We were leading the sturdy Tibetan ponies along a slanting, boulder-strewn bench above a deep ravine. From several ridges away we had seen a huge herd of blue sheep, appearing in the distance like flecks of pepper on the spring-green tablecloth of a flat bench. We had ridden a long way around to get behind and above them with the wind right, and I figured we could look down on them from the crest that lay just ahead.

Then came a scrambling in the rocks just ahead of us as the rear ends of two rams dropped out of sight. Throwing the reins to our young wrangler, my guide and I rushed to the edge and looked down, but the mountain dropped away so precipitously that the sheep were already hidden. I set the rifle over a rock and waited; the cut was so steep on both sides that the far wall wasn't all that far away.

In a few moments both rams appeared, working their way up the far side of the ravine. The lead ram was small, with horns that were longish but slender. I shifted to the second ram, then sucked in what little breath I had. He was a bigger animal, heavy-horned with great bananas that seemed to make a full half-circle, exceptional for the small Chinese blue sheep.

They were a bit over 400 yards away, maybe possible--except they were still moving. I waited while they zig-zagged their way up the steep slope, finally stopping in a small saddle just across from us. Now the range was 600 yards, way out of my league. I looked at my guide and shook my head as, with a backward glance our way, the two rams disappeared through the saddle.

We waited a few moments, then my Tibetan friend made some gestures, his meaning unmistakable. He wanted to drop down into the bottom, climb up through the same saddle, and try to get another look at that big ram. I was thinking the same thing, but I was also looking at that steep ravine. Our camp was at nearly 15,000 feet, and we'd left it far, far below. I figured the high ridges we had crossed were at least 18,000 feet high, and we hadn't dropped down much. I'd led my horse up and down the steepest spots, but it hadn't been easy; there wasn't nearly enough air even for slow, level walking.

Then I thought about the quality of horns I was sure I'd seen. I took a couple of gulps of high, thin air, then echoed my guide's hand gestures. We would go down, then we would go up--and maybe, just maybe, that big ram would be somewhere in the hidden canyon beyond.

We had come to China to hunt a strange animal called the bharal or blue sheep. Although included on any listing of the world's wild sheep, the blue sheep, Psuedois nayaur is a psuedo-sheep--not of the true sheep Ovis genus.

The blue sheep has some characteristics of the sheep family and some of the goat family. It has a buff-colored body with a black chest, black legs and a black band running back from the front leg. At a distance these black highlights make the sheep appear blue, hence the name. It's a small animal, weighing perhaps 140 pounds with horns in the mid-20-inch range that curve up and out (and sometimes down in a half-circle).

There are two primary varieties: the somewhat larger and darker Himalayan race hunted in Nepal and the slightly smaller and more pale Chinese variety hunted in the Qinghai and Gansu provinces of western China. Either variety is the highest-dwelling large mammal in the world, often found at elevations up to 18,000 feet and occasionally higher than 20,000 feet.

The hunting camp was made up of classic yurts--colorful but also extremely well-insulated. They were heated using dried yak dung as fuel.

Why go all the way to China to hunt a small sheep? Because they are interesting and beautiful, because we could hunt them in March when there's not much else going on, and because it's the least expensive wild sheep hunting in the world.

There were four of us--John Chaves, Kim Kutsch, James Weatherly and me--and we'd set up the trip through Bob Kern's Hunting Consortium (540/955-0090). This was the first Asian hunt for the rest of the guys, but Kern has sent me to the roof of the world before and I trust him completely. The program included several days of sightseeing around Beijing before we headed for the sheep mountains.

It started with arrival at the Beijing airport--the part I dreaded. Having made several trips to, well, out-of-the-way parts of the world, I anticipated an ordeal getting through customs with rifles. Not so. Bob Kern's people were there to greet us, and we were met by Ms. Sui Yongai of the China Wildlife Conservation Association (and a retired colonel with People's Army of China), and she walked us through a spotlessly clean airport and through very brief, courteous formalities. Since we wouldn't be hunting for a few days, our gun cases and ammunition were locked in a police strong room at the airport. Very shortly after that, we were sleeping off our let lag in a clean, comfortable hotel.

Boddington's Chinese adventure included some excellent sightseeing, such as a stop at the Great Wall. That alone made the trip a memorable one.

The next day we toured the Forbidden City by way of Tianamen Square. The architecture of the latter is beautiful, and many treasures of this last palace of the Ming Dynasty are available for viewing. We were also within sight of the old Legation Quarter, where incredibly small numbers of us "foreign devils" banded together and held out against incredible odds during the Boxer Rebellion of 1900 and where great heroes of my Marine Corps were made: Dan Dailey, who won a Medal of Honor holding his post alone with rifle and bayonet; and Smedley "Old Gimlet Eye" Butler, who fought his way through from Tientsin as part of the relief column.