2025: Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

[Clarq]

I had a meeting with my boss and let him know I was headed for burnout if something didn't change. I had several vacations on the calendar for October and told him I really needed to be gone when I was away. We talked about some strategies to keep things rolling while I was gone, and he agreed to support me. I put in a good effort over the next few weeks, trying to focus on worrying less and just controlling what I could control.

My next trip was an over-the-counter elk hunting opportunity that was likely going to be difficult. The elk had been hunted for a number of weeks prior (both archery and gun seasons), the weather was clear and warm, and the moon was full. Not exactly ideal, but I was excited for a vacation and a chance to chase a bull. I decided that the condition I left things at work would have to be good enough, and headed home to pack and prepare for an early departure.

The trip was scheduled to run Wednesday through Saturday. I traveled Wednesday morning and early afternoon, set up camp, and headed up the mountain to scout for the evening. My first few glassing spots yielded nothing. As darkness was starting to settle in, I set up at my last glassing spot for the evening and started looking.

I hadn't been at that spot for 30 seconds when I spotted elk. Three cows, and then...



A bull! And a good one! Not the type I'd be interested in passing up. My heart began to race as I began plotting my approach. I didn't have much time to get over to him. I'd really have to hustle. Oh, and the wind... it was terrible. I'd be approaching with the wind right at my back. The more I thought, the more it seemed like a bad idea to race for him right at dark. I'd just gotten here. If I could relocate the herd the next morning, I'd be in way better shape.

At the same time, this might be the only herd of elk I'd see all hunt. I was torn. And I needed to either make a decision quickly, or let indecision become the decision. Ultimately, I decided to let the opportunity go in hopes of creating a better opportunity later.

I calmed down and sized up my target.



He wasn't quite as big as I'd first thought. Maybe a 5 point or small 6, but on a hunt like this, he was still an easy shooter. I knew where I'd be in the morning.

I watched the herd until the light ran out, then headed back down to camp to make dinner and preparations for the morning. As I settled in for the night, visions of the bull in my head, I realized I was feeling about as happy as I ever have. Maybe I was finally remembering how to let the stress go and just be.

I'll confess, a nice bull elk can help a person do that.

 

[Clarq]

I tore the mountains apart with my glass the next morning and never turned the herd back up. Same story in the evening. And the next morning. And the next evening. They were either gone or fully nocturnal.

Wednesday and Thursday were clear and warm with a full moon. Friday and Saturday were windy and rainy. All four days made for tough elk hunting. I never saw another elk; yet, I had an awesome time. I was really starting to embrace the "let it go" philosophy. Maybe I didn't need to be top dog in my career. Maybe I could just be good enough. Maybe I really did deserve a break every now and again.

I headed home, dirty and tired, unsuccessful (in terms of game harvest), but feeling like a new man.

 

[Clarq]

Next weekend was a quick trip with Dad to hunt pronghorn.

Conditions were rough. The animals were spooked from a lot of hunting pressure and the wind was absolutely howling the whole time we were there. Maybe 30, 40 mph? Pretty hard to get close enough to feel comfortable shooting in that wind.

Excuse the poor picture quality, but this is more or less what I was dealing with. Big herds out in the wide open bowls where it's tough to sneak up on them.



We enjoyed ourselves but never got into position for a shot.

My standard hunt application procedure has been to throw a ton of things against the wall and see what sticks. For many years, that strategy was good for a tag or two a year. I've built enough points now that it's starting to get me more tags than I have time for. I filled my schedule with too many hunts this year, and I left this trip feeling like I hadn't really done the pronghorn tag justice.

There were still a few weeks left in the season, but as much as I love hunting pronghorn, I love hunting sheep more. The next trip was one I'd been looking forward to since I'd started applying for it about 10 years ago. Pronghorn would just have to wait.

 

[Clarq]

My home state of Utah offers five once-in-a-lifetime species in the big game draw:

• Moose
• Mountain goat
• Bison
• Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep
• Desert Bighorn Sheep

Utah is kind enough to let nonresidents apply for all five (thank$ for your contribution$), but allows residents to pick only one. When I first started getting interested in big game hunting as a young adult, I was faced with the dilemma of which one to apply for. I remember flipping through the old hunt guidebook and contemplating my course of action.



The desert bighorn sheep captured my eye and my imagination. Chasing sheep in the famous red rock country of southern Utah sounded like the pinnacle of hunting.

A look through the drawing odds quickly discouraged me. Many of the other species had better draw odds. What to do? Play the odds? Or just hope for luck?

Then, I got a crazy idea. I was going to hunt all five of the species. Probably not in Utah, but I was going to find a way to hunt them elsewhere if need be. I did some research and identified achievable ways to hunt moose, bison, and Rocky Mountain bighorns in other places. Mountain goats would be expensive but not out of the question. Desert bighorns were the one that stumped me. There were no realistic opportunities for someone in my tax bracket to hunt one. Getting lucky in the draw was the only way.

That settled it. I started applying for desert sheep in Utah.

I wish I could say I got lucky and drew a ram tag in my home state, but I can't. Soon after I made my decision, though, Nevada began offering some desert bighorn ewe hunts to nonresidents. Maybe I'd have a chance to hunt the species after all? I applied year after year, sitting unsuccessfully at the top of the point pool.

Until this year. Soon after cards started getting hit for the 2025 Nevada draw, I noticed a $1,201 charge on my card. I'd never been so happy to see a large amount of money disappear from my account. Even with max points, odds of drawing this tag were not good. The email soon came to confirm it.



My chance to hunt desert sheep had come. Possibly the only chance I would ever get.

 

[Clarq]

I began begging for help and received some very generous information from two Hunt Talk members with experience on the unit. Armed with that knowledge and the full array of e-scouting tools, I put some plans together.

The hunt opened on Monday, October 20, but work and life would keep me away during the week. The plan was to run down on Friday, October 24 after work, do a quick hunting trip that weekend (with the main goal being to learn the unit) and then come back and hunt again starting Wednesday the 29th and continuing through the weekend or until I succeeded.

The drive down took place without incident and I found myself pulling into "camp" around 9:00 PM. For the sake of traveling light and staying mobile, I made the questionable decision to sleep in the passenger seat of the 4Runner. To my surprise, I slept very well and woke up before the alarm, feeling rested and ready to go. I got going as soon as it was light enough to see. I found myself in country very different than I'm used to hunting in. Cool place.



My chosen route would take me to a side canyon with a two-track road. I didn't know exactly what condition the road would be in, but my experience with other two-track roads in Nevada is that they quickly deteriorate as you drive along, and are often not suited for a passenger vehicle. I recently switched to a 4Runner to give myself better capability on roads like these, but with it being so new, I was more inclined to baby it than to push my luck. Ironic, isn't it?

I turned off onto my chosen side road and soon hit a rough section in road. I decided I'd just park and hike from there. I began walking and realized that after the one rough spot, the road looked fine for quite a while. Should I go back and start driving? No, the road would turn bad soon enough. I was ok. I walked on.

I soon discovered that I was far from the only person hunting off this road. It was a veritable highway of sheep hunters (not quite, but there were 5 or 6 other hunting parties using the canyon). Most of them stopped to chat with the hunter who was dumb enough to walk the road instead of drive. I told the first few of them that I just like walking. It's true, to an extent. I learn so much more about a place when I take the time to learn it step by step instead of through a windshield.

All of the other hunters told me I might as well turn around. No one was seeing anything or having any luck. I stubbornly pressed on. I was here mainly to learn the country, and I figured I'd do just that.

Walking the canyon exposed me to all kinds of interesting things. Here's one.



If I could find a fossil, I could certainly find a sheep, right?

I learned that the road was drivable, but the adjacent desert bushes probably would do a number on my shiny new paint if I were to drive up. Like all the other hunters, I saw nothing from the road.

I set my sights on an area that just seemed too sheepy to be vacant. It wasn't visible from anywhere you could take a vehicle, but if I could figure out how to get there, I felt like I'd have a good shot at finding something. It would require negotiating some steep terrain. I eventually found a path up into the cliffs that was only moderately dangerous.

As I was ascending, I suddenly found myself 10 yards away from a sheep.



Not exactly the type of sheep I was hoping to find, but at least I was in the right habitat. The skull, jaw, and both horn sheaths were all there a short distance from each other.



This was getting interesting. I pressed on.

 

[Clarq]

I worked my way up the rocks and through a small bowl. Ascending the bowl gradually exposed more and more of the cliffs that I thought just had to have sheep in them (see the left side of the image below).



I very slowly made my way through the bowl, stopping frequently to glass the cliffs that were gradually coming into view.

I'm glad I did. As I glassed the base of the cliffs, I saw the chocolate-colored coat and unmistakable curl of the horns of a nice ram. He was bedded and looking away from me. I scoured the areas surrounding him and eventually picked out two ewes bedded nearby.

I've heard people refer to Coues deer as "gray ghosts," but I think that label could also apply nicely to desert bighorn ewes. I don't know if I ever would have seen them as long as they were holding still. The ram gave the herd away.

I ranged them at about 470 yards. A chip shot for some, but not one I even think about taking. I'm shaky even in the best of circumstances, and the excitement of hunting makes it much worse. 300 yards is about as far as I like to push it. 200 is better. I ducked out of their line of sight and plotted my approach.

In the image below, the sheep are on the distant rock face beyond my finger. The closer hillside behind my finger was where I intended to go. It looked like I could stay out of sight until that point and then set up for a shot in range.



Things were rapidly becoming more and more serious. I chose each step carefully.

 

[Clarq]

The approach went more-or-less as planned. As I neared a place that would offer me a shot, a problem became apparent: I wasn't sure if I had a safe route to retrieve a sheep after the shot.

I had a great view of everything to the right of the sheep, but it was pretty clear I wouldn't have a safe route to go up for a retrieval if I came in from the right. The hillside was blocking my view of everything to the left of the sheep, so I couldn't see whether I had a safe route for retrieval or not.

I sat for a minute, debating my course of action.

Should I pull out and approach from a different angle?

I didn't seem to have a better place to approach from. Coming in from higher or lower would leave me exposed.

I opened up the maps on my phone and evaluated the information available to me. After a minute or two, I was satisfied I'd have a reasonable approach up to the spot where the sheep were bedded. I ranged the herd at about 170 yards. Good enough. I decided I'd attempt a shot.

But first, I got greedy. I wanted a picture of that ram. Using my phone camera wouldn't make for much of a photo, but it sure would make a great memory. By the time I got the ram in the frame, he was standing up and looking right at me.



Busted.



Again, not much of a photo, but it sure was cool to see him. I'm no expert at judging sheep, but he was an absolute trophy in my book and one I'd really love to have had a tag for.

At this time, I realized that the sun was coming out from behind the cliff and exposing my hiding spot. No wonder the ram had seen me! I figured I'd better set up before conditions got any worse. I put my backpack on a rock for a dead rest and then glassed the herd again with my binoculars to identify my target.

By this point, the whole herd was standing up and on edge. The three sheep I'd identified earlier suddenly turned into 6. It appeared to be a big ram, 3 ewes, and 2 lambs.

My training from the mandatory ewe identification course kicked in, and I made an effort to verify that I wasn't looking at a young ram. I positively identified a ewe standing broadside and then mounted my gun. While attempting to find her in the scope, they began to run. Just as I started to curse my luck and my poor decisions, they stopped again. I knew I wouldn't have long. I found a confirmed ewe in the scope, made sure nothing was standing behind her or too close to her, and pulled the trigger.

 

[Clarq]

I knew I'd rushed the shot. Admittedly, it didn't feel great. Nonetheless, I heard the unmistakable sound of a hit and my target animal dropped like a bag of rocks.

I breathed a big sigh of relief before starting to wonder whether I'd hit her in the spine. I attempted to find her in the binoculars and wasn't able to do so. She appeared to have fallen into a small ravine just out of sight. Two of her confused companions looked back in her direction for a few moments, as if waiting for her to join them. Then, they bounded off to rejoin the others.

I stayed behind my gun for about five minutes. I wanted to be ready in case she got back up. After seeing no signs of movement, I picked up my things and began my walk toward her. At this point, I was hoping my map reading skills were sufficient and that I had a reasonable route up to her from the left, as I'd surmised.

It's not sheep hunting if you don't question your decisions and/or your sanity at least once or twice, right? There were a few sketchy places on the way up, but I made it up to the spot where I expected she would be without incident. I didn't see her until I was 10 or 15 yards away.

I'll admit, I had a small moment of panic when I first saw her. She was tiny. For a moment, I thought I'd accidentally shot one of the lambs in the herd, before remembering that these desert sheep are much smaller than the Rocky Mountain bighorns I've hunted in Colorado and Montana. She was a legal animal, as I'd confirmed before I pulled the trigger.



As it turned out, I pulled to the right when I took the shot. The slug entered at the base of the neck, hit bone, and made an enormous exit wound on the way out. She probably never knew what hit her. Thank goodness.

I sat for a moment to take it all in. 10 years of applying and one exciting morning of hunting later, the goal I made 10 years ago to hunt and harvest a desert sheep was complete.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude.