S
SBT
Guest
After receiving my tag, I began some serious sheep and sheep area studies. The three most valuables thing I did was attend the WY Chapter of FNAWS convention where I got to pick the brains of well known outfitters, Game & Fish biologist, and prior years succesful hunters. In WY, every succesful sheep hunter has to fill out a "sheep card" after his harvest. These list the date killed, number of days hunter, location killed and the outfitter if any. As my area was divided between two G&F Districts, I went to both and studied the sheep cards for the past four years. This really helped narrow down my search for a good area. Then, begining in July, I rode every weekend checking out a new area and locating suitable camps with grass and water for the horses. Since I work on a 4/10 plan, I had three day weekends, plus I added a day here and there. I rode every weekend. After all that, I settled on two areas. The first week would be dedicated to one area and the second week the other. I had two hunting crews organized with different friends for each area.
Finally, the day came and we packed into camp three days before the season. I had two friends, Frank and Steve, who would help locate sheep, and my son Chad who would be the "Camp Jack".
The first two days were spent riding into camp. The third day, we split up and worked in groups of twos looking for Rams. We located some ewes and lambs on one mtn, and groups of small rams in other areas. The bad part was, that an outfitted group came into the area and camped at the head of the drainage we really wanted to hunt.
Opening day we split up again. Frank and I did not locate any sheep, but Steve found a group of five rams including the one I shot. He was running with a full curl ram that was un-broomed, two 3/4 curls and a sicle horned ram. These rams were in the canyon below the outfitter camp, but in an impossible place to get to. There was sheer cliff above and below them, and both sides were too steep with deep arroyos cut out to make a side approach possible.
We decide we'd have to take out a spike camp and live across the canyon from the rams until they made a mistake.
The next day we packed in a spike camp and tried to find the rams. We found three new rams, but they didn't measure up. Then we found the full curl ram with another new ram, but we couldn't find the heavy broomed off ram.
At about 5:30 PM, we heard a series of two shots, but couldn't tell where they came from. I began to look around, and towards the head of the canyon I saw three hunters, one carrying his rifle and walking slowly as if trying to find a wounded ram. I figued they shot the broomed off ram.
Ten minutes later, Frank came running over to me and said that Chad had found the broomed off ram. He was on the other side of the canyon, and was leading a group of three other rams out of the area. They were running across the cliffs and headed down towards the creek in the bottom of the canyon. We watched through our spotting scopes for about forty-five minutes as they worked their way to the bottom.
Towards the bottom, we lost sight of them, but thought they might come up the side we were on, as they were obviously running from something.
We looked down the canyon below us and saw a little bench in the timber. A perfect spot to escape to. By now it was 6:30 and Frank and Chad had a two hour ride back to camp. They left, and Steve and I stayed. I tried to work my way down to the bench, but was stopped by some almost sheer cliff of volcanic rock that dropped about 50 yards. I went back to Steve and told him we couldn't get down to the bench. Steve is a climber, and said he'd hve a look. As I watched the bench, he crawled down the rocks slowly and was able to find a route down. The sheep had nothing on Steve. It looked impossible, but he made it. He walked down to the bench and looked over. He then gave me the "50 yards" hand signal and began coming back my way. I assumed he meant it was 50 yards to the bottom below the bench. He skillfully climbed back up the cliff and was about 40 yards away from me catching his breath. What he really mant was that the rams were 50 yards below him.
I was standing on a precipice overlooking the bench. I looked backdown at the bench, and I thought I saw a ram butt. I looked with my binoculars and the broomed off ram appeared, leading the other three. I grabbed my rafle, proned out on the precipice and right when I found the ram, I heard Steve sliding down the scree slope and yelling "shoot him!" The rams looked up at the sound of falling rocks, and that gave me the time I needed. I fired, and all the rams ran off. I saw the broomed off ram hunch up before he ran, and then I saw three rams run through the trees. The broomed off ram never came out.
Now I had to climb down the impossible cliff as I needed to see if I hit the ram. It took all I had to make the climb, but I did it. We then looked around, and found my ram dead, right on the edge of the bench. My Remington 700 Mountain Rifle shooting 165 gr Federal Premiums with Sierra Game Kings had done its job well. The shot was down a steep hill and was between 250 and 300 yards. I was pretty excited as he was a damn nice ram, carrying his weight all the way down to his broomed off tips.
We caped him out and began the slow climb back up. We made it just at dark, but were in time to see a golden sunset over the Tetons.
We made our way to our spike camp in the dark and after a few bourbon and springwaters, made it to bed. It was a calm, warm peachful night. Until about 3 AM. Then it began to storm. We woke up to 6" of fresh snow on the gound and we still had to make the treacherous climb back down to the ram to bone and pack out the meat.
It quit snowing about 10 AM, so we took our packs and made our way back to the ram. We boned him out and again made the climb I once thought was impossible.
Once back out, we rode back to base camp, celebrating once more. The next day we broke camp and spend two days riding back out to the horse trailers.
The big rock in the forground is where I shot from. The canyon face on the left is where they began their flight to "safety".
Front view of Ram.
Ram after the snow storm and at spike camp.
Finally, the day came and we packed into camp three days before the season. I had two friends, Frank and Steve, who would help locate sheep, and my son Chad who would be the "Camp Jack".
The first two days were spent riding into camp. The third day, we split up and worked in groups of twos looking for Rams. We located some ewes and lambs on one mtn, and groups of small rams in other areas. The bad part was, that an outfitted group came into the area and camped at the head of the drainage we really wanted to hunt.
Opening day we split up again. Frank and I did not locate any sheep, but Steve found a group of five rams including the one I shot. He was running with a full curl ram that was un-broomed, two 3/4 curls and a sicle horned ram. These rams were in the canyon below the outfitter camp, but in an impossible place to get to. There was sheer cliff above and below them, and both sides were too steep with deep arroyos cut out to make a side approach possible.
We decide we'd have to take out a spike camp and live across the canyon from the rams until they made a mistake.
The next day we packed in a spike camp and tried to find the rams. We found three new rams, but they didn't measure up. Then we found the full curl ram with another new ram, but we couldn't find the heavy broomed off ram.
At about 5:30 PM, we heard a series of two shots, but couldn't tell where they came from. I began to look around, and towards the head of the canyon I saw three hunters, one carrying his rifle and walking slowly as if trying to find a wounded ram. I figued they shot the broomed off ram.
Ten minutes later, Frank came running over to me and said that Chad had found the broomed off ram. He was on the other side of the canyon, and was leading a group of three other rams out of the area. They were running across the cliffs and headed down towards the creek in the bottom of the canyon. We watched through our spotting scopes for about forty-five minutes as they worked their way to the bottom.
Towards the bottom, we lost sight of them, but thought they might come up the side we were on, as they were obviously running from something.
We looked down the canyon below us and saw a little bench in the timber. A perfect spot to escape to. By now it was 6:30 and Frank and Chad had a two hour ride back to camp. They left, and Steve and I stayed. I tried to work my way down to the bench, but was stopped by some almost sheer cliff of volcanic rock that dropped about 50 yards. I went back to Steve and told him we couldn't get down to the bench. Steve is a climber, and said he'd hve a look. As I watched the bench, he crawled down the rocks slowly and was able to find a route down. The sheep had nothing on Steve. It looked impossible, but he made it. He walked down to the bench and looked over. He then gave me the "50 yards" hand signal and began coming back my way. I assumed he meant it was 50 yards to the bottom below the bench. He skillfully climbed back up the cliff and was about 40 yards away from me catching his breath. What he really mant was that the rams were 50 yards below him.
I was standing on a precipice overlooking the bench. I looked backdown at the bench, and I thought I saw a ram butt. I looked with my binoculars and the broomed off ram appeared, leading the other three. I grabbed my rafle, proned out on the precipice and right when I found the ram, I heard Steve sliding down the scree slope and yelling "shoot him!" The rams looked up at the sound of falling rocks, and that gave me the time I needed. I fired, and all the rams ran off. I saw the broomed off ram hunch up before he ran, and then I saw three rams run through the trees. The broomed off ram never came out.
Now I had to climb down the impossible cliff as I needed to see if I hit the ram. It took all I had to make the climb, but I did it. We then looked around, and found my ram dead, right on the edge of the bench. My Remington 700 Mountain Rifle shooting 165 gr Federal Premiums with Sierra Game Kings had done its job well. The shot was down a steep hill and was between 250 and 300 yards. I was pretty excited as he was a damn nice ram, carrying his weight all the way down to his broomed off tips.
We caped him out and began the slow climb back up. We made it just at dark, but were in time to see a golden sunset over the Tetons.
We made our way to our spike camp in the dark and after a few bourbon and springwaters, made it to bed. It was a calm, warm peachful night. Until about 3 AM. Then it began to storm. We woke up to 6" of fresh snow on the gound and we still had to make the treacherous climb back down to the ram to bone and pack out the meat.
It quit snowing about 10 AM, so we took our packs and made our way back to the ram. We boned him out and again made the climb I once thought was impossible.
Once back out, we rode back to base camp, celebrating once more. The next day we broke camp and spend two days riding back out to the horse trailers.
The big rock in the forground is where I shot from. The canyon face on the left is where they began their flight to "safety".
Front view of Ram.
Ram after the snow storm and at spike camp.
