MORE THAN ONE WAY TO MISS A RAM:
MTGomer posted a photo (see # 166 posting to this thread) of a great ram “in DEEP” that he missed during the 2016 unlimited season. Riley stated “...blowing my chance at this guy will haunt me."
Speaking from experience, I have to agree. Over the years I’ve been blessed to make a few shots that were brag worthy (if we’d only had something like GoPro or Tactacam back then to prove it). Conversely, I thank Diana (Roman goddess of the hunt) that no such technology existed which might have documented some of my greater flubs--especially those where I could claim no alibi; where, desperately, I could only point to nerves as fey excuse.
I’ve only sent two rounds at wild sheep during my lifetime (so far
). One killed the ram I have posted pictures of on this forum. The other shot makes me chuckle today, though I am only appreciative of the humor given the perspective of time.
I’d been scouring high, windswept (a recurring theme in my postings that you might have noticed) plateaus for several days. I’d seen rams, even a couple that appeared legal or borderline legal. I’d also focused my binoculars on so many ram-shaped or ram-colored rocks that I had grown blasé.
Traversing the swale at the extreme head of a basin I’d already glassed, and moving too determinedly against the buffeting wind, I paused for breath and glanced at the horizon. “What’s that odd T-shaped rock?” I wondered. I leaned my still-cased rifle against my belly to free my hands; swiveled binoculars up to my eyes; and cursed my incaution!
I didn’t need to see a profile view of the ram staring at me to know that he was more than legal--I needed to get my rile into play with a chambered round before the ram bolted!
I eased my knees to the ground; lowered myself to prone with the cased rifle beside me; unzipped the case; slid the rifle forward into position and chambered a round. Square-on to me, the ram was standing stock-still, staring, as I rotated the power ring on my scope to maximum. The sheep’s legal quality confirmed, my concentration was focused on settling the crosshairs on the center of his chest. I knew I was made--there was no question of waiting for a standing broadside target. I actually got my breathing under control while trying to gauge the wind gusts the way a surfer might time wave sets. The rifle’s muzzle orbits tightened into a small circle on the ram’s brisket as the wind gusts settled into a trough. Between breaths, I squeezed the trigger.
Even when shooting from prone position, a .300 magnum bucks. I must have seen the ram swap ends through my open left eye--I doubt that I observed it through the recoiling rifle scope. He’d disappeared over the same horizon he had recently materialized upon. He could be dead just beyond; but something did not seem right, even though I felt the crosshairs were placed where I’d intended at the breaking of the shot.
I advanced to where the ram had been standing. Sure enough, there, his tracks. No blood, no hair, to indicate a hit. The signs of his U-turn didn’t reveal a stagger, let alone a stumble.
Clinging to rapidly fading hope, I followed the determined tracks while frequently scanning ahead with the binoculars. I lost the track in a snow and frost-free region of the plateau; diverted onto the crossing track of a Mountain goat for a fair distance before I realized my mistake.
Dejected, I sat down on a rock slab to ruminate. Thirty-plus years later I can’t recall for sure; but I think I ate a snack while contemplating what might have happened.
While I sat there, a younger ram climbed toward the plateau along a finger ridge ascending from the very basin into which the goat tracks had disappeared. Grazing along unconcernedly, and apparently unaware of my presence, the ram progressed up the slope.
Initially dismissive, I nevertheless studied him in the binoculars as he approached closer. Gradually deciding the ram was legal, I placed the crosshairs of the rifle scope on his head when he presented a perfect profile view. Sure enough, I could trace a line from the forward base of his left horn across his eye which definitely intersected the same horn before its terminus.
The young ram was then about 125 yards away. Realization smacked me in the forehead at that point--I knew what I’d done wrong!
For years I had been shooting 3-9x variable power scopes. I normally zeroed my rifles at 200 yards with the scope turned up to full magnification. Compromising in favor of reduced pack weight for solo hunting, I had mounted a 6.5-20x Leupold on the rifle in lieu of carrying a spotting scope and tripod. While easily quartering the young ram’s eyeball with the reticle at more than a hundred yards under 20x magnification, I realized that the sight picture I’d viewed of the big ram, which looked like a 200-250 yard viewed through 9x, had actually been over 400 yards!
No wonder the ram had swapped ends--I’d turn and run too if someone sent a supersonic round to crack between my legs!
