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“Patience, persistence, and perspiration make an unbeatable combination for success” – Napolean Hill.
When Mr. Hill stated this, he might as well have been talking about sheep hunting in Alberta. For it can take years of “learning experiences” before all the right pieces come together.
Experienced sheep hunters will often say that the first ram a hunter harvests was a lamb the first year the hunter started hunting sheep. The ten odd years that it takes for a lamb to grow into a mature ram is about the same amount of time taken for the hunter to understand what it takes to hunt sheep in Alberta. This was no different for me.
I started sheep hunting at 14-years-old back in 2006, following my dad up a sheep trail. Over the years, I watched others harvest rams and had multiple close calls only to get busted and have rams dart over a far ridge to never be seen again. So starting in the 2016 season, I was determined not to let this happen again.
So fast-forward to the 24th, the day before the opening of the general bighorn season in many WMUs in Alberta. My brother and I walked along a lengthy creek, kilometres back from any road access deep in sheep country. With our sleeping gear in our packs, we climbed a small ridge to get a vantage point into two basins we hoped held legal rams. As the basins came into view, we quickly glassed some sheep feeding in each basin. Our excitement faded, as the first basin held a handful of ewes while the second basin included a small band of young rams. The largest ram, who was at least two years from legal length, led the group across the grassy plain towards the bottom of the basin. With no mature rams in sight, we kept on moving further up the drainage to the next basin.
As we approached the next basin by climbing a side hill, my brother ahead of me suddenly crouched down low in the rocks while hoarsely whispering, “Sheep!” back to me. We quickly hid behind a group of rocks, scanning the newly visible basin and the sheep grazing in the small meadow within it. Again our excitement waned as young “banana” rams filled our binoculars. After a few minutes of studying these new sheep, movement behind them caught my eye and a large, full-curl ram meandered out from behind a hill 300 metres behind the small rams.
Bingo! A mature ram; the kind that sheep hunters dream of. The kind that I have previously watched outsmart my movements. My brother and I continued to watch two other large rams wander into view and we quickly made a game plan to get a closer look at them.
We crossed the rocky hillside and snuck into a stand of trees just off a creek bed. Carefully, we crept closer to the edge of the trees nearest the rams to determine the quality of the sheep in front of us. We scanned quickly and couldn’t find the rams in the same area we had left them only 40 minutes earlier. Finally, we caught the white ends of the sheep moving up to the back of the basin and into the cliffs to bed for the night. Without much time to study the rams, we noted there were at least three rams of good quality that stood out from the rest of the band. However, other rams had already disappeared over the small cliff onto the shale hillside of the mountain for the night. One by one, the rams moved out of our sight 800 metres away and bedded down for the night.
My brother and I moved back into the trees where we had dropped our packs so we could set up our camp for the night. Our eager mood was undeniable, as we quietly spoke about the deep curls we saw and the high flaring tips of the large rams. Putting rams “to bed” the day before the season starts is one of the most thrilling feelings you will experience when sheep hunting. The anticipation of what the next day will bring simply makes a good night’s sleep unattainable. But I have been in this situation before. Multiple times over my previous nine years hunting sheep, I have watched legal rams bed down for the night on August 24th. Other hunters often chasing the same sheep, a change in the weather overnight, or even a wolf for me once has caused rams to move over night only to be out of reach the next morning.
With a game plan in place, my brother and I settled into our tent for the night. My brother was able to harvest his first ram a couple of years ago, so I would get first shot if such an opportunity presented itself. We would wake up before legal light, creep further up the creek bed out of sight of the rams, and settle down within range of the rams for opening light. Two hours before legal light of opening morning, we swung our loaded packs over our shoulders and quietly crept towards our expected position.
One hour before legal light, it started to rain. Thick clouds rolled over the mountaintops, concealing all natural light from the moon and stars. The dark walk on the steep creek bed became more and more dangerous and we became soaked from the sudden downpour.
Still, we continued with our game plan. We moved through the creek where we originally spotted the rams the day before and towards the back of the basin where we expected the rams to still be bedded down.
We slowly belly crawled on the wet ground out of the creek bed and got into position. The hillside was still dark, as the morning sun had yet to break the horizon. Shivers of anticipation and the cool wind created difficulties holding my rifle in position, as my binoculars scanned the cliffs for the rams. The terrain always looks different from lower elevation and pinpointing where the rams had actually bedded was proving difficult.
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Derrick poses with the ram that was nine years in the making. |
Morning light came and sheep season officially began. I craved to cash in the years of hard work or just a little bit of luck to find where the rams were. Suddenly, three rams stood up, 200 metres away. From their bedded position, they were just out of sight but standing they were now in full view. The lead ram was one of the mature rams we had spotted the day before. He looked magnificent in the morning light. Holding my gun up, I could clearly see both horn tips curling high above his nose.
I whispered to my brother, “He’s legal!” and my brother quickly replied back the same message. It is amazing how many thoughts and emotions can trace through your mind in less than a second. I felt the weight of the years of missed opportunities on my trigger finger, as I placed the crosshairs on the ram’s chest and pulled the trigger. It was the first time I had ever shot at a ram in my life.
The ram bucked up with the shot and turned away from the other two rams. A follow up shot dropped the ram; then he tumbled down the hillside towards the creek. My brother and I gathered our items and approached the old warrior. His thick bases with matching lamb tips made the wait so worth it. I shook as the realization spread over me... my first ram!
My brother ended up passing up a smaller legal ram in the group shortly after. We could have had two sheep down on opening morning but one was more than enough work (and weight) for the two of us.
We spent the morning taking pictures, slowly caping out the ram, and carefully separating the meat into bags to haul out. We aged the ram at 9.5-years-old and green scoring into the high 180s. By his age, this ram was born the spring after I started hunting sheep. I spent hundreds of kilometres walking the mountains with family and friends until our paths crossed.
I want to thank my dad Barry and family friend Hank for showing me the mountains and allowing me to tag along when I was young. I owe you both a sheep haul out sometime in the future. ■
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