When I moved to Arizona from California in 1987, one of my goals was to do more hunting. Little did I know back then that there would be many years between big game hunt tags, so I became a pretty passionate quail and turkey hunter while I waited for the bigger prizes. It was also back in 1987 when I started applying for a Desert bighorn sheep tag, but it wasn’t until June 29, 2018 when I unwrapped the winning ticket from the candy bar, and just like Charlie in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, I felt like a kid in a candy store.
My son, Zach, called and told me that credit cards were getting hit for tags. He stayed on the line with me while I checked my bank account, and sure enough, my credit card was charged that day by AZGFD. I was so excited, and I started calling all the people I knew who would be just as excited as I was. I called my buddy, Gary “Goose” Howell, first. He is a guide in Flagstaff and a good friend. I called my quail and turkey hunting friend, John Harper. It was actually his son, Travis, who gave me the name of my future guide, Tim Downs.
The next thing I did was mentally and physically prepare for this hunt. That included a lot of scouting, shooting, and hiking. It also included raiding my hunting kiddy (a jar where I deposited all of my spare change for almost 20 years). Two weeks after finding out I had a tag, I was out scouting with Tim and his partner, Bob Kyhn. We would scout at least once a week, but when I could not be out there looking, Tim and Bob were looking for me and I was hitting the mountain trail near my home to physically prepare for the demands of the hunt. I cannot begin to describe how the time leading up to the hunt is what made it so great. We had so much fun glassing and photographing sheep and getting to know them, right down to the damage on their horns. We even named them and could identify them by name while scouting and even in our photos. We all got along very well, so the laughs and stories we shared were a big part of the entire experience.
By September, we had four rams identified that we planned to pursue during the hunt. However, nature can be cruel and one of the top four, a ram that Bob named “Curley,” had broken a leg during the rut the day after we saw him mate. Curley was never seen again. Another ram we had named “Bar” (for badass ram), broke his horns during the rut, so our top four quickly became two. During the last month before the hunt, we were seeing our top ram “Sky” every time we went out to scout. The day before the hunt, we ran into the other hunter who was also drawn in my area. He and his party were a great group of guys and ended up taking our number two sheep out opening day. We were okay with that because we wanted Sky.
As luck would have it, all of the rams that we had consistently seen when we scouted disappeared, including Sky. I started to get worried that we were not going to get our sheep, but Bob Kyhn, whom I would describe as a very easygoing guy, told me not to worry.
It was getting late in the day and we were on our fourth and final run through the unit when Zach spotted nine rams on a cliff ledge. With two hours of daylight left, us older guys thought we had better call it a day, but my fit 25-year-old son said we had to at least try to stalk them today. We hiked for one hour uphill and got within 305 yards of them. Bob said that the front ram and the back ram in the herd were the two largest, but since they were huddled together, we decided to go for the one in the back. We were hidden behind a boulder so the rams would not see us, and I had to rest my rifle on the boulder while I stood up to take the shot. Bob moved some brush for me, and the rams started getting antsy. I took the safety off and squeezed the trigger. I lost my sight picture, and Bob told me to chamber a second round. As I was getting the ram back in the scope, I saw him fall off the ledge. Bob, Zach, and I were dancing behind the boulder, and the other rams just stood there. We made it up to the ram, took a quick picture, and headed out. We were exhausted but excited and knew we had another long day ahead getting our sheep, named “Pluto,” down the mountain.
Early the next day, we headed back up the mountain and not 100 yards away was a mountain lion staring at us while we prepared Pluto for his last trip down the mountain. It was a bit eerie, but I guess he figured he was outnumbered. We were exhausted when we finally made it to our vehicles, but we were still flying high on the entire experience. Mission accomplished!
I love hunting for many reasons, but what I like most are the great times I have had hunting with my grandfather and father and now with my own son. Even though the Desert sheep tag eluded me for 31 years, I was lucky enough to get to hunt Dall sheep in Alaska with my dad. We were there hunting caribou when we found out that a Dall sheep hunter had to cancel his hunt and we were able to take his place. My Dall is hanging on my wall and is waiting for Pluto, my Desert sheep, to keep it company.
I have so many people to thank for not only making this hunt successful but also fun and very memorable. Thanks to my dad and grandfather for stoking the hunting fire in me. Thank you to my son, Zach. I am so glad my love of hunting wore off on you so that we are able to hunt together. Thank you Tim Downs and Bob Kyhn for being amazing hunting guides and great guys! I also want to thank Jim Hamberlin, Michael Burm, and Zach’s friend, Nathan, for all of their help. Thank you to my wife, Julie, for letting me do my hunting thing and for being my proofreader and editor on this article.
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