Poachers pose significant threat
Trophy hunters should shelve abhorrent acts
By Charlie Meyers
Denver Post Outdoors Editor
No one knows for sure what happened to the Morrison ram - at least no one who's eager to talk about it.
This grand specimen that suddenly appeared a couple of years ago on the slopes of the hogback southwest of Denver to titillate onlookers hasn't been seen in months, gone as mysteriously as it appeared.
"Mr. Magnificent" is what Kent Ingram named the bighorn sheep whose horn kept spiraling back on itself, like a Slinky on steroids. A veteran hunter and conservationist, the Littleton resident estimates the ram easily surpassed the current Colorado state record and even might approach the 208 3/8 score of the world-record bighorn taken in 2000 in Alberta, Canada.
Biologists believe the animal drifted over from an established herd in Waterton Canyon, evidenced by a ear tag given to members of the Waterton herd.
"He definitely was a big boy, an old ram past prime, and certainly one of the most photographed rams in Colorado history," said Janet George, former wildlife biologist for the area.
The Morrison ram was seen by hundreds, which ultimately may have contributed to its demise. Many approached an animal that had become habituated to humans much too closely, and one day it simply was gone, a puzzle that never may be solved. Some believe it might have retreated to a more secluded site or even returned to its Waterton origins.
The ram obviously was of great age, susceptible to the vicissitudes of disease and seasonal stress.
"I'd like to think he's either still alive or got taken down by a mountain lion," Ingram allowed. "But when an animal is that exposed to people, that vulnerable, you wonder."
No such wonder surrounds a slightly less impressive ram that until three months ago lived near the west end of Glenwood Canyon as part of a herd of bachelor bighorns in an area where no hunting is allowed. Joshua Eli Lloyd, 25, of Glenwood Springs, awaits trial on charges of illegally shooting the ram, then stuffing its head in a culvert where he later appeared to retrieve it.
The scenario involving these animals 150 miles apart points up all too vividly the dangers to trophy big-game animals, particularly those that turn up in places where they easily are seen by humans. Only a couple of weeks before it was poached, this writer snapped a series of photographs with a telephoto lens of the Glenwood herd, marveling at the opportunity to view such splendid animals at relatively close range.
But this same accessibility all too often creates a problem when society's less desirable elements are unable to resist the temptation. Bighorn sheep, which frequently inhabit canyons shared with highways, prove particularly susceptible.
John Bredehoft, law enforcement chief with the Division of Wildlife, believes a single poacher killed 13 sheep along the Arkansas River south of Salida before officers put him behind bars.
While he couldn't estimate how many sheep are taken illegally each year, Bredehoft said his office issues from two to four citations for sheep violations each year. None were issued last year, but two holdover cases remain in the courts.
Bredehoft cites studies indicating that poachers take as many trophy animals of all species each year as licensed hunters.
"Two years ago we found 66 headless deer along the Colorado-Utah border," Bredehoft revealed. "We caught one of the guys last year. It only takes a couple of poachers to have a big effect on the winter ranges."
While many scofflaws escape detection, at least for a time, they now pay a heavy price for detection when they are caught. Under the so-called Sampson law, anyone convicted of poaching a trophy animal, which includes any sheep with at least a half-curl, faces an automatic fine of $25,000.
In addition, willful destruction of game, almost always a component of a trophy poaching case, is a felony punishable by a fine of up to $100,000. Most who receive felony convictions also spend considerable time in jail.
The battle against wildlife outlaws may get a boost from a proposed regulation being pondered by the Colorado Wildlife Commission. If approved, this decree would reward a citizen who turns in a poacher with a license equal to that involved in the case.
For example, if someone provides information that leads to the conviction of someone who has killed a bighorn sheep illegally, the informant would have the opportunity to purchase a prized sheep tag for a subsequent hunt.
Officials hope such an incentive will enlist more eyes and ears in the effort to protect Colorado's valuable wildlife resource, while introducing another element of apprehension among potential lawbreakers. It certainly can't hurt.
Trophy hunters should shelve abhorrent acts
By Charlie Meyers
Denver Post Outdoors Editor
No one knows for sure what happened to the Morrison ram - at least no one who's eager to talk about it.
This grand specimen that suddenly appeared a couple of years ago on the slopes of the hogback southwest of Denver to titillate onlookers hasn't been seen in months, gone as mysteriously as it appeared.
"Mr. Magnificent" is what Kent Ingram named the bighorn sheep whose horn kept spiraling back on itself, like a Slinky on steroids. A veteran hunter and conservationist, the Littleton resident estimates the ram easily surpassed the current Colorado state record and even might approach the 208 3/8 score of the world-record bighorn taken in 2000 in Alberta, Canada.
Biologists believe the animal drifted over from an established herd in Waterton Canyon, evidenced by a ear tag given to members of the Waterton herd.
"He definitely was a big boy, an old ram past prime, and certainly one of the most photographed rams in Colorado history," said Janet George, former wildlife biologist for the area.
The Morrison ram was seen by hundreds, which ultimately may have contributed to its demise. Many approached an animal that had become habituated to humans much too closely, and one day it simply was gone, a puzzle that never may be solved. Some believe it might have retreated to a more secluded site or even returned to its Waterton origins.
The ram obviously was of great age, susceptible to the vicissitudes of disease and seasonal stress.
"I'd like to think he's either still alive or got taken down by a mountain lion," Ingram allowed. "But when an animal is that exposed to people, that vulnerable, you wonder."
No such wonder surrounds a slightly less impressive ram that until three months ago lived near the west end of Glenwood Canyon as part of a herd of bachelor bighorns in an area where no hunting is allowed. Joshua Eli Lloyd, 25, of Glenwood Springs, awaits trial on charges of illegally shooting the ram, then stuffing its head in a culvert where he later appeared to retrieve it.
The scenario involving these animals 150 miles apart points up all too vividly the dangers to trophy big-game animals, particularly those that turn up in places where they easily are seen by humans. Only a couple of weeks before it was poached, this writer snapped a series of photographs with a telephoto lens of the Glenwood herd, marveling at the opportunity to view such splendid animals at relatively close range.
But this same accessibility all too often creates a problem when society's less desirable elements are unable to resist the temptation. Bighorn sheep, which frequently inhabit canyons shared with highways, prove particularly susceptible.
John Bredehoft, law enforcement chief with the Division of Wildlife, believes a single poacher killed 13 sheep along the Arkansas River south of Salida before officers put him behind bars.
While he couldn't estimate how many sheep are taken illegally each year, Bredehoft said his office issues from two to four citations for sheep violations each year. None were issued last year, but two holdover cases remain in the courts.
Bredehoft cites studies indicating that poachers take as many trophy animals of all species each year as licensed hunters.
"Two years ago we found 66 headless deer along the Colorado-Utah border," Bredehoft revealed. "We caught one of the guys last year. It only takes a couple of poachers to have a big effect on the winter ranges."
While many scofflaws escape detection, at least for a time, they now pay a heavy price for detection when they are caught. Under the so-called Sampson law, anyone convicted of poaching a trophy animal, which includes any sheep with at least a half-curl, faces an automatic fine of $25,000.
In addition, willful destruction of game, almost always a component of a trophy poaching case, is a felony punishable by a fine of up to $100,000. Most who receive felony convictions also spend considerable time in jail.
The battle against wildlife outlaws may get a boost from a proposed regulation being pondered by the Colorado Wildlife Commission. If approved, this decree would reward a citizen who turns in a poacher with a license equal to that involved in the case.
For example, if someone provides information that leads to the conviction of someone who has killed a bighorn sheep illegally, the informant would have the opportunity to purchase a prized sheep tag for a subsequent hunt.
Officials hope such an incentive will enlist more eyes and ears in the effort to protect Colorado's valuable wildlife resource, while introducing another element of apprehension among potential lawbreakers. It certainly can't hurt.
