A Day in Borrego Palm Canyon: Witnessing the Majestic Bighorn Sheep

By Arun Balakrishnan

On a warm October day, I found myself with a few wildlife trackers in the first wash in Borrego Palm Canyon. There were no other people around. The chupa rosas were a vibrant red, there were signs of rabbits feeding on the vegetation, and we found a long coyote trail trotting right down the wash. I was excited. I was still new to the desert, perhaps my second year of making trips to it, but the beauty of the place had worked its way into my heart.
 
All at once, I heard a loud sound; it sounded like a gunshot. I looked around, searching for the source. A minute later, there was another bang. It was coming from a distance. Others heard it, too. There shouldn’t be gunshots in the Park. Three of us decided to check it out and climbed out of the wash and onto the rocks to the northern side. We scanned but didn’t see anything.

But we heard the sound again.

It seemed to be coming from the canyon wall to the north, quite far from us. We went as fast as possible over the rugged desert landscape, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes. There was no rhythm to the sound. One bang would boom in the still air, followed by a long silence. And then it stopped abruptly.
 
We kept hiking towards the now silent location. When we neared the canyon wall, we clambered onto a boulder and saw a mixed group of bighorn sheep, rams, ewes, and yearlings on the slope. They seemed undisturbed. A yearling was chasing another. Everything seemed right.
 
Then I saw a ram sizing up another, nostrils flaring. The other ram stretched its neck, tilted back his head, and raised his horns. The intent was clear; it was a challenge. I was seeing rutting. The two rams faced each other, perhaps 10 or 15 feet apart, reared onto their hind legs, simultaneously propelled themselves, landed, and crashed into each other. Their horn’s impact sounded like a gunshot, and I knew where the source of the sound was from.

As the rams lined up for another round, a third ram observing them came and kicked one of the combatants and pushed it to line it directly in front of the other. The third ram was acting as a referee in the match. The Bighorn skull is strong enough to take the impact of these clashes, and the base of the horn is thick to prevent the opponent’s tip from accidentally getting through and causing severe injury. However, the best protection is afforded when the sheep clash head-on and not at an angle. The third ram was not a referee but more of a safety coordinator. After they were lined up again, the rams reared up, and as they descended onto all fours and raced towards each other, the acceleration and speed they generated were incredible. In a few short paces, they flew into a resounding collision.
 
And then it was over, dominance had been established. The Rams returned to peaceful browsing. A yearling came by, clearly young and excited. It tried to clash its horn with a giant ram, and the ram peacefully lowered his head and let the young sheep go through the motion without reacting.
 
As naturalists, we know of the many adaptations that bighorn sheep have that allow them to inhabit the desert: morphological adaptations like the reinforced skull, physiological adaptations like their carotid rete, and phenological adaptations like coinciding breeding and lamb birth with plant availability.
 
However, I am also struck by their behavioral adaptations. They remind me of what I saw 15 years ago. Over time, I have learned that ewes form social groups and watch over other ewes’ lambs. A ram will mentor a younger male navigating different locations and resources. These majestic creatures learn, teach, and engage in complex social behavior to create a life despite the desert stresses.
 
I am drawn to animals, and observing them in their natural habitat has made me realize how much more there is to their lives, behaviors, and social interactions. It makes me want to be a lifelong naturalist and share the joy with others.