One, that’s how many chances you get to hunt Desert bighorn sheep in Arizona. This year, I beat the odds and drew the prestigious and elusive tag with a mere 11 bonus points as opposed to my husband’s 29. My husband, Guy, is my one true partner in life, and without an ounce of hesitation or jealousy, he set about preparing for this hunt-of-a-lifetime. He bought me a new gun, clothes, backpack, tons of maps, and a new ATV. He spent hours talking to all of his hunting buddies and reaching out to hunters whom he had never met. He was constantly on me to get hiking and shooting. However, he struggled a lot with one thing – whether or not to hire a guide. It was a once-in-a-lifetime hunt and he didn’t want to make a mistake, but for him, it is always more about the hunt than the size of the kill. Because of his decision to go it on our own, we needed to spend a lot of time in the field learning where and how these great animals lived.
I had just a few small obstacles. A knee had been giving me trouble, I hadn’t looked down the barrel of a gun for 10 years, and my eyesight was not great. I scheduled appointments for new glasses and surgery on my knee and then started shooting prairie dogs out of our hay fields in Colorado. My aim improved, but the odds were in favor of the prairie dogs, so I looked up an old friend in Utah who had taught marksmanship in the military. We spent some time at the range, and it changed everything. I can still hear him talking to me every time I pick up my rifle. One would think that I was all ready for the hunt, but the most difficult part of the preparation still lay ahead.
You see, the last time I had hunted was with my son, Corey, in 2009. I had drawn a bull elk and a whitetail tag, and he had come back home to live for a bit while he pursued a change of direction in his life. He desperately wanted to join the military. We helped him through some financial issues and depression from a failed relationship. In February 2010, we stood with him as he took the oath to defend this nation. He was happy and so much more mature than we had ever seen him. He finished basic and was stationed in upstate New York. His first deployment came quickly. He came home for Christmas in 2010 and then was deployed in March. By May ,we had lost our one and only son. Corey was KIA in Afghanistan. There is no way to describe the unpredictable journey of grief, but our family is so grateful for the time he spent with us before he went into the military, and my hunt was the highlight of it all.
Guy and a number of close friends and family that made up our sheep hunting team arrived at the unit a couple days ahead of me as I was tied up at work. They set up camp and spent hours glassing the hills in search of that special ram. Opening morning was Sunday, and Friday evening, I drove alone to the unit. I took with me the one and only dog tag that I have of Corey’s from Afghanistan. I hung it on the mirror, and as I drove for two hours, it tinkled against the dash and sounded so much like his laughter. I got there late, tired, content, and ready for a great hunt.
I cannot say enough about the team of people that came together for this hunt. They all took time from their busy lives to be there, and each one brought something unique and valuable to the hunt. When I found out about my tag, the first people to say they would be there were my sister, Candy, and her husband, Randy Yow. They are both very accomplished hunters and operate Ladies Hunting Camp and Extreme Desire TV, so their ability to provide live footage and great photos is invaluable to every hunt. I am the oldest of nine siblings, but Candy is my one and only full sibling. Our parents were divorced when we were very young and both remarried with second families. We love all of our siblings, but Candy is the one and only who really gets me. We were close in age and grew up in small ranching towns where all we had was each other. We are so blessed to enjoy the same things in life and be married to men who love the outdoors and hunting.
We spent the last day before the hunt watching a decent ram, but on opening day, he decided not to expose himself until just before sunset. We all got a good look at him, and he was old with a lot of character but broomed off pretty good.
On day two, we decided to take a look in a different area. Sheep hunting means hours of glassing, and it paid off in a couple of hours when Guy located a couple of big rams a long ways off. We left my sister on the ridge with a spotting scope while Guy, Randy, and I took off for the area where they were sighted. We were able to stalk in on them with a 420-yard shot. I had been shooting well and was confident. After missing several shots, we watched the ram trot off over the skyline. Everybody was very supportive, but I was discouraged, to say the least. We had to replace the scope on my gun shortly before the hunt, and I was worried that it didn’t fit me well. It was decided that I should try shooting with my sister’s gun, a Weatherby Mark 5 Camilla 6.5 Creedmoor with Leupold CDS dial the next morning.
We were in the quads at daylight, and somewhere along the way, we stopped and stuck a paper plate up as a target. I shot two shots, one inside of the other. With my confidence restored, we set out to see if I had scared the ram completely out of the area. The chances were slim that he had hung around, but he was far too big to not try again.
Jon and Ernie hiked into the wilderness area to try to get a different vantage point while Dan and Rick drove way down to the south side. Candy and Randy returned to the same area we had first glassed him from, and Guy and I went out on a couple of peaks not far from there. We had some cell service from higher points, and Ernie called to say that he was at the destination and couldn’t find anything but the country was super wicked. Randy replied, “Can you just go over one more ridge?”
Not 20 minutes later, Ernie called again and said they had located a huge ram. He took a photo with a scope camera and sent it to Guy who verified that it was the same ram from yesterday. The four of us took off into the wilderness area to meet up with Ernie and Jon and hopefully stalk in one last time. To say the country was wicked is an understatement; we spent hours crawling from one huge boulder to another with many a cholla encounter. Our final ascent was up a shale hill with an outcropping of rocks at the top. The guys went in front to lay down packs for a rest and range the distance. The distance was 315 yards, and my heart began to beat wildly at the chance of missing him again. As I belly crawled to the top of the outcropping, I told myself over and over that it was just a paper plate. The sight of him made me catch my breath as he was exactly what I wanted, an old warrior with a ton of mass that had lived a full and productive live. I took one last moment to thank God for the people surrounding me and put the crosshairs on him. For the next several minutes, the air was filled with the sounds of whoops, hollers, and screams of “Ram down!”
We were all a little stunned as we picked up our things and walked in on him together. It was a long pack out, and the “Congratulations!” and “Wows!” continued far into the night after meeting Dan and Rick back at our camp.
Sometimes the ebbs and flows of life are more than I can comprehend, and this experience will always be a bit surreal. At camp, my sister and I did all of the cooking before and after long days of hunting. While we were cooking, Randy read from a daily devotional to the group. I can’t tell you word for word what those devotionals said, but I can say that part of it was “Always enjoy the journey,” “There is a time for life and a time for death,” and to always make time for Him. I am filled with gratitude for every single person who helped to make this hunt-of-a-lifetime possible, but the glory belongs to the power of One, for all things are possible through Him who strengthens me.
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