By Jesse Edgar
DALL'S SHEEP
On July 28th, 2025, my parents and I made our way from northern Nevada to Yukon, Canada in hopes that my mother and I could both earn ourselves a Dall sheep. This trip, however, was a redemption for me since I was unsuccessful in harvesting a Dall ram in 2023. To my surprise, my mom and I were both sent to our previous area. I got a pretty good chuckle out of that since normally; the hunter doesn’t tell the guides about the area and what to look out for. The next 14 days of that hunt and what happened after never would’ve crossed my mind in a million years.
Being that it wasn’t my first time in this area, I was very comfortable with the ascent to our camp that I had used back in 2023. With two weeks of putting on countless miles of hiking and glassing, we were certain that I must’ve had the worst luck ever with this area. Not a single ram had come into our sights. On August 8th, my mom sent me a text via satellite saying that she had earned herself an 11-year-old ram. Filled with joy, I knew that even if I didn’t fill my tag, it was all worth it since my mom had earned her second Dall sheep. August 9th rolled around and my guide received a message from the Outfit owner saying that we are to finish off the last bit of food we have and head down to the river to get picked up a day early. I figured that I must REALLY have the worst luck if my hunt is getting cancelled early. Only then did my guide look to me and say “Looks like we’re going on a Stone hunting boys. Hope you know how to ride a horse!”.
On August 14th, we left the main cabin on horseback to a camp roughly 15 miles away. I had been given the opportunity to hunt Stone sheep for 10 days with one of my previous guides from the Dall hunt. After a few days of learning about the new area and working off my saddle sores, we finally found three full curl rams about a mile away from our glassing point. As quickly as they came into sight, they disappeared. We found them again even further away in the tops of jagged cliffs that I didn’t realize was physically possible. With the last two days of the hunt coming near, we watched as these rams bedded peacefully with over a mile of country between us that’d make you hurt just by looking at it for too long. Until the very end, we watched the rams’ every move. Hoping that some way they’d work their way down to where we’d have the slightest opportunity of putting in a stalk. That time never came. With low spirits, we packed up camp, loaded horses, and worked our way back to the main cabin. Even with a second unsuccessful hunt, I was still happy that I could say that I got to chase sheep for over 3 weeks in the Yukon backcountry. Upon arriving at the cabin, the owner of the outfit came up to me and said something that made chills run down my spine. “Want to go again? I have one more area I can send you to if you’re up for it. You’re not leaving the Yukon without a ram Jesse!”.
On August 25th, we set out yet again on a hunt for Stone sheep. This time our group consisted of my first two guides from my Dall hunt, and another guide who had just come off a successful Stone hunt with a different hunter. Four days in, my time to shine had presented itself. We stumbled across a lone ram in a valley not too far from our camp. After side-hilling across hundreds of boulders, we finally were able to make out nine annuli and enough length to make a full-curl. This was it. Inching our way forward, we set up my first shot at 260 yards. With heart beating out of my chest, I gently set my turret to the proper yardage, steadied my aim, and pulled the trigger with crosshairs directly behind his shoulder. My jaw hit the stock of the gun when my bullet flew over a foot above his back. Thinking to myself, “how could I miss such an easy shot!? I’ve practiced this exact scenario more times than I could count!”. Of course, the ram took off uphill, but we were hot on his tracks. In a flash we were able to set me up to take another shot while he worked his way through a rocky chute. As he stopped in a broadside position, I let off another round that sounded perfect but seemed to not slow him down at the slightest. The anger set in as we watched this ram slowly break over the skyline and disappear out of sight.
This was it. The lowest of lows. The straw that broke the camel’s back. I was completely fed up with sheep hunting. I figured it just wasn’t meant to be, and I should stick with what’s available to hunt in Nevada. Even with low spirits, we made our way up the mountain to ensure that there wasn’t a blood trail following the ram. Around halfway up the next boulder field, I decided to investigate the chute he walked through with my binoculars. Something had caught my eye as I did. Being uncertain that what I had spotted was just a miscolored rock or an illusion, I asked my guide to use his spotting scope for a better view. Without a sliver of hope, I sat there and waited for his response which was “I’m sorry to tell ya Jess”. Instantly I responded, “it is a rock isn’t it”. With a grin from ear to ear he said, “you got yourself a ram”. Smiles filled our faces as we all raced to the top of the mountain. Backpacks felt weightless. Walking sticks deemed useless with every nearing step to where my ram laid. While working my way through the jagged rocks, I saw my first glimpse of his golden horns and grey coat. The pain in my legs washed away instantly as my adrenaline propelled me closer.
I did it. Very far from the pretty vision I had in mind of how I would get my first ram, but it had meant nothing as I sat there with his horns in my lap. 29 days, freezing nights on the mountain, patched clothing that outgrew me, and nearly 200 miles of hiking felt less than worth it to be in this moment. That was when the quote I had heard from countless people over the years really hit me. “You’re either going to love hunting sheep. Or you’ll hate it”. Thankful to say, I love hunting sheep.
The only bad luck is being Kicked Out Jesse!
This Kicked Out story was featured in the Spring 2026 issue of Wild Sheep magazine.
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