I held a bighorn ram's head in my hands today.

Dead, of course. One of the rams in our northern mountains somehow broke his hind leg, and had to be put down by the game warden. Who, knowing the value of these rare animals, salvaged the horns and cape. With them in the freezer, the outfit has a year to figure out where to donate this trophy, and how to pay for the taxidermy.

I thought at first it was the ram everybody and his uncle got pictures of last summer.

It wasn't. The ram in the freezer had broomed both horns, breaking off both lamb tips. Could count at least nine annular rings in his horns.

Then I thought it might be the ram I saw last October. So I checked my pictures from last fall.

As you can see, that fellow still had his lamb tips, too, and was only seven years old.

Wasn't him, either.