querel
Casey Cawston
Rob Englot
Kevin Hurley
Benjamin Matthews
Barry “Bear” Brandow
Bill Jacobsen
Ken Kitzman
Lawrence van der Peet (14) Brad Moore (16) Colin Peters
Rodney Zeeman
Kelly Cioffi
Josh Hamilton (23) Foster Thorpe-Doubble
Fred Vitali (27) Carlos Dionisio
Nathan French (34) Neil Armsworthy (35) Stefan Bachmann
Justin Leung
Mike Kirk
Branden Adams
Clint Gill
Jeff Agostinho
Sabrina Larsen
Dean Bergen
Glen Watkins
Nolan Osborne
Russ Burmatoff
Don Willimont
Gabriel Krahn
Sean Davidson (40) Rod Deighton
David Pearse (47) Frank Briglio
Ben Matthews (54) David Heathfield
Ben Berukoff
Mike Tomlinson
Magnus Mussfield
Greg Rensmaag
Ricky Roman
Rhett Pedersen
Glen Cartwright (72) Levi Reid
Caelin Folsom
Jonathan Proctor
Steve Hamilton (87) Darcy East
Devon Stuart
Mark Gushattey
Michael
Tyler Sawicki
Melanie Stelter
t was hard to conceive where the time had gone, ss the lonesome peak grasped to hang onto the sun’s final rays of light. I watched my nephew scan its slopes, longing to catch a glimpse of his very first Stone sheep. Incredibly, it had been almost 25 years to the day when I followed my uncle into the northern wilderness for the very first time. Looking back, there was no way to know how big an impact that experience would have on me. From that day forward, the mountains were not just somewhere I visited. They became a part of me.
From that seemingly innocent spark, a burning desire and passion for mountain hunting was born. A lifetime’s worth of adventures, memories and friendships ensued. Not only had my experiences in the mountains brought me an unrivalled sense of contentment and joy, but I’d also learned perseverance, humility, and patience along the way. These attributes would not only help me to become a better hunter, but a better person.
As I kept watching my nephew, with his young look of astonishment, it dawned on me that perhaps we had been brought to this mountain together to fulfill a purpose far more significant than harvesting a full curl ram. Maybe the circular horns of the elusive stone sheep were in fact symbolic of something far greater.
Go With the Flow
We were only minutes into the hunt and I was already having second thoughts about bringing someone so young on such an inherently difficult trip. The plan was to cross a sizeable river, then bushwack our way nearly 20 kilometres up to a 6500-foot ridge. The river crossing would be formidable given its size and swiftness. Armed with only a 10-foot porta boat and a 2.5hp kicker, there would be little room for error. Having been on many sheep hunts over the years, adversity and taking calculated risks was nothing new to me. This however, would be the first sheep hunt in which I would be responsible for my sister’s son’s well-being. My mom and dad’s lecture about being safe and bringing Austin home alive echoed inside my head as I pulled on the small
motor. After five minutes of cursing, the motor refused to start.
With no plan B, it was imperative we cross the river. A knot in the pit of my stomach formed, when I realized, we would now have to either paddle our way across, or call off the entire trip. Luckily my good friend Simon would be joining us. Having another adult along provided an extra sense of security in case something happened to me. After several minutes of debating, we decided to attempt the crossing. Simon and I went first, with all the gear, then we paddled back across to retrieve Austin. After concealing the boat inside the tree line. We stood on the river’s edge, gazing up at the next task at hand.
Trust Me, Sheep Hunting’s Fun
Gaining access to the ridge would be no easy task. To reach the top we would have to traverse nearly 20 km of some of the nastiest ground Mother Nature had to offer. With no horse trail and 4000 feet of vertical to conquer, each step with our enormous backpacks would be hard fought. To make matters worse the bugs were the most ferocious I had ever seen. We forged ahead through the clouds of ravenous mosquitos and the seemingly impenetrable walls of brush. I periodically asked Austin how he was doing. He assured me that he was okay, which gave me hope that he could make it. Having seen the mountains turn fullgrown-men into whining babies, I was proud of his tenacity at only 15 years of age.
As the day progressed it became apparent that breaking free from the thick timber and bugs was unrealistic. We
moved slow through the dense bush. Just when it seemed as though it couldn’t get any worse, we hit a swath of blowdowns that stretched miles across the hillside. With no other option, we entered the tangled mess of trees. Given our fatigue and the weight of our packs, it was only a matter of time before I fell into a large hole. Simon helped free me and I begrudgingly declared we would call it a day. We were exhausted and to push any further would only invite injury.
After 10 solid hours all we wanted to do was sit down and relax, but the bugs made it virtually impossible. We couldn’t get our tents set up fast enough. I had no sooner crawled into safety, when I heard screaming coming from Austin’s tent. As I grabbed the gun and opened my tent’s door. I half expected to see a grizzly bear tearing into him. Instead, Austin hollered in agony as his legs cramped up. It left little doubt as to how hard he had worked that day. Within minutes of his cramps subsiding, Austin was fast asleep.
Don’t Tell Grandma
The second day brought more of the same. After several more hours of bushwacking, we finally broke through to alpine. It felt invigorating to finally be free from the timber. Suddenly a movement caught my eye to the right. My heart sank as I realized I had walked us to within 80 yards of a mature grizzly. As it hadn’t seen me, I dropped to my knees and quickly got my rifle ready. As I stood up and alerted him of our presence, I expected the bear to turn and run just as I had seen every other time. Except this time instead of moving off
and giving us our space, the bear turned and began to charge immediately. In a matter of seconds, the bear had covered 30 yards. Time slowed to a halt as I fired a warning shot at the bear’s feet.
Undeterred, the bear kept coming. In one motion I chambered another round and cranked down the scope. As the bear crested a small knoll just 30 yards away, I planted my crosshairs firmly on his chest. Just as I began to squeeze the trigger, he spun on a dime and veered off up the hill.
It took me a moment to grasp what had happened. I had completely forgotten Austin was there until he shouted.
“That bear was coming to kill you uncle!”
The adrenaline wore off as I realized what could have happened to us.
“Maybe let’s wait a while before we share that part of the story.” I advised Austin
Game On!
On the third day, we made the last push to the summit. Along the way Austin was confronted by a mountain goat. I was grateful that finally after three days, he had a memory from the trip that didn’t involve, bushwhacking, bugs, or grizzly bears. As we crested the summit all the pain went away for a moment as we gazed upon the incredible vista and savoured our victory.
After sleeping the entire afternoon away due to exhaustion, we gathered our things and went for a scouting mission before dark. The next day was the opener, and we were elated to see a nodoubter ram silhouetted on an adjacent
peak. Not only did the ram symbolize hope but it validated all the hard work it took us to get there. I explained to Austin how the lessons we learn while hunting can often be applicable in everyday life. It was a good example of how staying positive and working hard pays off.
our effort had been for naught as he quickly ran off and failed to reappear.
With my adrenaline on overdrive I left Simon and Austin to stay as spotters while I carefully made my way to where I thought the ram had bedded. After an hour, I was within range. Now I just had to be patient and wait for the ram to make a move. After a few hours my eyes got heavy and I struggled to remain alert. Every time my head would snap back, I was sure the ram had snuck off undetected. Then just as I began to nod off again, I felt a tap on my leg. Caught completely off guard, I nearly booted Simon right in the head.
“I know where he is,” he whispered. He explained the ram had not stopped in behind the rocks after all. He had somehow made it up to the peak where we had seen him the previous night.
Sleep that night was hard to come by. The prospect of getting on a beautiful ram had me more excited than a kid on Christmas Eve. The weather had also changed. The 70 kilometer-hour, gusting winds made sleep virtually impossible. So at the crack of dawn, we downed a hasty breakfast and headed to where we had seen the ram. With the bitterly cold wind still howling and robbing us of our dexterity, we crawled behind some large rocks and began to pick apart the basin. Glassing was difficult as the wind was causing our eyes to water profusely. After six miserable hours we decided to make a move to check out another part of the basin, when unexpectedly, the ram exploded out from behind a group of boulders that we had glassed several times. My heart sank and I realized all
Fatigue was replaced by exhilaration as we snuck up the spiny ridge towards the ram. My heart pounded in my chest as the distance closed. As we slowly inched our eyes above the last rock, my pounding heart stopped. Only 100 yards away lay the unsuspecting ram. After waiting for the ram to stand up, I gently squeezed the trigger. As he fell to the ground, I closed my eyes and the significance of what we had just accomplished sunk in. I gave Austin a huge hug. It was not lost on me that we had just shared an experience, that would never be forgotten. In our struggle, we had become closer.
Not So Fast
Little did we know but our struggles weren’t over yet. A massive thunder cell approached from the west, sending a chill down my spine. With no time to waste, we processed the ram and set
up the sil tarp in preparation for the oncoming storm. We had no sooner pounded the last stake when the storm hit with a brutal intensity. The hair stood up on the back of my neck as electricity ripped through the air. Fully exposed at 6500 ft was the last place we wanted to be in that storm, but we had little choice other than to ride it out. After an hour of wind, lightening and hail, the storm finally subsided. But the torrential rains turned the black lichen covering the rocky peak to ice. It was the scariest hike of my life, watching my nephew climb down the slippery terrain where one misstep could certainly mean death. I stayed within arms reach the entire time, barking orders as to where to place his hands and feet, but I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so helpless in my life. As darkness began to fall, we approached our tents, tired but grateful.
The next 14 hours consisted of complete mayhem as another powerful storm lashed the mountain top with a ferocity I had never experienced before. 90 kilometer per hour wind and torrential rains battered our tiny nylon fortresses. The sound of the wind was deafening and I had to shout to talk to Austin, who sat only a few feet away. Simon’s tent had buckled in the powerful winds and flapped vigorously . I laughed like a madman as I incessantly wiped the pooling water from inside my tent with socks and underwear in a futile attempt to keep my sleeping bag dry. Instead of hiking down victoriously, we had been thrust into a survival situation.
When the storm finally broke, we stuffed our rain-soaked gear into our bags and ran for the treeline with our tails tucked firmly between our legs. The mountains had given us everything we could handle and so much more. As I walked off the mountain over the next two days, toting a magnificent set of full curl sheep horns. I couldn’t help but feel as though the real prize lay inside our hearts and not on my back.
The Deeper Meaning
Just as a ram’s horns continue to grow and mature over time, so too does our understanding of hunting’s true gifts. It is only through adversity and hardships that we develop character, just like the
horns. For the sheep, these moments are captured in time by the presence of cracks, chips and annuli, while our scars may be more subtle. Never the less, they serve as a reminder that although hard times are inevitable, we both are capable of persevering. Forever changed, not in spite of our experiences but because of them.
25 years ago, when my uncle brought me into the northern wilderness, he provided me with so much more than a hunt. Not only was it an opportunity to grow and test myself against Mother Nature. It was a chance to be humbled by and connected to something far greater than myself. For years afterwards, I would draw on the strength and confidence gained on that trip. Unfortunately, opportunities such as this are becoming exceedingly rare for young people today. We seem to have forgotten the importance of putting our children in situations where failure is possible. Only when we get knocked down and get back up again, can the exhilaration of victory be fully appreciated. By overcoming adversity, Austin took his first steps towards becoming a young man.
When we take a child hunting, we are providing them with opportunities to grow as people and develop the confidence to navigate life. We build a foundation for them and for the future of wildlife as a whole. The essence of conservation is rooted in respect and appreciation for that which we aim to protect. It is only when we share our passion and respect for nature that we
provide an opportunity to connect to it. The real gift in a hunt such as this one, lies not in the horns themselves. But in the knowledge that we have passed along a tradition, while in pursuit of them. By the time a ram has lived long enough to grow a set of full curl horns, he has fulfilled his purpose in life. By surviving brutal winters, eluding predators and battling for breeding rights he has ensured his legacy will continue. By paying it forward and taking my nephew on his first sheep hunt, just as my uncle had done for me, it felt as though I had fulfilled my own purpose. With my heart filled with pride, I watched Austin take his final steps off the mountain that day. Beaming with a new found confidence and the skills to begin his own legacy in the mountains, something told me, life had come full circle.
Members, send us your hunt story (~50 words plus a picture or two) to communications@wildsheepsociety.com.
Since my hunting journey first began, I’ve dreamed about getting close enough to a large enough bruin to make it into the Pope & Young book. I didn’t know it when I first laid my hands on him, but this big bruin accomplished that goal and I was more than thrilled with another story to share.
– Michael Hale
Some traverses towards the high country reward you with an opportunity you don’t expect, and maybe shouldn’t take advantage of. Fortunately for me I was accompanied by two folks who don’t mind a little pain, and left with a memory that’s anything but light. This bull was spotted across a canyon by a friend whose ram we’d packed out 2 days prior. Due to the distance required to pack out most would have continued in pursuit of smaller game. Luckily for me he’s a better man than most.
– Cole HankThe odds of drawing an 86:1 Roosevelt elk tag speak for themselves. Imagine what the odds of drawing the tag are, when you don’t even put in for it. Due to a computer glitch, in 2007 I was blessed with the opportunity of a lifetime. Despite living in the interior and knowing nothing of the elusive Roosevelt. My two best friends and I set out on an epic adventure. 120 kilometre an hour winds, a collapsed wall tent and a sunken boat were only a few of the obstacles we faced. On the third day we hooked up with this beautiful bull.
– Justin KalluskyI was able to take this billy on an early September solo hunt. Wildfire smoke made glassing impossible, so the summer scouting paid off as he was still hanging out in his usual basin. He took some horn tip damage on his tumble and I also took some rifle scope damage on my tumble down the mountain packing out. A classic goat hunt!
– Grant Iles (WSSBC Life Member)
by Dr. Helen Schwantje D.V.M., M.Sc. BC Wildlife Veterinarian (emeritus)
t is another beautiful fall day in your new district. As you drive through the foothills, you are thinking about an upcoming backcountry trip with friends and pass by a lush green pasture. You heard the farmer recently bought a fancy sheep breed and fenced the field with page wire. Suddenly a bighorn ram leaps over the fence and stands on the verge of the road. It is a nice ¾ curl and you think – he will be a looker in three or four years. And you drive on, back to planning that break once hunting season winds down.
Some of you know what I am talking about. Those of you in Kamloops, Pincher Creek, or Atlin hopefully do. These days there are far more COs and game wardens who have not spent time in areas with wild sheep. Most of you think it is a nice picture I paint, but are more interested in where this backcountry trip is going to be. However, I have presented you with an issue and it is all about wildlife health and conservation.
There is a significant risk created when domestic and wild sheep come into contact, and the story does not end with the ram standing by the side of the road. In our story, as you get back to the office, there is an urgent fax/ email waiting. It says that both a farmer and a wild sheep organization member have reported seeing a ¾ curl bighorn ram sharing a pasture with a flock of purebred domestic ewes. The call centre and your sergeant remind you that according to government inter-ministry protocols, you must immediately call the local sheep and goat biologist for their direction on next steps.
You call. The biologist assumes you understand the issue, but you have no experience with either species or the risk presented. There are no bighorn sheep on Vancouver Island, not a one in Lethbridge, Prince Albert, or Brandon and I have never heard of one in Yellowknife or Whitehorse. Each jurisdiction has, and will have, livestock conflicts and those conflicts regularly involve diseases potentially transmitted between domestic and wild species. What species are at risk, and from what disease, varies with location and species. In the situation described, there are several issues to understand:
1. It is the fall, breeding season for both domestic and wild sheep. They are remarkably similar species and can interbreed. For the owner of a purebred flock, a bighorn ram breeding his ewes means the loss of purebred lambs and a financial hit (some purebreds can be worth $1,000 or more as breeding stock). While bighorn/domestic cross lambs can be born alive, they rarely thrive and
are never productive animals having hairy wool, less than ideal muscling, and low, if any, fertility.
2. Many domestics carry infectious organisms that may or may not cause obvious disease in them. Thousands of years of domestication have selected animals that can live at high density, adapted to many bacteria, viruses, and parasites. This is not, or very rarely, the case with wild sheep. Thinhorn sheep (Stone’s and Dall’s) in northern British Columbia (BC), the Northwest Territories, and Yukon have little evidence of exposure to the most | common domestic sheep pathogens and are believed to be naïve to the most serious. Bighorn sheep herds typically have more history of contact with their domestic cousins and some herds have already suffered ill effects from disease. Many organisms require close contact between individuals for successful transmission, but some are transmitted by insects or remotely. Once transmitted, a pathogen can cause mild or severe, acute, or chronic disease in one or multiple animals. Control of diseases or removal of the pathogen from individual free-ranging animals or groups is almost impossible.
In our scenario, that ram, if infected from contact with the domestics, can take his new infection back to multiple herds as he makes his merry way through the rut. So, a casual meeting of a domestic sheep and a bighorn ram could easily turn into a disaster for both the sheep producer and the bighorn manager. So, what is next?
In BC at least, a conservation officer has the mandate to protect wildlife, and if so requested, will assist the biologist in sheep conservation by killing the ram so recently admired. And that is where a lot more work starts. In BC, the BC Wild/Domestic Sheep Separation Program (BCSSP) is a more than 25year partnership between government, domestic sheep, and wild sheep organizations and will follow up with the local officer, biologist, and producer to document the risk this farm presents to bighorn sheep herds in the area. There is no overall policy on where domestic sheep can live and private landowners have the right to farm what they wish. However, collaboration among wild and domestic sheep advocates to reach common goals can and does happen. The BCSSP coordinator, Jeremy Ayotte, will suggest mitigation measures to continue to reduce the risk of contact so that no more wild sheep are killed to protect the
WILD SHEEP AND DOMESTIC SHEEP OR GOAT CONTACT
wild herds. In past decades, the strongest tool to reduce risk was to ensure effective separation between species; however, there is new knowledge about this old issue.
We have learned that one species of bacteria is usually responsible for initiating outbreaks of disease in wild sheep. They are extremely sensitive to these bacteria and when exposed usually develop a complicated pneumonia that spreads rapidly through the herd with high percentages of exposed sheep dying within weeks. The bacteria are Mycoplasma ovipneumoniae or M. ovi. It is common in domestic sheep, where it causes mild respiratory disease, especially in growing lambs. However, in wild sheep it reduces their immune defenses, allowing multiple types of bacteria to enter the lungs, creating a rapidly-spreading pneumonia. Seventyfive percent or more of bighorns newly exposed to M. ovi will die of
bacterial pneumonia, but that is not all. Any survivors can continue carrying M. ovi in their sinuses. Each year, as lambs are born, they start their lives with little immunity to anything. If in contact with a carrier animal, whether their mother or another ewe, they are infected and rarely survive for more than eight weeks of age. The die-off from adult pneumonia plus the lack of surviving lambs, often for years, results in declining bighorn herds. While it is sometimes possible to treat domestic flocks for respiratory diseases, the treatment of free-ranging bighorns is not so simple. In fact, in an extreme example of wildlife management, BC is trying to do just that with bighorn herds we know are carrying M. ovi. It involves no antibiotics and will be the subject of another article at a later date.
Few sheep producers are aware of M. ovi, so for the BCSSP and wild sheep management, the messaging around
awareness and education is critical. We learned that collaboration is key and working together on an issue leads to shared visions and solutions. We certainly do not have the final answer yet, but having conservation officers and game wardens who are aware of wild sheep health challenges and the scenarios that can lead to health disasters and are willing and able to join in conservation efforts is a start.
If interested, check out these websites for more information:
M. ovi Free – a comprehensive source of information on wild and domestic sheep and the impact of M. ovi - https:// movifree.org/
WAFWA Wild Sheep Initiative – an international collaborative working group managing and researching wild sheep and their conservation - https:// wafwa.org/initiatives/wsi/
