Bighorn sheep are promiscuous rather than polygamous, in their breeding habits, the rams being indiscriminate in their selection of a mate and the ewes accepting copulation by more than one male. According to one researcher, "Most, and perhaps all, ewes are bread many times during the receptive period, not only by different rams, but quite often several times by the same ram within a very few minutes." Acceptance in copulation of several different rams was witnessed as two different rams copulated with the same ewe within the space of seconds.
During breeding activity there is much chasing of ewes by rams. One researcher noticed that chases starting with 1 ewe and 1 ram often ended with as many as 11 rams in pursuit.
In one herd (harem), each of two rams was observed to copulate with the same ewe in the course of 20 minutes.
In another siting, 6 mature rams attempted to breed one ewe. The ewe accepted at least three different rams in copulation several times.
On another occasion, 3 rams attempted mating with 1 ewe. Two rams, were large, mature animals of about the same size, whereas one was much younger. While the ewe was receiving much attention from the older rams, the younger individual did not approach more than 50 feet from the group. Each of the older rams made repeated attempts to mount the ewe, only to have the other ram interfere. On two occasions, both rams attempted to mount the ewe at the same time, the last of which terminated in vigorous battles taking place over 20 minutes. Meanwhile, the fighting of the two larger rams allowed the younger ram to successfully copulate with the ewe.
One ram can serve perhaps 10 to 20 ewes.
From The Bighorn Sheep in the United States by Helmut Buechner (1960).
I remember that day vividly and horrifically. It was my
saddest day ever in my 25 years as a park ranger.
I was
far into the rugged backcountry of the park (Anza-Borrego Desert
State Park). At Anza, I had packed and mounted my horse, Anzanita. We then continued southward about 10 miles on Coyote Canyon Road to the area known as Turkey Track. Turkey Track is ridiculously unstable (especially after rains), has sharp drop-offs, and ledges narrow and
covered by loose slate or mud after storms.Though the Track is open to true 4WD vehicles; I mean the type with high clearances, low gears, and wheel lock-outs, park guide books unanimously emphasize just how 'bad' this road is. Practically, the Track is really only accessible by horseback
riding, hiking, mountain biking, and burro trains.Between Upper Willows and Middle Willows, where I was when it happened, is closed to all vehicle travel. This three mile stretch is prime bighorn sheep watering areas.
The sounds of rocks sliding and falling does not take a park
ranger with 25years of experience to
identify.As I looked towards where
I heard the rock slide, what I saw broke my heart.I quickly grabbed my binoculars to double-check. I was right.Rolling down the rocky and wooded hill was one
of the park's bighorn rams. Also rolling down the hill, following the
ram, was a mountain lion.Through my binoculars, I saw another mountain lion cautiously
watching from the ledge as her mate and what I assumed to be their intended meal
rolled down the hill.
All this was happening on the other side of Coyote Canyon and it
would take me a while to get to a point where I could cross Coyote Creek
at a shallow, slow flowing part and then backtrack to the pointwhere the animals fell. I recorded my coordinates on the GPS and started walking, leading 'Zita by her reins.The animals on
the other side of the canyon would surely be DOA by the time I reached them- if
not dead already.
***
Back at Majanga Spring, way up on Majanga Flat, we all looked up from drinking.We heard the noise and the older among us knew
what it meant.I looked around.Old Biggy and Smitty were not with the herd. They were known to randomly go out and butt heads, though Smitty conceded Old Biggy's dominance within our herd.
I sent out a call and Smitty's long
yelp answered, but there was nothing returning from Old Biggy's drawling accent.We all thought we knew exactly what
happened.Slippage is a risk we face
every day as we move further and further uphill to protect ourselves against
those predators with the guts to follow us.We are typically the only ones that can make their way up so high on loose rocks and
into protection.But the higher we go,
the greater the risk.Indeed, when I was younger, I took a short slide down a steep canyon wall.
It is a risk we all
knowingly take because that is how we survive.
***
I had finally reached the 'drop zone', for
lack of better or more euphemistic term.I released a couple of shots from my Browning rifle into the air to
scare away any circling vultures, hiding coyotes, or surviving mountain lions to
clear the area for my safety.
The mountain lion's body was in much better shape than the ram's,
though the mountain lion was just as dead as the ram.The mountain lion just rolled down the hill, but the ram horns violently whipped
the ram's head around, got caught on branches, and bounced the poor ram's head off
rocks. What was left of the horns would not be going on display at any nearby
museums and the ram's neck was obviously broke.I guessed the ram died about 1/3 the way down and the mountain lion died on
impact with the ground.
I opened a saddle bag and took out a small laser bar-code
reader.Luckily for me, this ram did not lose its collar on the way down.I scanned the bar-code on the collar and a
code showed up on the display.The code meant
little to me out here in the field.The rangers
at Park HQ in Borrego Springs kept track of the animal database.
I walked around trying to find a clear area out from under the
tree canopy.I found a spot and called
park HQ on the sat phone.
"Hernandez, Animal Monitoring."
"Pico?Flack
here."
"Flack, you safe, mi
hermano?"
"Yes.I am at
the spot."
"You made good time."
"I guess brother..."
"Does he have an ear tag?"
"No. He barely even has an ear.Just a
collar."
"OK.Let me pull
up the database.Code?"
"C-O-0-1-7"
"An oldie.Hmm.'Old Biggy'...17 years
old... born in-park...Parented three rams and two ewes.Last vet check was about 6 months ago by Dr.
Floyd."
"He looks pretty bad; the severe horn damage from the fall,
some vulture feeding, and a broken neck.I'm guessing the mountain lions chased him and these two took a nasty, unintended
slide down a soft edge."
"OK.I will prepare
his file for closure when you get back.Don't forget to take blood samples and of course the tracking collar.Oh might as well take blood from both
animals.I will give you a break and not
ask for a fecal sample."
"Muchas gracias
on the fecal.I will mark the
coordinates of the site, post a marker, and take some pictures.No reason to bury or extricate the carcasses.I will leave them to the vultures; they have
already been munching away."
"Remember its the natural order of things."
"I know"
"Be safe, hermano."
"Gracias."
I stood there looking at the two carcasses and I gave them what
I thought was a proper blessing.
***
I slowly --carefully-- walked
towards the edge of the cliff where my father slipped and fell to his
death trying to escape from a mountain lion.I laid down and looked across the
valley.My nose suddenly picked up the
smell of a ewe.I turned around and it
was Santia, the alpha-ewe in our herd.She walked over to me and hit my snout with hers.That told me everything I needed to
know.
Tradition says the lion is the "king of the jungle." Other traditions go even further and say the
lion is the "king of all beasts". While I
may accept that “king of the jungle” stuff because I do not live in the jungle, I object to the characterization
that the lion is king of all beasts. The lion is certainly not the "king of the desert." I am the king of the desert! Who else
could hold such a title? A chuckwalla? I think not.
Gila Monster...King of the Desert? Scary name and venomous... Maybe, but nah!
We are the few able to climb up the steep unstable walls of the desert valleys and sit up on the rock perches far above the road. Sometimes we will look down on you or, on other occasions, we may flat out ignore you and look
over our desert.
Coyotes can't reach us; cougars can’t reach us; you humans certainly can’t reach us. But, I can tease you all with my stoic
downward looking gaze. My huge curling
horns (sometimes weighing more than 30 lbs.) and expressionless face may give you the impression that I exist for the sole purpose of you
photographing me. However, to make it clear who is in charge, I frequently make
taking my picture extra difficult by sitting up on the rocks with the sun to
my back, placing me in a dark, cool shadow.
Montezuma Grade, the road leading down into and up out of
the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park Valley Floor is a popular place for us to roam around and be seen. Our other grazing and watering areas near Lower Willows in Coyote Canyonare much more remote and closed to vehicle traffic. At a pull-off about half-way down the grade and
looking due east over the entire Anza-Borrego valley floor and toward the Salton Sea on the
horizon in the distance, I have seen some kind of board with a picture of one of my distant relatives on it.
My Typical View From Crawford Overlook on Montezuma Grade..Salton Sea and Glamis Sand Dunes at the Horizon
I cannot read the native
language of the writing of the board, but I am guessing the board is a sign telling the reader
this is ovis canadensis (big horn sheep) territory.
I am forced to wear a green collar. I did not get to pick the color or approve the
placement of the collar on me. I would
have shown my disapproval to its placement on me by gently nibbling or firmly
biting, if the need be the fingers of the ranger who collared me. However, the
ranger drugged me from a distance with a chemical dart shot from a rifle a
distance away. The ranger lacked the
guts to try and approach me and drug me directly.
Note: Gila Monster drawing from Wikimedia Commons.
