It’s not always about being behind the trigger for me. In August of 2022, I was lucky enough to join my dad on a sheep hunt. My mom was kind enough to give the green light since it was on their wedding anniversary. I won’t go far into detail about our travel into the Yukon, but I will advise you to stay away from Air Canada if possible.
We found ourselves in camp surrounded by the most iconic scenery we could imagine. Brodie and Amanda Mohorich, our guide and wrangler, had made this place a true home away from home. Dad and I were not in any shock when we woke up to a very rainy and foggy first morning. Bad weather seems to follow us a lot. We were still able to spot a few sheep and a “divorce bull,” as in “If I shoot that caribou, your mom will divorce me.”
The next morning was much nicer with clear skies and a calm breeze. At some point, it seemed like anywhere we looked, one of us would point out a sheep. One of the coolest experiences that I had really hoped I would get came to fruition. While stopping for lunch, a pretty large group of lambs and ewes popped out over the ridge to our left. Before I could get a camera on them, rams appeared on the same ridge even further left. They all met and started feeding slowly away while Amanda was trying to get an age on any of them to determine if one was old enough to shoot. They were all weaving in between each other, making it difficult to even keep a line of sight on any of them specifically. We decided to let them feed just over the hill and worked our way above and around them to try and get a shot in the basin they were headed towards.
We crawled across the spotted rocks to get into position to start picking apart the eight different rams and seeing if any of them were old enough. Brodie and Amanda worked well going back and forth with their opinions on the rams. They came to the conclusion that one of them was at least 9, possibly 10 years old. Dad got himself set up to shoot off of Brodie’s pack. It wasn’t long at all before the first shot cracked off. I couldn’t see the sheep from my angle, but I could hear the rounds hitting. After the infamous “thwack,” I assumed it had kept going and hit a rock because we all heard a sharp whistle echoing off the surrounding mountains. It sounded identical to those whistling Nerf footballs we all use to play with as kids.
We made our way to the ram that was tipped over into a boulder field and were ecstatic to find that he was actually 10 years old and broomed off on both sides. He was an absolute monarch of a ram. We dragged him up and out of the rocks to get pictures and started breaking him down before making our way back to the horses and back to camp.
We got back to camp well past midnight and inhaled some food, hung the meat, and passed out. We spent the next couple days fishing in the small creek and just enjoying each other’s company before getting flown out and then flying back home. I know Dad had the time of his life doing something he had dreamed of doing for decades.
I could not have had a better time with better people. Whether you find yourself on your first sheep hunt like we did or your 31st, I hope you are able to recognize how blessed we are to enjoy these adventures, and these memories.
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