There’s an old saying, “Always expect the unexpected.” This would end up being the theme of a hunt that I thought was being planned for 2020 in my quest for a Super Slam of North American big game. The story really starts in the winter of 2017 on a Coues deer hunt in Sonora, Mexico and comes full circle to the same area.
I had been on a successful Coues deer hunt with Buro Crazy Outfitters, an outfitter recommended for both Coues deer and Desert sheep by Huntin’ Fool. While hunting in 2017, I talked to my guide, Hagan Ekker, and Thomas Baker, owner of Buro Crazy, about pursuing Desert sheep in a few years. I was impressed by the hard work and good attitude of Thomas and Hagan and everyone working in this operation. I stayed in touch with both of them after the hunt and would hear from one of them occasionally. My financial situation would possibly allow me to go for either Desert sheep or Stone sheep in 2019 or 2020.
I consider Desert sheep to be the most difficult of the Super 29 due to the lack of tags available in the southwest United States. There are only two other options, purchase a tag at an auction, which wasn’t a viable option for me, or pull up your financial bootstraps and book a hunt in Mexico. I knew that Thomas had a good operation, and I was determined to go with him.
Fast forward to March 2018 when I got a text one evening from Hagan telling me that a last-minute opportunity had opened up for Desert sheep. Thomas had a tag with no hunter and we would need to hunt before the end of March this year! Even though I wasn’t sure and couldn’t give him an answer on the spot, something inside of me already knew that I was going on this hunt. I started getting myself prepared just in case. Hagan sent me two different pictures of rams that the ranch scouts had spotted and photographed. Although the pictures were from a distance, he told me that both were a solid 165".
We decided that the day to arrive would be March 23rd and planned on hunting until we could hunt no longer. They immediately set to work getting the sheep tag in my name and getting my gun permit. On the big day, I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and left Milwaukee at 5:00 a.m., heading to Phoenix. Once at the airport, Hagan and Thomas picked me up and we met Hagan’s friend, Jake Richardson, also an accomplished sheep, elk, and deer guide. We made our way to the border and crossed into Mexico with no problem, stopping to pick up Martin Mendivil, another guide for Buro Crazy Outfitters. I rode with Thomas to our hunting area deep in the Sonoran Desert, some of it on simple dirt roads. It was like going back in time, and we had a good conversation. We arrived later in the evening, and I, having jet lag, turned in quickly.
We were up before daylight, and after a quick breakfast, we were on our way to the ranch. I looked over the terrain and noticed that the flat desert seemed to go on forever, giving way to isolated, steep mountains of razor rock that rose to 3,000 feet in elevation. Once at the ranch, we split into groups of two, except for Thomas, Martin, and me, and began hiking up in different positions along the eight-mile stretch of mountain to start glassing. We climbed several different hills until we were about 600 yards across from the taller mountains. I had already been stuck with the indigenous jumping cholla cactus several times and remembered pretty quick to give them a wide berth. I pulled spines out of my hand and leg while we settled down to glass. We saw a few ewes and young rams right at the top of the mountain and watched them go over the top.
We had a bird’s eye view of the flat desert bottom below, and I noticed one of the rancher’s trucks driving to our position. We descended the mountains and were greeted with news that a group of rams were spotted at the other end of the range. We drove only a short distance and would have to hike into this area on foot.
We hiked uphill in a draw filled with softball to cantaloupesized rocks for quite a distance and climbed to where Hagan, Jake, and several of the ranch hands were looking at the rams. Most of the rams had already sidehilled around a steep ridge, but I was able to see two of them. We had to make a stalk, and Thomas, Hagan, the ranch owner, and I were to go while everyone else waited behind.
We hiked in the rock-filled bottom, which rose steadily uphill, staying out of the ram’s line of sight. We had to climb a small mountain to get a look at them and were still 800 yards away. We continued up and around another mountain and made the last climb up the steep razor rock slope to get into position to shoot. It had been a two and a half-mile stalk one way, mostly uphill, and I was overheating fast. I am generally more functional in cold weather and was acclimated to the 20-degree weather that we had in my hometown in Wisconsin. I made sure to keep avoiding the cholla cactus that had nailed me a few times already.
As I approached the top of the hill, I crouched down low and quietly chambered a round in my rifle. Thomas met me and said that the rams were 375 yards away and that there was one that was a solid 165". I crawled into position and set up on a backpack. I looked at the ram in the spotting scope, and he was bedded in front of a large ocotillo bush and facing to the right. The plan was for me to shoot when he stood up, and after a long wait, the ram finally did so. I placed the 400-yard reticule just under his brisket, even though something was telling me to just use the 400-yard crosshair on him. I squeezed the trigger and shot just under him. He started walking calmly to the right. I chambered another round, and at 400 yards, he stopped. I was shooting from one mountain to another, and the ram was standing, quartering to me and looking in our direction. The guys were recording the shot on video, and I held the crosshair in the middle of his chest and squeezed. The ram went straight down and fell about 10 or 15 feet. I wanted to wait a minute and keep a watch over him before making the descent and climb up the other side.
We arrived at the ram’s resting place, and Thomas already knew that he was much bigger than 165". I was just happy to have taken such a beautiful Desert sheep and surprised that my hunt was over so soon. He was caped for a full mount, and soon all of the guides and ranchers were at the site. While sitting on the hill, I noticed that the razor rock had torn the soles from both of my eight-inch Danner boots and they were barely attached to the boot. After pictures and dressing him out, we hiked the two and a half miles back to the trucks, for a total of about eight miles of hiking that day.
The next morning, we had giant fried shrimp for breakfast and did some longer range shooting at 1,000 yards before starting the drive home. I took in the scenery as the flat cactus and brush-covered desert gave way in places to steep, rocky mountains also covered with every type of thorny plant imaginable. I thought about how fortunate I was to be able to have this opportunity and thanked the Good Lord for bringing me here and giving me these opportunities.
The horns and cape were transported to Hermosillo and officially measured 177 6/8". He is the trophy-of-a-lifetime, and I plan to enter him in Boone & Crockett and the Ovis trophy awards programs. I still find myself thinking about that beautiful Sonoran desert country and hoping to be back with Buro Crazy Outfitters after a mule deer or a Gould’s turkey.
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