It was time. I had put aside cashing in my Wyoming sheep points for many draw cycles. With one less point than max, I believed I had a great chance to draw any Wyoming sheep unit any year I decided to finally apply. The security that came with sheep points in “my back pocket” afforded me the opportunity to pursue other big game goals and adventures with the intention of a Wyoming bighorn sheep hunt as a grand finale to a great bowhunting life.
Eleven years ago, with maximum points, I drew a tag for Wyoming Shiras moose in Huntin’ Fool’s top-rated unit. A successful hunt completed my archery moose slam. I owe much to Huntin’ Fool founder Garth Carter and the Huntin’ Fool staff. Garth sent me a letter in 1995, inviting me to become a member of Huntin’ Fool. He offered to do all the legwork necessary to keep on top of all the great western hunting opportunities. This education and Huntin’ Fool’s constant nudge to build points has been the pathway to my experiencing some of best hunting North America has to offer at an affordable price. My advice to young hunters through the years has been the same as those of Garth Carter, “Apply, Apply, Apply!”
I finished my archery elk slam on August 7, 2019 with a Tule elk in Santa Margarita, California. A month later, in the Brooks Range of Alaska, an archery kill on a Barren-Ground caribou completed my caribou archery slam and the Archery Super 25. Now it was time to be all in on Wyoming bighorn sheep. I decided that I would put in the draw for a 2022 Wyoming sheep tag. I was looking for the best outfitter, a unit with a lot of sheep, great bowhunting terrain, and mountains a 64-year-old arthritic bowhunter could handle. With plenty of public land, very suitable bowhunting landscape, ATV trails to the top of most mountains, and advice from successful unit 17 resident sheep bowhunter Vic Dana and Huntin’ Fool’s Robert Hanneman, I settled on unit 17. Robert also recommended Chance Marshall and his father, Kevin, owners of Extreme Outfitters, as the best to guide me.
With a ram tag in my pocket, it was game on. I arrived in camp on August 14th, one day before the start of the Wyoming bighorn sheep archery season. Chance and Kevin were out scouting for sheep, and the pictures of dozens of mature sheep they had been sending me were nothing short of incredible. When Chance and Kevin arrived at camp, they informed me that most of the rams were on the highest mountain, the one with no ATV trail to the top.
The first day of hunting was both exhausting and exhilarating. The trudge to the top of the mountain was tough for me. The sheep were not where Chance and Kevin had left them the afternoon before. It took several hours of up and down backpacking and patient glassing before we found the sheep. What a sight with 29 rams 500 yards below us in a drainage! With all the unbeatable sheep eyes and ears and the need to get within bow range, we nixed the idea of trying a stalk. Reluctantly, we left this group of awesome rams in search of one in a stalkable location.
Within an hour, a great sheep was spotted, and I found myself inching my way toward a very nice, bedded, full curl ram. As I advanced toward the bedded monarch, there was no way I would not be heard. He looked my way often, and with each look, I became a statue. “Embrace it or go home,” I admonished myself. Finally, I made it to the small spruce tree that had kept me from full exposure. I ranged the bedded ram at 55 yards. I wanted to get closer, but that was impossible. The great ram eventually stood, turned, and walked directly away from me down the mountain. No shot.
Back at camp, I was exhausted. It took all I had to get off the mountain. We decided to hunt the “low” country for the next few days, allowing me to recover. It was hard not to return to the sheep on the high mountain, but it was the right call. Chance was prepared to bring in horses if needed. That night, he made the arrangements.
We had no trouble finding mature rams throughout the “low” country. I had daily stalks, but 55 yards remained the bowhunting wall. Getting closer was just about impossible. I was discouraged, but I should not have been. The opportunities and big rams far exceeded my greatest hopes and expectations.
Day five arrived. Before light, Chance was off to town to take care of some business and Kevin and I headed out on the side-by- side. The horses were arriving today, and tomorrow, we would be back on the high mountain. As soon as the sun peaked above the picturesque mountains, Kevin found sheep. It was the big full curl I had stalked on day three. He and a younger ram were bedded. Again, I stalked to within the permitted 55 yards only to get busted.
We decided to head back to camp and help with the horses. They arrived later than expected, and by the time they were settled, there were about two hours left in the hunting day. Kevin suggested we hunt close to camp. We geared up, and soon we were headed up the road traveled by campers and fisherman rather than the ATV trail we had been using. We were only 10 minutes from camp when Kevin exclaimed, “Sheep!” Rather than stop and possibly alert them, we kept the side-by-side moving. We stopped around the next bend, out of sight of the sheep. We conferred and assessed that about 10 young rams were 75 yards above the road on a very steep, rocky slope. We decided to drive past the group to further assess. On the second pass, we saw two beautiful, big rams bedded together below a sheer rock face with the group of young rams. Both were great rams, with one a full curl and the other a heavy, broomed 3/4 curl. We kept driving. Once out of sight, we stopped, checked the wind direction, and made a plan. The young rams fed their way parallel to the road. The wind was perfect if I could climb up into the rocks in the hopes of an ambush from above.
I labored to climb the steep, rocky slope and found a flat, comfortable rock behind a black boulder and sat down to wait. No sooner had I assessed the likely ranges, nocked an arrow, and dug my heels into the steep slope than I saw the first sheep. As I crouched and pressed tight to the boulder, the teenage rams traveled methodically below me. When I thought it was safe, I peeked above the boulder. Here came six more in single file. The heavily broomed ram was next with the full curl close behind. Fighting the acute but expected heart-pounding desire for a complete mental meltdown, I was able to talk myself into shot sequence mode and stay in control. As the heavy ram stepped into my shooting lane, I came to full draw. He caught the movement, stopped in his tracks, and looked directly at me. Too late. I settled the pin and followed through on the shot. The arrow and Viper Trick broadhead entered the ram’s chest with a hollow thud, and sparks flew as the arrow smashed into the rocks behind. A complete pass-through.
Kevin, watching the episode through binoculars from the road below, kept his eye on the ram. I waited until the entire group moved slowly out of sight. They paid little attention to the moment of truth. Even my ram appeared unaware that he was in big trouble. By the time I reached Kevin, the sun had set. He explained that the ram had labored to keep up with the other sheep and eventually bedded just 75 yards from where the sparks flew. The other sheep wanted to keep moving, but they could not leave their leader. We observed them until dark and returned to camp.
Chance had missed all the action, so at first light the next morning, he was eager to find the heavy curl ram. Kevin, Chance, and I stood where Kevin and I had last observed the sheep the night before. We agreed it was a very good sign that the ram group had not gone far. Chance was first up the steep mountainside to where the ram had bedded the night before. Kevin stayed down on the road to glass and scour the steep mountainside for any sign of the ram. There was blood in the bed but no sheep. Carefully and methodically, we followed sparse blood for an hour, making only 60 yards of progress before the blood quit.
Inch by inch, Chance and I worked our way toward where the sheep group was. Younger and in sheep shape, Chance was ahead of me. Suddenly, he exclaimed, “There he is!” I could not see the ram from my vantage point, but I was overwhelmed with relief and emotion just the same. In 45 years of bowhunting adventures, never before had I cried on a hunt or after a kill. Today was different. My composure completely gone, I found myself sobbing.
By this time, Kevin had made his way up the mountain. He stood with Chance, and they waited. Through the tears, I explained that while I was ecstatic to find the magnificent ram, it had suddenly hit me that I was very near the end of a very blessed chapter in my life. I cried, not from sadness, but from the complete joy and feeling of gratitude for all I have been able to experience and gratitude for all the wonderful people who assisted me on my journey. What a great journey it has been.
Login