Finishing the Four
May 10, 2024
By Mike Barber
After I took a Stone’s sheep in northern British Columbia, I only had one species left before I completed my FNAWS (Four North American Wild Sheep). Tags for Rocky Mountain bighorns are tough to come by. I have put in for points in all the states for many years. I also live in Idaho—an excellent state for bighorns—but I never draw!
When I sold my business in 2022, I discussed going to Alberta to hunt bighorns with my friend Steve West from Steve’s Outdoor Adventures. He came up with the idea to purchase a governor’s tag at one of the auctions. I was all for it. We set a budget, and the bidders went to the auctions. Right off the bat, it did not go well. The prices were sky-high and way out of my league. Then I got lucky at the second to the last auction. I secured a tag for Wyoming. We set dates, and I would be hunting with John Porter from Morning Creek Outfitters, a legend in the sheep-hunting community.
After we sold our business, life got very busy. My wife and I were traveling all over the world, so training for the hunt was put on the back burner. But I knew I could make the hunt happen if I put my mind to it. The days went by fast. Before long, September arrived, and I was on the road to sheep camp.
I got to camp early and waited for John and his hunter to return. I could see by the look on their faces that the warm weather had kept the rams in the thick timber. They were empty-handed. I had been there before and calmed down. I told myself that I was with the best outfitter in the best area. I was going to make this happen.
A small snowstorm moved in, which got the rams moving but decreased visibility. We couldn’t see the top half of the mountain. It became a waiting game. On day six, John decided we would pack into another area to see if we could find some rams. We set out on the horses and climbed up to a glassing area to sit for the day and look. We weren’t sitting down 15 minutes when John looked at me and said, “I found some rams.” I was stoked. About three miles away, eight rams milled about. Two of them had some mass and were much heavier than the others. We hatched a plan for the next day.
After breakfast, we found the sheep in the exact spot we left them. John piled off his horse, quickly set up his spotter, looked at me, and said, “You need to go kill that ram!”
My guide Matt and I planned to hike through the trees to get a good shooting position. After about an hour, I looked through my rifle scope and realized that this dream of finishing my FNAWS was about to come true.
We watched the rams for about an hour before the big one stood up and started to feed. My first shot was not a good one. To my total disbelief, I missed! My heart sank, and I thought it was over. Fortunately, the rams didn’t know what happened. They ran and bunched up. My ram placed itself in the middle of the group.
This gave me some time to compose myself. I reacquired him in the scope, adjusted my shooting position, said a few choice words to myself, and waited for him to clear the group. When he did, I squeezed the trigger and heard the “thwap” all hunters long to hear. Yet he didn’t fall; he just ran down the mountain toward the timber, following the other two big rams in the group. My heart sank again, and I thought, What have you done?
We intently watched where he went into the timber. John came over to help us pinpoint that spot, and we soon found blood. It looked like the ram had bedded for a brief time, and there was quite a bit of blood. Our spirits lifted. We started working diligently to sort the tracks and follow the blood trail. Matt was methodical about following the trail, walking in circles to pick it up when it weakened. He reassured me we weren’t leaving this mountain without finding that ram.
After about two hours, we hit a spot on the side of the mountain with just dry grass and rocks. The trail went cold. I watched as Matt meticulously looked at the underside of grass blades until he found a drop. We were back in business. It looked like the wounded ram was staying just above the timberline. The blood spots started to pick up and became fresh.
We reached a point at the start of a deep timber patch and found his trail moving back and forth. We took a few steps and then heard a loud thud. Matt said, “I hope we didn’t just bump him.” We looked up and saw the ram walking through the trees, downhill about 20 yards away. I quickly pulled my gun up and finished the deal with a difficult shot through the trees. My ram was down!
John found us and brought the horses as close as possible for the pack out. He was super happy and quickly aged the ram at 9 ½ years old. The ride back to camp was in the dark, and we didn’t get to bed until around 11 p.m. It didn’t matter; I had completed a dream I thought was impossible. I feel incredibly fortunate to have hunted these wonderful animals. Rest assured, I did not do it all on my own. It took help from a lot of people. For that, I am truly blessed
When you decide to go sheep hunting for the first time, you soon realize it is a huge commitment. The endeavor requires help from many people, a ton of money, lots of time, and a tremendous amount of energy! Once you put your hands on your first sheep, you realize it’s all worth it! My quest for a bighorn was no different.
After I took a Stone’s sheep in northern British Columbia, I only had one species left before I completed my FNAWS (Four North American Wild Sheep). Tags for Rocky Mountain bighorns are tough to come by. I have put in for points in all the states for many years. I also live in Idaho—an excellent state for bighorns—but I never draw!
When I sold my business in 2022, I discussed going to Alberta to hunt bighorns with my friend Steve West from Steve’s Outdoor Adventures. He came up with the idea to purchase a governor’s tag at one of the auctions. I was all for it. We set a budget, and the bidders went to the auctions. Right off the bat, it did not go well. The prices were sky-high and way out of my league. Then I got lucky at the second to the last auction. I secured a tag for Wyoming. We set dates, and I would be hunting with John Porter from Morning Creek Outfitters, a legend in the sheep-hunting community.
After we sold our business, life got very busy. My wife and I were traveling all over the world, so training for the hunt was put on the back burner. But I knew I could make the hunt happen if I put my mind to it. The days went by fast. Before long, September arrived, and I was on the road to sheep camp.
Finally, Bighorn Country
I got to camp early and waited for John and his hunter to return. I could see by the look on their faces that the warm weather had kept the rams in the thick timber. They were empty-handed. I had been there before and calmed down. I told myself that I was with the best outfitter in the best area. I was going to make this happen.
The first day of any hunt is full of anticipation, excitement, and some jitters. As we climbed onto the horses and headed up that first drainage, I could not stop remembering all the saddle time in Britsh Columbia for that Stone’s sheep. My hopes were so high, my smile was huge, and I couldn’t wait to see my first bighorn ram. For the first three days, we didn’t see a single ram. Then the weather changed.
A small snowstorm moved in, which got the rams moving but decreased visibility. We couldn’t see the top half of the mountain. It became a waiting game. On day six, John decided we would pack into another area to see if we could find some rams. We set out on the horses and climbed up to a glassing area to sit for the day and look. We weren’t sitting down 15 minutes when John looked at me and said, “I found some rams.” I was stoked. About three miles away, eight rams milled about. Two of them had some mass and were much heavier than the others. We hatched a plan for the next day.
After breakfast, we found the sheep in the exact spot we left them. John piled off his horse, quickly set up his spotter, looked at me, and said, “You need to go kill that ram!”
Barber with his bighorn ram, which completed his FNAWS.
My guide Matt and I planned to hike through the trees to get a good shooting position. After about an hour, I looked through my rifle scope and realized that this dream of finishing my FNAWS was about to come true.
We watched the rams for about an hour before the big one stood up and started to feed. My first shot was not a good one. To my total disbelief, I missed! My heart sank, and I thought it was over. Fortunately, the rams didn’t know what happened. They ran and bunched up. My ram placed itself in the middle of the group.
This gave me some time to compose myself. I reacquired him in the scope, adjusted my shooting position, said a few choice words to myself, and waited for him to clear the group. When he did, I squeezed the trigger and heard the “thwap” all hunters long to hear. Yet he didn’t fall; he just ran down the mountain toward the timber, following the other two big rams in the group. My heart sank again, and I thought, What have you done?
We intently watched where he went into the timber. John came over to help us pinpoint that spot, and we soon found blood. It looked like the ram had bedded for a brief time, and there was quite a bit of blood. Our spirits lifted. We started working diligently to sort the tracks and follow the blood trail. Matt was methodical about following the trail, walking in circles to pick it up when it weakened. He reassured me we weren’t leaving this mountain without finding that ram.
After about two hours, we hit a spot on the side of the mountain with just dry grass and rocks. The trail went cold. I watched as Matt meticulously looked at the underside of grass blades until he found a drop. We were back in business. It looked like the wounded ram was staying just above the timberline. The blood spots started to pick up and became fresh.
We reached a point at the start of a deep timber patch and found his trail moving back and forth. We took a few steps and then heard a loud thud. Matt said, “I hope we didn’t just bump him.” We looked up and saw the ram walking through the trees, downhill about 20 yards away. I quickly pulled my gun up and finished the deal with a difficult shot through the trees. My ram was down!
Matt let me walk to the ram alone as he knew what the hunt had meant to me. I will always be grateful for his patience and reassurance while we trailed that bighorn.
John found us and brought the horses as close as possible for the pack out. He was super happy and quickly aged the ram at 9 ½ years old. The ride back to camp was in the dark, and we didn’t get to bed until around 11 p.m. It didn’t matter; I had completed a dream I thought was impossible. I feel incredibly fortunate to have hunted these wonderful animals. Rest assured, I did not do it all on my own. It took help from a lot of people. For that, I am truly blessed
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