still dark and cool, exceptionally so at about 65 degrees, for a hill
country morning on August 12, 1997, when Thompson Temple and I arrived
at the big wrought iron gate at the entrance to the property where we
were to meet the landowner of the ranch where I was slated to embark on
the adventure and challenge of a handgun hunt for the elusive and wary
Aoudad sheep, native of Africa and popular transplant to the Texas hill
country exotic hunting scene.
Thompson is not only a very good friend but also owner of Texas Wildlife
Outfitting and therefore my outfitter and guide for this hunt. I was hunting
for the first time with a new Thompson Contender single shot handgun in
.375 Winchester caliber and Winchester 200 grain soft point bullets. Figuring
that even the tough Aoudad could be taken with a bullet of that size.
Shows how much I know. My choice of scope was a Leupold, gold ring in
Our landowner showed up shortly after we arrived and swung the gate wide
for the beginning of my handgun challenge. He invited us to ride in his
pickup bed that had been rigged with a truck seat mounted across it. As
we rode up the steep road to the top of the highest hill on the back part
of the ranch that the landowner figured would be the best place to find
the Aoudads. At first light, the cool breeze felt almost chilly to us
and made me think of the coming fall and cooler weather which would give
relief from the searing Texas sun and bring on the changing colors to
the landscape as well as new adventures in hunting for deer and turkey
to those of us who are addicted to the pursuit of that big one.
After scouring the area for a while we decided that the 3 rams that our
host described to us weren't in the high country as he figured. He said
that sometimes in the early mornings he had seen them at the edge of a
meadow at a lower elevation. so off we went to check it out. As we arrived
at the meadow, on the far side, we saw the rams grazing at the bottom
of a steep, mesquite covered ridge. As we worked closer to them to try
to judge the trophy quality of the animals, they stood there alertly eyeing
us, their long sandy colored manes and chaps rippling in the early morning
breeze. But as happens with most Aoudad, before we could get a real good
look they were gone up the mesquite covered slope of the ridge and out
of sight. so it was back around to a road and up to the top of the ridge
to try to ambush them within shooting range. But to our disappointment
search, as we might, no sign of any of them. Then we worked our way back
down to where we had seen them last. Sure enough there they were, all
three of them, standing almost in the middle of a meadow.
Finally our luck held for a while and we were able to evaluate their horns.
What we figured was the best ram we guessed was around 32 inches long.
It had a distinctive sprig of white hair between it's horns .It gave us
a chance for a shot at about 50 yards, which I took, hitting him in the
lungs, verified by Thompson saying he could see the blood from the wound
thru his binoculars. But as the old saying goes, the ram was dead but
he didn't know it yet He walked off about 50 yards into a tall stand of
milkweed plants. All I could see was the top of his back but our landowner
said, put another into him, so I did. Still he didn't go down. He moved
about another 50 yards standing broadside to us. I shot again and a large
cloud of dust erupted from his body as the bullet struck him. Still no
real indication that he was hurting too badly. Then he was off and up
the steep ridge disappearing into the cedar-choked slope. For us a mad
rush to the top of the ridge, but no luck until the landowner spotted
our quarry angling back down the ridge and away from us. My only choice
was to sit on the edge of the drop-off, dangling my legs and taking an
offhand shot nearly straight down and about 60 yards away. Luckily I connected
with a spine shot and he dropped.
His final resting place was in the middle of a clear, cool, merrily running
creek. Then came the much awaited, but dreaded tape measure time. Thompson
did the honors and said; well we missed it by a bit. He's not 32 inches.
That brought a sinking feeling to my stomach. But then he said he's 36
inches, which changed my dread to elation. After many photographs came
the task of loading the huge ram into the truck for a trip to the taxidermist.
Imagine my elation when he informed me after scoring it for all three
record books, that after the 60 day drying out period my ram should be
the new world's record for handgun in all 3. What a way to break in a
Written by Steve Mahurin on August 25, 1997.