American Big Game in Its Haunts: The Book of the Boone and Crockett Club
History
American Big Game in Its Haunts: The Book of the Boone and Crockett Club
Big game hunting -- United States
The white coats of these sheep against the dark background of black
moss-covered rocks render them easily seen, but we now failed to sight
any even on the distant hills. Therefore we pushed ahead, going
stealthily up wind and keeping a careful watch on all sides. We crossed
over the ridge and worked our way just below the sky-line on the other
side of the mountain from our camp, never supposing that the sheep would
work back, for they had seen our camp-fire on the night before. We
traveled nearly to the end of the ridge, and were just about to cross
and work down to a sheltered place where we expected to find our game,
when Hunter chanced to look back, and instantly motioned me to drop out
of sight.
While we had been working around one side of the summit the sheep had
been working back on the other side, and we had passed them with the
mountain ridge between. Fortunately they were all feeding with their
heads away or they must have seen us as we came out on the sky-line. My
man had the glasses and assured me that there were two excellent
heads. We now felt quite certain that these were the sheep we knew so
well.
We cautiously dropped out of sight and worked back, keeping the mountain
ridge between us. We were well above and had a favorable wind and the
entire day before us. It was the first and only time upon these hills
that the conditions had all been favorable for a fair stalk and good
shooting. Hunter did his part well, and brought me up to within one
hundred and twenty-five yards of the rams, which were almost directly
below us. They had stopped feeding and were lying down. Only one of the
smaller sheep was visible, and my man advised me to take a shot at him,
and then take the two large ones as they showed themselves. Aiming low,
I fired, and then as one of the big rams jumped up I fired again,
killing him instantly. The smaller one that I had first shot at went to
the left, while the one remaining large ram and the second smaller one
went to the right. The latter were instantly hidden from view, for the
mountain side was very rough and broken and covered with large slide
rock. I raced in the same direction, knowing well that they would work
up hill. But hurrying over such ground is rather dangerous work.
Soon the two sheep came into view, offering a pretty quartering shot at
a little under a hundred yards. The old ram fell to my first bullet, and
I allowed the smaller one to go and grow up, and I hope offer good sport
to some persevering sportsman five years hence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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