Washington Chapter | Foundation for North American Wild Sheep ( FNAWS )

Buddy Hunt for Bighorns
By Glen Landrus

Finally, September 15th had arrived. The hunt I had been waiting for was here. The last two weeks had been particularly difficult as we had hiked in to do some scouting and spotted two huge rams which we felt would easily make the books. The weather was very hot and dry and made the hunt that much tougher.

I was able to get enough time off from school to hunt the first ten days of the season. My brother Houston and cousins Bob Landrus, Dick Landrus, and Earl Landrus also had taken some time off work and were providing extra brains and brawn for the hunt.

No sheep were spotted opening day, but the ruggedness of the country provided many hiding places. At daylight on day two, Bob spotted the herd of bachelor rams. A four- hour hike put us within 100 yards of six smaller rams, but no big guys. Earl was able to get some great video of the largest ram which had a heavy ¾ curl. We spent the rest of the day combing the area but were unable to locate the two we were looking for, and for some reason the herd had broken up.

Several hours later, ol’ eagle eyes Bob spotted two nice rams that cam over the ridge into the drainage where we had spent most of the day. We practically had to run around the top of the canyon to get to where the two had bedded before it got dark on us. Our stalk would put us less than 100 yards from their bed.

We snuck through the saddle as planned but the rams were gone. Something caught my eye to my left. I was being watched. I pulled up on the ram that was broadside at only 30 yards. It was not the big ram. When I put my rifle down he sp0ooked. I did not see the big ram until he took off with the other. At over 300 yards, the big ram stopped and looked back. I shot and he rolled out of sight. Earl then spotted him back up and going around the hill.

Darkness was upon us as we got down to where the ram had dropped. We found tracks but no blood. We were going to have to spend the night there and track the ram in the morning. As Bob was looking for a flatter spot to call home for the night, he jumped the ram up out of a brushy draw. The ram went out across the draw at about 200 yards; I shot and apparently missed as he trailed out of sight.

Morning did not come soon enough as we were not prepared to spend the night out. Even though temperatures were in the 90’s during the day, at night it quickly cooled off. We built a small fire and parked our buts on a rock so we would not slide down the hills. Hiking in such rugged terrain on the breaks of the Grand Ronde River were taking its toll on us physically and mentally. We were faced with a severe shortage of water that was problem almost immediately after leaving a spring or creek. We would fill up our bodies and our water bottles, but would soon sweat it out once we began climbing again.

Daylight, finally arrived. We tracked the ram around the hill and found blood where I had taken the second shot. I was situated on a nice vista on the ridge to watch for the ram while the others tracked the sparse blood trail. Soon, I spotted the ram bedded 250 up the draw. He had traveled less than 400 yards from the night before. As I was preparing for a shot, the ram stood and then steadily walked towards the next draw. The bullet sailed high as the ram disappeared over the ridge. I ran to the ridgeline to see into the draw where he was headed. He stopped to look back as we located him. The 160 grain Nossler Partition form my Browning 7mm Mag. Broke both shoulders. Before the dust had settled, Bob was at the ram hollering out measurements.

Once at the ram, we were all amazed at how big bodied and pleased with the thickness of his hair coat given the hot temperatures. We took our time taking pictures and sharing stories about how it all went down. We ran a tape of the ram and determined he would score in the high 180’s.

The hunt was over and now the pack was to begin. We packed out the full hide for a life size mount with the horns that day. We were able to catch a ride back to camp from a friend who was bear hunting; we came out many miles from where we had parked. Before leaving the canyon that day, we quartered and hung the carcass in a fir tree. Earl, his son Steven, Dick and I returned with horses first thing the next morning to pack out the meat.

The hunt was everything I had dreamed about. It was tough country, hot and hard work but well worth it. To this day the five of us sit around discussing our most challenging hunts physically and mentally and I think this tops it for all of us. The ram later was officially scored and came out with horn lengths of 41” and 39 ¼” with 16 ¼” bases and a final score of 188—the third largest ever taken in the state of Washington.