Story By: Peyton Jones
I discovered New Mexico’s amazing hunting opportunity in 2024 after I was introduced to Huntin’ Fool. What caught my attention most was this species I had never heard of: aoudad. Commonly labeled “the poor man’s sheep hunt,” I knew immediately that I wanted to pursue them and pounced on an opportunity to hunt them over the counter in early 2025. I was humbled over the course of a challenging eight-day hunt where I failed to even locate one of these elusive animals. I left the hunt questioning everything I thought I knew about aoudad and their very existence.
A few weeks later, I learned I had drawn my first-choice aoudad hunt for later in the year. The usual thrill of a successful application was somewhat tempered due to my recent experience, but I was eager to find redemption. I immediately upgraded my glassing arsenal and contacted others who had hunted the area (they assured me I was in for a better experience). I developed a hunt plan for an area that held fewer aoudad but saw little hunting pressure. When the day arrived, my father and I drove twenty-one heavily caffeinated hours to the unit. We arrived shortly after midnight and slept in the truck.
The next morning kicked off our first of two scouting days before opening day. It was a day of total happenstance, as we briefly stumbled into a small group of aoudad at close range and located two separate off-range oryx. All the encounters were unbelievably lucky and made me less intimidated by the landscape, which had appeared incapable of supporting life at first glance. Our luck quickly took a turn for the worse with a wicked overnight windstorm that nearly blew our wall tent off the map and drove us further into sleep deprivation. The remainder of our scouting efforts were unfruitful but validated my decision to haul an ATV across the country.
The first two days of the season, I continued focusing on my primary, lower-density area. I spent more time behind the glass than I had on any prior hunt and walked between eight and ten miles each day. I never encountered another aoudad hunter but also failed to locate any more aoudad. The highlights of these efforts were unremarkable and included finding a horseshoe where no horse should go and evading the thorns at every turn.
On the third day of the season, I made the decision to temporarily abandon my primary hunt area to focus my efforts on more well-known areas. We drove over thirty miles before sunrise that morning and began searching new areas, primarily hunting out of the ATV. We began encountering many more hunters who confirmed our efforts were on the right track, reminding me that aoudad are hard for everyone to find. One local mentioned an extremely rugged butte that regularly produced aoudad. He suggested I check it out given my physical ability and willingness to hunt areas that others avoided. His advice was part of a loop I had planned for the day, so we continued.
Soon, we made it to the rugged butte and spent a considerable amount of time glassing it. Just as I was prepared to move on to a new area, my father parked the ATV one final time. Normally, upon stopping, I would begin scanning the “sheepy” cliffs with my binoculars, but on this stop, I decided to soak in the view and relax for what seemed like the first time on the trip. Almost immediately, I noticed the flash of several aoudad running in the foothills several hundred yards away, something I certainly would have missed had I been looking through binoculars where experience told me to look. I instinctively grabbed my rifle and began sprinting up a nearby draw, hoping to relocate the aoudad. After nearly a half mile, I again caught a brief glimpse of the aoudad as they headed up the butte and disappeared into a deep ravine.
I pondered my options as my father walked to me. We decided I would try to follow the aoudad up the butte while he tried to guide me via hand signals from below if he located them. In haste, I began racing up the butte. As I navigated my way through the rocky, cactus-infested terrain, I had not yet realized how ill-prepared I was. It was 75 degrees, and I had no hydration, had not eaten for several hours, and only had my rifle, binoculars, and base clothing layers.
My adrenaline led me to where the sheep had disappeared in short order. I turned to my father to see him pointing me straight up the butte beside the ravine. At this point, the terrain grew extremely steep and rocky in addition to the cactus. I traversed my way up, occasionally looking back toward my father, who urged me higher. Once during the ascent, I was literally attempting to rock climb, which triggered the closest thing to panic I’ve ever experienced. I began whispering prayers as I slowly climbed higher (now about 1,400 vertical feet above my father) until I cleared enough terrain to see a fair distance up the butte. As I scanned the area, I heard rocks falling to my left in the ravine. I quickly side-hilled about 40 yards before seeing three aoudad rams on the opposite wall of the ravine, scaling the cliffs only about 150 yards away toward their escape route. I quickly leaned over a rock and identified the lead ram as the largest. I followed him in my scope for several seconds as he bounded along the cliff face and onto different rock pedestals. As he landed on one pedestal, he briefly paused, which I used as a shot opportunity.
The ram, unflinching, jumped off the pedestal and onto a small rock face before he tipped and slid down the rock. I saw him catch on what seemed like the only tree in the ravine. A fortunate result, as nothing separated him from a 100-foot slide to the bottom of the overgrown ravine. I was ecstatic and enjoyed watching the remaining rams linger for a few minutes. It was then that I began to realize my poor preparation, noting my phone, knives, and gaiters were in the ATV. I was unable to mark the location of my shot or the ram, which would prove to be an issue. Nevertheless, I decided to return to the ATV to meet my father and get my gear. My boots were loose from the style of hunting we had been doing all day, and, in my excitement, I twisted an ankle on my way back through the terrain.
Even so, I made good time back to the ATV where my father and I quickly prepared for the pack out. We finally found the ram after nearly two hours of searching, and I got to enjoy the beauty of the animal and the experience. With the light quickly fading, we took our photos and field dressed him. Given the very treacherous area he was in, my father suggested we take full advantage of the light and get the aoudad out of the nasty ravine while we could still see. This necessitated giving my father the back legs while I took everything from the ribcage forward (which later weighed in at 115 pounds). As I loaded my pack, I noticed my turned ankle seizing up from my idleness during the photos… I questioned my ability to walk out, much less recover my animal that evening.
My father and I went on to endure the most grueling, hopeless four hours of our lives. We managed to climb 200 feet of near-vertical out of the steep ravine before losing light. In the dark, we navigated nearly one and a half miles and over 1,000 feet of descent through unbelievably dangerous and unforgiving terrain. Every step with the heavy loads was on loose rock, steep grade, or through horrible cactus. I was able to find a walking stick to support my ankle, though my father took one fall right into a cactus. We finally made it back to the ATV several hours after dark, filled with our share of thorns and thankful we’d escaped safely.
Finding success on this hunt was supremely rewarding due to the challenges it made us overcome. No matter the amount of misery endured during this hunt, I hope to draw an aoudad tag every year to further test myself and chase these incredible animals.