Sheep Hunting

[John Booher]

© 2006 Muldoon Video Production
Sheep Hunting the Chugach Range
A Good Hunt in Great Country.
The morning was clear and crisp as Ben pointed out a likely spot to fill up the water bottles for the last time today. It is late September and I had drawn DS 139, a sheep tag that allows you to hunt much of the Chugach Mountains looming above the Anchorage Bowl. These mountains are the back drop for many of the pictures taken in Southcentral Alaska. They are rugged and made up of rocks sometimes referred to as Chugach Crud, because they often crumble in your hands and under your feet as you climb in search of views, game, or fitness.
I video taped a large ram August 23rd. One full curl ram amongst the many that call this part of the Chugach home. The previous winters had treated these rams well judging by the sheer number of them. There were 9 obviously full curl rams here as well as those rams that needed closer inspection to determine their legality. I referred to one particular ram as "Wow." I first saw Wow and a smaller ram moving below me just as I turned from catching some film of another ram. I raised my binoculars to catch a fleeting glimpse from behind. You guessed it.... Wow! I gave chase and caught up a few minutes later. I spent the next month watching that video trying to estimate his trophy quality. He was the biggest ram on the hoof that I had seen up to that point. He had already survived one 12 day season and would need to survive 2 more before I got my crack at him. DS 139 is the fourth tag allowed to hunt that area each season.

On our first attempt to take this ram my brother Ben went into stake out a camp the day before I came in. The following evening my dad dropped me off after I spent the day teaching seventh graders science. Standing in the parking lot as the wind grew and the clouds closed in, my father gave me a little smile and asked if i remembered my rain gear. It was his way of telling me that he wished he could come along, but that he was sure going to enjoy his warm bed tonight! As it turned out the rain wasn't that bad, but the wind... well it rocked! Once I got into the side valley and above timber the rain drizzled, while the afternoon sun made me squint, and the wind just kept growing. About 45 minutes from camp I could hear the wind approaching and as the wind would gust I would use my ski poles to brace myself while my pack would act like a sail catching the wind. More than once the wind knocked me over.
Ben had spent all day battling the wind. A wind flattened tent made for a sleepless night as dawn came early the following day. The winds we found out later had gusted upwards of eighty and we had many blown down trees to cross on our way out at the end of the weekend. That morning we were cold, but moving kept us warm. Glassing was nearly impossible because the wind bounced the binoculars and spotting scope. We expected to find the sheep in the lee of the rocks hiding from the wind. As it turned out, they hardly noticed the wind. We watched them go about their normal routine as the wind blasted them. It was fun to see that long September hair blowing in the wind.
As it turned out the weekend attack in the wind proved unsuccessful. We did get about 20 or 30 yards from a nice full curl in the 37" / 38" class. It was cool to see the rolls of fat on him as he lounged low and out of the wind while we lay hidden above. Wow was no where to be found and we were a little worried. Prior to going in that weekend we checked with Anchorage ADF&G and one ram of similar size to Wow had come out of Wow's area. Despite Ben's repeated encouragement to wack this lesser ram I was hopeful that we could find Wow next weekend. We went home with our tails between our legs... scheming of how we were going to make it happen the following weekend.
At work that week I explained to my boss how life had been really stressful lately and I would need an extra day this weekend. I, however, did not go into detail about the source of my stress. Most folks don't understand sheep fever!
With four days to get Wow, Ben and I hiked into the hills. We were excited... neither of us could stop talking on the way in. I went on and on about how after careful consideration Dad and I were convinced he would go 40" judging by the video. Ben wasn't so sure, and was doing a good job of upholding the Booher name by being skeptical. The next day we hiked to the sweet spot, making a slight detour to check a high bowl. No dice. We dropped back down and headed up valley to that likely spot to fill our water bottles. It was a seep that eventually made a creek on the valley floor. With the addition of 6 pounds of water apiece we headed up to a low pass to do some ridge walking.

The day was clear and generally warm for September. We hiked the ridge this way and that, checking the easy spots first. We were seeing sheep, just not "The Sheep." As things generally go in the mountains we decided to walk up the ridge to the highest peak in hopes of looking down on Wow. In casual conversation we call it "The Mark Boiselle Ridge Walk" in reference to our buddy who has unbelievable skill in finding sheep from above. As the day crept on we spied some sheep down low near the brush on the opposite side of the ridge from camp. They couldn't be rams because they were to low on the mountain. We were near the peak so we continued on not knowing that the five sheep below had 3 legal rams, one of which was Wow. Not seeing anything exciting from the peak we back tracked to a good spot to snack as we watched the five sheep we had just passed.
We quickly realized the error of our ways as we set up the spotting scope. Wow was instantly recognizable to me and Ben agreed after a little scrutiny (or maybe he was just tired of me passing up legal sheep?) Evening was closing in and it would be dark in a little over an hour. I was leaning towards leaving them alone until tomorrow, but Ben thought we might be able to find a chute to get down to them. We went back to the peak and Ben found a route down. The mountain was very rugged and I am terrified of heights. Which means Ben had to listen to me snivel and watch me cling to every rock in sight as we worked our way down. We crawled and slid our way from chute to chute trying not to roll to many rocks down. The lower we got on the mountain the less sniveling Ben had to listen to and at about 326 yards the sniveling stopped all together.
The five rams were ranged at 326 yards feeding on the gently sloping hillside near a friendly looking rock outcropping. I am confident out to 328 yards because that is the back stop at the local rifle range, but I don't like to pull the trigger on anything beyond 200 yards. The sheep were in the open feeding, I had a good rest, and as the sheep fed out of site Ben told me not to shoot. Why risk a long shot when it is not needed?

We formulated a plan that left Ben where he was and had me dressed in whites as I waltzed down to them. Well the waltz more closely resembled a meth addict going through withdrawls as I tried to work the adrenaline out of my system while closing the distance. I walked hunched over for a while, then straight up, and then as I felt I was getting closer slow & low. The sheep had fed behind some rocks to the left and I figured I was within a hundred yards. As the first sheep fed into view I dropped to all fours with my rear end facing them showing a quartering away sheep feeding profile. I watched the rams under my armpit and between my legs as they began to appear. The first ram was legal but not "The One." Then the second ram fed out, he had to be Wow, but i've heard to many horror stories of guys shooting the wrong ram so I continued to wait. The 3rd ram was sublegal and the fourth ram while legal proved that number 2 was Wow. They fed 50 yards below for a few minutes while I contemplated my plan of attack. Suddenly they all lifted their heads and stared directly at me... winded! They bunched up and started to jog around me. They strung out and paused at about 70 yards. As they paused I rolled to my knees and gave Wow the message off hand. He rolled a short ways coming to a stop as the other rams quickly exited. I am not a believer in off hand shots, but in that situation I was hit with complete calm and had no doubt of the outcome while I waited for the pause before they disappeared into a fold on the hill. I am usually greatly affected by Buck Fever, but on that day Ben and I got our forty incher.
We gutted the ram, tied a stinky shirt on one horn and raced for the Peak 3000' above. We hit the peak at pitch black. We would have gone to the pass, but were afraid of getting boxed in. So we went with what we knew. In the black of night with headlamps on heading for camp we jumped some ewes, just glimpsing them on the edge of dusk that our headlamps created. It is the close encounters with the critters that call the mountains home that keep me going during the off season.

The following two day ordeal, better known as The Pack Out From Hell, is another story in itself.
Copyright 2006
John Booher
Muldoon Video Production

(Edited to remove commercial sales link)

[royinidaho]

John,

I liked that.

Thanks for posting....