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My name is Michael Kondro and I am part of an active family that has something planned outdoors almost every weekend.
My Dad is an avid bighorn sheep hunter and ever since I was young, my twin brother Doug and I have been on many of his adventures.
Both Doug and I have been taught the importance of firearm safety as we have been shooting pellet guns and bows in our backyard since we were young. Doug also loves the outdoors and will come hunting with us, but is not interested in shooting an animal. Both my Dad and I respect his opinion.
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| Michael’s first big game animal, a white wolf. |
My formal hunting career started in 2009 by taking the hunter education course and learning to shoot a 270. We decided that my first hunting season would be in pursuit of a bighorn ram.
Before school started, we did a long three-day adventure for opening weekend. We didn’t see anything except a bunch of bear tracks.
Since school started early, I was not able to hunt for a while but I managed to get out in the southern part of province for opening weekend. My Dad spotted one ram preseason scouting, but by the time we got in, the ram was gone.
A couple of days before my 15th birthday, my Dad and his hunting buddy Cornel talked me into doing a hunting trip, which was an 18 kilometre hike to the camp.
Upon arrival, the howls of a wolf pack echoed throughout the valley and into the night. The next day, after an unsuccessful hunt, we fell asleep to the seemingly louder howl of the wolves.
As we packed up the next morning to start the journey back home, the howls of the wolves were noticeably closer. We walked over the ridge and started calling to the wolves to see if we could draw them closer. After howling back and forth, a snow-white wolf appeared on the adjacent slope. I lined up the crosshairs and pulled the trigger. Two hundred and fifty metres later, the bullet made contact and I had made my first large animal kill.
The season ended with a couple more unsuccessful weekend trips.
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| Michael’s first black bear. |
In the spring of 2009, my Dad convinced me that we should do a black bear hunt, and thanks to my Dad’s friend Darryl, I was able to harvest a respectable black bear.
Cornel, my Dad and I went hunting on the weekend before my 16th birthday. We left right after school to start the long bike and hike to our camp. Progress was slow following an old creek bed and the last two hours of our trip was in the dark.
Waking up at four in the morning can be a painful thing, but waking up at four in the morning high in the mountains is completely different.
The first dark hours of our hike blurred by as we made our way up to the tree line where we waited for the sun to rise. As the sun rose, Cornel made a quick spot of five sheep, unfortunately all ewes. After watching the ewes, we continued to our day camp where we rested and searched the valley for rams. After spotting for a couple of hours, we all decided to have a short nap. My sleep was disturbed when my Dad jumped up and exclaimed, “Where did all those sheep come from?” Sure enough, there were about 30 lambs and ewes running towards us with a wolf in hot pursuit.
We continued to watch the wolf, hoping it would scare some rams our way but nothing emerged. We decided to hike over to the next valley. Both Cornel and I were all packed-up when my Dad said to Cornel, “Give me the spotting scope.” Cornel said it was put away and that we were leaving. Once again my Dad asked for the scope. Cornel took off his pack and said, “If that’s another rock sheep, I’m going to shoot you.”
Glassing in the scope my Dad gasped and asked us to check out what he had spotted. It was a group of four rams. One ram looked legal, but we needed to get closer to make sure.
We quickly closed the distance using trees and ridges for cover, and at 500 metres, we confirmed that it was a shooter. We quietly planned our next move on how to get into shooting position. We found a great route that would put us right above them and managed to sneak up to 50 metres from the group of rams behind some bushes. My dad slowly popped over the top of the bushes to see where the biggest ram was. He signalled me to come closer. The ram saw me before I saw him. We all froze hoping to avoid his watchful eyes. Then the other rams saw us and they all stood up. After what seemed like hours, they slowly started feeding, but as I raised my gun, another ram moved directly behind him. No shot. A hidden ewe stood up and ran, putting all the other sheep on edge. They cautiously started edging away making it impossible to get a clear shot.
Finally, at about 150 metres from us, the biggest ram peaked out from the herd and stopped. I knew this was going to be my only chance, so I took aim and fired. My heart leapt at the sound of the shot. The ram didn’t seem to even flinch. Cornel, who had been watching the ram through the scope, yelled, “Hit! Shoot him again!”
Thoughts became actions as I quickly chambered a second bullet and fired. This shot showed more of a reaction, as the ram stumbled down the slope. It quickly recovered and sprinted away around the corner of a scree slope. I took chase and saw the ram just peaking around the corner, staring at me. I chambered another round, took careful aim and shot. For the third time the valley echoed, then my ram was gone.
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| Packing out a sheep is tough work, but worth it! |
My Dad caught up to me after the shot and we slowly made our way up the hill where we last saw him. A million thoughts went through my head as we combed the side slope. We couldn’t find him. My heart sank. My Dad told me to go back down and find Cornel. I started back down the slope and then I saw him. He was lying peacefully dead in a small clearing. I excitedly shouted to my Dad and Cornel the good news.
We then proceeded with pictures, caping and cleaning the animal. An hour later, we happily made our way back to camp with the heaviest pack of my life, yet my bag felt weightless. We arrived at the camp in the dark and proceeded to have a sheep back strap feast. In the morning we packed up camp and proceeded with the hike and bike back out to the truck.
Bighorn sheep are one of the toughest animals to hunt; it is both a physical and mental challenge. A few days later, it was my brothers’ 16th birthday and mine, and this ram was the greatest present that I could ask for. ■
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