The Hunter's Alaska

by Roy F. Chandler

  In the east, whitetails are mostly shot at 100 yards or under. Out west, the ranges can vary greatly. Although a 30/06 will absolutely kill a properly struck sheep, it does not usually smack them down to stay the way a heavier and more powerful bullet will. I have seen too many rams run around (or away) after being hit by one or more .270, 30/06 class cartridges. Jerry Rausch's ram mentioned in earlier was hit with a .270 Winchester solidly in the body twice before a third body hit flattened it. The great Jack O'Connor, who popularized sheep hunting for my generation, often reported having to shoot his sheep more than once. Jack used and loved the .270 Winchester above all other cartridges, but I often wondered why he would not use a more powerful gun.

  My favored sheep rifle has been my .300 Weatherby. I have almost always used a 180 grain Nosier Partition bullet. I have never had a failure because of the choice, but I think the .338 Winchester Magnum is even better. That bullet really hits! The .338 bullet is heavier, and it keeps on going and going.

  If we accept Energy figures as they appear in common ballistic tables, the .300 Weatherby looks superior to the .338, but if you can, as I do, put faith in KO values, the .338 squeaks ahead. Note: Ballistic tables vary, and the figures used below may not match those on other pages, but none will be seriously different, and all will provide practical comparative guidance.

  If you feel it is correct to shoot longer than 300 yards, do your own calculations. You might be surprised to discover that the .338 Winchester remains a cartridge of choice even as the ranges increase.

  While some will sneer at the author's insistence on heavy calibers for almost all of our Alaskan game, my thoughts are a result of a lot of hunting up here. I think, before rejecting them, a hunter should decide who is claiming otherwise. Most of our light bullet claims and recommendations come from lower forty-eight plains hunters (who may live in California). I think they are wrong.

  A truly controversial subject is where to shoot a sheep. I cling to my favored hump shot. I like to break bones and paralyze the animal whatever its species. Never has a shot seemed right to me if the animal travels even four steps. He should go down and out on the spot.

  Most hunters and writers advocate a lung shot on most big game. That includes Dall sheep. It is true that nearly all sheep are taken in open areas where there is a reduced chance of a final run carrying them beyond recovery—although I have known that to happen when wounded rams fell into canyons. A lung hit usually kills more quickly than a heart shot. Lungs are also a bigger target than a heart. Lungs are a good shot, but next I must ask, just where are the lungs on say a ram, and a moose, and a bear? All in the same spot? Not so. Not being sure is the reason most hunters hope to hit close behind the shoulder.

  If they manage that, they expect to hit something important. Unfortunately shoulders move a lot.

  Examine this photo of the Dall ram running along the ridge. Shoot him behind his shoulder and you have a paunch shot. Look at the hump shot. That point does not change position.

  Unless it is the only shot offered, the head shot should be ignored. A bullet in the skull can really mess up a trophy, and if the horns are to undergo Boone and Crockett measurement, a shattered skull can void the count because broken head bones can allow horns to be spread or tipped resulting in false measurements.

  The neck is considered an excellent shot by many hunters. I dislike it. The neck shot in a big animal is sudden only if the spine is hit. I have seen animals run off with their throats torn away and great gouges taken from their heavy upper muscles. I recall a moose taking three .375 magnums through the throat and still having to be finished off. Whitetail deer hunters often take neck shots and that may be all that can be seen of a deer in brush, but my advice to sheep hunters is to forget it.

  I have spoken some in these pages of continuing shooting although the animal is hit once. I have taken this philosophy to heart. Using big bullets moving slower, we do not bloodshot much meat, and we do not hesitate to put another bullet into an animal.

  Our thinking is that there is no better time to shoot than when an animal is still. Get him then and look later. If he needs more shooting, we wish to get the bullet in before adrenalin starts flowing in the wounded beast and he gets twice or thrice as hard to keep down.

  To allow an animal to suffer so that a hunter can claim a one-shot kill is not, in our minds, exemplary sportsmanship. On bear, of course, a hunter is foolish not to continue to shoot until certain. On other game, there is no personal danger only sportsmanship, but we consider that important as well.

  Too often I hear men claiming to have held off on a second or third shot because it would ruin good meat. I think that on game animals such as Dall rams we hunters should be quick to admit that the trophy— not the meat—is the point of the hunt.

  My feeling is: Make the shot as perfect as you can, and if a second bullet still does not do the trick, shoot another time. Let no animal suffer longer than you absolutely must.

  I am uncertain of where to place this photograph. We were ram hunting, so it will go here, but that trailer is packed with three sheep, four caribou, and one moose (all dressed out, of course). Cliff glasses. (Note his .357 Magnum revolver. He could not hit a bull in the butt with it). The Old Guide stands between the vehicles, and I am perched (smiling) atop the load. The ladies are Maw Rauch and her friend Mimi, who often went with us. We were out a week on this hunt and had just returned to where the truck was cached. We hooked the trailer to the truck, and Jerry (who took the picture) and I delivered the game to the freezers. We were the first successful hunters back from the field that season, and to say the least, we were made much of—as we should have been. That was one hell of successful hunting trip.

  Sheep mountains are often very steep and the higher elevations can pull on the lungs of hunters not yet acclimatized. Assuming a hunter uses common sense, climbing those mountains is rarely dangerous, but the footing can be rugged with boots moving from rockslides and mossy meadows to ankle-tripping vine tundra.

  Although we read of dramatic long distance shooting on sheep, the overwhelming majority of these shots need not be. I think that physical weariness accounts for many too long shots on rams. Hunters see the animal, think they can make the shot and cringe at the thought of laboriously creeping and crawling closer.

  An example of that situation often returns to haunt me. Three of us chanced crossing an extremely treacherous rock slide near the Yanert Glacier. We were already pretty well bushed but kept going in the hope of coming onto some rams we had seen earlier.

  That old rock slide shifted and grumbled under our boots, and by the time I got to the far side I swore never again to attempt such a foolish act. My pal made it across about the same time I did. We slumped to the firm ground and looked back to see our companion squatting in the middle of that shifting rock slide, just sort of looking around.

  Things were so shaky we feared hardly to speak. Finally, we urged him off the slide with gentle comments like, "Get off there, you stupid bastard." He looked surprised at our vehemence and vowed he was tired and could shoot a sheep from there as well as a mile further.

  That scared me half to death. I looked around praying that no ram would appear. Eventually, the guy got some strength back and clambered to safety. We discussed his actions in loud tones. All he could say was, "I was too tired to care. "

  As well as pooped-out hunters, those with limited time who have paid a fat fee or are inexperienced find it hard to wait or work for better shots. They are prone to let go at extreme ranges. I have never had to shoot a ram (or anything else in Alaska) at over three hundred yards. I know I've said that before. I wish to spike down the point. You do not have to shoot at extreme ranges, and you should not.

  Two-hundred-yard shooting seems far more common on sheep than two hundred and fifty yards. My records show me that we took an average ram at just about 200 yards. It might at first seem strange that we shoot our sheep at a little longer range than we do the high climbing goats. (They
averaged 185 yards.)

  The primary difference seems to be in the possibility of other sheep being around. Often, an otherwise easily approachable ram is sort of guarded by a lesser trophy between the one you want and your rifle muzzle. So, you take a little longer shot. Sheep also live in lower country than the goats do, and the winds do not blow as true and cleanly. Vagrant breezes whipping around can reverse on themselves, and you have had it. So, you end up a bit further away from your quarry.

  One of the great moments in a big game hunter's life. The hunter's pleasure shows.

  A ram smells to high heaven most of the year. With the wind right, I have smelled sheep that were over a quarter mile away. I assume that a ram has at least as good a nose as I have. So, he smells us as readily. You have to watch the wind, and that can mean taking a longer shot than you might prefer.

  Mountain sheep do not pay much attention to sounds that are natural to their environment. For example, a hunter can often kick stones loose without disturbing sheep. Metallic noises such as a gun barrel striking rocks are not good. However, I have never known a sheep to be scared off by ordinary hunter noises. I wonder if a sheep has hearing that is any way exceptional? I think not. Sometimes, strange noises will cause them to get up and look around, but unless you are right underfoot or let out a bellow, even huge rams are likely to wait around for "a long look." A hunter should not need more.

  When sheep do panic, it can be amusing. Unlike goats that tend to move with deliberate speed, sheep may run in all directions. They bump and swerve, dodge and leap about. Their actions can be unnerving for the hunter, and moving they can be very tough to hit.

  If you can, try to take a ram from above. Not only is he more watchful of things happening below him, but shots taken from below are more difficult to make than those from above.

  If you are below, a ram lying down may expose only his back and head. You may find you have to risk a standing shot. If the ram moves after your uphill shot, obstructions can loom out of nowhere and stop or delay your following shots. Other sheep are prone to intrude between you and your quarry as well.

  From above, all those difficulties are lessened, and if you blow your shot, the ram's chances of running from view are smaller.

  It is practical to get above sheep. If a hunter gets on top in the Granite Mountains, he will find ridges running in many directions on which he can stroll with relative ease. The sheep will be found below him. Cross canyon shots are not long in many of these kinds of mountains but can usually be avoided by a little extra legwork on the hunter's part.

  These "on top" conditions exist throughout the Alaska Range. A wise hunter will study a good contour map of the area he intends to hunt. He may find that a single climb to high ground and judicious use of high passes will keep him above the rams he is hunting.

  I have never seen a ram as blood-soaked as this one. Examine the huge exit hole. The bullet angled in from the further front and came out near the paunch. Incredible penetration and expansion. The sheep apparently fell on the bloody side and bled out in one spot. The hunter rolled him up for the photo. Notice that the [excited?] hunter—perhaps jubilant is a better word choice—still has his tripod extended. Hunter: Ed Piabola, 360 yards with an 8mm, Talkeetna Mountains.

  One summer, Jerry and I flew many hours in my Cessna 170 dropping supplies into selected spots high in the mountains. We put canned goods, sheets of plastic, even firewood in surplus army sandbags. I brought the plane in low and slow over a chosen spot, and Jerry dropped a pair of bags on target. Occasionally, we flew back over the drops to see if bears might be disturbing our supply points. They seemed OK, and in the fall we were able to hike into the mountains and stay a long time without lugging immense packs.

  Using an airplane in support of any hunt is open to rational disagreement. My position these days is that the airplane should not be allowed in any capacity. I would like to see them removed from the hunting picture completely. I am aware of the hardship such legislation would place on registered guides and hunters with limited time, but things are getting tighter all over. There are way too many of us (including wolf packs) hunting for trophies, and we are becoming ever more conscious of the need for fair chase hunting.

  Fair chase hunting is, I fear, determined in the mind of the hunter, but shooting over bait is frowned on, using aircraft the same day as the hunt is out, and helicopters should be completely and permanently barred—except for life-saving medical services.

  How about harvesting wolves via fixed wing aircraft? We used to do that a lot and it is discussed elsewhere, but fair chase, such hunting is not. Some years back, a group of field grade officers stationed in Alaska gathered a magnificent collection of US Army camping equipment from their various units and placed it all within specially prepared 55 gallon drums. These drums were flown by military test pilots using helicopters into the sheep lick on Granite Creek. The pilots set the barrels on a convenient gravel bar as near to the lick as they could manage. One chopper, in fact, ruined a set of blades touching a cliff face getting back out.

  When hunting season arrived, these special people were motored in army track vehicles to within walking distance of the lick. The officers camped and hunted there for a long and completely fruitless hunt. Because: The use of helicopters was so blatantly illegal we decided to do something about it, and we did.

  Each day, before the season began, I flew the mountains driving every sheep in the area back across St. Anthony's Pass and out of the officers' reach.

  In the past there was much misuse of military equipment in Alaska, but the military itself has taken hold and reduced the problems a hundredfold.

  I suppose the mountain sheep have been the most affected by illegal aircraft hunting. Airplanes place hunters into areas nearly inaccessible by foot or even by horse. I used to land my Cessna on a flat plot up on the spine of the Granites. It was less than a half mile walk to an excellent mineral lick. Piper Super Cubs could do better than that, and I doubt I am the only pilot to discover the improvised strip. As handy as it was, I would prefer to see an end to it all.

  I personally credit the before-mentioned remarkable hunter/writer Jack O'Connor with popularizing sheep hunting in our country. His appreciation of the mountain rams, his stories of grand hunts in Outdoor Life magazine, and his numerous books brought home to all of us the potential adventure in hunting North American sheep.

  As O'Connor so long ago described, ram hunting is not for the fragile or the puny. The ridges are too steep and the bumps and bruises too numerous. But, for a vigorous hunter with sound wind and enduring enthusiasm, searching the high country for trophy rams is an experience difficult to match.

  Sheep hunting is usually hefty work, and a young fellow I met in a restaurant at Glennallen in the fall of 1974, who was fresh off a sheep hunt in the Wrangells, typifies how a hunt can go.

  He and his partner had climbed for nine hours when the partner settled for the first legal ram they could approach. He made his shot and quit. (That ram worried me. It looked so close to the legal minimum that I would have been nervous about showing it. I was glad it was his and not mine to have measured—which game protectors often do at the various taxidermy shops.)

  The remaining hunter then climbed alone for another four hours before he took a nice full curl ram going over 38 inches. By the time he had his load ready to start down it was dark, and he wisely sat out the night, but he shivered and shook the night away on the cold mountainside.

  Of course, there are times when sheep walk through the camp. I remember one such incident in area 20D. A pair of full curl rams nervously crossed the canyon within 75 yards of us. We were resting in camp, and no one raised more than a groan or a chuckle. To us, the hunt counts as much as the trophy. Potting a ram under camp conditions would have ruined the adventure—at least on that occasion. Some days a hunter is more hungry than at other times.

  In all of Alaska, there are only about 35,000 Dall rams. The Wrangell Mountains produce the most ram
trophies, but we who mostly hunt the interior have nothing to be envious about. Annual Dall ram harvests run about 1,200 rams. Our Alaska Range might typically account for 300 of those trophies. Or, if you prefer, hunting the interior of the Great State provides a fourth of all rams taken in Alaska each year.

  For most Alaskan hunters, a Dall trophy ranks second only to a grizzly or brown bear. Many hunters would go further and rate a Dall equal to a good bear.

  I have noticed that visitors to my Alaskan trophies first admire the bear rugs. Then they examine the rams. Perhaps that indicates something.

  Sheep hunting is certainly more demanding than bear hunting, the country is prettier, and the shooting is usually longer range. I guess that shows I rate sheep pretty high on the old totem pole.

  I show this picture more for the Yukon packboard than the sheep. These packs could carry anything, and look at the upright over which a rifle can be slung. Importante!

  Another marvelous ram and hunter photo, but take note of the country where this sheep was taken. Rock slides—everywhere. These slides can be very dangerous. This one appears old and steady, but I have walked across too many that shifted and grumbled under my feet. Care should be taken on all slides, and most seem to end in steep cliffs.

  Handsome, alert and … well, just beautiful.

  One good shot that went in at the right shoulder and exited a bit further back. These sucking exit wounds reinforce my belief in the importance of an exit pumping out blood and leaking in air. This hunter has the most effective camouflaged clothing I have ever seen. He should have crept closer! Hunter John Waike, 7mm STW, 400+ yards, Guide: John Rhyshek