A few of my hunting friends and I try to get together and have dinner at least every couple of months. Someone will call someone else and say let’s have dinner and the words spreads through my circle of friends like the swine flu. We get together and share or lie, it depends on your perspective, tales of hunting or fishing trips that we’ve taken since we last got together.
In early July I was the one making the phone call invitations. I had something to show these avid outdoors men. The time and place was set, the only thing left to do was wait. Waiting those five or six days almost killed me.

When I arrived all but one of my friends were there. The evening started with the usual small talk of family and jobs. We’d all ordered when I decided this was a good time to show them a Corsican Ram I’d taken at Shiny Top Ranch the month before. I pulled out enough pictures to show them every conceivable angle, or view of this magnificent creature. I was the conquering hero with all the spoils of the hunt lying right there in living color for my friends and the world to see.

No one spoke for what seemed like an hour until John the dentist said. “Wow, that’s a big en.” All heads snapped in the direction of the man with 8 years of college, which clearly none were in English grammar. Once John delivered his great oratory the Ohhs and Ahhs began filling the air. Everyone wanted to hear the tale of this Ram. Hunters are great story tellers and I consider myself one of the best.

I met Doc Jones the owner and operator of Shiny Top Ranch at a gun show. Anyone that knows Doc will tell you, Doc never met a stranger. He and I became friends over the next couple of years. I helped him build a regulation skeet field at Shiny Top Ranch, which I wish I could use more often. I’d been at the ranch many times working or visiting when hunters harvested Rams of many different sizes. I’d always thought I would like to hang one in my office.

One day Doc, his hunting guide Gary Trap, and I were sitting on the veranda. Gary was waiting for some hunter to arrive and Doc was to serve as the welcoming committee.

I asked.

“Do you have a good ram that would look good on my wall? I want the ram to be a good representative of the species.”

In short I wanted a very good ram.

Doc looked at Gary and then back to me. He informed me that he might have a couple that might fill the bill. While we sat there we worked out the details for my Corsican Ram hunt. Gary would guide, and we would spot and stalk my ram. Gary as always was eager and ready to show me or anybody a great hunt. I’d hunted white tail deer many times but never a big horned sheep. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

The week prior to the hunt went excruciatingly slow. I must have checked my gear twenty times. I changed the batteries in my range finder three times. My rifle hadn’t been that clean since it was new. The Boy Scout in me came out so my backpack weighted almost thirty pounds.

Saturday did come so it was off to Shiny Top Ranch, and a hunt of a life time I would soon find out.

We agreed that the afternoon would be the best time to catch an old ram with his guard down. Like that was going to happen. I arrived at the ranch around 10AM to make sure the twenty minute ride hadn’t bumped the zero out of my rifle. I took a couple of shots on the target range at Shiny Top. The rifle shot a quarter of an inch high at 100 yards. Good enough for me. I was ready.

Finally after several cups of coffee and as many trips to the bathroom, Gary said. “Let’s go.”

I think he was tired of seeing me walk around like a caged cat. We piled into his truck and started the twenty minute drive to where he had last seen my ram two days before. The ride was wonderful, even the rocks and ruts couldn’t dampen my spirits; I was finally going to hunt a trophy ram.

As we arrived in the area that the sheep had last been seen, Gary turned to me and asked if I would like to get out and see if we could spot them or would I like to drive until we saw them and then get out and stalk them. My excitement had trumped my common sense so I wasn’t paying as much attention to what Gary was saying as I should have been, I was perfectly content looking down the two tracks and enjoying the mirage of a giant sheep grazing there. The more I watched the mirage the more he seemed to be real. Then it dawned on me, he was real.

I turned to Gary and said.

“I think I would like to shoot one right here.”

Gary gave me a look that said you must be from the big city. I pointed down the road and sure enough a big ram and I do mean a big ram decided he wanted to have lunch out in the open. He was no more than 170 yards away and the wind was in my face.

Gary said you can take him here but I think we can get closer.

I informed Gary.

“This was too important I think we need to get as close as we can.”

We got out of the truck and moved using the natural cover of mesquite and live oaks to a spot 78 yards from the ram where I could get a good gun rest.

In my scope the ram seemed to be moving all over the place, I couldn’t figure out why. I would take my eye away from the scope and he would be still and then back to the scope and he would be moving. It’s a mystery. However, the ram did stay still long enough for me get control of my breathing, the scope, and the Tikka 300 WSM that I held. As I held my breath and squeezed the trigger the rifle bucked, and as always, startled me.

As is often the case you don’t see the result of your shot. By the time you manage to get the rifle back in control you quarry has fallen or at break neck speed has left the area. My ram was no different when I got the scope back to where I could see where he was, he wasn’t. I had no idea how far he ran but I felt sure I got a good shot off.

I turned to Gary and asked.

“Did I hit him?”

“You made a great shot I don’t think he went very far. Let’s give him a few minutes.”

Those few minutes, as all hunters will tell you, last a life time. I think guides do that on purpose to make you wait. I think that it’s some kind of cruel ritual that hunters are expected to endure. Like ducklings following their mother we all fall in line and wait the excruciating few minutes.

I was barely able to wait the proscribed time to get my hands on this ram. When I did he was more than I ever hoped he’d be. The Corsican Ram I took at Shiny Top Ranch was super gold and scored 102 and change. He ranked 4th in the world all time. He was the top ram of 2006. He was that once in a lifetime animal that we all spend our hunting lives looking for.

At this point my dinner companions feeling the sting of “sour grapes” started to question my story, saying the ranch must have tied the ram there for me to shoot. They also mentioned that the sheep could’ve been anesthetized and tethered right there in the open. My friends like most hunters are very competitive.

My ram now resides in a place of honor, on the wall across from my desk along with the rest of my mounts, so I see him every time I look up. Not bad company or scenery.

I learned firsthand that Doc Jones has a propensity for understatement.

Yea, Doc, I’d say you had a couple of rams that anybody in their right mind would want as a mount.