Certain things have an uncanny ability to reach our psyche and produce an infatuation that is mesmerizing and fixating. For some, it might be a fast car, beach vacation, or fine piece of art. For others, especially hunters, it’s the sound of bull elk bugling, a turkey gobbling, or the sight of a giant curl of a sheep horn on a steep mountain slope. “Sheep Fever” is a real thing. In fact, we obsess so bad over them that we give them names and go to sleep thinking about them like our own children.
It’s often talked about, but too few hunters actually experience it. With a vast discrepancy in the supply versus the demand of sheep and hunters alike, it creates challenges for many to witness the unity of a sheep hunt. It is because of sheep that I have forged some of the greatest relationships in my life.
For years, I have been fortunate enough to experience “sheep fever” at its finest. From the mountains of Alaska to the shale slopes of British Columbia, across the Arizona desert, and into the Mexican Baja, I have seen the curls that have done all to include controlling my thoughts. Unfortunately for my bride, Shannon, she has had to put up with and witness this infatuation year after year.
Shannon grew up hunting. When I met her, it was a pleasant surprise to find out she had been on more hunts than I could have ever imagined. She loves the outdoors and the hunt, she loves to cook and eat what she harvests, she loves to take our kids hunting, and she certainly loves the time spent with good people enjoying God’s creations. However, being a mom of four busy kids, managing a work schedule, fulfilling church commitments or community obligations, and most of all, being the perfect wife to a curl obsessed junky doesn’t really lend itself to time spent afield chasing sheep.
Four years ago, I asked Shannon to go on her first sheep hunt with me. It was a Dall sheep hunt in the NWT. She kindly accepted and spent many hours hiking, preparing, and coordinating childcare. Ultimately, we had an awesome hunt and she came home successful, but most of all, we were a little bit sick with the sheep bug. A year later, we found ourselves riding horseback all night to get in position for an opportunity at a beauty of a ram on a steep slope in British Columbia. Just like the Dall hunt, she came away with another great ram, more great memories, new friends, and a little more intrigued by the curls we are all so obsessed with.
I knew the quest for her FNAWS must continue, and in 2021, we were fortunate enough to return to our home state of Arizona for the third leg of a four species quest, an Arizona desert monarch. Five years earlier, I had the experience-of-a- lifetime with Bob Kyhn and Tim Downs chasing my own Arizona desert monarch, so I reached out to them and asked if they would introduce Shannon to their domain. They quickly and excitedly accepted, and within a day, Shannon was neck deep in sheep obsession. The daily conversations built over time, and ultimately, the obsession was formulated around a ram Tim and Bob knew as “Router.”
Over the years, Tim and Bob had followed Router, and their amazing pictures and videos helped paint the picture for Shannon. He was the ram for her. As time wore on, the guys spent day after day scouting and documenting their findings through pictures and videos. As the spring and summer scouting wore on, some rams were seen more frequently, and they were giants in their own right. “Mr. T” was a ram that mesmerized us with his mass. “Sky” had beautiful donut-shaped curls. Router now stood alone on the mountain with his deep drop, endless age rings, and mass from base to tip. He dominated over the others. Unfortunately, Router was also the most challenging to keep track of. He would only show every 3-4 months. He didn’t seem to hang out like the others, and where he lived was a labyrinth of hundred-foot cliffs in a deep wilderness area. I knew this would become a love/hate relationship between Shannon and her dream ram.
In the fall, Shannon asked if I thought they would find Router again. I responded, “Yes, they always do.” On October 10th, he was located. We had just flown home to Arizona for my grandma’s funeral and were on our way back to the airport when they called. The area they had him in was perfect for a hunt, but with no childcare and no plan, we had to return to Alaska to get things in order before we could come back and hunt.
The following day as we made plans to return, Bob located the ram. As luck would have it, during the day, he began his journey back towards the wilderness. Tim and Bob recommended we wait another day to see what his next move would be. Late the following afternoon, Bob located Router, and he was now deep in the crags of the wilderness and in an unhuntable location. Bob and Tim recommended we hold off until he relocated to a better and safer hunt area. The patience game is more difficult to play when the obsession is so great. December came and went right along with several of the more well-known rams. As hunters shared their own success stories, the desert monarchs we had become well acquainted with started to become other hunters’ reality.
Day after day, Bob and/or Tim would give us their daily updates. Router was not included. Questions of doubt arose as to his whereabouts. He was an old ram, perhaps in his last year. Years of pictures proved him to be at least 10 years old and likely older. With age, he changed his pattern. He became a little more withdrawn and a lot less visible. Did he die of old age, fall off a cliff butting heads, get kicked out of his herd? So many questions without an answer. This cat and mouse game was exactly what I had hoped for. More time chasing and dreaming of sheep.
In early January, Shannon commented, “I want my unicorn.”
“Unicorn?” I replied.
“Yes, Router is a unicorn, a fairytale, a myth.”
To that I said, “You’re exactly right. He really is that special.”
One Saturday, we were busy watching our son wrestle in his tournament. My phone began to blow up. It was the boys, and they had found Router. This time, he was in just the right spot, and if history proved true, he would be there again tomorrow. How does a bonafide sheep junky ask his wife to drop everything, make arrangements for the kids, cancel her schedule, and get on an all-night flight with less than four hours’ notice? On his knees. I did exactly that, but to my surprise, it wasn’t necessary. There was no frustration, no “I need more time,” no excuses, just pure excitement. This hunt had clearly been an all-time success. She had caught the fever.
Upon arrival, we gathered our gear and met Tim and Bob. We made our way up the lake, got dropped off, hiked up the steep canyon face, and located the ram. He was bedded in a cave, tucked away hiding from the sun’s rays. Shannon and I got to spend several hours together waiting. I will cherish that time forever. Just her and I on a mountain with a ram tag in pocket, waiting for her unicorn. It was all smiles, light laughter, and pure bliss. That is until the ram stood and began making his way to the giant boulder where Shannon had previously set up her crosshairs. She got on the gun and waited. Her heart was pounding, the dream was realizing, and excitement was elevated. Router jumped up on the rock like he owned the lake. He stood there, looking out above us, gazing across the cliffs. Her breathing calmed and heart rate slowed. With excitement controlled, the unicorn was hers.
It was a perfect scenario and a perfect day with the best of people. We can’t thank those enough who helped us put this hunt together. To Bob, Tim, and their team, we will forever be indebted. Thank you for the experience-of-a-lifetime. Your friendship and passion for sheep is real. You absolutely showed Shannon what “sheep fever” is, and most importantly, that it’s not a sickness but a blessing to all who have the opportunity to experience it.
Arizona Bighorn Sheep
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