Two and a half years ago, I set out to take an aoudad ram in the mountains of West Texas. I knew this was to be an adventure, but I had no idea what The Hunting Gods had in store for me. Over a span of two and a half years, I racked up four hunts, totaling 11 days and 6 shots. I would love to share the stories of all the hunts, but I only have room to share the last epic story of my Aoudad Odyssey.
We were set to hunt three days, but this rollercoaster would only take two to complete. For this trip, I was hunting with my buddy, Brad. The plan was for us to each take large rams. We had two young guides to get us on the sheep. They proved ridiculously hard to keep up with, and they put us through our paces for sure.
Early on day one, we headed out to their 12,000-acre ranch along the Rio Grande, glassing plenty of sheep along the way. At the very end of the ranch on the side of the mountain was a group 60 strong with one ram no less than 33", and they were all working on rounding the mountain to stay away from the sun. Brad and I geared up and busted through the washes and gullies, trying to stay out of sight long enough to get close for a shot. We finally got to the last ridge before they would see us and started setting up for a shot. The guide ranged 500 yards, and I deferred to Brad to take the first shot as he is a much better distance shooter. We ranged, and he dialed and fired high and to the left. Again, we ranged, and he dialed and fired high and to the left. He sent a third round, and you guessed it, high and to the left. After the third shot, the sheep rounded the mountain and went out of sight. We looked at each other puzzled as to the missed shots. The answer showed itself about halfway back to the truck. The bedding screws on his rifle had come loose. Luckily, one of the guys had an Allen wrench that fit, and he tightened everything back to specs.
After a short planning session, we decided to head in for lunch and then try another location that had some nice 30"+ rams on it. Brad and I headed out to the new area and glassed the mountains for close to three hours with zero sheep. We finally saw a good group of sheep at the base of the mountain. Everyone took up position with spotting scopes and binoculars looking for “Mr. Big,” and we were not to be disappointed. Not one but two monsters meandered up the mountain. We quickly made the decision to pursue the group. Grabbing up rifles, Brad and I, along with the two guides, set out. We got within 300 yards. A chip shot, right? Wrong. I set up and dialed my scope, not remembering I had not reset it from earlier that morning. I sent four rounds over the top of the ram. Dejected, I turned to Brad to see if he wanted to attempt a shot. Without wasting a second, he was on them with his now repaired rifle ranged at 525 yards. Boom! He hit center mass. As everyone knows, aoudad are tough critters. He was able to make it to the top of the mountain before going down. Brad and one guide took off for the climb to the top, and with one more shot, the ram was finished. After getting it back down, we found that the ram was just north of 33". What a trophy, and what an end to day one! After all the rifle issues, both mechanical and operator error, we had somehow managed to put a true monster on the ground.
On day two, we glassed a new area for a couple hours, and after seeing nothing, we came back to town for lunch and to plan out the afternoon hunt. We decided to head back out to the mountains we had hunted the morning of day one. This time, though, we would hike down a river basin to the backside of the range and set up to glass. As soon as we hit the river, we had sheep pushing up the mountains. It was as if the rocks were secreting sheep everywhere we looked, 20 here and 40 there. At any given point, we glassed over 200 sheep all around us. Finally, one of the guides spotted two good rams that materialized out of nowhere. It was an easy decision to make, so Brad and I worked into 300 yards of the group. They never knew we were there. I dialed in the scope (correctly this time) and pulled the trigger. The ram dropped, and I came up whooping, but the guide told me to get back on him. Just as I did, he jumped up and went out to 350 yards. Brad called the range, and I sent shot #2 and blew out his right leg and shoulder. He again went down only to pop back up and head straight for a ridge. Brad gave the range again at 400 yards, and shot #3 hit him in the back hindquarter. Just before he broke over the ridge, he lay down. Maybe, just maybe he was done and my odyssey for an aoudad was over. No such luck.
The guides ran across the mountain to see if he was done once and for all. I stayed in place with Brad, ready to shoot again if he popped up. The guides got to him and thought he was finally done. However, a quick touch sent him up and over the ridge like a rocket. Brad and I grabbed our gear and crossed a couple of ridges to catch up to the guides. In the short time it took me to get to a vantage point, the ram had crossed two additional ridges and was in the riverbed, limping away. I threw Brad’s bag down and set the rifle up for a shot. Brad was feeding me the range as the ram walked straight away from us. Very winded and with an adrenalin rush, I set the scope up and fired shot #4, hitting him in the same spot as shot #3. This one seemed to put the brakes on him, so at 450 yards, I sent shot #5 and blew out his other leg and shoulder. He staggered and went down in a wash at 500 yards. I was then able to center punch him in the chest for shot #6 to finish him off. As if a two-ton weight was lifted off my shoulders, I fell back in elation and exhaustion. We hiked down to the river where the guides met us to recover my long-awaited aoudad ram. He was not a monster by any means, but he was a true trophy to me.
If all of this was not enough, our trip out of the mountains turned into quite the disaster. We had a five-mile hike out in some of the roughest terrain known to man. The guide left his pack with the other guys in our group, so he had no lights, no knife, no water, and no pack. After processing the sheep and getting everyone loaded up, we started out of the mountains by following the river. We had to use our cell phone lights to guide us over the rough terrain. After a long walk, we stopped and met up with the rest of the group as they came off the mountain. We all gave out congratulations, shared water, and repacked the ram properly for the remaining mile or so out of the mountains.
At this point, Brad cut out before the group, eager to get back to the trucks. When we got there, we quickly noticed Brad was not back at the trucks. Now it was time to panic. I hate to say it, but my mind went to some dark places. We were in the middle of nowhere on the Mexico border. We formed a search party, grabbed lights and pistols, and headed back into the riverbed. All I could think was that I just lost my best friend and how was I going to tell his wife and kids? After what seemed like hours of panicked searching, we were finally able to find him tucked into a side canyon. He had passed the spot to get out of the riverbed and could not find the side canyon that led back to the trucks. I think I was happier to find him than taking my first aoudad ram.
New Mexico Barbary Sheep Hunting
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