Idaho Bighorn Sheep Hunting: A Sense of Accomplishment

My first July scouting trip completely changed the rest of my scouting for the remainder of the summer. I took my young son, Jaxon, who is nine years old on this trip. The plan for the weekend scouting trip was to hike into different high alpine lakes to do some fishing along with sheep scouting. Both days turned into more fishing than scouting. Neither lake was very easy to reach. Jaxon hiked so well both days. After that trip, Jaxon told me, “Dad, I will go sheep scouting with you anytime you want.”
 
Jaxon and I made four additional trips. We slept in our Hilleberg tent at 9,600 feet one night. One day, we covered nine miles with over 3,400 feet of elevation gain. My 9-year-old son, who soon after I drew the tag was told he wasn’t old enough and strong enough to go on a sheep hunt, spent the summer proving me wrong. He proved on each of our five scouting trips that he was physically as well as mentally capable to accompany me on my once-in-a-lifetime sheep hunt. The more I thought about him being there when I killed my ram, it made me even more excited. I assembled a small hunting army, with only one member with previous experience hunting sheep. The amount of selflessness and willingness of friends just to help and be a part of my hunt was a humbling and grateful feeling. I could not help but feel the ever-present stress of not letting them down.
 
There was such a strange aura to this opening day. I had never been a part of such a large hunting party. The hike up to the basin was not all too far, but it was steep. Once all in the saddle, it didn’t take long for us to turn up some rams that were in the top of an old burn. Soon, more rams were located in the burn as well as the biggest ram from the night before. The problem with him was he had moved even further up the mountain and was bedded at over 10,200 feet in a location that to me looked basically impossible to get to. One ridge was cliffed out, the other so far to go down and get around to, and no approach from the bottom due to there being no cover for 1,000 yards below the rams. I said, “That ram is on the moon. Let’s try making a play for the biggest ram in the herd of nine that was beginning to bed down in the top of the old burn.”


 
I decided just Joe, the cameraman, and I would go on the final stalk. The hardest part of this was telling Jaxon he was going to have to stay with the guys and watch through the spotting scope. Soon after letting Jaxon know he would be watching from afar, my brother came over and told me that I needed to take Mike with me. Mike had been right by my side on the vast majority of my best bucks, bulls, and mountain goat. I told Mike to grab his pack because he was coming on the stalk.
 
Sometime during our stalk, the rams got up out of their beds and moved further down the mountain and deeper into the burn. The landmarks we had based our stalk on changed so much as we lost elevation and got closer. Topped with the fact the rams had dropped in elevation, we ended up walking right in and above them with all nine rams and two mule deer bucks jumping up out of their beds underneath us at 80 yards. There were a few fleeting moments of complete pandemonium with rams running around, mulies running around, and me trying to find a spot to sit down and ready my gun up to shoot in case an opportunity presented itself.
 
Mike spotted the biggest ram, and I heard him call out, “Shoot the lead ram!” as I searched for him in my scope. I could see rams and mule deer, and finally, I realized I was on the lead ram and asked Mike, “The one behind the mule deer?” to make sure.
 
By the time I settled on the lead ram as he was running over the rise, I had about the top third of his body, neck, head, and horns. I didn’t feel comfortable taking this type of shot. I was confident the rams would hold up in the next basin or two and we could to get back on them and be presented with a better shot opportunity. Boy was I wrong. After that herd of nine rams ran down lower into that old burn, we never could turn them up again. They simply vanished, swallowed up by the immense country.


 
After scouring the country and crossing into the next couple basins, we were unable to locate the rams. Mike glassed clear up to the top of the mountain and stated, “The big ram is still on top, lying in the same bed.” He pulled out his rangefinder. “He’s only 1,000 yards away. We are never going to be closer to this ram. Let’s go try and kill him.” We sat and conversed, trying to come up with the best plan of attack. We decided that we could possibly have a chance if we gained a bunch of altitude by climbing directly behind us and out of sight of the ram. By walking close to and hugging tight to the bottom of the cliff, we could work our way up to the ram. We all agreed there was only one way to find out if we would even be able to get close enough. We had to hike up that mountain and see if a stalk was even possible.
 
Closing the distance from 1,000 yards to where I felt comfortable shooting from was a time-consuming task. As we began closing the distance on the bedded rams, more than a couple times I pondered if we were pushing too hard. Our advancement was painstakingly slow. Yet, we were closing the gap and gaining on the bedded rams. When we reached the second to last rock outcropping, we came to the conclusion that this was probably as close as we would get.
 
Each of us started to set up for me to take a shot. I began working on creating a comfortable spot to shoot from. Now the waiting game commenced as all three rams were bedded. My target ram was hard quartering away. The three of us discussed some of the challenges of this shot, not only the distance, the steep uphill angle, and high altitude but also what the wind was going to do to my bullet flight. I was also aware of my son, Jaxon, who was sitting just under a mile and a half away with the rest of our hunting party. I had never been presented with a shot that had more riding on it.
 
“He’s up!” Mike exclaimed in more than a whisper. Our calm and relaxed state quickly changed as we knew now it was time to make this happen. I squeezed the trigger until it broke, which was followed by a loud click but no boom. I had failed to put a round in the chamber. I racked a round and applied pressure to the trigger as slowly and smoothly as I could. As the shot broke, the recoil brought me up off the ram. I heard Mike say, “You hit high.” I brought my scope down three clicks and held a little low on the ram’s body as he and his comrades had only run about 20 yards down the hill. Mustering all my concentration and trying to keep my nerves in check, I once again slowly applied pressure to the trigger. The recoil again took me out of the scope. I heard Mike say, “Hammered him that time.”
 
It is hard to pinpoint what I felt in the moments immediately after making that shot. There was such a sense of accomplishment as I had achieved what I had set out to do since the moment I found out I drew this tag. There was a great deal of joy and happiness and relishing in the success. However, there was also a huge feeling of relief and gratitude as this moment had consumed so much of my thoughts and life for the past few months.
 
Our next challenge was now actually getting ourselves up and over to where the ram lay. As we finally closed the gap to the last 30 or 40 yards, it really started to sink in what we were about to walk up on. The three of us were blown away by the sheer size of the ram’s body as he lay above us. I have never felt such a sense of wonder and awe walking up on an animal. I spent some time just admiring the magnificent animal before I finally laid hands on his hair. Then it was time to put my hands on the horns of my bighorn ram.
 
The hunt can be watched on Bergara Rifles’ YouTube channel: “THE MOON RAM.” Also, photo credit goes to Copeland-Creative.