Quick summary of 2019

2019 found me working out of state, so when I found out that I had drawn deer and elk tags, I knew I wouldn't have any spare time to scout.

I didn't want to waste time setting up and tearing down the wall tent for deer season, since I have family that lives right where I hunt, so I didn't get there until Friday afternoon. I stopped to glass for a minute where I sometimes see deer, and as soon as I looked into the binoculars, there were deer, including a couple of bucks. After talking to the other members of the hunting party, including the ones who live there who hasn't seen many deer during the summer, we decided to hunt for those deer on opening morning.

After waiting for it to be get light enough to see, some of us started into the hunt, with the others waiting down the hill. About 45 minutes into the hunt, I saw the group of deer across the draw from me. I actually thought about passing on this guy for a minute, but after thinking about the last few tags that I have passed early shots on bucks like this and ended up regretting it, I decided to take him. One of the hunters in our group shot a smaller buck from the bunch, when they ran over the ridge.

Each day that passed made me feel like I made a good choice. I spent the week trying to find a buck for the other members of the group, and we only saw two tiny tiny bucks.

After a quick two weeks back to work, I came home for elk season. I like to stay at home for this tag, because of the different places the elk sometimes are, and to have the conveniences of being home.

On this hunt, a family member from out of state drew the tag also. We had time to scout the area for one day, just so he would have an idea of what we were getting in to.

Lots of glassing and covering country, from as soon as you can see, until you can't see, found no sign of the elk. After 2 1/2 days, including the one scouting day, and a lot of good hearted ridicule from everyone in the group questioning my sanity for thinking that elk would even be out in this terrain, I spotted some elk.

After a blown stalk, and running out of light that evening, we decided to return in the morning. Fortunately for us, we didn't spook the elk to bad the evening before. The elk were almost exactly where we had left them the night before.

After waiting for them to bed down in the brush, we started on the almost three mile stalk. As much as the terrain looks as flat as a table, it's far from it. We had to continually change our plan of attack because of the cover that was available. Finally, after several hours, we got as close as we could, and one of the cows spotted us.

It was now or never, so we made our attack when they all stood up. I got this four point bull, and the other guy got a cow.

By the time we got done taking care of them, it was 3:00 AM.

Coyote with a rock!

Returning home from a day of cutting firewood on tuesday, I saw a coyote
cross the road in front of me. When I got to where he had crossed, I saw that he
was just past some juniper trees, and close to the road still. I grabbed my
trusty old 30-06, and got out to try a shot. I missed my 1st shot, but the
coyote still wasn't very wild, so I waited, and when he came into view again, at
about 100 yards, I shot. This time he went down in a pile. I decided that it
might be worth it to skin him, so I put the rifle away, looked at my 22 pistol,
and thought, I don't need to pack that up the hill. I walked to where I thought
he was, and didn't see him, so I just figured that I walked to the wrong rock
pile. I started walking back down the hill looking around for him, and saw him
piled up behind a sagebrush. As soon as I saw him, I said outloud to myself, I
wonder if he will be worth skinning? As soon as I said that, he raised his head,
looked at me, and took off running! Not knowing what else to do, I picked up a
softball sized rock, and threw it. beaned him right in the head and knocked him
down. A couple more well placed rocks, and I took him home and skinned him.

Wyoming deer hunt 2009

In the spring of 2009, the desire to get a job that I didn't have to struggle to make it on, took me to Wyoming. I had already missed the deadline for controled hunt applications for that year, so it initially looked like I wouldn't be able to hunt until another season. After studying as much as I could, I found that Wyoming issues leftover tags on a first come, first served basis. I figured out where I thought would be my best chance to get one of these tags, and settled down to wait until I could get one. After sharing this information with my Cousin Jim, who I grew up with and have hunted with for our entire lives, he thought it would be a great idea.

The tags would come up for sale on July 7th. But by this time, I had come home to work for one of my close friends, who was fighting a battle with cancer. {At the time I am writing this, He is doing fine.} When the time came to get the tags, I got online and was able to get one for each of us.

Jim was also going to Wyoming on an elk hunt, so we decided to wait a few days after the opener to start, so He would miss a few days less work.

I live a lot closer to our hunt area than Jim does, so I got there a day before Jim did. I found a likely spot to camp, in a national forest campground. It had everything that makes a camp a home, a pump for water, and an outhouse. It was also vacant most of the time.

The next morning when I came out of the trailer just at daylight, I was greeted by a cow moose walking through camp, at about 100 feet from my trailer. I took some pictures, but I was apparently nervous, and they are blurry.

When I had finished doing what needed to be done in camp, I decided to go try hunting a place that I had found while I was working in the area. When I got to the town of Saratoga, on my way to hunt, there was a game check. I stopped, hoping that I could get some helpful information from the biologist. As I pulled up behind his pickup, I noticed a freshly killed cow moose head in the back of his pickup. I found out from a game warden later, that this was the cow that I had seen that morning. Apparently someone had shot it from the road and left it lay. Someone found it shortly afterward and it was processed and given to a hunter who had drawn the cow tag, but was unable to hunt because of illness.

After an informative visit with the biologist, I continued to where I was planning on hunting. It was a walk in area, private land that is accessible to the public. I walked several miles, but found no deer. I did find a shed antler from a 5 point bull elk, so the hike was definately worth it. When I returned to camp, Jim had arrived.

The next morning we got everything moved into Jim's pickup and away we went. We decided to go exploring to see where we would concentrate our hunting. There are some high mountains all around the area, two separate mountain ranges with peaks well over 10,000 feet. We drove a main forest road that the biologist had suggested, that skirts the edge of the forest, just above the private land and BLM land. There were several inches of snow, and at times it was snowing hard. We found some promising areas, but no deer or even tracks. We returned to the area that camp was in and with some light left, decided to try a hunt above camp. We saw some elk, some deer tracks, some deer on private land, and spotted an area that looked good for another day.

The following day was clear and cold. We decided to try the area that we had driven the day before, and find a good spot to climb to the high peaks. On the way to where we wanted to go, we saw hundreds of deer, all on private land. After finding where we wanted to go to the high country, we parked, put on our packs, and headed up. After we had climbed for a couple of hours, in the snow, we had seen no tracks, but for two elk. A snack and some pictures later, we decided to try some lower country. After another careful study of our maps to make sure that we were not trespassing, we hunted some fringe areas. Timber above, sagebrush below, lots of small canyons, we finally saw some deer on public land, but no bucks. We did come across a small herd of elk with a bull with jet black horns, and he was very interested in his cows.

The next day took us to the area that we had spotted a couple evenings before. A study of our maps told us that it is a wildlife management area. It includes about 10,000 acres of foothill wintering ground, and borders national forest land. The management area has roads every little ways, and had seen lots of traffic. We did start seeing deer as soon as we stopped to look, including our first public land buck. He was a small forked horn that we had no interest in killing at that time. While we were watching him, he bedded down about 10 yards off of a road. Shortly after he bedded, a pickup started coming down the hill toward him with two hunters in it. He heard the pickup and got out of his bed, only to walk back to the road that the pickup was coming down. They apparently couldn't see each other, because the little buck just walked into a small canyon and bedded down again, and the pickup just kept driving. He was less than 50 yards from them when they drove by.

After checking out the road that the pickup had been on, we came back to where the little buck had been. I dropped Jim off to walk the small canyon above the buck, then I drove down the road to pick him up. I walked out to where I had seen the little buck bed down and waited. In a few minutes here came some does that Jim had jumped. Only after they ran by, did the little buck get up, he still didn't know I was there. He stood there looking at the does until Jim came right up on him, then he ran for a mile.

We then found a good spot to access the national forest. We parked then put on our packs and started climbing. When we got into the edge of the trees, Jim pointed and two bucks stood up about 75 yards away. They were a lot bigger than the one we had seen, but we weren't quite ready for them yet. We waited until they moved off, then continued up the mountain. When we had gone about a mile up the mountain, we stopped to glass an area and have a snack. After a few minutes, those same bucks came out onto an open hillside about 150 yards away and began feeding. We had no choice but to watch them, because they were right where we planned on going. After they moved back into the timber, we moved on. After getting to the top of the next ridge, we decided to work our way back down to the pickup. We did end up seeing several more deer, but only one buck and he was a spike. It was dark by the time we got back on a main road.

The next day brought us back to the same area, just a couple of canyons over. This road put us up the mountain to almost the level where we had turned back the day before. We parked, and up we went again. The weather was trying to get bad on us this day, with fog coming and going. While we were glassing, a couple of hunters came up behind us. We walked and visited for a while then they went on their own way. We stopped for lunch at 9500 feet, and decided that this was a good time to go back to camp and make a dutch oven stew.

When we got back to camp, we dug a pit and got a fire going in it , then I got out the dutch oven, and carefully followed my Wife's instructions on putting ingredients together. We then put it in the pit, covered it and went on a short hunt before dark. We saw some does, but no bucks.

The next morning I dug up our stew, only to find that our fire hadn't been big enough and had gone out before the stew was done. We put the dutch oven on the stove to finish cooking. We then had enough prepared food for a week.

The plan for the day was to try some completely new territory, it would be all BLM land, sagebrush and grassland. Then after a while we were to go to Rawlins for a shower and some supplies.We studied our maps for the property boundries, used my gps to figure out for sure we weren't tresspassing, and started hunting country similar to what we are used to hunting in the desert country of southeast Oregon.

Our first hunt in this area turned up several deer, including a couple of bucks that we again decided to pass on. It seemed to be a good area, but the wind was howling, and it was time to go get a shower. We explored a little more in the pickup and then went on to Rawlins.

After a $10 shower, and some gas and groceries, we headed back toward camp, hoping to beat the blizzard that was forecast for the afternoon and evening. We made it back without the roads becoming a big problem, but it was starting to snow hard. We had daylight left, so we checked out a place that we weren't sure on the access to. We had just decided that it wasn't worth chancing trespassing, when out through the sagebrush and heavily falling snow, walks a big bull Moose. That was a first for both of us, not seeing a bull Moose, but seeing one in sagebrush. We watched him and took pictures until he got into the closest trees and out of our sight. We then went toward camp, but it wasn't quite dark yet, so we drove on past camp into the national forest. The snow was falling very heavily by now, so when the road started getting a little hairy, we turned around to head back toward camp. Down the road a ways we saw brakelights ahead of us and when we got close, we could see the vehicle was just barely moving in the middle of the road. We supposed that the driver must have been scared of the slick road, however when we got close, we could tell that they were taking pictures of another big bull Moose that was just walking down the road. They let us go by to take our own pictures but I only got one that isn't very good, because the snow filled my lense.

The following day brought us right back to where we had seen the deer the day before. We made our first hunt in the same area that we had hunted the day before. We hunted the little draws and found the same deer as before, but no bigger bucks. A decision was made to go farther toward the private land to the north. There are some big bluffs, and small canyons with short sagebrush.Once again, we had studied our maps, and used the gps to figure just where we were. When I figured that I was about a mile from the private land boundry, I was stopping to glass, and decide what I was going to do next, when I heard a vehicle. I looked around until I spotted it parked right on the highest bluff in front of me. When I moved on, the vehicle moved, when I got back where I could see our pickup, the other vehicle was nearly to it. When I came into view, the vehicle stopped moving. After a while, I moved to where they could see me, then they pulled up and parked next to our pickup. I was a long ways away and couldn't see what was going on, but I didn't think that anyone had got out. By the time I got back close to the pickup, Jim had come from over the hill. He got back a few minutes before I did, and when I got close I heard Jim say that He was pretty sure that we were on public land, and was explaining how careful we were being to avoid trespassing. When I got there and got out the maps and gps to show where we were and where the private lands were, the young man then said that we weren't actually on private land, but wanted to make sure that we knew where the boundries were. He then asked us how we got to where we were. when we showed him on the map, he said that we had come across private land to get there. This we already knew, because on the BLM road there are signs that state "Public access across private lands". He is a security guy for one of the big ranches, and apparently is supposed to try to get everyone to stay out of the area. We were ready to leave the area anyway, so we didn't pursue it.

When we left there, we went to the extreme western edge of our hunt area to check it out. I had been there a couple of times when I worked in the area so I wanted to check it out. We found a place to get into the forest on public land, so we checked it out on the roads. We saw several deer, but no bucks. We decided that it will be a good spot for tomorrow. As we were leaving, we watched some beavers working in their dam just below the road. On our way back to camp, we saw two herds of elk and a few more does.

The next morning had us back just below where we had seen the beaver. There were open hillsides with sagebrush and grass, at the top of the ridges were rims, and just over the top was dense timber. At the bottom of the hill was a section of private property. When we got out of the pickup it was windy, cold, sometimes foggy, and snowing. All in all a pretty miserable start to a day hunting.

Together we walked up a trail to the top of the ridge, where we split up to go our own way. I walked over the top to verify that it was really thick and you can't see into it. When I got back on the top, the fog rolled in so I couldn't see 20 yards. I walked down the ridge for a distance, then waited for a while, until the weather started to break. I watched some open areas below me for a while and decided that I was going back to the pickup to get warm.

As I got closer to the pickup, the weather was getting better. I couldn't see Jim, so I walked down below the pickup to look over a little hill to see what I could see. Just as I could see over I looked back, and saw that Jim was almost to the pickup. I went to look anyway and there were some deer there. I watched for a few minutes and saw only does and fawns. There are some trees between me and the pickup, so I thought I would go through them to see if I could jump something to Jim. As I was making one last look around I spotted a buck at about 800 yards. I didn't have to look long to decide that he was big enough to try for. When I looked to see where Jim was, I saw that he was in the pickup, and coming to get me. I frantically waved my arms to get his attention so the pickup wouldn't scare the buck away. When he saw me, he came to see what the excitement was about. After looking at the buck, he told me that he figured that I should go kill him. A little planning and I was on my way.

I would go back up around the trees that the pickup was parked by, so I would be out of sight. Jim would stay where he could watch the buck, and when I got back where I could see him, he will signal if he has moved or not. As soon as I could see Jim again I looked at him through my binoculars, and he indicated that the buck was still there.I took a few more careful steps before I could see the buck. He was feeding, and looking away from me. I took off my pack and everything else that I didn't need and started toward the buck. After just a few steps, the buck looked up and right at me, and I knew it was now or never. He was standing broadside now and I could not get a rest, so I had to shoot offhand. I put the crosshairs just behind his shoulder and squeezed off, the 338 roared and down he went. I let out a yell, and I heard Jim yell, but he was telling me to shoot again. I looked back at the buck and he was up and moving away now, I pulled the gun up again and shot him right behind the ribs and he was down for good. A nice heavy horned 3X3. Not a huge buck, but very respectable, especially after 8 days of hunting, and he was by far the biggest one that we saw on public land.

After several pictures, we got him dressed out and then dragged him to the pickup. It was about 400 yards away and on the road. We had lots of day left so we went around the other side of the mountain to hunt for a buck for Jim. I let Jim out where we had been a few days before and he walked across several small canyons for about two miles. When he was almost to where I was going to pick him up, he shot a small forked horn. He had needed to be across the state in a couple of days to go elk hunting, so he shot what he saw. Jim ended up killing a spike bull on his elk hunt.

My First Buck

Deer season 1979 was to become a very special memory for me. I had been hunting several times before with my Dad, who had passed away the year before, my older brothers, and older friends. I was 15 years old, and my friend Gene, was 16. This time we went by ourselves for the first time.
As I write this, nearly 30 years has passed by, so I don't remember how far into the season we were, but I do remember the trip and the hunt.
We had decided where we were going to go, and after telling Gene's parents, and my Mom approximately where we were going, we headed into the Pueblo mountains. When we got to where we had planned to camp, someone was there already. Undetered, we put the red ford in 4 wheel drive, and drove another 1/2 mile or so up the draw to set up camp. When we found what would be a good spot, that is where we set up Gene's pup tent. I don't remember details on what we ate, but I am sure it was good.
The next morning we headed out from camp bright and early, we were going up toward the back ridge of the Pueblos. We walked out of the draw where we were camped, to a big slope covered with sagebrush, mahogany, and huge boulders. The slope went up to where it meets up with vertical cliffs of at least 100 feet in places. At the base of the cliffs, is a patch of aspens, about 20 acres in size. Below the aspens, is the head of the draw that we had originally planned on camping in. There are springs and small meadows right below the rims. Right above where the draw begins, is a gap in the rim that you can get to the very top from.
We saw deer and deer hunters from the time we left camp. When we got to the aspens, one of us walked through, and the other watched from the edge of the trees. Several deer came out of the trees but we didn't shoot. It has been nearly 30 years, I don't remember if there were no bucks, or what. Right after that, near the springs and meadows, another hunter started shooting. After he realized that we were just a couple of kids that presented no threat, he talked to us. When we looked at the buck that he had just shot, we noticed that it just had one horn. in the hunter's haste to shoot him before we could, he shot off one of the horns. After we got up the hill a little ways, we had a good laugh about that.
We continued straight up the mountain, through the gap in the rims, and eventually made our way to the top.
We had just been on top of the ridge for a few minutes, when Gene said "There's a deer." He pointed to a saddle, where the next canyon comes to the top of the ridge.
Gene was hunting with a savage model 99, in .308 caliber, without a scope. I was using the gun that my Dad had given to me, shortly before he died. It is a model 70 winchester, in 30-06 caliber. I however, had a weaver 2.5 to 7 power scope on it.
As luck would have it, there was a little rim right where we were standing, that made a perfect rest. I got a good rest and looked at the deer through my scope. Gene asked "Is it a buck?" I responded by pulling the trigger. The buck dropped like a rock. I don't know for sure how far it was, but for all of these years, I have been claiming that it was 400 yards, and I'll stick with that. We took off running toward the buck like the excited teenagers that we were, and when we got to where the buck should have been, he wasn't there.
In our haste to get there, we took our eyes off of where it went down, and ran to the wrong place. After only a few seconds, I spotted the buck's horns. I thought that I had killed the biggest buck ever, until I realized that he had fallen with his horns resting on top of a sagebrush.
He was a very nice first buck, a 3x3, 23" wide, his horns are light, and I would now guess that he was young.
Gene, being the great friend that he was, volunteered to gut him for me. That was fine with me, I had never done it before.
When my buck was gutted and ready to go, the choice now had to be made on where to go with him. Do we drag him back up to the top, and down where we had come up? Or do we drag him down to the bottom on the back side, walk back up and over to camp, then drive the 30 or so miles around the mountain to get him?
While we were eating a candy bar, and discussing this, I spotted a deer running toward us a couple, three hundred yards below us. We couldn't see if it was a buck or not, so I stood behind Gene and used his shoulder for a rest. When I confirmed that it was a buck, Gene's .308 went off almost immediately. A couple of follow up shots, and the buck was down.
Our dilema was now solved, as Gene went down to take care of his buck, I dragged mine down to where his was.
When Gene's buck was cleaned, he noticed something in his shirt pocket, it was the candy bar that I had been eating when I spotted the deer.
The buck that Gene shot was almost a clone to the one that I had killed. Also a 3x3, with very similar horns. A tape later revealed a difference of 1/4, or 1/2 of an inch but I don't remember which was bigger, probably his.
We knew it was going to be a long time before we would get back, so we covered both bucks with sagebrush for shade, after propping open their body cavities with a stick for airflow, to help them cool out. It was 11:00 am and starting to get warm, so we wouldn't need our coats, we put them on top of the brush for more shade.
After a short discussion, we decided that we no longer needed to carry our rifles. Especially with the walk that we were about to take. We didn't want to leave them right with the deer, in case someone would steal them. so we hid them in the brush a short distance away.
By the time that we walked back to the top, down through the gap in the rim, and back to camp, we were hungry. We quickley packed up camp, and drove down out of the mountains, to Fields.
Fields, Oregon is a tiny little town with an elementary school, and a combination store, gas station, motel, and cafe. At that time there were about 8-10 people that lived in "town". Thirty years later, it hasn't changed much.
My Mom worked at the store, so we went to tell her about our adventure so far, and get something to eat.
After we filled our bellies, and forgot to fill our gas tank, we went to retrieve our deer. We didn't realize the part about being low on gas, until we were over Domingo pass, miles from Fields, and it was getting late.
When we stashed our bucks, we took note which draw we would have to take to bring us to them from below. We had no problem finding which road/trail to take to get to them. The problem was, that the road didn't go close enough to the deer. This would not have been a problem, if we weren't almost out of gas. The red ford would go anywhere, and it was 1979 when we didn't think too much about going offroad. But since we were low on gas, we decided to walk up to get the deer.
As we were walking up a good cow trail to the deer, Gene said"Look at that". There was a buck that was a lot bigger than ours, looking at us from about a hundred yards.
With a little bit of cussing and whinning, we finally got both bucks, and our guns, and our coats to the pickup, and loaded. By this time it was completely dark, and we were a long ways from home, and still almost out of gas.
We headed down toward Rincon seeding and the road that would take us to Domingo pass, and on home. I don't remember what we talked about, but I am pretty sure that it included our hunt, and the fact that we were almost on "walk".
It was then that we heard a faint call on our CB radio. it was Gene's parents looking for us, calling from Domingo pass. After telling them that we were ok, but running low on gas, they waited for us, then followed us off of the mountain.
When we were within a quarter of a mile from my house, the red ford rolled quietly to a stop, out of gas. We got gas at my house, and then went to Gene's ranch to skin the deer. With help from Gene's parents, we finished at 1:00 am.

When our youngest son, Matt, turned 12, it was December, the hunting season for that year was over in Oregon. The following year, we did not draw deer tags, however, in Oregon they have a program for young hunters, called the first time hunter program. This allows kids from 12 to 17, the opportunity to hunt if they have not previously drawn a tag for a species. When we didn't draw tags in the regular draw, we applied for the first time hunter tag in the unit that we normally apply for, eastern Oregon mule deer tag and away we went hunting. Actually it wasn't very far, the tag was for the unit that we lived in at the time.
We had friends that drew tags for the unit that season, so we weren't hunting alone. With school and other obligations, we weren't able to get out every day, but we did get several days. I say we alot, because, with this program, the young hunter has to have an adult close by. We hunted with our friends when we could, they harvested several bucks as the season progressed. Matt had a couple of opportunities, though not the best chances for an inexperienced hunter. He got a couple shots at a big 4X4 several days into the season, and was starting to get discouraged when he didn't connect.
As the season went on, our friends had all tagged their deer, and the focus for all of them, turned to finding that buck for Matt. On the last weekend of the season, which in eastern Oregon is also the second weekend, we all decided to go hunt an area that we had never hunted. The area is really close to where we normally hunt, we had just never hunted right on that particular ridge. On the way out to where we would hunt, we saw a pickup parked next to the road that we recognized as another hunter that also hunted the area often. As we got a little closer, we could see him about 200 yards from his pickup, and it looked like he was dragging a deer. We could see that he was alone, except for his son, who was about 4 at the time. We did what we do, we went to help. When we got to the hunter, we realized that this was the big 4X4 that Matt had shot at earlier in the season. We helped get the deer to his pickup and loaded, then we continued to where we would hunt.
It was hot and dry, with steep short ridges, small rimrocks, and short little rough canyons, most of it covered with tall sagebrush. My great friend Dave, and his wife, Darcy, were with us. Darcy had dropped us off, and would drive to where we were going to be picked up. Dave walked below Matt on the hillsides, and I walked above him, hoping to get one of the old desert mulies to come up out of their bed. We glassed as we went along, and constantly looked for sign, which we saw very little of.
We neared the pickup, and after a small discussion, decided to hunt a little farther along a ridge before we would give up. Dave and I were starting to think that possibly there was a reason that we had not hunted right here before.
As I came around a sharp turn in the ridge, I saw that Matt and Dave had got a quite a ways out in front of me. They were just walking past the mouth of a little canyon. I briefly considered just walking to catch up, then thought better of it, I started glassing up to the head of the canyon, and right there, eating on some buckbrush, was a deer with it's white butt, pointing directly at me! It seemed like hours, probably only a few seconds, before the deer lifted it's head out of the bush to let me see if it was a buck. It finally lifted it's head and there was that great set of horns that we had been looking for!
I radioed Dave and Matt to tell them what I had found. Dave sent Matt up to me, and he stayed where he was to watch the action from there. When Matt got to where I was, I had moved a little bit, to where there was a little rimrock to get a solid rest on. In the meantime the big buck had kept eating in the same bush, but had worked around, so he was broadside to us. Matt took his time, got a good rest for his .270, and squeezed the trigger. The big buck jerked his head up, looked around, and just stood there. Matt had shot over him. A second shot splattered right between his horns into a rimrock, another miss. This caused the buck to jump about 10 feet down the hill, then he stopped again, not knowing what was happening. At this time Matt, normally a kid of few words, turned to look at me and say, " I got him dialed in now, Dad." His 3rd shot dropped the big buck in his tracks. At this point we heard a scream from down the hill from Dave, indicating that he had had a front row seat and watched the whole thing go down.
When we got to the buck, we realized what Matt had harvested, a 3X3, with bases of the horns, that I can't reach around. The horns are 23" wide at the widest place. And when we turned the old boy over, we got another surprise, he was a stag. I don't know if he was castrated by a buckaroo when he was young, or what happened, but there was nothing there. he has a small amount of velvet on his horns, but it is mostly rubbed off.
After hunting my whole life, and getting the opportunity to harvest several good bucks, and a few elk, along with antelope, and now a Bighorn sheep, I have to say that being with my kids when they get their animals, has been the highlight of my hunting career.
Please check back to read about more hunting adventures, including the next two mule deer bucks, with Matt.

Bighorn Sheep Hunt 2008

When I checked on line to see what tags I had, or hadn't, drawn for this year, I was shocked to see a picture of a Bighorn Sheep, along with an Elk, meaning that I was successful for both.
I am lucky, in that I live very close to where I was to go hunting, and that I had been on several hunts with other people in this area, and that I hunt deer in this area, and that I grew up hunting this area, OH, and that my sister and her husband own and operate a cattle ranch and run their cattle in this area, and are the premier go to people for sheep hunters for this area. They are no longer guides, but will offer info to just about anyone who asks about it. I am very lucky. They both drew their tags, in 91, and 93.
When I called my sister, Cindy to talk to her about this, she had already heard that I had drawn a tag, news travels fast around here. The first thing that she told me, was that she had talked to her neighbors that also had cattle in this area, and they told her about seeing 50 Rams in a certain canyon. My first thought was that they meant 50 sheep. Cindy assured me that they had said 50 Rams! The excitement was mounting rapidly now.
Through a series of events, including work, and taking my son to a National track meet in North Carolina, I was not able to scout like I would have liked, but I was not too concerned, I do know the area very well and had a little insider information available. I did contact the local Biologist with the Oregon department of fish and wildlife. After talking with him, I was assured that I had plenty of info to go on.
Without much deliberation, we, my wife Kathy and I, decided that the best campsite would be in my sisters orchard, on the lawn and in the shade. In this part of eastern Oregon, there is very little water, and even less shade. This turned out to be a very good decision, as the temperature was in excess of 100 degrees on opening day.
Opening day brought us to the mountains where the 50 Rams had been seen. I had a good group helping me out that day, including my best hunting buddy Bill, my friend and pilot Jeff, his friend Eric, Eric's son Cameron who was practice hunting, as he had a tag for an adjacent unit for the second season, my sister Cindy, and my wife Kathy. Bill would drop us off and then drive around the mountain to pick us up, if we went off of that side, Cindy would ride her horse, and spot some canyons to the north of where we were expecting the sheep to be, and the rest of us would hike straight up the mountain to a rendezvous spot with Cindy. After an elevation gain of about 1500 feet, we were on the top of the ridge that we had wanted to be on. We met with Cindy and she told us that she had seen no sheep in her spotting stops, and that the country that we were getting into was too rough for her horse, so she would return home to put her horse away, and return to spot from lower country and contact me by radio or cell phone, if she spotted anything. The rest of us set up our spotting scopes, looked over the canyon before us, had lunch, and rested up. When we had not seen anything, we decided to move to the south to the next canyon. This would involve another elevation gain of several hundred feet.
Jeff was the first to get set up where he could see into the next canyon. I didn't even get to look through my binoculars, when Jeff is on the radio asking if I saw the Rams. I couldn't see them, so I moved to where Jeff was and immediately saw what he was looking at. There were two young Rams feeding about 600 yards below us. After getting excited about finally seeing sheep, these were the first live sheep that Cameron had ever seen, we started looking around for the rest of the "50" Rams. It didn't take long to start seeing more sheep, but they all seemed to be in the next canyon to the south, another mile or so away. With the temperature as high as it was, the heat waves were too much to see very well in the spotting scopes, but we did determine that what we were seeing was mostly ewes and lambs. After a little while we spotted four more rams on the ridge just past where we had seen the original two Rams, these held a little more promise. As I said, the heat waves were terrible by this time, and it was hard to judge how big they might be. After not seeing any more sheep that we knew were Rams, I decided to take a closer look as these four. We decided that Kathy, Jeff, and I would go to a spot that looked to be a couple hundred yards from the Rams, and Eric, and Cameron would stay put and keep tabs on what was happening with the scope, and let us know on the radio, if there were any changes.
The three of us hadn't gone a hundred yards, out of sight from the Rams, when Eric called on the radio to tell me that the Rams were on the move. We stopped, and went back to watch and see what was happening. The Rams were on the move to the north, where we had just come from. After watching them for a while, we were sure that they had not moved on account of us. A new plan was put into effect, Eric and Cameron would go back north on the ridge that we had come up on, and the rest of us would try to follow and eventually cut off the four Rams. The plan was working, until I got a little too quick without looking and the Rams came back into view while we were moving across a hillside. They weren't spooked, but they were sure watching what we were doing, so the three of us just sat on the hillside waiting. After a while, they moved off down the ridge they were on, and out of sight into the main canyon that we had glassed so carefully when we first got to the top of the mountain earlier. Eric and Cameron were keeping an eye on them while we started moving again. When they started coming up out of the canyon on the other side, we had figured out that there was water in the bottom. I decided to push to see if I could get closer by getting out of sight behind the ridge that they had followed and hurrying down to get close. As they started coming out, I was talking to Eric, and it became apparent that we were seeing different Rams. The four that we had been following were going on to the north up the far side of the canyon, while there were six more that had been in the bottom the entire time.
I didn't have to wait too long to decide that they were a lot bigger that those that we had followed. After looking at them with my spotting scope, I decided to try a shot at one of the big ones. I put my pack on some rocks to rest on, laid my old trusty model 70 30-06 across the pack and got ready to shoot. When Kathy and Jeff told me that they were ready to video what was happening, I took the shot at a Ram that was broomed on the left side and looked to be the biggest of the bunch. Dust flew, and away they went, up the ridge, the one that I had shot at in the lead, with the others following so close that I didn't dare try another shot. About the time that we had decided that I had missed completely, the Rams started veering back down into the canyon, and the big Ram started to limp and stumble. At that time I was thinking that I had scored a hit and he would fall at any time, wrong. When they reached the bottom of the canyon, several hundred yards below us, I decided to try to cut them off down the ridge from us. I took a drink from my water bottle, that was the last water that we had, and took off down the ridge. Jeff would bring my pack, and catch up with me.
I caught up with the Rams as they were starting to go up toward the canyon where we had followed the others from. The big guy was still in the lead, still seemed to be limping, but it was not stopping him. I couldn't get a good rest to shoot from, but when I had an opportunity to take a shot without danger of hitting another Ram, I took it, in fact I shot several more times, finally giving up and watching him go over the ridge. I made a mental note of where he had gone over by a big boulder, so I could get there and try to track him.
By this time the lack of water was taking it's toll. When Jeff caught up, he told me that Kathy was out of water and heading down to where Bill was waiting with the pickup. Eric and Cameron were still on top of the mountain, also out of water. I left Jeff to try to guide Eric and Cameron to the spot where I had last seen the Ram, as they could come down that ridge without climbing, and I went to the pickup for water. I had plans of getting water, then going back up to where I thought the Ram would have gone, but before I got to the pickup, I talked to Kathy and realized that she was in potential trouble due to lack of water. I walked to the pickup and drank my fill, then stumbled back up the canyon to take water to Kathy, thankfully she was OK. Meanwhile there was some confusion with Cameron and Eric, about just where to come down to where the sheep had been seen last. Finally, they were able to meet up with Jeff and come down the rest of the way with flashlights. I took water as far as I could make it up to meet them. Once again, thankfully everyone was OK.
The next day, Jeff, Eric, and Cameron were not able to come back, so the plan was made to bring Cindy's horses and see if I could find tracks, or blood, or both. After unloading, and riding back up the mountain to where I had last seen the Ram, I got off of the horse and started tracking on foot, while Cindy took my horse and went to the creek for water. I found the Ram's tracks, but could find no blood, and after tracking him for several hours, lost the tracks in the tall grass, and brush. By this time, I was convinced that if I did hit him, it wasn't as bad as I had thought the day before. Kathy and Bill had ridden four wheelers up the road in the next canyon, and met up with us where Cindy watered the horses, then Bill and I took the four wheelers up the road to spot, while Cindy and Kathy rode back to the pickups. We saw no sheep at all that day.
On Monday, Cindy, Bill, Kathy, and I went to another mountain to scout. We found some sign and had a great time visiting, and seeing some new country, but saw no sheep that day.
Tuesday took the four of us to another area that we were confidant there would be sheep. It is a big rim where I took Jeff's son to get his Ram two years earlier. Cindy has taken several hunters there over the years, and in fact there is a memorial monument for a guy who had killed a Ram there several years earlier. when he passed away, his family put the monument on top of the highest part of the rim. First, we drove to the bottom of the rim, and spotted for several hours without seeing anything. Cindy finally said that we should go to the top of the mountain to see if they were up there. After driving for a couple of hours to get on top, we immediately found a couple of sickle horn rams, just lying out in the open. While Cindy, Kathy, and I walked to get a different angle on those little rams, to see if there were big ones somewhere, Bill spotted a decent Ram back behind us. We went to where we could see him, and put Cindy's Swarovski spotting scope on him. After looking for a while, I thought I would try to get closer, when I started moving, he got nervous and got up to leave. This gave us a better look at him, we decided that he wasn't the one. I caught up with him in the next canyon, where he had picked up a smaller Ram. We also found some ewes and lambs, but no big Rams.
When we got back to the ranch that evening, Cindy's husband, Rod, told us that a neighbor, who had some antelope hunters staying with him, said that they had spotted a big Ram all alone. he gave a general location, so that's where Kathy, Bill, and I went on Wednesday.
Cindy couldn't go with me on Wednesday, so we went looking for the big lone Ram without her. The wind was just howling all day on Wednesday, so I really didn't want to go charging into an area and blow the lone Ram out, so I spotted from close to the pickup. We didn't see any sheep that day, but we saw several antelope, and I got to within 30 yards of a forked horn buck.
I had decided that I wanted to go back into the area of the "50" Rams. On Thursday morning, Cindy, Kathy, and I unloaded Cindy and Rod's four wheelers and headed up the mountain. Bill took my pickup with his four wheeler, and went around the other side of the mountain again. By now, the weather had changed from the 100's to about 40 degrees when we got to the end of the road for the four wheelers. The three of us got our packs on, full of lunch, and plenty of water. I didn't even bother to take my spotting scope, because compared to Cindy's scope, mine was like not having one. Besides, it saved that much weight in my pack.
We took our time getting up to the top of the mountain, it was so cold, that we didn't want to overheat then freeze when we stopped walking. When I was almost to the pass where we were going to cross over the mountain, I came face to face with some deer. I didn't want to spook them over the pass to scare any Rams that might be close, so I waited. Cindy and Kathy caught up, and waited with me. Kathy got some great pictures of the deer, it appeared to be a doe, twins, and last years fawn that hadn't left his mom yet, a spike. Finally the deer tired of us and moved away from us, and down the hill on the side we had come up.
When we went through the pass, and to the other side of the mountain, the country started looking like sheep country. There were vertical cliffs, rock slides, broken rims, and generally rough country. It was pick and choose to find a trail through to where we wanted to go. I stopped to look through my binoculars every little ways, hoping that I wouldn't spook anything out right in front of us. The wind was blowing up from the other side of the mountain, pretty much in our face. After we got through the worst of the rim rocks, we decided that it was time to set up the spotting scope. While Cindy and Kathy were getting the scope put on the tripod, I spotted seven Rams bedded down on a hillside, way below us.
We checked them out for a while, and thought that there might have been one that was deserving of another look. While Cindy was looking them over a little better, I kept glassing, and to my amazement, found a very big herd of sheep bedded down on a hillside even farther down the mountain. They were about two miles below us. I told Cindy where they were, and that I thought that I had found the family herd. She focused her Swarovski on them and shouted "they are all Rams". There were twenty three Rams in that group, and with the seven that we had been looking at, though it only added up to thirty, all of a sudden the "50" Rams in one canyon that Cindy had been told about, seemed very possible. A look at the time, it was 10:50.
Looking at the big group, we determined that there were probably a couple of shooters in the group, so we only had to come up with a plan. The wind was steady from below, so for now anyway, that wouldn't be an issue. We worked our way to the north and down the canyon toward the ridge that ultimately, was behind the Rams. When we got to where we could be out of sight, we adjusted the plan, all the while keeping an eye on the seven rams up the hill, and looking for anything else that might spook out. We decided that Cindy should stay where she could keep an eye on the Rams, and let us know on the radio if anything changed while Kathy and I were out of sight. I had picked out a landmark of two big boulders that I thought would be about two hundred yards from the Rams.
Everything was working the way it was planned so far. Just as I crawled up to the rock that I should be able to see them from, they decided to leave. When I could see, Cindy came over the radio to say that they were leaving. I ended up being four hundred yards from them, but it didn't matter, because they were moving. I just sat there and watched them to see what they were going to do, but soon it became clear that they weren't going anywhere, they were just getting a drink and feeding.
All of the Rams had moved into the tall sagebrush in the bottom of the canyon, along with some cattle that seemed more bothered by our presence than the rams were. After watching the Rams for a long time, with the cattle watching me, I decided that I needed to try something. I left Kathy where we were and I started the sneak. I worked my way down into the bottom, in and out of the tall brush and willows, all the time hoping that the cows didn't foul me up, but they must have decided that I wasn't a real big threat, because they didn't spook any more. The Rams were feeding slowly down the canyon, through the brush and willows. I kept moving slowly and as quietly as I could, trying to get close enough to pick out the big one and get a shot. The cows ended up being my ally, because when I made a noise, the rams would look up, look at the cows and go back to what they were doing. After what seemed like days, I was getting close, but couldn't see good enough to decide on anything. I got into some sagebrush that was about eight feet tall, and in the middle of it was a rock just right for a seat, so I sat. There were six Rams on the hillside to my left, and the others were out of sight down the canyon. The six decided to bed down at two hundred twenty yards from me and watch me sit in the brush. The canyon made a hairpin turn right below me, and I was hoping that the others would join them, so I could get in on top of them to get a better look. Finally, the six decided to get up and join their friends. I sat there looking for a little while, and decided that it was time to make my move to catch up with them. As soon as I stood up, I realized that they were not going down the canyon, they were coming right to me! There were several of the Rams standing on a rock at about thirty yards, and several more were even closer to me, coming toward me. As I was trying to figure out where the bigger ones were, I caught movement to my left, and when I looked, there was one of the bigger Rams looking at me from across the creek, at about twenty five FEET. I had no choice but to sit motionless until they moved to where they couldn't see me. When they did, I got up and moved up the canyon to where things opened up, The Rams still hadn't been spooked by me. I got to where I could see across the creek and waited, nothing happened. I risked another move and crossed the creek to move up the hillside to a small rim rock, I still couldn't see the Rams but I knew that they were all within a few yards of me, so I sat down and got a rest over the rocks. At about that time some Rams started coming out on the other side of the creek so I could see them. The first one seemed to be the one that Cindy and I had thought was one of the big ones from way up the mountain, he had a noticeably broomed left horn. I waited until most, if not all of those Rams came into view and made the decision to shoot. I knew that this Ram was not the Boone and Crockett Ram that I had been hoping for, but I also knew that this was the Ram that I wanted to look at for the rest of my life. After all that had happened in the past week, and especially in the last few hours, I was not going to pass up this opportunity, this was indeed the once in a lifetime opportunity that had been granted to me, and it was time.
The Ram was walking up the other hillside, and when he turned broadside, I squeezed the trigger, when he didn't fall immediately, I quickly put two more rounds into him. The hunt was over, I heard the telltale scream from Cindy from a mile up the canyon, followed by another scream from Kathy from five hundred yards up the canyon, then it was my turn to give that scream that only someone who hunts with us would recognize.
The hunt was over, but the work was not, I had no idea how close you could get to us from down the canyon, but that would work itself out in time. By now Kathy was here for hugs and pictures, it was then that she told me that she didn't get the shot on video. When I asked what happened, she said "I was watching those Rams that were right beside you." She was pointing to where I had been, and there were eleven Rams within two hundred yards, watching us. I had shot the Ram at one hundred yards. After watching the video, I realized that those Rams had been within twenty yards of me when I was getting ready to shoot. They hung around for the entire time we were taking pictures, and caping and dressing MY Ram.
Cindy had gone into the next canyon to meet up with Bill and show him where he needed to be to pick us up.
I decided that I was going to take my Ram out whole, most will think I am crazy, and some will think I am lying, but that is what I did. I was not able to drag him and pack the head, so Kathy volunteered to pack the head and cape. She headed on down the canyon, promising to come back with water after she got to Bill and Cindy. I figured out what to do, I would carry my pack and gun for a hundred yards or so, stash it and go back for the Ram. I would hoist the Ram up onto my shoulders and pack him about a hundred yards past my gear, then repeat. After several times of doing this with lots of rest breaks, here comes Kathy and Cindy to help. I still had to pack the Ram, but with their help, loading him on my shoulders was a lot easier. When I finally reached Bill and his four wheeler, it was almost completely dark. I checked my GPS and it was 1.1 miles to where I had shot the Ram. When I finished cleaning him at the ranch, and got him into the cooler, it was 1:30 am.
I took him into the ODFW on Sunday to get him measured and pinned, he scored 143 7/8. His left horn is 5 1/2" shorter than his right, and he was 6 1/2 years old.