Today, we did everything wrong, well, we did everything wrong according to the experts anyway. How do experts get to be experts anyhow? Oh yeah, the story.
This morning bright and early at 5:30 AM my alarm clock starts to wail out the message that it's time to get my lazy ass out of bed and go hunting. I awoke to the terrible drone only to realize that my bed was warm, my arm was around my beautiful wife, and I didn't want to get my lazy ass out of bed and go hunting, so I turned it off and went back to sleep . . . . . . Until noon.
Gee, I must have been tired.
So anyway, I drag my big butt out of bed, load up the hunting gear and we're off. Took a little detour through my 2nd best friend Brian's place, didn't see a thing. Well, we saw trees, but they're always there, I managed to resist the urge to hug one. It was tough to do but . . . .
Having struck out there we headed on further west, back to where we got the truck stuck last week. I took my other truck this time, it's 2 wheel drive so I ain't stupid enough to get off of the main road with it, it's safer that way. Add that to the fact that I wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of dumping another C-note worth of Exxon's finest down the gullet of the Beasty and the "little" truck just made better sense. The Beasty is a lot more fun, but it's a hungry Beasty.
We didn't get a chance to get too many nature pics today, just a few of some deer that were all pretty much in the same places as last week. Gee, I wonder if they really do know where people can't shoot at them?
The little fella above was even sportin' some little antlerlets, just cute as a bug's ear ain't he?
This was his girly friend, they were enjoying the safety of the private land at the base of the mountain, I can't say that I blame them.
So we drive on past these deer and several others hoping that since there's so many down here maybe there's a few spilling over onto the Forest Service land. There were, seemingly more so than last week. Deer were running back and forth across the road in front of us but all were does, and all were quite intent on getting somewhere . . . somewhere that we weren't . . . and they weren't wasting any time getting there.
We continue on up the road and who do we run into? Well we didn't run into him, but we met up with him, you know what I mean. We happen across our new buddy Cliff. Him and his dad were the ones that helped us get the Beasty out of the ditch last week. I'm beginning to think that this guy is stalking me, maybe he's thinking the same thing about us, who knows.
Anyway, he tells us that he saw a little three point about a hundred yards behind him so we park the rustbucket and go sneaking vewy vewy quietly up to where we can see down into the great gorge that he indicated. Sure enough, about half way up the opposite side, stood a three point muley buck, and he didn't seem too concerned that we were there, if he even knew that we were there. I pointed him out to my son only to be greeted with the only response that a kid can possibly muster when confronted with a task so daunting as looking in the general direction that his father is pointing.
"Right there, right between those two big trees!"
"Where, I don't see him?"
"Righ . . . . . Oh for Christ's sake gimme the damn rifle."
Maybe the kid was just waiting for the old man to show him how it was done, I don't know, but if that was the case, he's fresh out of excuses now. In the kid's defense, my dad had to show me how it was done before I shot my first one too. It's a big step for a kid, shooting his first deer, I was really unsure of myself at that age too. Seeing the old man do it really boosted my confidence, when I got my next chance, I didn't hesitate. I don't think that he will either, he's even more stoked about it now than he was before.
The fun part, however, had just begun. Remember when I told you that he was half way up the other side of a great gorge? My better judgment had told me that I shouldn't even shoot a deer in such a hateful place as this, but I was just tired of coming home skunked, and besides, I never listen to my better judgment. My better judgment is a flaming party pooper. My better judgment never tells me to do anything fun. Screw my better judgment.
This is the type of terrain that we were dealing with.
Everything on this little corner of the globe is straight up, or straight down, and we had about a hundred yards of straight down to get down to get to the deer, then about a hundred yards of straight up to drag him straight up in order to get him back to the road. Did I mention that it was straight up?
Sometime well after dark, the task was completed, we got deer to skin pilgrim.
So anyway, one tag filled, several more to go, one more week of hunting season left. Will the kid bag his first buck? Will the old man find an elk dumb enough to walk in front of his rifle and commit suicide? Will the kid pay his old man back for making him help drag a deer up a cliff by shooting the elk first? Will the old man make the kid walk back to town? Stay tuned for our next episode.
Oh yeah, the trophy monster, I almost forgot.