2010 Stone sheep hunt: a son with his father

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I looked at me dad and told him that he could shoot when he was ready. I also told him that I would look to see where the bullet goes and help him re-adjust the second shot. He just calmly, almost indifferently, said “OK”. Within 10 seconds, I heard the shot. About 2 seconds later, I saw the impact. 5 seconds later, the ram was down!!! I jumped to my feet, gave my dad a tackle, and hooped and hollered. He joined in as well, but with a little less enthusiasm as I had. Don’t get me wrong, he was happy. Happy to have connected with this trophy. Happy to have accomplished this feat (at 65 years old). Equally happy to be heading off of this snowy, forsaken mountainside.

We headed in the direction of the fallen sheep, being watched almost all the way by the 3 younger rams in the rocks above. We took some video, and some pictures, and then made short work of the ram. We took one side of ribs along, with of course the rest of the meat, to roast over the fire later on. We got to spike camp just as the evening had set on. Cold, wet, tired and happy. I had to crawl into the sleeping bag, as I was as tired as a dog. My dad, on the other hand, started the meal. He made me a meal from both caribou and sheep loin, while in our spike camp. He made a pseudo Geso (pronounced gee-so), a Paraguayan stew. Wow was it good; hit the spot. As I drifted off to sleep, my last thoughts were of the two animals we would need to pack out from this remote drainage, too far and too heavy for even 3 trips back and forth. I knew that the next 5ish days would be hauling meat, and meat, and horns, and hide, and meat, and antlers, and camp and a sore tired old man. I was looking forward to every step.

And then it happened…

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[eatram]

Paraguayan geso, cooked in caribou fat...

[eatram]

OK. So my father had two big game animals on this trip… neither of which species he had harvested before. I was on cloud nine. I knew that the work ahead of us was going to be a monster, but we could handle it…. Barring anything unforeseen. One load at a time, one step at a time. The weather had warmed up and the snow was melting. Everything was wet. You know that feeling of damp, the kind that makes you shiver even in the sleeping bag, wet. But we had it made! The pressure that I put on myself was gone. We had provided for the freezer and I had “guided” my old man to success. It was a pleasure, mostly, as we stumbled, trip after trip, load after load, fallen tree after fallen tree, rock after rock, down the path that led us back. We talked a lot, we laughed some, and we hiked. The smells of the elk wallows called, but we weren’t listening. After the first few trips down, we started to get that strength which comes (at least for me) around day 4 or 5 of a sheep hunt. The strength that doesn’t really notice the weight as much, or the terrain uneven. I was just starting to hit my stride, when it happened…

I stopped to wait for my dad at a creek crossing, the rain was coming down some, and my eyes started to look up the mountain. I would not have believed it had I not seen it myself. There, 350 yards above me, sat a 9 year old billy! I froze. He saw me and stood up. Slowly I lowered my bag, a mixture of caribou and sheep blood running down my butt-crack. I made no sudden movements. I calmly looked down, and back, made eye contact with my dad, and he recognized that look instantly! You know that look! Like a well oiled machine, he put his pack down, I unclipped my rifle from my bag, and handed it to him. He sat down in the creek, leaned his back against a wet boulder the size of a smart car, and settled in.

The goat looked around nervously; he knew it. But with confidence and swagger that only a mature male can have, he slowly climbed up. I looked through my binos kinda quick like, and saw the low hanging belly with the slightly dirty hide. I was 90% sure that he was a billy. I am not really a goat hunter, so I can not claim to know all of the differences, as such. But from my limited knowledge, I gave him the thumbs up. Rifle up, elbow on his knee, waning eyes watching, waiting for the front lead leg to go forward… and then BANG! The goat ended up taking a bit of a tumble, but not much came from that. He ended up coming to rest about 200 yards from the creek we were shooting from. I was dumbfounded! Now I can say that my father was excited!!! Three species, all new to him. Memory serves me correctly that the goat hit the ground on day 5 or 6. Never have I had such a good trip and what better than to do this with my dad, on what was to be basically our final hoorah! That thought I will finish at the end of this story. Sheep ribs before, and goat ribs tonight would be cooked over the open fire. It just couldn’t get any better than this!!! The hike down was now extended by another two days!!!

Or could it…

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[eatram]

Goat ribs



Sheep ribs

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free pic upload

My dad's haul. Earned every bite!

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Taking care of the most valuable part

[Slinky Pickle]

Type faster damn it! Just kidding, this is a GREAT story and I can't be the only one that is waiting on every word.

[eatram]

Type faster damn it! Just kidding, this is a GREAT story and I can't be the only one that is waiting on every word.

Lol. I'm doing what I can. I've got to type it up in word, then copy paste while the wife isn't watching. lol Hope whomever reads this that they get excited about our province, our natural resources, and more importantly, family/comeradery.