It's raining today in North Texas.
As I sit here, popping ibuprofen and sipping ice water, I reflect on my experience over the last few days in SW Texas.
I have never been kicked by a rodeo bull but I am fairly certain I know what it feels like now.
I'll tell you why…..
In the off-season, i watch hunting shows on TV, read hunting forums, talk to friends and acquaintances about where they have been and what they have hunted, buy and try new gear, reload and shoot my rifles to prepare myself for "the shot" if and when it presents itself, and all the other stuff we as hunters do to occupy our time between April and September. Not a day goes by that I am not planning and preparing for the next season.
A few months ago, it was getting pretty darn clear I was not going to draw any western tags and it looked like my hunting season was going to be limited to local whitetail/hog hunting.
There is nothing wrong with that, and I do enjoy it, but I was in the mood to get out there and do something different and challenging.
My research began in earnest.
I live in a state where one can "hunt" pretty much any animal that roams the planet, at any time of year, except for the large predators. Heck, maybe one can hunt those too but I have never looked into it.
There are a few of the exotic species that I would like to take some day under the right circumstances but most of them are kept behind high fences and that was not what I was looking for this time. I had the hankering for a free-range hunt of some flavor and that narrowed my choices down quite a bit.
During my research and readings, I kept seeing posts and advertisements for hunting free-range aoudad in west Texas. Although not a true sheep, it seemed to live in a very similar habitat as the other sheep species we have in North America.
Hunting a bighorn in the breaks of Montana is on my bucket list and I put in for the best unit every year, seemingly like every other hunter in the States. I know it will be a while till that tag shows up, if ever.
I throw money at Arizona every year too for the desert bighorn, hoping that one day, that tag will be mine.
It got me to thinking that maybe I should cut my teeth on an easy, affordable sheep hunt to test myself before I dropped second-mortgage money on a true sheep hunt.
So I contacted Mike McKinny with WTHO.com back around the end of August and booked a free-range aoudad hunt down in Val Verde county on 23,000 acres by the Devil's River.
Deposit was sent and I was going sheep hunting Nov 2nd.
November 1 rolls around and I drive the 7+ hours to the ranch.
Neat country that was very similar to eastern parts of Colorado I had hunted before. Looked easy, can see and spot for miles and there were "roads" within the ranch that we could drive around and spot from.
I was excited. Stayed up way too late that Friday evening getting to know my guide Clint Beckham, the cook and the other hunter in camp.
Saturday morning rolls around and it's time to hunt. After a good breakfast, aoudad are spotted on a ridge 1200 or so yards from the house at daybreak. Damn that was easy I thought. Let's go get them.
I was sooo fucking wrong about the easy part...
(I forgot to mention earlier that I have a bone spur betwixt my heel and achilles on my left foot and had irritated it a couple months prior to this day. I have been able to ease the pain with orthotic inserts and ibuprofen but it still slows me down a bit.)
So off we went, Clint and I, on a drive to the far side of the ranch. Evidently, TXDOT did not get the memo on these roads. They were rougher than a cobb and beat the shit out of me. I am not pissin' blood so internally I am O.K. I guess. Got bruises on both elbows from the door and the console of the Bronco.
I am not a puzzy or complaining. Just wanted to share the entire "experience". I thank the good Lord for all the roads and trails as I wouldn't have gotten a mile or so from camp without them. I am a flatlander.
It's a slow go for most of the morning and we covered a lot of ground. Parking, walking ridges, glassing canyons and bowls, breathing the fresh air. I really enjoyed it.
Aoudad are spotted across the river a solid mile away on a different ranch but none where we had permission to hunt.
We continue to move until about one o'clock and had not seen any 'dads. It was getting warm so we stopped to eat a sack lunch.
Sun was high and I was sweating like a whore in church. I doubt it ever got above 78 degrees but the constant walking with pack and gear got me hot.
We continued on looking for 'dads, probably walked 4 miles or so according to Clint. I called bullshit on that. Felt like I had walked half way back to Dallas.
Around 3 o'clock, Clint suggested we start looking only in the shady parts of the cliffs and canyons.
BINGO!!
He spotted a group of 12 or so resting on a shady cliff face about 1200 yards away. There was a ram in the group so we decided to get closer and evaluate him.
We got within 510 yards, studied him for a while and I decided to pass as he was only about 27 inches. My personal goal was a 30-incher or better and I had two more days to hunt.
We snuck out of the area and decided to go glass down by the river.
Ever heard the saying "Don't pass on the first day what you would shoot on the last day"?
After about an hour of walking and glassing, seeing nothing in the new spot, I was second guessing my decision to walk away from the last ram. It was decided that we would go back to try to find that ram and give him another look, this time with a spotter, to either eliminate him for good or poke a hole in him. It is about 5:30p.m. with two hours of daylight left and an hour to get back over to where he was.
The iphone weather report promised rain on the afternoon of day 2 into day 3 and I didn't bring any rain gear. It doesn't rain out here. Look at the damn ground and bushes. I couldn't imagine adding rain to the already physical hunt so I had a sense of urgency to find a 'dad and get it done.
By this time, I think I had consumed 1800 milligrams of ibuprofen and was feeling OK. Every time we stopped and rested I would get stiff so movement was actually better for me.
There are rocks the size of tennis balls everywhere, making walking a pain in the ass. No matter if it a steep slope or "flat" ground, those fucking rocks sucked. But, walking kept me limber and I was not in much pain. Bouncing around in the truck was more painful.
On our way back to the first ram, Clint stopped the truck, looking across a canyon, easily 1000 yards out. The yucca out there can be brown like the color of the sheep and I was sure that what got his attention was another "yucca-dad". Those yucca-dad were fucking with me all day.
I swear I saw a 34-incher earlier in the morning….
Sure enough, he found a lone ram following a lone ewe. He looked better that the first ram so the stalk was on.
Now these damn 'dads cover ground faster than I expected and the ground, while on top looks flat, actually has canyons and saddles all over the place. By the time we got over to where I would have sworn he would be, he was a canyon over.
Clint knew where he was going and we got in there right on top of him.
We got busted. By the time I put eyes on the ram, he was on a shelf about a third of the way down a small canyon looking at us. Now I was fully expecting him to blow out of there, as I had been warned they can see forever and will not tolerate human neighbors. But here we were, in his backyard and he is just standing there looking at us making some sort of "blowing" noises. The sun was low behind us so I think he couldn't tell exactly what we were.
I sit down with my sticks, and try to get on him but a damned yucca-dad was in the way. I can only see his head and he is facing me, backed into the rock wall.
He looks good, Clint tells me he is 28" and to shoot him, I move enough to get full view, wobbly rest at 150 yards, ram turns broadside and slightly quartering away and I send a Berger. Hit a little back into the "grassy lungs" as Clint calls the gut, and the ram starts moving. Clint calls for a second shot.
I send another and totally miss and the ram falls down 15 yards later behind some vegetation. It's over.
At this point I don't feel a thing. My pain is gone and I am trying not to run around the side of the hill for fear of actually breaking something but I gotta get hands on the ram.
I forgot the camera so I had Clint snap this picture on my phone:
Now the sun is down and we decide to leave the ram on the mountain and cape him/pack him out in the morning. Clint says we may have walked 6 miles by now and I felt like I could have walked to Nebraska by the end of the day.
I slept harder that night than I believe I ever have.
Next morning, we took some hero shots and Clint took care of the ram. My hunt was over and I stayed around to help spot for the other hunter and his guide who connected on a similarly sized ram on the evening of day 2…in the rain.
I would not hesitate to recommend this hunt for anyone. It was a total blast, pain and all. A true, physical hunt.
Accommodations were comfortable, food was good and the guides, Clint and Pete, are good people.
Ibuprofen and myself would do it again next weekend if we had the time and will probably do it again in the future.
As I sit here, popping ibuprofen and sipping ice water, I reflect on my experience over the last few days in SW Texas.
I have never been kicked by a rodeo bull but I am fairly certain I know what it feels like now.
I'll tell you why…..
In the off-season, i watch hunting shows on TV, read hunting forums, talk to friends and acquaintances about where they have been and what they have hunted, buy and try new gear, reload and shoot my rifles to prepare myself for "the shot" if and when it presents itself, and all the other stuff we as hunters do to occupy our time between April and September. Not a day goes by that I am not planning and preparing for the next season.
A few months ago, it was getting pretty darn clear I was not going to draw any western tags and it looked like my hunting season was going to be limited to local whitetail/hog hunting.
There is nothing wrong with that, and I do enjoy it, but I was in the mood to get out there and do something different and challenging.
My research began in earnest.
I live in a state where one can "hunt" pretty much any animal that roams the planet, at any time of year, except for the large predators. Heck, maybe one can hunt those too but I have never looked into it.
There are a few of the exotic species that I would like to take some day under the right circumstances but most of them are kept behind high fences and that was not what I was looking for this time. I had the hankering for a free-range hunt of some flavor and that narrowed my choices down quite a bit.
During my research and readings, I kept seeing posts and advertisements for hunting free-range aoudad in west Texas. Although not a true sheep, it seemed to live in a very similar habitat as the other sheep species we have in North America.
Hunting a bighorn in the breaks of Montana is on my bucket list and I put in for the best unit every year, seemingly like every other hunter in the States. I know it will be a while till that tag shows up, if ever.
I throw money at Arizona every year too for the desert bighorn, hoping that one day, that tag will be mine.
It got me to thinking that maybe I should cut my teeth on an easy, affordable sheep hunt to test myself before I dropped second-mortgage money on a true sheep hunt.
So I contacted Mike McKinny with WTHO.com back around the end of August and booked a free-range aoudad hunt down in Val Verde county on 23,000 acres by the Devil's River.
Deposit was sent and I was going sheep hunting Nov 2nd.
November 1 rolls around and I drive the 7+ hours to the ranch.
Neat country that was very similar to eastern parts of Colorado I had hunted before. Looked easy, can see and spot for miles and there were "roads" within the ranch that we could drive around and spot from.
I was excited. Stayed up way too late that Friday evening getting to know my guide Clint Beckham, the cook and the other hunter in camp.
Saturday morning rolls around and it's time to hunt. After a good breakfast, aoudad are spotted on a ridge 1200 or so yards from the house at daybreak. Damn that was easy I thought. Let's go get them.
I was sooo fucking wrong about the easy part...
(I forgot to mention earlier that I have a bone spur betwixt my heel and achilles on my left foot and had irritated it a couple months prior to this day. I have been able to ease the pain with orthotic inserts and ibuprofen but it still slows me down a bit.)
So off we went, Clint and I, on a drive to the far side of the ranch. Evidently, TXDOT did not get the memo on these roads. They were rougher than a cobb and beat the shit out of me. I am not pissin' blood so internally I am O.K. I guess. Got bruises on both elbows from the door and the console of the Bronco.
I am not a puzzy or complaining. Just wanted to share the entire "experience". I thank the good Lord for all the roads and trails as I wouldn't have gotten a mile or so from camp without them. I am a flatlander.
It's a slow go for most of the morning and we covered a lot of ground. Parking, walking ridges, glassing canyons and bowls, breathing the fresh air. I really enjoyed it.
Aoudad are spotted across the river a solid mile away on a different ranch but none where we had permission to hunt.
We continue to move until about one o'clock and had not seen any 'dads. It was getting warm so we stopped to eat a sack lunch.
Sun was high and I was sweating like a whore in church. I doubt it ever got above 78 degrees but the constant walking with pack and gear got me hot.
We continued on looking for 'dads, probably walked 4 miles or so according to Clint. I called bullshit on that. Felt like I had walked half way back to Dallas.
Around 3 o'clock, Clint suggested we start looking only in the shady parts of the cliffs and canyons.
BINGO!!
He spotted a group of 12 or so resting on a shady cliff face about 1200 yards away. There was a ram in the group so we decided to get closer and evaluate him.
We got within 510 yards, studied him for a while and I decided to pass as he was only about 27 inches. My personal goal was a 30-incher or better and I had two more days to hunt.
We snuck out of the area and decided to go glass down by the river.
Ever heard the saying "Don't pass on the first day what you would shoot on the last day"?
After about an hour of walking and glassing, seeing nothing in the new spot, I was second guessing my decision to walk away from the last ram. It was decided that we would go back to try to find that ram and give him another look, this time with a spotter, to either eliminate him for good or poke a hole in him. It is about 5:30p.m. with two hours of daylight left and an hour to get back over to where he was.
The iphone weather report promised rain on the afternoon of day 2 into day 3 and I didn't bring any rain gear. It doesn't rain out here. Look at the damn ground and bushes. I couldn't imagine adding rain to the already physical hunt so I had a sense of urgency to find a 'dad and get it done.
By this time, I think I had consumed 1800 milligrams of ibuprofen and was feeling OK. Every time we stopped and rested I would get stiff so movement was actually better for me.
There are rocks the size of tennis balls everywhere, making walking a pain in the ass. No matter if it a steep slope or "flat" ground, those fucking rocks sucked. But, walking kept me limber and I was not in much pain. Bouncing around in the truck was more painful.
On our way back to the first ram, Clint stopped the truck, looking across a canyon, easily 1000 yards out. The yucca out there can be brown like the color of the sheep and I was sure that what got his attention was another "yucca-dad". Those yucca-dad were fucking with me all day.
I swear I saw a 34-incher earlier in the morning….
Sure enough, he found a lone ram following a lone ewe. He looked better that the first ram so the stalk was on.
Now these damn 'dads cover ground faster than I expected and the ground, while on top looks flat, actually has canyons and saddles all over the place. By the time we got over to where I would have sworn he would be, he was a canyon over.
Clint knew where he was going and we got in there right on top of him.
We got busted. By the time I put eyes on the ram, he was on a shelf about a third of the way down a small canyon looking at us. Now I was fully expecting him to blow out of there, as I had been warned they can see forever and will not tolerate human neighbors. But here we were, in his backyard and he is just standing there looking at us making some sort of "blowing" noises. The sun was low behind us so I think he couldn't tell exactly what we were.
I sit down with my sticks, and try to get on him but a damned yucca-dad was in the way. I can only see his head and he is facing me, backed into the rock wall.
He looks good, Clint tells me he is 28" and to shoot him, I move enough to get full view, wobbly rest at 150 yards, ram turns broadside and slightly quartering away and I send a Berger. Hit a little back into the "grassy lungs" as Clint calls the gut, and the ram starts moving. Clint calls for a second shot.
I send another and totally miss and the ram falls down 15 yards later behind some vegetation. It's over.
At this point I don't feel a thing. My pain is gone and I am trying not to run around the side of the hill for fear of actually breaking something but I gotta get hands on the ram.
I forgot the camera so I had Clint snap this picture on my phone:
Now the sun is down and we decide to leave the ram on the mountain and cape him/pack him out in the morning. Clint says we may have walked 6 miles by now and I felt like I could have walked to Nebraska by the end of the day.
I slept harder that night than I believe I ever have.
Next morning, we took some hero shots and Clint took care of the ram. My hunt was over and I stayed around to help spot for the other hunter and his guide who connected on a similarly sized ram on the evening of day 2…in the rain.
I would not hesitate to recommend this hunt for anyone. It was a total blast, pain and all. A true, physical hunt.
Accommodations were comfortable, food was good and the guides, Clint and Pete, are good people.
Ibuprofen and myself would do it again next weekend if we had the time and will probably do it again in the future.
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