Hunt for a World Class Ram

Hunt for a World Class Ram

Tommy Garner

"I am so hot," Wanda sighed, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of her face, while hoping for a gentle Kansas breeze and some cloud cover. Meltdown would be a good term for what was happening to us today, and I knew Wanda had about all she could handle. Our friend and guide Stan Christiansen of Kansas Trophy Whitetails was soaked with sweat and I was as well. The normally cool temperatures had departed for parts unknown, the sun beat down on the top of our box blind, the wind that always blows in Kansas had ceased, the few clouds which had been in the sky earlier in the day were gone, and we were in the bake mode while waiting on the group of rams that we had seen numerous times earlier in the day to make an appearance, hopefully one that would be conducive to Wanda getting a clean shot and me being able to capture it on video.

Suddenly, a ewe Mouflon broke from the cedar thicket followed closely by eight or nine rams. Two of the rams were noticeably bigger than the others. The biggest had deep, massive curling horns, which hung down below the jaw before curving upward and out. The left side was broken off just below the ram's chin and a large chunk of horn had been busted out of the left side as well. Mouflons, as other sheep do, go through an intense rutting season which includes head to head combat much like their cousins, the bighorns. Often, when two rams of equal size square off with each other, they both dance on the hind legs and then lunge at each other with every ounce of strength they can muster. The sounds of clashing horns can be heard for a great distance, and many times today we had heard but not seen the rams fighting for the rights to breed the receptive female. The giant ram's left horn being broken off was a testament to the power exerted when these gladiators face each other.

The next to biggest ram was not quite as big as the broken horn ram, but he, too was a mature ram with world class headgear. They both were darker in color than the others, a sure sign of having reached maturity. He was the ram Wanda was after. To say the rams were majestic in appearance wouldn't be out of line, with their massive horns sweeping back and down before making the forward curl, the dark brown coats trimmed by black and white, the gray faces, blocky shoulders, all coupled together by a bad attitude and a very high testosterone level. The problem was that the rams ran and chased the ewe as a group, with only fleeting, unpredictable seconds when they would separate before melting back together, never presenting Wanda with a safe shooting opportunity.

We had seen the group of rams pursuing the ewe several times, beginning just after good daylight. As the day wore on, we all began to be tested by our patience and the elements. Each time the group would bust out of the cedar thickets, we would shuffle our positions as quietly as possible to get Wanda set up for the shot that simply would not come. Anticipation would escalate, then subside as the rams were swallowed up by the thick brush and cedars. During one such episode, Wanda’s ram broke free from the group momentarily and stood still. Instantly, Wanda found the ram in her scope, but hesitated. Stan told Wanda to shoot, but Wanda replied that another ram was standing behind the ram and she did not want to hit them both. Much to Wanda's credit, she held her fire, but as quickly as the opportunity presented itself, it was gone as the ram charged back into the group and butted heads with another of the suitors.

Sundown found us at the point of mental and physical exhaustion. I knew we had only a few more minutes of video light remaining when another ram appeared behind us. He was almost as big as the other two big ones, and he was alone. He was nervous about entering the food plot and stood alert in the edge of the woods. A whitetail doe fed nearby and a wild turkey as well. Wanda and I very slowly moved into position and my heart sunk when I heard a loud putt from the jake. I kept my eye on the ram which now had decided to head for the cedars and I whispered to Wanda that hopefully he would stop at the woods line for one more look, and if he did to shoot him as quickly as possible. The galloping ram stopped two jumps short of the cedars, Wanda's .243 roared, the ram bucked and hit the cedars on a dead run. In a few minutes, we found the ram in the cedars and Wanda lifted the massive horns of her trophy and let out a long sigh of relief. This had been a grueling hunt, Wanda had performed flawlessly, and her great ram, though not as big as the one she was after, would tie for number thirty-six in the world if entered into the SCI record book today.

Reprinted With Permission Paxton Media Group