A New Year's Hunt

Sometimes surprises are good.  As I was catching up on some ranch chores and trying to track down a hog to shoot, I decided to relax my hunting style.  No more trying to be super-quiet, I allowed my self to run the chainsaw, clank the dishes at camp, move the truck around, etc.  Early in the morning I had taken a small hog with my .44 pistol, butchered it where it laid, taken the meat up to the cabin tand put it in the ice chest.  I had a relaxing cup of coffee, enjoying the view and reliving the hunt.  It had been a good hunt.  I had taken the hog at 16 steps using an iron-sighted M29 with a clean shot, as the sun grew in its intensity, signaling the near end of the morning hunt. 

 

Now it was time to retrieve the carcass and move it to another location before it attracted scavengers and  smelled up my hunting site.  As I drove the truck towards the pig, I was thinking about my planned activities for the day: chainsawing some cedar bushes to clear an area, moving a feeder and setting up a new blind.  I always carry a loaded rifle with me in the truck and I was listening to some bluegrass medley as I was pulling into the hunting area.  Always expecting animals to be around, I spotted a herd of sheep under the feeder and another herd near a salt block.  Now, these aren't the type of docile sheep that you walk up to and pet - but sheep that are on full alert after a hunting season of hunters shooting into them.  Quietly, I took my rifle and slipped towards the sheep, scanning the bodies for a large set of horns...many animals were behind tree limbs where I could only see parts of the animals. Others had their heads down, while every now and then one would raise their head...lots of ewes a couple of small rams, probably 20 or so total.  I really didn't expect to see anything worth shooting, but was fully focused on the possibility.  Just then, a large set of horns came up and looked directly at me and put panic in the herd as it raced away.  I had friends who had taken silver- and bronze-class trophies and this one was bigger then both of those.  My scope followed the large ram and struggled to get a clear shot, as it was surrounded by sheep - all running.  As it began to outdistance the herd and was only a few yards from the treeline, my trigger finger engaged, threading the bullet between its back rear leg and it rearmost rib, channeling a path towards its front left shoulder, as it was quartering to the right.  It slowed and the herd caught up to it, keeping me from putting the a second bullet into it.  As I watched and ran towards it, it quickly grew sick fell on its side.  By the time I approached it, it had expired.  I could not take my eyes off it, caressing the horns, admiring the regal presence it has, unable to break my stare.

A Fine Texas Dall ram.