Slams Fall to Female Archer for the Initial Time

It seems like I waited a lifetime to hunt. It’s not that I wasn’t around hunting, because I was. My dad, uncle, and grandpa all hunted deer with firearms. My uncle and grandpa killed deer each year, but my father struggled. He so desperately wanted to kill a deer each year, as we necessary the meat, but he just wasn’t a good hunter. And because he struggled most seasons to kill a deer, I in no way had the opportunity to take a shot.


When I met my husband, Ken, he introduced me to archery and bowhunting. Ken has a passion for the outdoors that he loves to share with other folks, and a strong belief that every person should have a chance to partake in Mother Nature’s bounty. He recommended I may well like archery and must give it a try, so I purchased myself an affordable tiny bow and began practicing. Over time, my attempts to hit the bull’s-eye evolved into the aim to kill a moose.

My initial kill was a tiny paddle-horn moose that went in the freezer. Placing meat in the freezer was such an empowering feeling. It’s not like I hadn’t been acquiring groceries and feeding my family members for years, but the actual field-to-freezer process added a new dimension to placing food on the table. I still have that small bow, a bow that my granddaughters grew familiar with as they discovered how to shoot.

Ken and I went grizzly hunting that same year. It was exciting, intense, scary, and fun. Ken stalked a couple of grizzlies, whilst I followed and watched. Wanting to see everything, I looked like a jack-in-the-box as I continually popped my head up to take a peek. Heedless of my presence, Ken shot a nice grizzly. I looked forward to going hunting once more, as I located I enjoyed spotting and stalking game.

In 2005, Ken was on a quest for a Stone sheep, the last sheep he required for his Grand Slam, and I tagged along. Handful of items in life have ever struck me with such effect as that sheep hunt with Ken. There was beautiful country to experience, animals to be observed, and so much to discover. For 14 days I followed Ken all over the mountains, intrigued and in awe of almost everything. I thrived on the physical extreme of where it took my body. It was painful at instances, but I reveled in it. I had constantly been an outdoorsperson — loving to hike and camp — but sheep hunting was a totally various spectrum of the outdoors. At its most pleasant it’s tiring, and at its greatest it’s grueling. It can beat your physique into a screaming mass of charley horses, although the lack of sleep will numb you and leave you stumbling exactly where a stumble can bring death.

I can inform you that although becoming in the mountains hunting those sheep, I swear I had a spiritual conversion. The awe-inspiring, sheer steeples of rock had been God’s temple, and the precipices that will be traversed by no man designed a reverence for the Creator and nature, and for me, an overpowering thankfulness for God
and all His creation. Every single time we crested a mountain, I would appear at God’s glory stretched out ahead of us and choke back tears of joy and gratitude for all the beauty of the isolated wilderness. And with humbleness I gained a sense of my personal insignificance in the fantastic bounty of nature and time, and a fantastic respect for the animals that contact the wilderness home.

A single afternoon. Ken and I topped a ridge above some sheep, and then slowly slid on our bellies to peer over the edge. The sturdy ammonia smell of sheep urine mixed with the musky smell of droppings stung my nose. My senses heightened, and as we gazed down on these rams, I knew without a doubt that I was meant to hunt. Ken harvested a stunning Stone ram on that hunt to complete his Grand Slam, and I, as a hunter, was born. I was hooked on sheep, and on bowhunting.

Since Ken had been right after his Grand Slam, there was often talk about sheep hunting — who had hunted, harvested, and gotten their Slam — so I knew no woman had taken an archery Slam, and only a handful of had completed it with a rifle. The most frequent reply I’d get when I’d ask why a lady had in no way accomplished it, was that it was challenging. Few males had taken a Grand Slam, and females didn’t hunt challenging sufficient, or weren’t passionate adequate about it, to endure the hardships that come with bowhunting sheep.

That’s when I knew I would do what no lady had yet done. I knew with no a doubt I was meant to be the 1st female to take all four North American wild sheep species with a bow. I was confident I could hunt as hard as any man, and I knew that I was totally physically and mentally capable of undertaking such a challenge. Though Ken cautioned me it would be a tough and expensive undertaking, and that I needed to be totally committed, he didn’t dissuade me, and he completely supported my choice to go for it. So with Ken’s mentorship and belief in me, I began my personal quest. I need to say “we” began, as Ken was with me on all my sheep hunts.


I have often put a lot of time into my preparation for each and every hunt, including the cold-climate hunts that were portion of my quest for the Super Slam.

The year 2006 was a excellent 1, as Ken began pursuing the remaining animals he required to full his Super Slam, and I hunted my very first sheep, a Rocky Mountain bighorn in the Bow Zone location of Canmore, Alberta. What started out as a crisp, cool November hunt, turned into one heck of a cold hunt. Temperatures plummeted to –20 degrees, and adequate snow fell that in locations not windblown, I struggled by means of thigh-deep snow and fell into a couple of holes up to my waist. The nights spent on the mountain must have been –40. It was so cold you couldn’t sleep. All you could do was lay there and shiver, hoping that if you did fall asleep, you wouldn’t be frozen strong in the morning.

It was cold. It was trying. It was also outstanding, as the rams had been in rut and fighting for ewes. We just kept pushing, and on the 12th day of the hunt we got on a killable ram. The air was a brittle –25 that day. Despite the fact that my release was tucked up inside the sleeve of my coat, the spring had frozen and I couldn’t operate the release trigger, so my guide pulled out a lighter and unfroze it. I created the shot, and killed the initial ram of my Grand Slam. My very first ram! I hadn’t let the brutal cold beat me, and with that my confidence level spiked. Enduring the brutal cold just reinforced for me that I could hunt via something.

The next sheep hunt was for a Dall ram, which would take me 5 years to successfully bring house. In the meantime, I hunted desert bighorns and Stone sheep. The sheep gods favored me and I killed my Stone sheep on the initial day of the hunt, and my desert ram on the second day of that hunt. Although I was grateful to get those two rams rapidly, I felt cheated with the hunts being more than so speedily. I know saying I felt cheated when I had speedily harvested stunning rams doesn’t make a lot of sense, but to me it is not just about the harvest. It’s about the whole encounter and the adventures and challenges that await every morning and reveal themselves throughout the day.


My initial adore is bowhunting sheep, and when I finally accomplished the Grand Slam of sheep by taking all four species — Rocky Mountain bighorn, Stone, desert, and Dall sheep ­— it was a springboard toward my subsequent aim of achieving the Super Slam.

My Dall ram was the hardest to earn, and I truly had to prove my worth to bring him property. On a single hunt in 2008, we hunted hard for 10 days — backpacking 10–13 miles and climbing 3,000 to five,000 feet in elevation each and every and every day. We by no means spotted a legal ram. That was a tough hunt. The hunt that I ultimately harvested my Dall ram on was miserably wet and cold with higher winds, fog, sleet, hail, and snow. Any ugly that the weather could throw at us it did, and it threw it with force. The tough-earned ram taken on that hunt was to be my Grand Slam ram.

When I finished my Grand Slam in 2010, Ken only had a couple of animals left for his Super Slam. As Ken had been accompanying me on my sheep hunts, I had been going with him on numerous of his hunts, also harvesting game. By the time I finished my Grand Slam, I had currently killed a quantity of other species. So, of course, now I figured I should get my Super Slam.

Ken was after once more shaking his head. We had been spending a fortune, and most of our time, on hunting. He thought when he had completed his Super Slam and I had completed my Grand Slam we would go back to just hunting for the entertaining of it. But I couldn’t quit. Men and women who are driven do not typically quit. Often you want to, but you may well feel selfish or think oneself crazy for pursuing the purpose. But then it is not in your character to quit. You would be defeating yourself by quitting. The one issue about Super Slammers is that they are competitive, and their most significant competitors lies within themselves.

For Ken and I, 2011 proved to be a pivotal year. My husband completed his Super Slam by taking a Canadian moose in Newfoundland, and I hunted 10 huge game species and killed seven. A single of the tags I drew was for a Shiras moose in Idaho. We booked a 10-day hunt, and as the days wore on we saw a few bulls, but we had no luck with them.

On the seventh day, we walked into a marshy pond that had really a bit of sign and heard the faint “glunking” of a bull moose. We rapidly got set up, and by the time I was settled in, my guide was calling and thrashing trees behind me.

The bull nonchalantly walked into the open marsh and crossed in front of me about 60 yards out. As he approached a point of brush in the marsh, he was about 45 yards away. But I hesitated, afraid to shoot a moving animal, even if it was enormous.

Then the bull walked about the point and into a pond, where he stood with his hindquarters straight facing me. A bull moose is constantly fairly a sight, but to witness one stomping, urinating, and grunting in a waterhole is quite the show.

My guide continued calling and raking behind me. The moose sooner or later turned, looked our way, and then started walking out on the trail he had taken in. Suddenly, he veered our way, coming straight on. Now I was afraid to shoot since if I missed the sweet spot on his chest I’d get brisket, neck, or shoulder. I can shoot near-excellent targets all day long, but holding it collectively on game is yet another issue. I didn’t want to go property without this animal, so I knelt there in the brush and waited.

I can make this frontal shot, I thought, as the bull closed to 25 yards. As I drew, I knocked my bow against a bush in front of me, which caused the bull to pull up brief. I realized I would have to stand to shoot over the brush, and I knew if I did that he would bolt, so I waited.

The bull finally began to move forward, but possessing been at complete draw for so lengthy, my arms had been starting to shake, and at about eight yards he hesitated. I do not know if the bull stopped simply because he saw me shaking, but as we made eye speak to I struggled to be nevertheless.

I was shaking so undesirable I was afraid that even if I shot at that close variety I’d screw it up. The bull started walking again. Not knowing if he would charge over the leading of me when I released, I waited a handful of seconds much more, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he came even with me.

He was so close, I could nearly attain out and touch him. As his head and neck passed me, I pivoted and released. Thank God the bull lunged the other way, as I’d shot him at just two yards. That was one particular heck of a hunt, and a single busy year!

In 2012, I hunted seven distinct species and killed 5. I now had 21 of the 29 species that make up the Super Slam. But the problem with ambitions like the Super Slam is the more animals you get killed, the much more the stress mounts to get the Slam carried out. Then it slowed down and seemed to drag on, with my taking only a couple animals a year. Getting a brown bear killed was providing me fits. Of all the animals I’ve hunted, they seem to have the best noses and the best sixth sense of danger. No doubt, if I was a better hunter and not so intimidated by the bears, I would have gotten a single sooner.

One particular of the downfalls of setting hunting ambitions is it can zap the fun appropriate out of hunting. You nonetheless go hunting, have a excellent adventure and a excellent time, but there is pressure to get the subsequent animal on the list. And when you have to hunt the very same animal numerous times it gets pretty stressful, because in some situations, or perhaps most, lack of bringing one particular home rests totally on the hunter’s shoulders. It often is not due to lack of game or possibilities, but rather poor shooting or choice-making by the hunter.

A single of the things I’ve learned through hunting is most of the time there are no excuses to make. You either get it carried out, or you don’t. I constantly hated it when Ken would say that, but he’s appropriate. Ken’s the sort of guy who gets it done whereas, I battle fears of producing bad shots and have a tendency to hesitate. Nonetheless, in June of 2016, I was in a position to lastly complete my Super Slam by taking my 29th species — a grizzly bear.

Although it seemed like I waited a lifetime to hunt, when I did start off hunting I crammed a lifetime of hunting into about a decade. When I 1st started bowhunting, I personally knew only two other girls who shot a bow. They had been mentored by their male hunting companions, just as I was. I did not look to other women for inspiration in the bowhunting realm, as no woman was performing what I wanted to do. Males had been my mentors and supporters. By the time I had taken my Grand Slam, the upward trend in the quantity of girls taking up hunting had grown significantly, and it continued to rise with the advent of social media. The far more females see that other women are hunting, fishing and loving the outdoors, the much more encouraged they grow to be to try it for themselves. In taking the Grand Slam and Super Slam, I’ve shown my daughters and granddaughters that you genuinely can do whatever you want. I’ve also taught them to by no means set their sights low, but rather dream big, and then dream even larger. Believe you can do it and perform toward your objective. It does not matter whether you locate assistance from other females, or from men, surround yourself with like-minded individuals who appreciate what you are attempting and can give you strong suggestions. Embrace that tips, and then reach for your purpose, whatever it may possibly be.

The author is the very first female archer to take the Grand Slam of wild sheep and the Super Slam of the 29 North American big game species. She resides in Fairbanks, Alaska.

Author’s Note: I hunt with a Mathews bow, Easton arrows (both carbon and aluminum, depending on game), Magnus broadheads (85 to 125 grains, depending on game), Spot-Hogg sight, Trophy Taker rest, Swarovski binoculars, and a Leica rangefinder.