Single Shot at Woolsey Peak

Single Shot at Woolsey Peak
By Jason Greer

July 19th, 2007 I was one of many anxious hunters doing his best to get on the Arizona Game and Fish website to see what kind of hunting season I was going to have. Like most hunters out there, my year would revolve around what the website was about to reveal. Would it be a good year? I could possibly draw a Coues deer tag. A sheep tag had never even crossed my mind. It was just one of those things that you put in for but never expected to actually draw. When I was finally able to log on, I could not believe what I saw. Not only had I drawn a December Coues Whitetail tag, but I had drawn the most coveted tag in Arizona, if not the entire west, an Arizona Desert Bighorn Sheep tag! It was going to be a great year.

After reality set in, I began to understand just what I was up against. Not only did I have a lot to learn about desert bighorn sheep, but I also had never even stepped foot in the Unit I had drawn. So the phone calls began. For the next two weeks I called friends who called friends, digging up any information we could on the unit. Fortunately for me, I work with my family in our business and my dad was as excited about this opportunity as I was. So time off to scout and a month off to hunt wouldn’t be an issue. As information came in I began to build a three ring binder, which would later be known as, “The Bible”. I had a little over five months before the hunt opened but the clock was ticking.

By August 17th, a good friend, Jason Pickett, and I loaded up and made the four and half hour drive to Gila Bend for our first scouting trip. My only real goal was to drive the perimeter of the unit to get a better idea of what I had to work with and get on the back roads that bisected the unit and GPS everything. Man, we were in for a surprise! The temperature was pushing 118 degrees and nearly all the roads had seen some strong monsoons, and the few we did access seemed to all dead end. There were also enough rattlesnakes in this country to make you think twice about getting too far off the beaten path. Besides, I wasn’t convinced that we were even looking in the right area. But despite all the odds we ended up spotting five sheep, one of which was a small ram. Not bad for a couple of guys who had no idea what they were getting into. The ride home was filled with mixed emotions. The shear size and accessibility of the unit had me a little intimidated but the fact that we had spotted sheep on our first trip out was promising. Pickett had offered to go on every possible scouting trip and to be there for the week prior, and also for the first two and a half weeks of the hunt. This was a huge commitment, and one that only a true friend would make.
For the next two months Pickett and I headed out of town every Friday after work for Unit 39. We would glass in the mornings; drive roads and GPS trails in the afternoon and then glass again in the evenings. I talked to farmers; deer hunters, quail hunters, and anyone else that would listen. I attended the ADBSS (Arizona Desert Bighorn Sheep Society) clinic in late September with Pickett, my Dad and Mike Bauer. The unit that once intimidated us was becoming our backyard. The three-ring binder that once had a few maps in it was now full of scored ram pictures, detailed maps with glassing spots and trails, phone numbers of important contacts and guides, and a list of every sheep we had seen with the time, location, and size. Even with all this, I still had not found THE ONE.

On the morning of November 24th I kissed my fiancé good-bye, and headed to my new home in the Gila Mountains. The next five days consisted of putting everything I had worked on for the last five months into play. My unit had not seen rain since early August and sheep could be found within a reasonable distance of water. With each day that passed, this became a benefiting factor. This was good as long as nothing changed, but something was about to change drastically. As Pickett and I ate dinner a few days before the opener, the weather forecast hit us like a ton of bricks! A major storm was quickly approaching and was set to hit the last day of November, calling for significant rainfall and severe wind. But weather reports have been wrong many times in the past, right? So we continued to execute our plan and discussed where we would send guys to glass. The next day the weather forecast had unfortunately seemed to materialize. We woke to heavy clouds and increasing winds. By 10:00am all my help was in camp and watched as the storm rolled into Unit 39. As you would expect, it was a long sleepless night.

Opening morning wasn’t exactly what I had pictured in my mind. It rained on and off with wind gusts in excess of 50 mph. Our plan was that my dad, Brad Fulk, and I would head towards Woolsey Peak where I had seen ewes and a few small rams during our scouting. Pickett would go south of us along with Shane Hall and Steve McMurtrie. Shortly after splitting up, I picked up six sheep feeding in a small pocket tucked out of the wind and rain. Despite the weather, my first day turned out to be pretty successful. In total we had glassed up to 13 ewes, and three small rams. Back in camp we worked out our plan for day two.

With the weather improving on the second day I decided we would go back to the same area. I knew Shane and Steve had to head home that afternoon so I had Pickett take them to glass an area southeast of us. Later that afternoon Pickett met up with the rest of us and informed me that they hadn’t seen a single sheep. So that afternoon the four of us concentrated on a big ridge that ran for over a mile consisting of deep cuts and lots of little pockets. By the end of day two we had seen five sheep. As the storm broke, sheep were moving and covering quite a bit of ground during the day due to the availability of water throughout the previously dry countryside. With the sheep on the move and now down two guys I decided to change things up.

On day three we left early and made a one-hour drive southwest going on information I had received from one of the Game and Fish officers. From there we split into two groups and glassed two different mountain ranges. Pickett and Brad covered the back side of the area we had watched the first two days, and my dad and I walked the three mile stretch across the desert floor to a neighboring mountain range. By around 10:30am I started to wonder if this had been the right choice, as we had not seen a single sheep. Frustrated, I spun around to see if I could locate Pickett or Brad. I soon picked up one of - our guys in the spotting scope moving up a ridgeline. Thinking nothing of it, I started to pan back across the flats when I saw Pickett moving towards us at a pretty good pace. Knowing something was up my dad and I gathered our gear and headed towards him. When we met up he was out of breath but excited and said, “Brad’s got him.” With my heart now racing the two and a half miles to Brad looked like ten. I’ve known Brad for quite some time. We’ve hunted together many times and I have also been fortunate enough to work with Brad in Mexico on guided Coues deer hunts. Needless to say, if Brad had found a ram that he thought was a shooter, more than likely there would be burnt powder at the end of this hike. As we approached Brad I could tell by the look on his face that something wasn’t quite right. When Brad spotted the ram he was bedded broad side with his head down. Then after Pickett left and a few hours rolled by, the ram picked his head up and looked down the canyon to reveal a nauseating sight. This awesome ram had broken his opposite side off three inches from the base. In an effort to stay optimistic, we glassed the area until dark hoping that this ram wasn’t alone. As the sun set on the desert surroundings, we watched quietly, as the single horned ram fed broadside at 300 yards, alone. That night the hike to the truck and the hour drive to camp seemed a little longer. I knew that my dad had to leave in the morning and that Brad only had three days left before he would have to head home. I also knew that most of the sheep were now spreading out, with fewer guys it would be less ground that we could cover. As we approached camp I could see the glow of the campfire and wondered who had shown up. It was my buddy Ladd Hall. I hadn’t expected to see Ladd for another week. Ladd is great at lightening the mood, not to mention he is pretty dang lucky too. With the mood in camp a little lighter that night we all hovered around the “Bible” making the plans for the next day. I really liked the look of the country that we had just hunted but I wanted to change up our glassing points a little and hike farther into the wilderness area.

As my dad loaded up and headed home, the four of us again made the hour drive to the far side of the unit. Pickett and Ladd headed back to where we saw the one horned ram and Brad and I checked out some new areas farther east. Shortly after first light we realized that this wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be. The amount of country to glass was restricted, so after a short nap, we made about a three-mile hike north back to the west side of Woolsey Peak. Within an hour of glassing we began finding sheep. First a few ewes here, then a few more over farther, and then Brad said, “I got four rams”. We put up our spotting scopes and realized that the bachelor group was up feeding but they were about three miles away. We could tell that at least one of the rams stood out but the sun was descending quickly, and there just wasn’t enough time to get close. The drive out on Day 4 was a little different from the previous; I was stoked and immediately called my dad. He heard the excitement in my voice and decided to leave at about mid-night and head back to camp, picking up my friend Martin Guerena along the way. Back at camp we were all pretty excited. We didn’t know exactly what any of the four rams looked like but we did know that one was promising.
At 4:30 am on Day 5, I could see my dad’s headlights coming across the desert floor towards camp. We had packed everything the night before and quickly went over the plan before heading out. It was simple, split in groups of two along the base of Woolsey Peak until we found the band of rams. We made about a 45-minute hike to a little knoll where I left Pickett and Ladd. As they got set up, we started down to another glassing spot, when Ladd quickly got our attention. With just a hint of light in the sky we set up all our spotting scopes and studied the four white patches. As the sun came over the east ridge we recognized the four rams from yesterday in the very same location. We watched the rams for three hours and after careful consideration, a decision was made. Dad, Brad, Martin and I would stalk in on the rams while Pickett and Ladd would stay back and watch the rams from the desert floor. After a brutal two and a half hour stalk, we reached our only vantage point. I peeked over the ridge and could see the big ram feeding at about 400 yards. Just as I was getting in to place he bedded down turning it into a waiting game. After lying behind the rifle for just over two hours, the ram finally got up. As he moved in front of the others, I took deep breaths to calm myself. Sixteen years of unsuccessful draws and over five months of scouting, the hunt had come down to a matter of only a few more steps from this amazing ram. He slowly fed as the shot of a lifetime presented itself; I slowly began to squeeze the trigger. The echo of the .300 Remington Ultra Mag rang through the cliffs, I could here my friends behind me saying what I had hoped to hear, Good Shot, you hit him, just relax. The ram had gone behind a palo verde so we could not see if he was down or not. My dad looked through the binos down to Pickett and Ladd and it was high fives and thumbs up. Almost 24 hours after spotting this ram he was down. It took us nearly an hour to get to him. We green scored him at 169 5/8. Upon capeing, we discovered a broad head buried in his back just inches from his spine. We arrived back at camp around 10:00 pm that night and relived the hunt around the fire, recapping the day and all the work. It was the perfect closing to a once in a lifetime hunt.

I can’t thank the great group of friends and family for all their efforts in making this a great hunt. A special thanks for a true friend Jason Pickett for all your dedication and commitment. To my fiancé for understanding my love for the outdoors and the time spent in the field. And lastly to my Dad, for introducing me to hunting at an early age and being supportive of my growing passion.

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