Dukats Journal of Hunting

To our surprise, several hundred yards below where we had found the ewes and lambs, there was another group of aoudad sunning themselves on the rocks below.  Immediately, I knew one was a ram, and a good one.  He was darker than the rest of the herd and was laying by himself on a giant boulder.  We made some hurried plans and snuck down another hundred yards toward the band of sheep.  As I crested the rock face, the ram had stood and was now silhouetted on the rock 240 yards directly below us.

I snuck to the edge and set up the rifle.  I knew the rifle should shoot high and settled the crosshairs on the center of the ram.  As I readied for the shot, the ram moved off the ledge and disappeared behind a rock.  My heart sunk and
I prayed I would get another chance.  After a tense five minutes, the ram reappeared and presented a broadside shot.  I
slowly squeezed the trigger and heard the echo of the rifle booming through the canyon.  The ram raised up on his back legs and came off the rock in a hurry.  In seconds, there were sheep going both directions and no sign of the ram.  Then they were gone. 

Scott shot off to the right to try to pick up a second ram with the group and I sat glassing intently, hoping to find the ram.  Above me, another group of 40 or so sheep began crashing out of the rock ledge and came running across the mountain behind us.  I tried to get Scott's attention, but was too late as the sun disappeared across the hillside.  As I turned back, and ran toward Scott, I saw my ram and several other sheep moving across a ledge right below Scott.  He had the rifle trained on them and I waited to hear the shot, but it never came. 

I sprinted past Scott as fast as I could move in the loose rock, and as I made it over the next ridge, I could hear sheep
below.  I made it a few more yards and saw a ewe coming up the rockslide below me.  I knew she had to be leading the group with my ram and I dropped to the ground and got ready.  Several seconds later, out came my ram and when he reached my level at around 100 yards, I gave him another bullet in a quartering away shot.  I jacked one more round in the rifle and fired as he made it over the hill, missing him high when he dropped over a rock.  I ran to where he had disappeared and found him laying dead in the rocks.

He had taken the first bullet high in the shoulder with no major damage.  The second bullet had destroyed the heart and lungs and finished the job.  I had my sheep and another sheep hunt under my belt.  I knew the hike down with the 80+ pound pack would be a long a miserable one, but it's hard not to smile with sheep horns in the load.  The hunt was both affordable and all a sheep hunt could and should be.  Don't overlook Texas if your a sheep hunting nut, but can't draw the tags or afford a far reaching hunt.