Growing up in Arizona, I loved going to the old drugstore and local archery shop to buy a Trophy Hunter magazine. As the years went on, I found the Huntin’ Fool publication and would fantasize as I went through the section where the advertised hunts were listed. I would look at the cost of sheep hunts and dream about the day I could go on one.
After professional school, my career path took me north to Alaska, and within two years, I was in Dall sheep country hunting for my first ram. From reading the Huntin’ Fool publications as a teenager to any mountain I am lucky enough to climb, sheep hunting has become part of who I am. Many sheep hunts had come and gone, but one goal still lingered, and in 2017, I decided to bid on the Arizona Desert sheep tag in Reno. As luck would have it, the tag was secured and my opportunity to hunt in the great state I grew up in for the prized Desert sheep would soon be a reality.
I quickly began searching for professionals who could help me extend the hunt from a one or two-week in the field hunt experience to an eight-month all-out obsession with talking, scouting, and ultimately hunting a big Desert ram. It didn’t take me long to realize that Tim Downs and Bob Kyhn shared my same passion for Desert sheep. After my initial conversations with them, they introduced me to a ram named “Elvis.” He had been seen just a few times, but the pictures of him were as stunning as any I had ever seen. He was an absolute giant with mass and length. Tim and Bob spent the better part of their spring and summer attempting to locate and photograph Elvis, and the updates they provided were treasured. Before long, my hunt date of August 15th was near and it was a daily adrenaline rush to get the updates from Bob and Tim.
In early September while on another hunt, I rolled my truck and suffered a spine injury that made it difficult to draw my bow. I knew the reality of hunting Elvis with my bow was slim, but the dream kept me motivated to rehabilitate. Also in early September, Elvis was located in a huntable location. The excitement was overwhelming, but I was not able to draw my bow with confidence due to the injury. Tim and Bob were dedicated to helping me hunt Elvis with a bow and told me all was well and to get better. Later in September, Elvis was located again, but this time he was no longer in a position to hunt being deep in the cliff country.
Early in the morning, I will never forget my brother Brian’s words, “Oh my, I got him!” Quickly, I focused my spotting scope in the vicinity he was looking and found the most gorgeous ram I had ever laid eyes on standing atop a cliff. As much as I wanted to grab my bow and go, it was not possible. He was in an area that was a true hellhole. We spent the better part of the day watching his every move, and later in the afternoon, he shifted a mile and a half north close to a few other rams and ewes. I loaded my pack, said my goodbyes, and took off on a death march into the wilderness.
Several hours and vertical feet later, I found myself lying on a cliff edge without cover approximately 130 yards above our prize. I watched Elvis through my Swarovskis, and he was as majestic as the photos had led me to believe. For a few hours, Elvis was fixated on my position and I was unable to move, lying on my back so as not to skyline myself to him. With no notice, Elvis was on his feet and he separated from the group. As he made his way towards me, his massive curls bobbed up and down the cliff band he paralleled. I ranged the only opening he would need to come through at 68 yards and knelt concealed behind a cactus. Just when he was about to step into the clearing, he stopped. He stood motionless for the better part of 15 minutes, and when he decided to move, it wasn’t my way. He did an about-face and left me trembling in disbelief. The rest of the evening was spent putting him to bed. Once he was laid down for the night, I set up shop above him on a bench a few hundred yards away.
The morning couldn’t come soon enough. I knew Elvis was just below me and would get up and make a move when the sun’s powerful heat rays hit him, and that he did. He came just where he needed to be but remained 120 yards away and power fed for 30 minutes. He filled his belly and then was off tramming the wilderness, one mile and then two. I was deflated. I picked my way through the cliffs and cactus, and in the afternoon, I found him several hundred yards below me in no position to stalk with a bow. I watched and waited on him for several hours to make a move. When he didn’t, I knew it was time to call it off. The next few days were spent looking from afar trying to locate and follow Elvis, but he had vanished into the hole and we knew the hunt was off until he decided to come out.
A month or so later, I got the call of my life. Elvis was back and in a place to hunt him. Bob had found him in a place he hadn’t ventured to before. A day later, I was in Arizona and scouring the ridges with the guys. I was fortunate enough to be alongside a 20-year best hunting friend, Jay Lopeman, that morning, and Jay soon had Elvis in the glass. He was bashing horns with several other rams, and the adrenaline rush I had felt a month earlier was renewed.
We quickly made a plan to move in on him. We made a big loop, and it was decided that I would go in alone while the crew stayed back to keep eyes on him. I made my way down a long ridgeback and positioned 80 yards from the beast with just his head showing. I had a great visual of him, and despite all desires to let an arrow fly, I had to resist as there were rams behind him. In a flash, he maneuvered out of the pod and off the bench he was on. I lay down knowing he was still in a great position for an opportunity.
Suddenly, sheep exploded out of their beds and were off in a single file line headed towards the bottom of the mini Grand Canyon. I raced around and found a narrow crevice I knew Elvis would have to make his way through. As I patiently waited, each ram would walk up to the crevice, pause, and then move forward and down towards the bottom. I knew Elvis was in the rear and at some point would make his way along this same route back towards his home. No sooner did I see the unmistakable giant curls appear than he was gone. I grabbed my pack and decided I was off to the races. I found all the rams except Elvis and had just about given up when Jay signaled to me to look down below. I frantically glassed and straight down below me stood Elvis looking up my way. I nocked an arrow and ranged him. It was a swing and a miss just below his chest. The second arrow was soon on its way and was a sure hit. As he flew off the ridge, I could see the arrow sticking out of the top of his shoulder. He made his way to the bottom of the canyon and worked his way up the other side and bedded down. I watched him for 15-20 minutes. He looked sick and had difficulty standing, but the arrow was missing and I had no idea how fatal the wound was. The last time he stood up, I got the feeling I needed to dispatch him with a rifle. One shot and Elvis lay motionless.
I had the best of friends, professional guides, and cameramen to share and capture the moment. The hours and passion put into making it all come together is something I thought could only be dreamed about. I can’t express enough gratitude to Bob Kyhn, Tim Downs, and the others who were there to share the experience. Elvis officially scored 190 1/8" gross and 189 3/8" net and was the best Desert ram Arizona had seen in years, but the experience of the hunt will always be “the king.”
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