You don’t always have to spend a ton of hard-earned cash to have a hunt-of-a-lifetime. In 2017, a buddy of mine called and asked if I wanted to go on a whitetail hunt in West Texas that he found on Craigslist for $1,500. Knowing this part of Texas isn’t know for its big whitetail, I hesitantly agreed to go for the adventure. I soon realized the ranch had some amazing free-range aoudad. The ranch foreman told me they had only shot a couple aoudad in the past six years and there were some giants. I asked if I could hunt the aoudad versus the whitetail I’d paid to hunt, and he agreed to let me hunt aoudad. He sent me to the northernmost rugged part of the 8,500-acre ranch where very few people ever get to hunt and turned me loose. I ended up not finding the giant I was hoping for on that trip, but I saw many and came home with some great memories and a new place to hunt. I knew I’d be back with my son. This place was like magic. I had never experienced a piece of land with so much history and historical significance, caves, and artifacts.
Fast forward to the infamous 2020. It was late December, and out of the blue, the ranch foreman called and asked if I still wanted to come hunt. We had tried to put something together the year before, but timing didn’t work out. I moved a couple things around and planned a spur of the moment end-of-the-year trip. I called my 12-year-old son to tell him he would get to go to the ranch I had told him so many stories about. My son, Tripp, is obsessed with arrowheads and artifacts, and this ranch is artifact heaven. There are dozens of Indian caves and many sites with pictographs. Mummies have even been found in some of the caves. My son was more excited about the exploring than he was about the hunting at this point.
We set off towards Comstock, Texas just north of Del Rio on what turned out to be some of the worst weather of the year for Texas. We arrived at the ranch at around 11 a.m. to a Texas blizzard on New Year’s Eve 2020, the last day of this notorious year. We got our stuff unpacked and headed off in the direction of one of the caves the ranch foreman had shown me three years earlier. I knew this cave was sometimes the bedding area for the aoudad. The weather was nasty as it was blowing 20+ mph with a combo of sleet and snow. Tripp was so anxious to see the cave, and I knew there was a good chance in this weather the sheep might be in or near this cave or one of the many others in the area sheltering from this weather.
As we made our way down the hill towards the cliffs above the Pecos River, we came across a herd of around 30 aoudad bedded just above the caves. They were hunkered down between two rises that protected them from the heavy winds. These animals live in some nasty terrain that sometimes makes a retrieval impossible, so we could not have gotten luckier to find them in this location. We dropped to our knees to stay out of view and glassed the herd. I could only see the herd ram and knew immediately he was a shooter. He was already looking our direction, so we laid on our bellies in the snow and prepared for a shot. On our knees, we could see him, but when we laid down to shoot, he was out of view. We were too low. We tried to crawl to a higher position to have a shot, but they were nervous and started up the hill to escape. At 12 years old, Tripp was no stranger to this type of hunting and was very calm. He held his position and followed the big ram through his scope as he led his herd up the ridge. Since their only way out was to go up, it gave us a better shot as the animals moved up the ridge. As most animals do when fleeing, he stopped and looked back at us one more time before disappearing over the ridge. That glance back at us was all it took. Tripp squeezed off on his Fierce 6.5/284. In the excitement, I didn’t see the ram drop, but I did hear the “whop!” I asked Tripp if he thought he was steady and had made a solid hit. He said, “Dad, I dropped him right there. I’m looking at him.” Not too many adults much less kids can keep the animal in their scope after a shot, but this kid is cool under pressure. His eyes never left the scope. He watched the bullet hit and watched the animal drop in his tracks, and thank you, Jesus, that he did because it was in the best possible spot for Dad to do the recovery.
We made the 200-yard hike over to the ram and took a ton of pictures. Since we never made it to the cave, my part Indian kid said, “Dad, can we go to the cave first before we clean him and drag him to the truck?” We were cold and wet, so I said that was a good idea so we could warm up in the cave while he explored. The views from this cave were once-in- a-lifetime. We could see why the Indians lived here 4,500 years ago. Their smoke stains still mark the walls where they cooked their meals. The clams and mussels they ate still lay on the floor right where they shucked them thousands of years ago. Knots from sandals they made were still laying on the floor, and many of their tools for grinding seeds and fleshing animals were also still there like they were going to return at any minute. Their paintings and drawings on the walls tell the stories of their times for us to find over 4,000 years later. For that brief moment, we felt like we were living amongst them. What an experience! Don’t ever think you have to spend $5,000 for an awesome adventure. This all started from a $1,500 Craigslist ad.
At 47 years old, I’ve never shot an aoudad. My kid has surpassed me with many of his kills, and that’s just fine with me. I get more pleasure now out of guiding him and teaching him the things my dad taught me. I hope he continues to outdo me, and I pray I can keep up with him another 10-15 years.
Thanks for being my kid, buddy. Your little inquisitive spirit drives me.
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