This adventure began over 40 years ago as a boy raised by a father obsessed with Desert sheep. As I kid, I remember Dad leaving every winter to look for sheep or help someone with a tag. Those memories stuck with me, and as I grew older, that passion was passed down to me. My father had applied for Desert sheep for over 40 years and passed away in 2000, never having obtained a tag of his own. Not having maximum bonus points, I was forced every year to do my homework and research units with slightly better draw odds. This included studying Huntin’ Fool every month religiously and “playing” the odds.
In 2016, I received “the photo” and everything changed. My uncle, Greg, and cousin, Chase, forwarded me a photograph of a giant Desert ram in my home state of Arizona. I immediately began to gather intel on the ram, and I was told repeatedly that he was a drifter. He most likely moved from unit to unit and possibly even onto a portion of a military base that was not accessible to hunting. Others had tried in the past but had failed to locate or harvest him. I didn’t care. If I had even the most miniscule chance to locate him, I was all in.
Fast forward to July 2018 when Arizona Game and Fish began hitting credit cards for fall applications. As I focused on the amount charged by Arizona Game and Fish, I nearly fell out of my chair. After 35 years of applying, I had done the impossible and drawn an Arizona Desert bighorn sheep tag. I had beaten the odds and drawn with knowledge of a possible giant Desert ram in my unit.
I did my due diligence and spoke to biologists, game wardens, and previous hunters, but all along, I knew where I’d be hunting. I covered the entire unit and spent nearly every weekend for the next five months looking for a single sheep. I spent hundreds of hours behind optics and destroyed a pair of tires and new boots, searching with no visual of the ram at all.
The day after Thanksgiving, I was loaded up and headed to sheep camp eight days before the opener. I was determined to locate him and hunt the entire month of December if necessary. Three days later, I had still not seen him. As I stared through optics, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was my good friend, David. He told me a local farmer, Adam, had seen a big ram nearby. I had never met Adam, but I knew he and his cousin, Pat, had taken the original photographs of the ram I was looking for. Panic set in knowing I was several hours from where they were located. I asked if they would keep their eyes on the ram until I could get off the mountain. I was able to convince my friend, Craig, to join and keep an eye on him until I could arrive.
As I walked up, I could see the look on Craig’s face and knew that the ram was gone. Just before I arrived, the ram had gotten up from his bed and walked over a ridge and out of sight. Craig had to leave, so I set up and began scouring the mountain. A short time later, a man approached and asked if I was looking for sheep. He introduced himself as Pat, and I was a little anxious. I had never met Pat but knew he’d been watching this ram for several years. I had no idea what to expect, but I was relieved when Pat said, “It sounds like you’ve put in the effort, and I’m glad you’re the one hunting him.”
Pat and I spent the next few hours glassing but never saw a sheep. Pat graciously shared information he and his cousin, Adam, had gathered, and it was obvious Desert sheep are a family tradition passed down for generations for both of us. Pat had to leave, but we became lifelong friends. As he left, Pat told me he had nicknamed the ram “Sleepy.” Nearly every photo taken of the giant ram was of him bedded with his eyes shut and his massive horns lying on the ground.
glassed until dark with no sighting of Sleepy. Adam had last seen him nearly on the desert floor, so glassing was difficult. I returned the next morning and glassed all day but nothing.
I feared he may have moved a short distance and entered another unit. That evening, we split up, and that’s when my friend, Mike, uttered, “I have your ram.” It was Sleepy! After five long months of searching, there he was. He had left the valley floor and was at the very top of the mountain.
I didn’t sleep at all that night, and I was back on the mountain before daylight. I picked him up back on the desert floor nearly 1,500 vertical feet below where I’d left him. Sleepy had fed off the mountain in the dark and back to the desert floor. From this moment on, I never took my eyes off him. I kept a safe distance from sunrise to sunset for the next five days.
December 1st finally came, and as I stood by the campfire hours before daylight, there were close to 25 people in camp. Friends, family, and loved ones were all standing?around the fire, ranging in age from 13 to 80 years?old. It was so amazing to see everyone standing?there, hoping to see me fulfill not only my own?dream but a dream of my father’s. It was overwhelming and emotional as I prepared to leave camp.
I was behind optics well before daylight that morning, and it didn’t take long. There he was, a giant yellow curl outlined in the black volcanic rock approximately 1,500 yards away. It was still too dark to see much, but the horns were unmistakable. I tried to stay patient as I felt I knew what he would do as the sun began to rise. As I checked the wind, I knew I would have to approach from a different direction than I had initially planned. I knew the area well and felt like I knew his routine. I set out with Dylan, Mike, and Jason, and we circled the mountain to get to a location where I thought he’d feed to within a few hundred yards of me.
When we arrived, he wasn’t there and I couldn’t locate him. Panic began to set in as I scoured the mountain and surrounding desert floor. I had my hunting buddies stay behind as I snuck to the skyline and continued to search. Moments later, I heard Dylan whistle and faintly call my name. I looked back and there he was. Sleepy had come up a small drainage below us undetected and fed around behind me. He was standing less than 30 yards away, staring at Dylan and Jason in the wide open. He hadn’t seen me but had the others pegged and began to run past me at 25 yards. I raised my rifle and settled the crosshairs behind his front shoulder at archery range. I began to squeeze and the rifle went off, but he was so close and it happened so fast that I had no idea if I had hit him. I sprinted 10 yards up the hill and saw him laying only 50 yards below me. Sleepy was down, and the emotion of a lifelong dream come true began to consume me.
I was motionless and in shock?until I was swarmed by three of my best friends. As I walked down the small drainage to put my hands on the ram for the first time, I thought of my dad. I had such an overwhelming feeling that he was right next to me the entire time. When I walked up to Sleepy and put my hands on him for the first time, I was in complete disbelief. I immediately knew this ram was going to crush the 180" mark. His mass had fooled me because of his extraordinary length, but I knew he was an incredibly special ram. When I put my hands around his bases, I knew without a doubt he was the ram-of-a-lifetime.
I couldn’t have done this alone, and there were so many people who played a huge role in this amazing adventure for me. This hunt brought together generations of family and friends and turned complete strangers into best friends. I can’t even begin to thank all those involved, but I am truly blessed. It was a remarkable journey from start to finish and one that I will never forget.
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