How about we turn back the clock 15 years Mackey, when I was that lucky guy with a Wyoming sheep tag in his pocket?
I was a virgin sheep hunter about to experience an adventure that would change my life. I was fortunate to have my teenage son with me and we were hunting an area only a few miles outside of Yellowstone National Park. I had chosen to go with Fritz Meyer of Windriver Mountain Outfitters and the September weather that year was cold. But with the elk bugling and aspen's turning to gold, the setting was exactly what I had hoped for.
After trailing in 15 miles on horses we set up camp in a grassy alpine meadow and while I didn't bring Jack Daniels to help me sleep, the gurgle of a mountain stream just outside our tent gave weight to my eye lids.
We found one pretty good ram just east of camp, but I was in no rush to go home, so for four days we worked the ridges near by. We saw rams every day, but none of them screamed for me to take him home. Then the weather turned bitter and the snow forced us to pack up and head for lower country.
The fifth day of the hunt was my son's 18th birthday. A lucky omen indeed! That morning we pushed the ponies up a steep mountain to a high glassing point. Even before I could snag my lunch from my saddle bag, my guide found rams bedded in the rocks a mile away. One of them looked good so off we went. We had to drop over a thousand feet and then climb back up to where the rams were resting. I remember my heart thumping hard for multiple reasons as we snuck in close.
As we peeked over some buck brush, there were four rams just ahead of us feeding at the edge of the treeline. One looked old but he kept himself hidden in pine bows. Finally he stepped into an opening and I ended my quest.
That's an old story Mackey, but one I cherish. I hope you get a similar experience some day. I had waited forty years for that hunt, but it was well worth it.
Maybe others can share their past sheep hunts, while we wait for current adventures.
Best of luck to all who have sheep dreams!