Duckhunterbrad
Lil-Rokslider
- Joined
- Feb 20, 2014
- Messages
- 116
Good luck on the next trip out! Looking forward to that grip and grin!
Won a CO RMBH Tag of a Lifetime... Now What
- Thread starter wannabemtnman
- Start date
OP
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wannabemtnman
Lil-Rokslider
OP
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wannabemtnman
Lil-Rokslider
Colorado Bighorn – A Hunt of a Lifetime
Six months ago, just four days after my youngest son was born, I got an unforgettable phone call from Terry at RMBS: I had been drawn for the statewide bighorn sheep tag. Life looked a lot different now with two young boys at home, and a 16-week paternity leave that didn’t exactly line up with sheep season. I dove deep into research, but family and the chaos of a summer with two little kids pushed scouting to the back burner.
I managed one worthwhile scouting trip and attended the RMBS meet and greet. Otherwise, I saved five weeks of paternity leave and a couple weeks of vacation to focus on the late September through November window. Across scouting and hunting, I spent 20 days in the field this season, looked over around 70 rams across eight units, and made four 17-hour (each way) trips. In the end, it all came together on November 16th.
None of this would’ve happened without support from friends and family, especially my wife—who had some choice words about the tag at times, but always reminded me not to settle for a ram I wouldn’t be proud to look at for the rest of my life.
The Final Trip Begins
I rolled out of South Texas at 5 a.m. Friday morning and reached southern Colorado by evening, back to a unit where I’d seen a good ram the prior trip. With an hour of daylight left, I turned up about a dozen rams, a few new faces and a few familiar, but nothing made me want to stay. So I pushed three hours north to a new unit based on a tip from a local sheep legend.
The next morning, camped on BLM, I heard horns cracking within the first half hour of light. Thirteen rams in the basin. I watched five rams and several ewes from 250 yards as the whole mountain lit up—grunting, chasing, heads smashing. Two more rams came out of the PJ’s at 80–100 yards straight into the group. Minutes later another ram barreled through brush behind me at 70 yards. Total rutting chaos.
Despite the action, nothing looked like a shooter. A quick check-in with some professionals confirmed my thoughts, so I stuck with the plan and kept heading north.
A Restless Night and a Rough Morning
By mid afternoon I reached my destination. I grabbed a quick power nap, glassed up a ram and ewe almost immediately, and took it as a sign that sheep were starting to migrate. Found a dispersed campsite, pitched the Slingfin, listened to some football, and settled in knowing the next day was the last good weather before some storms were rolling through.
At 2:30 a.m., my stomach turned inside out. Nausea hit full force. My wife had told me the boys and she had been battling a stomach bug the last few days. I’d hoped I dodged it—wrong. After snoozing the 5 a.m. alarm a few times, I decided I’d rather be sick in a warm truck than in a tent.
I reached the glassing knob after first light and ran into a woman glassing elk for her husband. She showed me a pic of a ram that had passed through three days earlier—the same one I’d glassed the night before a couple miles away..
I moved down the ridge and immediately turned up a ram at 400 yards, then another. Both younger, both clearly migrating. As the sun rose, I scanned deeper and found a group 3.5 miles up canyon. One sheep looked twice the size of everything else—darker, heavier—but too far for detail through the heat waves. Still, his body alone was worth the hike… even though I felt like a zombie.
But 3.5 to 4 miles is doable. I had all day. Storm wasn’t due until dark.
The Long Hike In
The first mile, although downhill, was the slowest mile I’ve ever walked as I battled the stomach bug demons the entire hike. Almost to the base of the ridge where the sheep were this morning, I bumped a ewe and lamb. I stopped to glass and suddenly heard what I thought was a gunshot—but it was rams smashing heads. Four more crashes followed. They were close, right above me.
Wind was blowing down canyon, thermals pulling up, so I started up the back side of the ridge to keep the wind in my favor. The climb was only 800 feet, but I dry-heaved my way through the gain.
Near the top, sheep sign was everywhere. I eased over into a perfect sheep bowl with water and green grass. More head-smashing echoed just ahead. Fifty yards from the top, I loaded my rifle for the first time all season and crept forward with trekking poles in one hand and rifle in the other.
A low groan drifted through the deadfall. At first I thought it was wind, but then I saw the tops of a horn moving at most 20 yards away. I crouched and started filming. Rams nudged each other behind the deadfall, then three heads snapped in my direction. They took a few quick steps and disappeared behind the rise.
I dropped my poles and moved ten yards. There they were—three rams at 25 yards, staring at me.
Right to left:
– Tight, young ram.
– Solid, heavy ram but not a shooter.
– And the one I instantly knew was “the ram.” Darker. Deep curl. Great mass. Broomed on the left. A body that dwarfed the others.
My wife’s words echoed: “Pick a ram you’ll love to look at for the rest of your life.”
Half-second decision. Crosshairs on his quartering toward shoulder. Safety off. The 143 ELDX from the 6.5 PRC hit the scapula, heart and whatever else was behind it. He staggered three steps, bounced off a conifer, and rolled into the last tree for the next hundred yards. One or two final kicks, he was done, and his young buddy stood nearby wondering why he wasn’t running.
Despite being sick all morning, in that moment I felt completely alive. I’d just punched the tag of a lifetime on a Colorado bighorn!
Packing Out Into the Storm
I texted my wife and parents immediately. Walking up to that ram was surreal. I’ve dreamed of taking a sheep since childhood. I hunt solo for most of my tags, and this moment felt exactly right.
A close friend I’d helped pack out his ram last year drove in to help. While I caped and quartered, the sun dropped behind the ridge. I hauled a load to the trail, met my buddy, celebrated, then headed back for the rest. As we reached the trail, flurries started.
By the time we loaded up to hike out, the storm was fully on us. Sideways snow, soaked brush, within a mile pants drenched from the crotch down, boots filling with icy water, light jackets and gloves soaked. A brutal end to a brutal day.
At the truck I couldn’t even unbuckle my pack. I shook uncontrollably for 10–15 minutes while the heater blasted. My buddy loaded everything like a champion. After eating just 700 calories all day, I was wrecked. I drove to a hotel, showered, warmed up, and finally slept.
The next day CPW aged the ram at 10 years old—exactly the age I’d set as my goal: old, broomed, heavy. I put a rough tape on him at around 178 4/8", though I’m a sheep noob. Either way, he’s perfect.
I’m incredibly blessed to have taken this ram. If you’re putting in for the sheep lotteries, keep at it. It can happen! Thanks to everyone who helped, the sheep community is something special, can't wait to help some others next season, God bless.
Six months ago, just four days after my youngest son was born, I got an unforgettable phone call from Terry at RMBS: I had been drawn for the statewide bighorn sheep tag. Life looked a lot different now with two young boys at home, and a 16-week paternity leave that didn’t exactly line up with sheep season. I dove deep into research, but family and the chaos of a summer with two little kids pushed scouting to the back burner.
I managed one worthwhile scouting trip and attended the RMBS meet and greet. Otherwise, I saved five weeks of paternity leave and a couple weeks of vacation to focus on the late September through November window. Across scouting and hunting, I spent 20 days in the field this season, looked over around 70 rams across eight units, and made four 17-hour (each way) trips. In the end, it all came together on November 16th.
None of this would’ve happened without support from friends and family, especially my wife—who had some choice words about the tag at times, but always reminded me not to settle for a ram I wouldn’t be proud to look at for the rest of my life.
The Final Trip Begins
I rolled out of South Texas at 5 a.m. Friday morning and reached southern Colorado by evening, back to a unit where I’d seen a good ram the prior trip. With an hour of daylight left, I turned up about a dozen rams, a few new faces and a few familiar, but nothing made me want to stay. So I pushed three hours north to a new unit based on a tip from a local sheep legend.
The next morning, camped on BLM, I heard horns cracking within the first half hour of light. Thirteen rams in the basin. I watched five rams and several ewes from 250 yards as the whole mountain lit up—grunting, chasing, heads smashing. Two more rams came out of the PJ’s at 80–100 yards straight into the group. Minutes later another ram barreled through brush behind me at 70 yards. Total rutting chaos.
Despite the action, nothing looked like a shooter. A quick check-in with some professionals confirmed my thoughts, so I stuck with the plan and kept heading north.
A Restless Night and a Rough Morning
By mid afternoon I reached my destination. I grabbed a quick power nap, glassed up a ram and ewe almost immediately, and took it as a sign that sheep were starting to migrate. Found a dispersed campsite, pitched the Slingfin, listened to some football, and settled in knowing the next day was the last good weather before some storms were rolling through.
At 2:30 a.m., my stomach turned inside out. Nausea hit full force. My wife had told me the boys and she had been battling a stomach bug the last few days. I’d hoped I dodged it—wrong. After snoozing the 5 a.m. alarm a few times, I decided I’d rather be sick in a warm truck than in a tent.
I reached the glassing knob after first light and ran into a woman glassing elk for her husband. She showed me a pic of a ram that had passed through three days earlier—the same one I’d glassed the night before a couple miles away..
I moved down the ridge and immediately turned up a ram at 400 yards, then another. Both younger, both clearly migrating. As the sun rose, I scanned deeper and found a group 3.5 miles up canyon. One sheep looked twice the size of everything else—darker, heavier—but too far for detail through the heat waves. Still, his body alone was worth the hike… even though I felt like a zombie.
But 3.5 to 4 miles is doable. I had all day. Storm wasn’t due until dark.
The Long Hike In
The first mile, although downhill, was the slowest mile I’ve ever walked as I battled the stomach bug demons the entire hike. Almost to the base of the ridge where the sheep were this morning, I bumped a ewe and lamb. I stopped to glass and suddenly heard what I thought was a gunshot—but it was rams smashing heads. Four more crashes followed. They were close, right above me.
Wind was blowing down canyon, thermals pulling up, so I started up the back side of the ridge to keep the wind in my favor. The climb was only 800 feet, but I dry-heaved my way through the gain.
Near the top, sheep sign was everywhere. I eased over into a perfect sheep bowl with water and green grass. More head-smashing echoed just ahead. Fifty yards from the top, I loaded my rifle for the first time all season and crept forward with trekking poles in one hand and rifle in the other.
A low groan drifted through the deadfall. At first I thought it was wind, but then I saw the tops of a horn moving at most 20 yards away. I crouched and started filming. Rams nudged each other behind the deadfall, then three heads snapped in my direction. They took a few quick steps and disappeared behind the rise.
I dropped my poles and moved ten yards. There they were—three rams at 25 yards, staring at me.
Right to left:
– Tight, young ram.
– Solid, heavy ram but not a shooter.
– And the one I instantly knew was “the ram.” Darker. Deep curl. Great mass. Broomed on the left. A body that dwarfed the others.
My wife’s words echoed: “Pick a ram you’ll love to look at for the rest of your life.”
Half-second decision. Crosshairs on his quartering toward shoulder. Safety off. The 143 ELDX from the 6.5 PRC hit the scapula, heart and whatever else was behind it. He staggered three steps, bounced off a conifer, and rolled into the last tree for the next hundred yards. One or two final kicks, he was done, and his young buddy stood nearby wondering why he wasn’t running.
Despite being sick all morning, in that moment I felt completely alive. I’d just punched the tag of a lifetime on a Colorado bighorn!
Packing Out Into the Storm
I texted my wife and parents immediately. Walking up to that ram was surreal. I’ve dreamed of taking a sheep since childhood. I hunt solo for most of my tags, and this moment felt exactly right.
A close friend I’d helped pack out his ram last year drove in to help. While I caped and quartered, the sun dropped behind the ridge. I hauled a load to the trail, met my buddy, celebrated, then headed back for the rest. As we reached the trail, flurries started.
By the time we loaded up to hike out, the storm was fully on us. Sideways snow, soaked brush, within a mile pants drenched from the crotch down, boots filling with icy water, light jackets and gloves soaked. A brutal end to a brutal day.
At the truck I couldn’t even unbuckle my pack. I shook uncontrollably for 10–15 minutes while the heater blasted. My buddy loaded everything like a champion. After eating just 700 calories all day, I was wrecked. I drove to a hotel, showered, warmed up, and finally slept.
The next day CPW aged the ram at 10 years old—exactly the age I’d set as my goal: old, broomed, heavy. I put a rough tape on him at around 178 4/8", though I’m a sheep noob. Either way, he’s perfect.
I’m incredibly blessed to have taken this ram. If you’re putting in for the sheep lotteries, keep at it. It can happen! Thanks to everyone who helped, the sheep community is something special, can't wait to help some others next season, God bless.
Attachments
JREG19
Lil-Rokslider
Congratulations, that's a cranker!
BAKPAKR
WKR
Congrats on a great ram, and thanks for posting the story and photos.
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