Tempted by the idea of seeing the group of bighorn again, I set out on the same hike that I had done on Wednesday. Despite doing this two days prior, it was much more challenging because nearly a foot of fine powder dropped the day before. The 8.5 mile roundtrip with 3,000 feet of vertical up and back down was a different beast entirely on this day. Because of the windy conditions, I knew that once I got above treeline that the snow depth wouldn't be too bad, but slogging up the mountain in untracked powder was intense. The strong headwinds only added to the difficulty, but I made decent time overall.

Along the way I passed very fresh moose tracks, but I forged ahead because I wanted to spend as much time as possible near the bighorn. I kept my camera packed away until I got far enough to maybe see the group again. As it turns out, if I had arrived only one or two minutes later, I might have missed them entirely.

My guess is that most of the herd was either tucked away on the cliffs, or they had moved higher up to a different location. When I arrived at the place where I had seen them last, I spotted two rams working their way uphill. They both noticed me, but seem hardly concerned. They paused for a moment, and continued their steady climb.

As soon as he took his first step, I could tell that the leading ram was injured. He wasn't using his back right leg, and he hopped along using his other three. It was hard to see at first, but it was clear that his ankle or foot was terribly injured. I wondered if I had seen him two days ago before the injury, or if this was a new ram entirely?

Even though he was badly injured, in just a couple of minutes he had traveled several hundred yards away and it was surprisingly difficult to see them with the naked eye. I seriously doubt that I would have seen them at all, had I not arrived when/where I did. At their closest, they were only about 125 yards away, but that only lasted a brief moment.

I found it interesting that the second ram kept behind him the entire time. Achilles, the injured ram, took his time. Stopping to rest every so often, and the second ram would gently nudge his rear. It was as if the healthy ram stayed back to help and encourage Achilles to continue on up the mountain. Perhaps they were on their way to rejoin the larger group?

I wanted to follow them, but I didn't want to risk causing any stress given the bad injury. I waited on the windy slope to see if any other bighorn would appear, but I never spotted any others. The pockets of snow, strong winds and the mix of rocky/grassy terrain made it really tough to focus on the fine details in the distance. Even though I knew the two rams were a quarter mile away at this point, it was surprisingly difficult to see them at all. I wondered how many others may be within view, but too tough to see.

It's hard to imagine surviving in such a harsh environment at all, much less with a serious injury. I wonder if this winter will be his last, or if somehow he can heal and persevere. I was impressed that he could still scale the cliffs, but it was clear that he was struggling. It's doubtful that I'll make it up to this area again until spring, but hopefully the impressive ram's leg is able to heal over the weeks and months ahead.