His Name is "Dolly"

Dolly rhymes with Dall I think.

After a long night of packing we finally fell into bed after midnight and set the alarm for 5AM with a little sick feeling in my gut knowing the time would slip by so quickly. The relentless racket of the alarm broke my dreamless rest only moments after shutting my eyes and my arm shot out to pound the snooze button for another glorious 6 minutes of rest. The excitement of the days prospects slowly ran through my brain and and I chased them away to gain those last few moments of bliss before the buzzing returned. Finally ousted from our bed Heidi and I set about our final preparations for our adventure. We set out full speed ahead on Lake Clark and up the shore to Copper Mountain where we intended to go to the far end of the mountain to start our assault of the 4500' peak. We changed our plans a bit after seeing the large cloud cap on the top quarter of the mountain. Not wanting to get turned around in the fog on top we opted for a more cautious and probably arduous journey up the south west rib. Our fears where not ill placed and with-in hours we were battling up hill into a sea of alders. We felt like the alders were the mountains sentinels sent to protect its slopes from the human invaders and trying to turn us back at every step. Every now and then we would find a small clearing that would afford us a few modest gains but then back to the war until we were allowed to gain the high ground and set foot above tree line. The cloud cap on the mountain soon absorbed us and we crept up the hill expectantly, only able to see a few hundred yards in front of us. It was nearing noon and the thick clouds were persistent, we worked our way up the ridge and stopped to check some suspicious shapes that turned out to be rocks. Suddenly the clouds disappeared and no more than 200 yards away sat a group of nine rams resting peacefully in their ignorance of our presence. For thirty minutes or more we sat and studied our new friends trying to decide which one to take home. We finally decided on our favorite one and Heidi took care full aim. The rifle shot pierced the crisp afternoon air and all the sheep jumped to their feet and our new buddy headed down hill away from the group. We chased the poor fellow and finally got a chance for a second shot and Heidi nailed him. He plunged down the slopes and landed on his feet only to bed down behind a large rock and nurse his wounds. The fatal bullet found him in his bed and the rugged terrain swept him down hill. Over and over he rolled, end over end all the while Heidi and I willing him to stop only to see his feet once more raising over his head. Finally it came to a rest and we began to make our way down being care full not to succumb to the same fate ourselves. We were amazed to find his beautiful horns unscathed by the tremendous fall and his body hardly worse for the tumble. First came the pictures and then we set to work quartering him up for the long walk down the mountain. We boned him out on the slope to save weight and began the death march back down the mountain eyeing the alders waiting for us with open branches. Apparently those alders didn't mind us leaving their lofty terrain, we found the controlled fall down much more appealing than pushing up. Soon we were down into the woods and the lake not far in the distance. We pushed on, eager for a long drink as our water supply had run down to nothing and our mouths were feeling thirsty. A stiff walk down the beach a few miles returned us to the boat and we retrieved our packs only to head off into the waining light in search of our bed and a warm house. We had made a memory that we will not soon forget and long after the meat has passed our lips his horns will grace our wall. She called him Dolly on the way home and I thought it was an odd name for a ram but . . . it did rhyme.

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