Snowy Bighorn

Snowy Bighorn

It charged closer and closer. I thought, “Oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD. It’s headed right for me. What do I do, what do I do.” 

I went through my turkey hunting checklist. “Shotgun, check. Ammo, check. Turkey choke in place, check. Hen decoy, check. Jake decoy, check. Pot call, check. Full camo: boots, pants, jacket, hat, facemask, gloves, all check.” I laughed to Luna and Jersey, “And camo underwear just in case my pants get ripped off, check!” I tossed my bright yellow waterproof North Face duffel bag up in the Tacoma’s bed. I felt confident that this would be the weekend that I harvested a Merriam. I visualized the red, blue, and white head strutting up to my decoys. I visualized the blast and the hit against my shoulder. I pictured the dark brown bird flapping its wings against the ponderosa pine needles and then laying silent at the base of a scaly tree. I imagined walking up to the bird and splaying out its tail feathers revealing the layers of white feathers and fanning out the feathers to show off their white tips. Luna whined and brought me back to reality. I looked into her anxious excited eyes and replied, “Ok ok, pup. Load up!” 

I arrived at my camp outside La Veta. Cold air and thick clouds greeted us. The clouds looked heavy with moisture. I didn’t want to be caught off guard in the middle of the night by rain or snow so I dug the tent out of the truck bed and quickly set it up, unrolled my sleeping pad, and tossed my sleeping bag on top of the pad. April is cold in the high country. I wasn’t taking any chances with warmth. I called the dogs back from whatever night adventure they had been on and we all cozied up in the tent. I giggled as Luna tried to sneak her way into my Mountain Hardwear down sleeping bag. She rolled her eyes as if to say, “Oh, fine,” as I pushed her away. I replied, “Not tonight pup.” She stamped out a spot for herself at the foot of the sleeping bag. The air rushed out of the lofty down as she plopped herself down. I remarked sarcastically, “Fine, you can have that. I don’t need to stretch all the way out anyways.” Jersey laid his head down with a long relaxing sigh. I turned out my headlamp and drifted to sleep listening to the rhythmic breathing of my two best friends. 

The pitter-patter on the rainfly wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Peaceful, but unwanted today. I unzipped the rain fly. Large heavy wet snowflakes hit the tent and turned to droplets that rolled quickly down the blue nylon. I cursed and began to dress in all my layers. The dogs raced out of the tent and frolicked in the snow. I commented, “I wish I had fur. The best all-weather gear on the market.” The dogs raced and wrestled each other carefree as their fur began to drip. My forest camo wasn’t going to blend well into the white-out winter weather. I doubted if I’d be able to hunt. I thought, “The turkeys are going to be roosting through this nasty weather.” I packed the wet tent. My hands stung in the cold wet wind.

The snow fell harder and faster as I drove up above Cuchara to North Lake State Wildlife Area. The Tacoma plowed through the heavy wet flakes leaving deep tracks. I turned on 4-wheel drive as the back tires began to slip out and the end began to fishtail. The heavy wet snow was difficult to drive through. The tires made slow progress, sometimes taking their own line regardless of where I steered. I drifted off the road. The snow seamlessly blanketed the road. It was hard to tell where the edge was. I had to shift into 4-wheel low and use the rear locking differential to power out. A burning clutch smell seeped into the truck cab. I rolled down the windows for fresh air. 

I pushed farther up the road as conditions worsened. I had a tight grip on the wheel. A hen tried to run away from the truck. She struggled to move through the deep wet spring snow. She made it to the side of the road and into a small pine tree for cover. She laid there exhausted breathing hard. I slowly drove by not trying to stress her more than she already was. The flakes were sticking together. My wipers were on overload. It didn’t seem wise to go any farther. I looked in the back and to the passenger seat. It had been a while since the dogs had been out. I said, “Hey pups, wanna play in the snow?” Their ears perked up and the sat up excitedly. I hopped out and the dogs followed. Luna disappeared into the whiteout. Jersey sniffed the air, looked around, and shook from head to tail. With a satisfied grin, he sauntered off into the snowy forest. As snow built up on my jacket’s hood, I called the dogs back. Slowly Jersey plowed his way back to the truck. I hollered for Luna again. Up the road, I thought I saw her charging back to me. Something about the silhouette didn’t seem quite right but I didn’t think much of it. She ran faster and got closer. I shouted, “Come on Lu!” I paused before calling her again. I thought, “Wait, that’s not Luna.” I asked myself, “What is it?” Slowly the blurred image came together through the snowflakes.  It was a Bighorn Ram! It charged closer and closer. I thought, “Oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD. It’s headed right for me. What do I do, what do I do.” I stepped back to the side of the truck as it ran to my left within 5 yards. The ram circled around the truck, climbed up a small rock outcrop and stood above Jersey and I. Luna trotted back from down the road. Her fur was frozen with snow clumps. She was oblivious to the ram that had just passed and was standing above her. The ram looked down at us. He proudly displayed his full curl horns. I was amazed that Jersey didn’t chase him or bark. He watched the ram pass and climbed up the rock outcrop. The majesty of the animal was too powerful to interfere with. The awe wore off and Jersey was ready to get back into the truck. I heaved his wet furry snow covered body into the truck. I thanked the ram for a once in a lifetime moment and put the truck in reverse gear. The truck whined as I reversed back out. I spun the tires as I made a u-turn.  Luna picked the frozen snow from her fur and feet while Jersey licked his soaked fur. I smiled the whole drive home. The hunting trip didn’t produce a turkey, but I walked away from this hunt with something far more memorable.