Well, no deer again today, surprise. Are you starting to lose faith in my hunting abilities yet? If you aren't, I salute your persistence, because I am. Just kidding. We actually got a pick me upper thingy today, WE SAW A DEER THAT WE LEGALLY COULD HAVE SHOT! YEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAW! Too bad that he took off before we could turn him into food, but hey, at least we got a tiny little sliver of a chance right?
We even got a look at the same deer later, we even could have shot him legally the second time too. Too bad that he was about a hundred yards away . . . . . straight down. Which would have required dragging him a hundred yards . . . . . straight up. Do you see why my freezer is still empty? It's enough hope to bring us back for more though, in spite of everything else that went wrong. But then again it doesn't take much to keep us amused. Simple minds, simple pleasures I guess.
Here's a few nature pics for you all to enjoy. I'm starting to like this whole idea of telling a story with pictures. Thank goodness for digital cameras, I take a lot more pics now that I don't have to pay to get them developed.
We saw these two first thing this morning, last year's fawns. Awful cute, would probably be awful tasty, but to shoot them would be just awful. First of all they're too young, I may be a deerslayer but I ain't no Bambi killer. Second, they're illegal, can't shoot does in this district and since they don't got horns, they ain't legal. I wondered where their mommy was, until I spied her skylined up on top of a hill, she sure looked important up there, I'm starting to enjoy taking pictures of deer almost as much as eating them. I just need a bigger zoom.
Now obviously we couldn't shoot her because does aren't legal, but can you give me one more reason why this one would be a bad idea? If you said because she's skylined, put a gold star next to your name. What goes up must come down, and you don't want a stray bullet coming down in a bad place, so the best way to avoid that is to not send a stray bullet up in the air in the first place. If there isn't a good backstop, don't shoot. I don't really know this stuff, it's just what my kid told me. ;)
So, we headed a little further west, in search of happier hunting grounds. Is it just me or are the Crazy Mountains just about the finest darn thing in the world to bounce a sunrise off of? I need to start taking the camera to work with me, I've seen some of the most outstanding sunrise photo ops up around Big Timber, the Crazies all lit up in shades of pink and red, I'll have to get some pics of it someday.
Oh yeah, we're hunting, almost forgot. We headed up into the mountains and once again, deer lining both sides of the road, on private land, with big orange fence posts all around it, damn PETA. There was one fair sized 4 point buck in the bunch, a couple spikes and a two point, nothing spectacular, but I'm not a horn hunter. They all would have been legal had they not been on private land. There was an absolute plethora of does, since does are illegal this year there should be more deer next year than you can shake a multipointed stick at. Maybe I should just give up until next year. Maybe I should give up entirely. Maybe I should just take some time off, and then quit.
Shortly after passing all of these deer which were safely resting in a PETA preserve, we entered National Forest land and spied a little spike. SPIKES ARE LEGAL! FOREST SERVICE IS LEGAL! YEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!
I didn't actually yell yeehaaw but I wanted to. Instead I drove on down the road a little bit since deer rarely run from a vehicle until it stops and people get out and start shooting. I parked the truck in a wide spot in the road and we started walking back down the draw that we spotted the little spike standing in about 3/4 of a mile back. We got to where he was just in time to see where he wasn't. He boogied, and took his girlfriends with him, not so much as a trace. We'd find out where he boogied to later, but first we had to get the truck stuck.
Now you may wonder why I accompany my last statement with so little fanfare, easy, It isn't a complete hunting season unless you get the truck stuck at least once, it just isn't. For someone with luck like mine, it isn't a complete hunting season unless you get the truck stuck way the hell back in the way back, without a prayer of anyone coming along to help, and with all of your get unstuck type of gear safely stowed at home in the garage where it belongs. Don't want it getting dirty now do we?
So anyway, we slide off of the damn trail, and the more I try to get back on it, the further down the hill the thing slides. Luckily it didn't just take off all the way down into the nethervoids of the rocks below right off the bat, thanks to a friendly old dead tree laying on the ground that was not only nice enough to stop my truck from being lost forever, but it did some groovy custom body work to the front half of my box as well. This is why I drive an old truck. Can you believe that some people take new trucks hunting. I was mildly annoyed when I saw the dent in my truck, I would have been mildly ballistic had I saw a similar dent in a truck that I was making 600 dollar a month payments on. But I don't make 600 dollar a month payments, and I don't call tow trucks, so now how the hell to get this thing out of here.
What happened next is the reason why I believe in a higher power, a higher power with a sense of humor, a higher power that quite likely created me simply for his own amusement. Luckily it doesn't seem to take too long for him to get done being amused by me, because for no reason at all, in the absolute middle of I ain't gonna see nobody for weeks type of nowhere, along comes another truck with two hunters in it.
These guys were local and said that over the course of several years that they had lost track of how many trucks that they had helped out of the exact same predicament that we were in. One of the guys said that he had been stuck in the same spot just a week before, for about the millionth time in his life, so I didn't feel so stupid. It was just one of those truck trap kinda spots. So anyway, they helped, we dug, they towed, I cussed, and eventually my now blemished beasty was back on the trail. I was happy, they were happy, my kid was happy, and they were even happier when I handed them 50 bucks for their trouble. They didn't have to stop, they didn't have to spend an hour and a half helping me, they didn't have to break their tow strap, and I don't call tow trucks. Thanks guys.
I'm gonna start a new activist group. I'm gonna call it PETT. People for the Ethical Treatment of Trucks. I won't be eligible for membership, I'm just gonna start it.
Now why my son still goes hunting with me I have no idea, I think that he gets just as amused as the creator with my antics. Maybe he's a glutton for punishment like his old man, I don't know but it doesn't seem like a year can go by without me putting him in some type of potentially desperate peril, in some desperately remote location, with nothing but a desperate hope of rescue. Sounds desperate, doesn't it? Somehow we always seem to come out alright though. Reminds me of the many adventures that I had with my dad . . . . is bad/good luck hereditary? I think ingenuity is, my dad doesn't call tow trucks either. ;)
So once again we're motoring happily along when on the way back down to civilization our new found friends stop and start pointing down a great precipice. We jump out of the battered beasty and low and behold, far below us is our little friend Spike. We could've shot him, we could've walked back down that same coulee we were walking down earlier that day and managed to drag him back to the road albeit it would've still been uphill, or we could let him live another day since we were all tired from heaving a 5200 pound Chevy truck around for the last hour and a half. We let him live. Maybe he'll be a two point next year. Maybe we'll find his daddy next week. Maybe I'll trade my rifle for a set of needles and hoops and take up embroidery and the SOB can die of old age for all I care.
All this and I haven't even tried to go elk hunting yet. How about cross stitch?