Cindi
Senior Member
I too, can't wait to see the photos, and really? 11 degrees and an inch of ice? You are a better person than I am.
Welcome Guest!
Its Official.....
- Thread starter MoeBirds
- Start date
Miguel Cervantes
Jedi Master
I do hope all of this will be published one day: "The Chronicles of Moe"
I'd buy it, what a great read.
I'd buy it, what a great read.
Tomboy Boots
Turkey Killer
The latest pics from Moebirds look an awful lot like WINTER! 
And a lot like heaven too if you love the idea of hunting in Montana 
Moe and the girls are out trying to gain access to the "field of dreams" today, wishing them luck 
Two of these pics show the field with all the deer, so spread out he couldn't get them all in one pic... Last but not least... The girls get to meet their new neighbors
Moe and the girls are out trying to gain access to the "field of dreams" today, wishing them luck Two of these pics show the field with all the deer, so spread out he couldn't get them all in one pic... Last but not least... The girls get to meet their new neighbors Attachments
NOTE: Hit print now and read it later when you’re on the john. It’s a long one and I couldn’t think of a more appropriate place to view such disturbing material.
……………………….
I’d done everything right; I’d brought the girls, worn my clean jeans, and red flannel shirt, along with a regular baseball cap that had a fly-fishing logo ‘SAGE’ on it and purposely didn’t wear anything camo or that made me look like a hunter bent on getting in the woods to kill everything he saw?
I drove up to the farmhouse and rang the doorbell, then instantly regretted not ‘knocking’, but was too late to take it back. As several cats wound their way between my boots, and it took all my restraint from kicking them across the porch, I could hear someone that sounded like they were hopping on one leg down a flight of stairs or were using a walker, but never getting closer? Then I heard a sliding door open and someone holler:” Can I help you, up here?”
I looked up and overhead was a deck of sorts, but couldn’t see a soul? “Uh yes mam…” I said, (hoping that was a woman I’d just said this too, else this was getting off to a bad start?) Then I saw an old gal in her 70’s, pink nightgown on, leaning heavily into a pair of wooden crutches. “Yes mam, I was wonderin whether it’d be possible to get permission to hunt your land?”
“Whut ya huntin?”
“Oh, mostly does and maybe some birds too?” I said, gesturing at Suzie and Boca hitting their mark perfectly -by sticking their heads out of the window and tongues out too and looking up at her smiling.
“Well, I’ll let ya shoot some does. Come on up.”
“Do I go inside down here and then upstairs?”
“No use the ones right next to ya?..Ya didn’t see em?” She said pointing to a huge set of exterior stairs I wasn’t 10 feet from, but was so nervous I hadn’t even noticed. She introduced herself as “Janice Holcombe”, of Holcombe Holsteins as the sign out front read, though looked a bit worn and I didn’t spy any cows nearby?
“Nice to meet you, I just thought I’d stop in today and get acquainted, not really lookin to hunt right now.”I said entering her kitchen which smelt like something was cookin
“Why not?”
“Well I got the girls down there and they aren’t to quiet in the truck when I’m out deer hunting. I mostly just wanted to make contact, as I couldn’t reach you by phone?”
“Are you the same idiot who kept calling letting it ring 3 times and hung up juss fore I got thare?!”
“Uh, no mam wasn’t me’ I only called once, maybe twice.” I lied
“Well, somebody did, bout nearly drove me crazy last week!”
“Probably telemarketers or something; I really hate when they call the house.”
............
“So about that field down there is that yours too?” I got right to the point, wanting to make this ‘short and sweet’ if possible.
“Yeah, but we done allow no huntin between Church Road and Holcombe.”
”So your saying no one can hunt that field?”
“That’s right cept my son. It’s too close to the farm house and don’t want no bullets coming thru my window, had that happen once a while back.”
“Well, guess I can understand that?” I said wholly dejected at this point and cursing Trevor under my breath for ‘lying to me’.
“Yeah, I hear Ted Turner lets folks hunt his place too, ‘cept charges $10 thousand dollars to shoot a buck?”, she said hobbling over to check her chicken, like she’d said it a million times…“At least here its free, cept you can’t shoot the bucks, them’s for the guys that lease the tract below it.”
“Yes mam well I really preciate this, and wanna thank ya for your hospitality. I won’t shoot nuthing but a doe I promise.” I said, dropping a little more ‘southern charm’ than was real.
“Where you from?”
“Well, lived last year on Crow REZ, fore that was in Gawga fore a spell?” I was killing it now, and admittedly having a little sport with her, frustrated about the no-buck policy…
“You sound funny.” She said, though meant it kinda mean, so I laid off it a bit.
“Well, I recon I better get goin?”
“Hey looky thare, the Grizz juss scored nuther point!” She said, not hearing a word I said, pointing at the TV.
Apparently I’d decided to visit on a Saturday when most guys and their wives and their mothers and grandmothers were glued to TV sets? As “the Grizz”, I later learned was some form of collegiate football team that plays for Missoula, versus Bozeman a big rivalry, and one ‘if I didn’t soon act like I was rooting for’ I’d never be allowed to hunt this part of the state again?!
“You sure you don’t wanna hunt right now? There’s hardly anyone out, since most guys are home watching the game.”
“Well maybe just for an hour or so; why not?” I said and signed a release form.
She sent me to one of her other tracts, away from the field, that “held a good population of mule deer” and one I’d passed several times and did – as I’d stopped and glassed them repeatedly, just no good bucks. It was adjoined by a large tract of state-land, which she had no control over, and if a buck was on it of course it was a legal kill. Same went for the tract down by the field really, as I’d been hunting the piece just north of it for days, but so had every other frustrated hunter ‘they couldn’t shoot the bucks off her place’; as it was in fact the BMA listed in the magazine.
This pressure from two sides was obviously what made her field the Mecca it was, as it provided an enormous source of food-alfalfa- and security; except when her son was hunting it. She did mention that the night I witnessed, and told her I’d counted 81, was “unusual and something must’ve been pushing them (hunters/RUT), as there weren’t usually that many”- by her count she’d come up with “over 50 at least?”
“No there was 81 deer for sure. I counted twice I couldn’t believe it!?”
………………….
Since the river-bottom adjoining the field was the other area she controlled, I passed on hunting it for ‘doe only’; as I just couldn’t say what my inner child might do if “a 12 point” she said was on her land (presumably:”The Man”) stepped out?
So with that, I asked if “it’d be okay I just sit, without a gun, and shoot some pictures one evening (on the field of dreams)?”
And she said: “It’d be fine.”
So while my dreams of shooting “The Man” with my new 270 may not happen*, I may get him at least on my Nikon? Torturous as that will be I won’t be spending any time soon during-season and will wait, assuming he survives, and maybe venture that way in December.
………………..
I headed down the road a piece and parked on the state-land side, not even contemplating entering hers’ as there were 5 huge bulls standing around mad at each other for some wrongdoing, I didn’t see any reason to get in the middle of them.
I worried over leaving the girls in the truck again, as it was quite chilly (28 degrees), but once I determined the interior temperature was around 80 with the heat on full-blast and would slowly cool from that point on; I left them into the frigid weather for the umpteenth time wondering whether I’d ever get a buck?
Oh Boca howled like an idiot, her separation-anxiety is at its peak when I leave her and Suzie alone in the truck and hoof it up a mountain out of sight. I gave her a few nips on the remote trying to teach her to stop it, but eventually I simply moved out of earshot and forgot all about her and instead focused on the mule deer just over the rise.
Though this was the same group of does I’d seen countless times before, I’d read recently ‘the big boys might be up near the top, a few hops from escape over the mountain, and perhaps watching their harem from a hidden vantage-point?’ Because of this new information, not having been previously aware they even kept harems, plus the mountain more of a hill and easier to reach the summit; I made it up there pretty quickly and began glassing and stalking to within range- certain a big boy was up there somewhere?
But as things go with me on these hunts as of late; success is in the eye of the beholder and it’s looking more and more like I’ll be holding an unsuccessfully filled buck tag at the end of it
?
I did have a very close encounter though, as at one point a small muley buck with split forks, but rather thin ones, stood not 15 feet upwind from me and fed casually unaware I was even in the world?...
..Or ‘the world of pain being pinned-down by him unable to move for close to a half-hour on a sharp and rocky slope, my rangefinder and deer call, wedged precariously into a region of my body not used to such intrusion’.
.............
……………………….
I’d done everything right; I’d brought the girls, worn my clean jeans, and red flannel shirt, along with a regular baseball cap that had a fly-fishing logo ‘SAGE’ on it and purposely didn’t wear anything camo or that made me look like a hunter bent on getting in the woods to kill everything he saw?
I drove up to the farmhouse and rang the doorbell, then instantly regretted not ‘knocking’, but was too late to take it back. As several cats wound their way between my boots, and it took all my restraint from kicking them across the porch, I could hear someone that sounded like they were hopping on one leg down a flight of stairs or were using a walker, but never getting closer? Then I heard a sliding door open and someone holler:” Can I help you, up here?”
I looked up and overhead was a deck of sorts, but couldn’t see a soul? “Uh yes mam…” I said, (hoping that was a woman I’d just said this too, else this was getting off to a bad start?) Then I saw an old gal in her 70’s, pink nightgown on, leaning heavily into a pair of wooden crutches. “Yes mam, I was wonderin whether it’d be possible to get permission to hunt your land?”“Whut ya huntin?”
“Oh, mostly does and maybe some birds too?” I said, gesturing at Suzie and Boca hitting their mark perfectly -by sticking their heads out of the window and tongues out too and looking up at her smiling.
“Well, I’ll let ya shoot some does. Come on up.”
“Do I go inside down here and then upstairs?”
“No use the ones right next to ya?..Ya didn’t see em?” She said pointing to a huge set of exterior stairs I wasn’t 10 feet from, but was so nervous I hadn’t even noticed. She introduced herself as “Janice Holcombe”, of Holcombe Holsteins as the sign out front read, though looked a bit worn and I didn’t spy any cows nearby?
“Nice to meet you, I just thought I’d stop in today and get acquainted, not really lookin to hunt right now.”I said entering her kitchen which smelt like something was cookin
“Why not?”
“Well I got the girls down there and they aren’t to quiet in the truck when I’m out deer hunting. I mostly just wanted to make contact, as I couldn’t reach you by phone?”
“Are you the same idiot who kept calling letting it ring 3 times and hung up juss fore I got thare
?!”“Uh, no mam wasn’t me’ I only called once, maybe twice.” I lied
“Well, somebody did, bout nearly drove me crazy last week!”
“Probably telemarketers or something; I really hate when they call the house.”
............
“So about that field down there is that yours too?” I got right to the point, wanting to make this ‘short and sweet’ if possible.
“Yeah, but we done allow no huntin between Church Road and Holcombe.”
”So your saying no one can hunt that field?”
“That’s right cept my son. It’s too close to the farm house and don’t want no bullets coming thru my window, had that happen once a while back.”
“Well, guess I can understand that?” I said wholly dejected at this point and cursing Trevor under my breath for ‘lying to me’.
“Yeah, I hear Ted Turner lets folks hunt his place too, ‘cept charges $10 thousand dollars to shoot a buck?”, she said hobbling over to check her chicken, like she’d said it a million times…“At least here its free, cept you can’t shoot the bucks, them’s for the guys that lease the tract below it.”
“Yes mam well I really preciate this, and wanna thank ya for your hospitality. I won’t shoot nuthing but a doe I promise.” I said, dropping a little more ‘southern charm’ than was real.
“Where you from?”
“Well, lived last year on Crow REZ, fore that was in Gawga fore a spell?” I was killing it now, and admittedly having a little sport with her, frustrated about the no-buck policy…
“You sound funny.” She said, though meant it kinda mean, so I laid off it a bit.
“Well, I recon I better get goin?”
“Hey looky thare, the Grizz juss scored nuther point!” She said, not hearing a word I said, pointing at the TV.
Apparently I’d decided to visit on a Saturday when most guys and their wives and their mothers and grandmothers were glued to TV sets? As “the Grizz”, I later learned was some form of collegiate football team that plays for Missoula, versus Bozeman a big rivalry, and one ‘if I didn’t soon act like I was rooting for’ I’d never be allowed to hunt this part of the state again
?!“You sure you don’t wanna hunt right now? There’s hardly anyone out, since most guys are home watching the game.”
“Well maybe just for an hour or so; why not?” I said and signed a release form.
She sent me to one of her other tracts, away from the field, that “held a good population of mule deer” and one I’d passed several times and did – as I’d stopped and glassed them repeatedly, just no good bucks. It was adjoined by a large tract of state-land, which she had no control over, and if a buck was on it of course it was a legal kill. Same went for the tract down by the field really, as I’d been hunting the piece just north of it for days, but so had every other frustrated hunter ‘they couldn’t shoot the bucks off her place’; as it was in fact the BMA listed in the magazine.
This pressure from two sides was obviously what made her field the Mecca it was, as it provided an enormous source of food-alfalfa- and security; except when her son was hunting it. She did mention that the night I witnessed, and told her I’d counted 81, was “unusual and something must’ve been pushing them (hunters/RUT), as there weren’t usually that many”- by her count she’d come up with “over 50 at least?”
“No there was 81 deer for sure. I counted twice I couldn’t believe it!?”
………………….
Since the river-bottom adjoining the field was the other area she controlled, I passed on hunting it for ‘doe only’; as I just couldn’t say what my inner child might do if “a 12 point” she said was on her land (presumably:”The Man”) stepped out?
So with that, I asked if “it’d be okay I just sit, without a gun, and shoot some pictures one evening (on the field of dreams)?”
And she said: “It’d be fine.”
So while my dreams of shooting “The Man” with my new 270 may not happen*, I may get him at least on my Nikon? Torturous as that will be I won’t be spending any time soon during-season and will wait, assuming he survives, and maybe venture that way in December.
………………..
I headed down the road a piece and parked on the state-land side, not even contemplating entering hers’ as there were 5 huge bulls standing around mad at each other for some wrongdoing, I didn’t see any reason to get in the middle of them.
I worried over leaving the girls in the truck again, as it was quite chilly (28 degrees), but once I determined the interior temperature was around 80 with the heat on full-blast and would slowly cool from that point on; I left them into the frigid weather for the umpteenth time wondering whether I’d ever get a buck
?Oh Boca howled like an idiot, her separation-anxiety is at its peak when I leave her and Suzie alone in the truck and hoof it up a mountain out of sight. I gave her a few nips on the remote trying to teach her to stop it, but eventually I simply moved out of earshot and forgot all about her and instead focused on the mule deer just over the rise.
Though this was the same group of does I’d seen countless times before, I’d read recently ‘the big boys might be up near the top, a few hops from escape over the mountain, and perhaps watching their harem from a hidden vantage-point?’ Because of this new information, not having been previously aware they even kept harems, plus the mountain more of a hill and easier to reach the summit; I made it up there pretty quickly and began glassing and stalking to within range- certain a big boy was up there somewhere?
But as things go with me on these hunts as of late; success is in the eye of the beholder and it’s looking more and more like I’ll be holding an unsuccessfully filled buck tag at the end of it
? I did have a very close encounter though, as at one point a small muley buck with split forks, but rather thin ones, stood not 15 feet upwind from me and fed casually unaware I was even in the world?...
..Or ‘the world of pain being pinned-down by him unable to move for close to a half-hour on a sharp and rocky slope, my rangefinder and deer call, wedged precariously into a region of my body not used to such intrusion’
..............
* Remember that idiot who occasionally shows up on here typing the odd things he thinks and does without conscience or fear of penalty, well…
I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and mulled over the idea that ‘this crazy old broad’s not gonna have a clue if I shoot a buck or a doe off her land’ and what would it hurt even if I did shoot the biggest whitetail I’d ever seen alive?
I tossed and turned the next night too and further convinced myself “it was incredibly unfair that she owned this land and I didn’t, and that she was harboring wild game from others and administering her doe-only policy, while reaping thousands of dollars from us hunters thru our purchasing hunting licenses; to keep the very farm going she’s not letting us legally hunt*
?!”
* She too is enrolled in the BMA Program, but by permission slip only, not sign-in-boxes.
Needless to say the girls didn’t find me pleasant company over the 48 hours following our little powwow and I quickly found myself in my truck and heading her way again yesterday; bent on ‘hunting that river-bottom tract’ and bent on ‘taking whatever the heck I pleased?!...’
On the way I figured it all out in great detail; ‘I’d see the buck, shoot the buck, run over and take pictures of me with the buck, then cape it, hide its head away from the body, then go back to the truck, make sure the coast was clear and retrieve the meat with my pink kiddy sled, then go back and get the cape at around midnight when everyone was asleep.’ It was brilliant in its design and only one thing stood in its way, or two that is, and they were both chewing on raw hide in the backseat.
...I quickly modified my plan for getting the rack and head out a bit sooner and then cleared my conscience before even committing the act, and was filled with an adrenaline rush I hadn’t felt in years?!...
As I entered the little community on the outskirts of the hunting land, I stopped briefly at the tiny store I had been abusing the bathroom privileges’, as I had nearly every day of the last week. Once inside I chatted a bit with its owner and her crazy son and they asked about Suzie and Boca and how my hunting was going. I bought a few pieces of jerky and some peanuts, along with a Gatorade, supporting the local economy as I’d done -purchasing these same exact items (grand total $4.00) each and every time I passed the place.
I was not deterred by this little back and forth and even more convinced the world was filled with dumb hicks and I wasn’t one of them…
As I rounded the corner heading down into the Scramble Creek bottom I spied two mule deer doe hauling the mail absolutely out of their skin as if a panther was after them? It’s at this point I passed an old beat up suburban parked on the shoulder and a couple fellas in orange looking out into the bottom at ‘something’?...Figuring it was a big buck I slowed and pulled over just ahead of them and got out my binos, but saw nothing.
As I looked in my rearview mirror I spied the tell tale signs of ‘something not right’ as the occupants were switching places within the vehicle and the truck began to leave. Not sure, I eased off the brake and up the hill a ways and looked back once again to see they’d stopped. “Something’s fishy here?” I told the girls
Sure enough, as I pulled up and into a driveway on top of the hill, I stopped and thru my binos spotted some idiot in orange jump from the truck and run as fast as I’d seen anyone in a long time do across the creek bottom and was astounded by the spectacle of it all?! “What is going on?” I couldn’t fathom
Then, as what actually at first looked to be a woman who was running, she stopped all of a sudden almost 200 yards out and jumped up and down happy as could be waving her arms like a lunatic and then dropped to the ground? At that point another idiot in orange exited the truck and made a beeline toward the woman, though weirdly the truck then pulled away and headed up the hill toward me.
I eased off the brake, sure I was witnessing some sure enough poaching, and at 2 o’clock in the afternoon no less, so parked in front of a home that overlooked the bottom and walked to its door. I asked the young man to “call the Game Warden we got some poaching going on right down there!” I said pointing toward the scene.
“Really?”
“Yup, look for yourself….” I said, handing him my binos
“Come on in.” the guy told me and I followed him in to an amazing little house filled with all sorts of nice furniture and big game adorning its walls.
He introduced himself as Chuck and then to his wife Sally, who was thankfully restraining an enormous pit bull that was eyeballing me aggressively and Chuck said: “just don’t even pay her no mind.”
“Yeah, okay whatever I’ll be waiting outside.” and began to leave
“No really she’s okay, but just don’t look at her in the eyes.”
“Dude, I’ve heard this all before and it was usually followed by me getting chewed on by ‘the nicest dog you’d ever meet’; so again, just call the Game Warden and I’ll be on my way okay?”
I eased out onto the porch never taking my eyes of the dog now growling and his small wife barely able to hold on to it. Then Chuck came out while talking on the phone describing the events as they unfolded to dispatch, which was quite a sight from our wonderful vantage point at ‘that house’ these numbskulls hadn’t bothered to notice ‘up on the hill designed to see exactly what they were doing’, which was gutting a buck they’d just shot from their truck, and doing it as fast as they could.
“Just look at em. Can you believe it?” Chuck said astonished by it as much as me
“No, these are sure enough the worst poachers I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen quite a few.” I said, not bothering to mention I’d just driven an hour out this way to do a little bit of it myself?
“That’s not a woman. It’s a hippie!” Sally yelled out the window, as she too had been watching the spectacle thru a spotting scope. And sure enough she was right. The guy had long brown shaggy hair, a red bandanna on, and a black jacket, and what appeared to be ski gloves on? His buddy was a young fella too, both had jeans on and sneakers; all clearly visible from the more powerful spotting scope.
They looked to then be dragging the buck toward the road, while the suburban still remained stationary not 50 yards from the house.
“Dude, you ought a just let your dog out after em?” I said
“Yeah, right that’d be great he’d tear em in half!” Chuck laughed
“I can’t read that plate number can you?” I said
“Yeah, hold on: its 555-00 Montana” he said into the phone
The two idiots in the bottom had dove into the bushes at least twice already, hiding from passing cars, and never once did they realize they’d neglected to remove their bright orange vests? It was almost hysterical in a way.
“Is the Game Warden comin?” I asked
“No, he’s stuck in Custer.”
“This is ridiculous, they’re gonna get away?!”
“I don’t know what else to do?” Chuck said.
“Well, I do. Heck I’m gonna go take their picture!” I said and jumped in my truck headed out the driveway. I’d had enough of this poaching stuff, heck this now made 3 instances in one season, not to mention it had somehow slipped into my subconscious I was about to do some of it myself?!
As I pulled out I came head-to-head with the suburban as he was leaving to pick them up. I gunned it in front of him and headed down the hill as the two, heads down were struggling that last 30 feet thru thick snow and ‘sure the truck approaching was their own’. As I approached one looked up and the horror on his face was classic realizing it weren’t the suburban!? They both, each holding a side of the rack, dove face first into the embankment and out of my view, so I just eased on by and up the other side of the hill and parked.
The driver and its passengers in the suburban were clueless too at this point I was on to them and only when I’d stopped and shot a dozen frames of them dragging the bloody buck across the road to the truck; where they loaded it in and then drove right by me, (I shooting the whole way over 30 frames), did it appear a couple of them might’ve realized they were busted?!
They eased along at a snail’s pace unsure what to do, and at this point Chuck had driven down and over to me too and we stood and watched the idiots leave -while telling the Sherriff about it on Chucks’ cell phone.
………………….
“Well that was interesting?” Chuck said
“Yeah something else”
“I’ll have the Warden send an email and you two can figure out how to get him the photos.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll stop by on my way out and we can…” “Oh no wait a minute, I mean..”
“Yeah that’d be good. Stop by as by then he’ll be here!” Chuck said
Idiot, now you had to stop by? I told myself. This of course now eliminated all thoughts of doing any poaching of my own, though admittedly my own offense would have been just slightly less of an offense; considering I wasn’t entirely sure ‘old lady Holcombe’s doe-only policy’ was even valid?
Turned out the land the guys were poaching on was hers’ too and she was very thankful I’d caught them stealing from her. Was she “thankful enough to let me shoot a buck?” I asked.
She was not it appeared, but did send me to a 400 acre tract way up the mountain where I “might see an elk and shoot all you want, just no bulls” she said.
So I scratched the illegal activities once and for all and headed toward the top of the mountain range, her idiot dog following me almost all the way before realizing it. I’d stopped to let the girls run a bit and when I opened the door it was a full on chase across the open plains as they both pursued this huge yellow lab who was actually scared of my two girls? Or maybe it was my screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs as an attempt to halt this disaster waiting to happen?
Boca came back first since of course she was being lit pretty hot by me on her collar, whereas Suzie not wearing hers’ was a little harder to corral. Once gathered up I told the Lab “Now go home!” and he turned like he’d heard it a million times and did just that.
………………
While the evening was without success once again in the harvesting of game, something did happen as I witnessed one of the more brilliant sunsets my life; that is almost unheard of- I stopped hunting right at prime time!?
Instead, I stood to watch it all unfold as the light literally disappeared from the ground beneath my feet and the surrounding hillsides like a cloud moving overhead, its magical transformation from a bright big-sky day to the blackest of night, then the stars of a heaven so vast and many began to shine, and a moon relit the snow covered ground enough to still see for miles; I looked to the north, south, east, and west, and saw not a soul, nor even an artificial light.
It was truly awe-inspiring and something I hadn’t bothered to enjoy in the last few days; worried sick about killing a huge deer instead.
I know it sounds a bit crazy, but I couldn’t help but hold my hands up high, rifle in one and shooting sticks in the other, and declare my life a success! I was and am truly happy up here; I love every part of it, from the mountains, to the rivers, to the game, and its people and couldn’t be more thrilled I made that move last year and where it’s put me on this earth today.
So as the sun left the horizon, and just minutes before I left another mountains’ slope, I thanked the almighty for his guidance along the way
.
…Then yelled “WOLVERINES!” as I couldn’t help it.
Later,
G
I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and mulled over the idea that ‘this crazy old broad’s not gonna have a clue if I shoot a buck or a doe off her land’ and what would it hurt even if I did shoot the biggest whitetail I’d ever seen alive
? I tossed and turned the next night too and further convinced myself “it was incredibly unfair that she owned this land and I didn’t, and that she was harboring wild game from others and administering her doe-only policy, while reaping thousands of dollars from us hunters thru our purchasing hunting licenses; to keep the very farm going she’s not letting us legally hunt*
?!”* She too is enrolled in the BMA Program, but by permission slip only, not sign-in-boxes.
Needless to say the girls didn’t find me pleasant company over the 48 hours following our little powwow and I quickly found myself in my truck and heading her way again yesterday; bent on ‘hunting that river-bottom tract’ and bent on ‘taking whatever the heck I pleased
?!...’On the way I figured it all out in great detail; ‘I’d see the buck, shoot the buck, run over and take pictures of me with the buck, then cape it, hide its head away from the body, then go back to the truck, make sure the coast was clear and retrieve the meat with my pink kiddy sled, then go back and get the cape at around midnight when everyone was asleep.’ It was brilliant in its design and only one thing stood in its way, or two that is, and they were both chewing on raw hide in the backseat.
...I quickly modified my plan for getting the rack and head out a bit sooner and then cleared my conscience before even committing the act, and was filled with an adrenaline rush I hadn’t felt in years?!...
As I entered the little community on the outskirts of the hunting land, I stopped briefly at the tiny store I had been abusing the bathroom privileges’, as I had nearly every day of the last week. Once inside I chatted a bit with its owner and her crazy son and they asked about Suzie and Boca and how my hunting was going. I bought a few pieces of jerky and some peanuts, along with a Gatorade, supporting the local economy as I’d done -purchasing these same exact items (grand total $4.00) each and every time I passed the place.
I was not deterred by this little back and forth and even more convinced the world was filled with dumb hicks and I wasn’t one of them…
As I rounded the corner heading down into the Scramble Creek bottom I spied two mule deer doe hauling the mail absolutely out of their skin as if a panther was after them
? It’s at this point I passed an old beat up suburban parked on the shoulder and a couple fellas in orange looking out into the bottom at ‘something’?...Figuring it was a big buck I slowed and pulled over just ahead of them and got out my binos, but saw nothing.As I looked in my rearview mirror I spied the tell tale signs of ‘something not right’ as the occupants were switching places within the vehicle and the truck began to leave. Not sure, I eased off the brake and up the hill a ways and looked back once again to see they’d stopped. “Something’s fishy here?” I told the girls
Sure enough, as I pulled up and into a driveway on top of the hill, I stopped and thru my binos spotted some idiot in orange jump from the truck and run as fast as I’d seen anyone in a long time do across the creek bottom and was astounded by the spectacle of it all?! “What is going on?” I couldn’t fathom
Then, as what actually at first looked to be a woman who was running, she stopped all of a sudden almost 200 yards out and jumped up and down happy as could be waving her arms like a lunatic and then dropped to the ground? At that point another idiot in orange exited the truck and made a beeline toward the woman, though weirdly the truck then pulled away and headed up the hill toward me.
I eased off the brake, sure I was witnessing some sure enough poaching, and at 2 o’clock in the afternoon no less, so parked in front of a home that overlooked the bottom and walked to its door. I asked the young man to “call the Game Warden we got some poaching going on right down there!” I said pointing toward the scene.
“Really
?”“Yup, look for yourself….” I said, handing him my binos
“Come on in.” the guy told me and I followed him in to an amazing little house filled with all sorts of nice furniture and big game adorning its walls.
He introduced himself as Chuck and then to his wife Sally, who was thankfully restraining an enormous pit bull that was eyeballing me aggressively and Chuck said: “just don’t even pay her no mind.”
“Yeah, okay whatever I’ll be waiting outside.” and began to leave
“No really she’s okay, but just don’t look at her in the eyes.”
“Dude, I’ve heard this all before and it was usually followed by me getting chewed on by ‘the nicest dog you’d ever meet’; so again, just call the Game Warden and I’ll be on my way okay?”
I eased out onto the porch never taking my eyes of the dog now growling and his small wife barely able to hold on to it. Then Chuck came out while talking on the phone describing the events as they unfolded to dispatch, which was quite a sight from our wonderful vantage point at ‘that house’ these numbskulls hadn’t bothered to notice ‘up on the hill designed to see exactly what they were doing’, which was gutting a buck they’d just shot from their truck, and doing it as fast as they could.
“Just look at em. Can you believe it?” Chuck said astonished by it as much as me
“No, these are sure enough the worst poachers I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen quite a few.
” I said, not bothering to mention I’d just driven an hour out this way to do a little bit of it myself?“That’s not a woman. It’s a hippie!” Sally yelled out the window, as she too had been watching the spectacle thru a spotting scope. And sure enough she was right. The guy had long brown shaggy hair, a red bandanna on, and a black jacket, and what appeared to be ski gloves on? His buddy was a young fella too, both had jeans on and sneakers; all clearly visible from the more powerful spotting scope.
They looked to then be dragging the buck toward the road, while the suburban still remained stationary not 50 yards from the house.
“Dude, you ought a just let your dog out after em?” I said
“Yeah, right that’d be great he’d tear em in half!” Chuck laughed
“I can’t read that plate number can you?” I said
“Yeah, hold on: its 555-00 Montana” he said into the phone
The two idiots in the bottom had dove into the bushes at least twice already, hiding from passing cars, and never once did they realize they’d neglected to remove their bright orange vests? It was almost hysterical in a way.
“Is the Game Warden comin?” I asked
“No, he’s stuck in Custer.”
“This is ridiculous, they’re gonna get away
?!”“I don’t know what else to do?” Chuck said.
“Well, I do. Heck I’m gonna go take their picture!” I said and jumped in my truck headed out the driveway. I’d had enough of this poaching stuff, heck this now made 3 instances in one season, not to mention it had somehow slipped into my subconscious I was about to do some of it myself?!
As I pulled out I came head-to-head with the suburban as he was leaving to pick them up. I gunned it in front of him and headed down the hill as the two, heads down were struggling that last 30 feet thru thick snow and ‘sure the truck approaching was their own’. As I approached one looked up and the horror on his face was classic realizing it weren’t the suburban
!? They both, each holding a side of the rack, dove face first into the embankment and out of my view, so I just eased on by and up the other side of the hill and parked.The driver and its passengers in the suburban were clueless too at this point I was on to them and only when I’d stopped and shot a dozen frames of them dragging the bloody buck across the road to the truck; where they loaded it in and then drove right by me, (I shooting the whole way over 30 frames), did it appear a couple of them might’ve realized they were busted?!
They eased along at a snail’s pace unsure what to do, and at this point Chuck had driven down and over to me too and we stood and watched the idiots leave -while telling the Sherriff about it on Chucks’ cell phone.
………………….
“Well that was interesting?” Chuck said
“Yeah something else
”“I’ll have the Warden send an email and you two can figure out how to get him the photos.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll stop by on my way out and we can…” “Oh no wait a minute, I mean..”
“Yeah that’d be good. Stop by as by then he’ll be here!” Chuck said
Idiot, now you had to stop by? I told myself. This of course now eliminated all thoughts of doing any poaching of my own, though admittedly my own offense would have been just slightly less of an offense; considering I wasn’t entirely sure ‘old lady Holcombe’s doe-only policy’ was even valid
?Turned out the land the guys were poaching on was hers’ too and she was very thankful I’d caught them stealing from her. Was she “thankful enough to let me shoot a buck?” I asked
.She was not it appeared, but did send me to a 400 acre tract way up the mountain where I “might see an elk and shoot all you want, just no bulls” she said.
So I scratched the illegal activities once and for all and headed toward the top of the mountain range, her idiot dog following me almost all the way before realizing it. I’d stopped to let the girls run a bit and when I opened the door it was a full on chase across the open plains as they both pursued this huge yellow lab who was actually scared of my two girls? Or maybe it was my screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs as an attempt to halt this disaster waiting to happen
? Boca came back first since of course she was being lit pretty hot by me on her collar, whereas Suzie not wearing hers’ was a little harder to corral. Once gathered up I told the Lab “Now go home!” and he turned like he’d heard it a million times and did just that.
………………
While the evening was without success once again in the harvesting of game, something did happen as I witnessed one of the more brilliant sunsets my life; that is almost unheard of- I stopped hunting right at prime time!?
Instead, I stood to watch it all unfold as the light literally disappeared from the ground beneath my feet and the surrounding hillsides like a cloud moving overhead, its magical transformation from a bright big-sky day to the blackest of night, then the stars of a heaven so vast and many began to shine, and a moon relit the snow covered ground enough to still see for miles; I looked to the north, south, east, and west, and saw not a soul, nor even an artificial light.
It was truly awe-inspiring and something I hadn’t bothered to enjoy in the last few days; worried sick about killing a huge deer instead.
I know it sounds a bit crazy, but I couldn’t help but hold my hands up high, rifle in one and shooting sticks in the other, and declare my life a success! I was and am truly happy up here; I love every part of it, from the mountains, to the rivers, to the game, and its people and couldn’t be more thrilled I made that move last year and where it’s put me on this earth today.
So as the sun left the horizon, and just minutes before I left another mountains’ slope, I thanked the almighty for his guidance along the way
.…Then yelled “WOLVERINES!” as I couldn’t help it.
Later,
G
BBQBOSS
Banned
I did just what you said and had to finish the novel sitting back at the computer.... 
Cindi
Senior Member
What a conundrum you are, and they say guys are not complicated? Phooey.
This cracked me up. Good reading, Moe.
This cracked me up. Good reading, Moe.
Lee
Senior Member
Moe, I really have enjoyed reading your posts and I finally had to tell you because I actually ended up laughing out loud at the "Wolverines" deal.
Only three days left, till it’s over.
…Well, ‘the buck season’ anyway? I’ll still be able to get some meat for the table up until late December locally, and it shouldn’t be too difficult as I occasionally have a few whitetail and mule deer doe standing not 100 feet from my trailer in the mornings (Suzie lets me know this every other day, ‘the huntress’ that she is). My neighbor apparently likes this too and has no less than six hanging in his barn, plus I saw him out again today dragging another toward his house.
Suzie even came up to me the other day with a front leg of a small deer in her mouth complete with a tag still attached, wrapped with the typical black electrical tape most guys use, and I took it from her gently, then threw it away in the trash can by the road, and patted her on the head saying:”Good girl”, since she was just doing her job.
I’m certain Charlie would let me do the same and I may ask him if I don’t find them elsewhere, but I’ve been holding requesting anything of him as far as big game, since I instead really want access for the much more plentiful Hungarian partridge and sharp-tail grouse which are nearby (his pasture is over 500 acres) and his family’s’ land “is in the tens of thousands” (I hear); though again mostly flat bird-lands as opposed to big deer.
…………………..
On Wednesday we headed west toward a huge 70,000 acre BMA I’d read about (a combination of 5 ranches, all enrolled) about an hour away, but hadn’t hit yet; for so many to choose from I couldn’t decide? It’s commonly called: “Area 99” and has several places to just pull up and sign-in, then drive miles thru amazing landscapes and hunt wherever you please.
Still probably one of ‘the best things about Montana’ in my opinion is this feature, though it is first come first served, and of course this is very late in the season so big-game was scarce from the road at least.
Still as we were leaving this beautiful mountainside, I heard over a thousand little whistles toward dark and knowing they belonged to huns, I made a promise to myself to head this way again; ….say ‘just around Monday at the latest’- the day after big-game is out and ‘when this exotic fowl will be on the menu
!?’
…Yeah, I’ve been rather cruel to the girls taking them to all these wonderful locations, letting them take quick pee-breaks, and then locking them up in the old truck, while I hunted for deer again and again and again. What they didn’t understand no matter how many times I said so was: “I’m doing reconnaissance and we’ll come back next month I swear!”
…And we will. I’ll be revisiting old Miss Holcombe and taking my limit for pheasant in the many river bottoms she owns, then were off toward the Madison River Valley where Boca and I will bust a few more and maybe jump a couple ducks in the islands and ponds around a place I found a couple weeks ago, then its ‘area 99’, or the Lee Metcalf Wilderness, or the West Gallatin River 2 miles from home, where they’ll have to take turns as we blast huns and sharpies till we can’t anymore. Then come home, take a nap, and maybe sneak out back on Charlie’s place for a little last minute action before sundown.
It’ll be a rough winter as you can tell and eventually I’ll have to gain employment and then of course ‘hunt me that woman’ I’ve been talkin bout so long. Its good the season for big game is winding down and while I’ll still hunt 3 more evenings before it’s over and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get lucky? …I still think I am a bit.
Oh it’s a ‘luck’ I brought upon myself ‘leaving all behind’ to find some; a family, a steady salary, a home to call my own, and no crazy kids either (I don’t think?); no the Moe took off from the world, found a place called Montana, and fashioned a life for himself many men would dream of, though obviously neglected to do a proper budget before attempting such a task?
I’ll be eliminating the word ‘big’ from my vocabulary as I hunt me a woman, though this will likely do nothing to avoid the inevitable.
Several days back, while freezing to the bone alone on a mountain , I even recall saying to myself:”Dude, lose this weight and clean these clothes; 'you stink', get a job, get some money, then get a woman; as this aint cutting it?!” ...I was saying this aloud that evening, trying to stay warm, so might’ve had something to do with not taking any deer that night?
As the sun was setting I listened off in the distance and heard something all too familiar, but took me a minute to decipher? Then the howls echoing around me left no doubt what animal was making them, as rabbits scurried and hid, some antelope on an adjacent slope stood to take notice, and some Magpies flew, I said: “…Yup, that’s Boca?!”
I modified my self-diagnosis to include: “…and get a woman that likes German Shorthairs, so she can watch the bloody thing while I hunt deer!?”
………………..
It’s been suggested by a few local guys that I ‘might’ve actually left the better part of the state to take big mule deer’; as areas further southeast hold countless numbers of this species and some rather large ones too.
This is true as I saw many more mature muleys while hunting that part of the state for birds than I have so far this season, having thought wrongly that the rest of the state would be much the same? In fact two of the biggest I’ve ever seen on the hoof were around Hardin and one on that BMA in Laurel I’ve mentioned before, but both are now 3 to 4 hours away.
Its a human poulation aspect too as over there its incredibly desolate, with low hunting pressure and more public lands as well. Then also the winters aren't as severe as in the mountains, more winter-forage is available not covered under several feet of snow; and thus recruitment is higher year to year with less winter-kills (than seen on the western parts of the state).
“Public areas east of Lewistown too, are considered excellent for them; as well as Terry, Montana for trophy potential” a guy at a truck stop told me, the bed of his truck holding a 300” bull elk cape, I’d just admired. Of course were talkin ‘accessible lands to the DIY hunter’ and not outfitted backcountry stuff; else the mountains I can see towering the surrounding horizons, those often off-limits to such pursuits unless you’re a millionaire; likely hold just as big a boys as I’d find anywhere?
The snow capped Bridger Mountains are outside my kitchen window and impressive, but are for instance ‘draw only’ and because of this “hold a good number of 5 and 6 year old mule deer bucks” the Game Warden told me.
...Though this knowledge is of some value for next season and I might make a trip then and 'put-in for some better lands close by', for now I simply can’t afford it so will stick closer to my region and keep at it another few days on public lands.
I will say this I’ve never in any one season viewed so many animals thru my binos as I have during this, and considering I’ve hunted nearly every day of many other Novembers on plantations and leases throughout the southeast; this is saying a lot? ...On any given afternoon I might spy 30 whitetail, 40 mule deer, a few elk, a moose, bears, wolves, badgers, and bald eagles overhead.
…It’s quite a place to visit, an amazing place to hunt, and ‘an awesome place to call home’!
I'll check back again for a final post on this adventure and was glad to have yall along on it!
Later,
G
…Well, ‘the buck season’ anyway? I’ll still be able to get some meat for the table up until late December locally, and it shouldn’t be too difficult as I occasionally have a few whitetail and mule deer doe standing not 100 feet from my trailer in the mornings (Suzie lets me know this every other day, ‘the huntress’ that she is
). My neighbor apparently likes this too and has no less than six hanging in his barn, plus I saw him out again today dragging another toward his house.Suzie even came up to me the other day with a front leg of a small deer in her mouth complete with a tag still attached, wrapped with the typical black electrical tape most guys use, and I took it from her gently, then threw it away in the trash can by the road, and patted her on the head saying:”Good girl”, since she was just doing her job.
I’m certain Charlie would let me do the same and I may ask him if I don’t find them elsewhere, but I’ve been holding requesting anything of him as far as big game, since I instead really want access for the much more plentiful Hungarian partridge and sharp-tail grouse which are nearby (his pasture is over 500 acres) and his family’s’ land “is in the tens of thousands” (I hear)
; though again mostly flat bird-lands as opposed to big deer.…………………..
On Wednesday we headed west toward a huge 70,000 acre BMA I’d read about (a combination of 5 ranches, all enrolled) about an hour away, but hadn’t hit yet; for so many to choose from I couldn’t decide? It’s commonly called: “Area 99” and has several places to just pull up and sign-in, then drive miles thru amazing landscapes and hunt wherever you please.
Still probably one of ‘the best things about Montana’ in my opinion is this feature, though it is first come first served, and of course this is very late in the season so big-game was scarce from the road at least.
Still as we were leaving this beautiful mountainside, I heard over a thousand little whistles toward dark and knowing they belonged to huns, I made a promise to myself to head this way again; ….say ‘just around Monday at the latest’- the day after big-game is out and ‘when this exotic fowl will be on the menu
!?’…Yeah, I’ve been rather cruel to the girls taking them to all these wonderful locations, letting them take quick pee-breaks, and then locking them up in the old truck, while I hunted for deer again and again and again. What they didn’t understand no matter how many times I said so was: “I’m doing reconnaissance and we’ll come back next month I swear!”
…And we will. I’ll be revisiting old Miss Holcombe and taking my limit for pheasant in the many river bottoms she owns, then were off toward the Madison River Valley where Boca and I will bust a few more and maybe jump a couple ducks in the islands and ponds around a place I found a couple weeks ago, then its ‘area 99’, or the Lee Metcalf Wilderness, or the West Gallatin River 2 miles from home, where they’ll have to take turns as we blast huns and sharpies till we can’t anymore. Then come home, take a nap, and maybe sneak out back on Charlie’s place for a little last minute action before sundown.
It’ll be a rough winter as you can tell and eventually I’ll have to gain employment and then of course ‘hunt me that woman’ I’ve been talkin bout so long. Its good the season for big game is winding down and while I’ll still hunt 3 more evenings before it’s over and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get lucky? …I still think I am a bit.
Oh it’s a ‘luck’ I brought upon myself ‘leaving all behind’ to find some; a family, a steady salary, a home to call my own, and no crazy kids either (I don’t think?); no the Moe took off from the world, found a place called Montana, and fashioned a life for himself many men would dream of, though obviously neglected to do a proper budget before attempting such a task?
I’ll be eliminating the word ‘big’ from my vocabulary as I hunt me a woman, though this will likely do nothing to avoid the inevitable
. Several days back, while freezing to the bone alone on a mountain , I even recall saying to myself:”Dude, lose this weight and clean these clothes; 'you stink', get a job, get some money, then get a woman; as this aint cutting it
?!” ...I was saying this aloud that evening, trying to stay warm, so might’ve had something to do with not taking any deer that night?As the sun was setting I listened off in the distance and heard something all too familiar, but took me a minute to decipher? Then the howls echoing around me left no doubt what animal was making them, as rabbits scurried and hid, some antelope on an adjacent slope stood to take notice, and some Magpies flew, I said: “…Yup, that’s Boca
?!”I modified my self-diagnosis to include: “…and get a woman that likes German Shorthairs, so she can watch the bloody thing while I hunt deer
!?”………………..
It’s been suggested by a few local guys that I ‘might’ve actually left the better part of the state to take big mule deer’; as areas further southeast hold countless numbers of this species and some rather large ones too.
This is true as I saw many more mature muleys while hunting that part of the state for birds than I have so far this season, having thought wrongly that the rest of the state would be much the same? In fact two of the biggest I’ve ever seen on the hoof were around Hardin and one on that BMA in Laurel I’ve mentioned before, but both are now 3 to 4 hours away.
Its a human poulation aspect too as over there its incredibly desolate, with low hunting pressure and more public lands as well. Then also the winters aren't as severe as in the mountains, more winter-forage is available not covered under several feet of snow; and thus recruitment is higher year to year with less winter-kills (than seen on the western parts of the state).
“Public areas east of Lewistown too, are considered excellent for them; as well as Terry, Montana for trophy potential” a guy at a truck stop told me, the bed of his truck holding a 300” bull elk cape, I’d just admired. Of course were talkin ‘accessible lands to the DIY hunter’ and not outfitted backcountry stuff; else the mountains I can see towering the surrounding horizons, those often off-limits to such pursuits unless you’re a millionaire; likely hold just as big a boys as I’d find anywhere?
The snow capped Bridger Mountains are outside my kitchen window and impressive, but are for instance ‘draw only’ and because of this “hold a good number of 5 and 6 year old mule deer bucks” the Game Warden told me.
...Though this knowledge is of some value for next season and I might make a trip then and 'put-in for some better lands close by', for now I simply can’t afford it so will stick closer to my region and keep at it another few days on public lands.
I will say this I’ve never in any one season viewed so many animals thru my binos as I have during this, and considering I’ve hunted nearly every day of many other Novembers on plantations and leases throughout the southeast; this is saying a lot? ...On any given afternoon I might spy 30 whitetail, 40 mule deer, a few elk, a moose, bears, wolves, badgers, and bald eagles overhead
. …It’s quite a place to visit, an amazing place to hunt, and ‘an awesome place to call home’
!I'll check back again for a final post on this adventure and was glad to have yall along on it!
Later,
G
Cindi
Senior Member
I was glad to be along on it, and still just as anxious to see Montana.
With Friday being a rather uneventful bust we awoke Saturday determined to hunt, but clueless as to where?
I sat in my truck out front and simply couldn’t decide? I asked both of my hunting companions: “where should we go today; ‘back toward Area 99?’, or say ‘hit old lady Holcombe’s’ one last time?’, or maybe try somewhere new; like up around Townsend?”
”Huh? …What do you think? …Seriously? …Can you hear me talking to you or are you both deaf?!”
I was officially losing it talking in complete sentences to my poor dogs, the only living breathing things that still wanted to be around me the last few days, and desperately needed my friend Mooch to sort me out, but he was probably 'dove hunting in Afghanistan' at about this time?
I gassed up and headed toward Townsend anyway…
……………..
As we neared the town itself though, I spied a sign indicating National Forest Access/Dry Creek just up ahead and stupid as all get out decided this would do; not having a clue where this road went, or a detailed map to reference if lost?
...And of course, within 5 miles and taking a half dozen turns I was?
Thankfully there were droves of hunters exiting the area at that hour noon, and I stopped a couple to ask what they’d seen (not much) and “how much further till I was in land I could hunt?”
One guy said “two miles more and you’ll see a sign.”
So we trudged on, me occasionally stopping so the girls could drink from the stream beside the road, as I frantically searched the trucks’ interior for something of my own but came up dry; having foolishly left the main road without stopping for something to eat or drink?
It seemed I’d gone two miles and while I’d seen countless signs indicating “No Trespassing”; I’d yet to see one saying I could? I held out my hand as the next guy approached in truck and as he neared it became apparent he really didn’t want to be bothered.
This was a true Montana rancher I’d just flagged down, and the rig and cowboy hat were genuine, and both likely as old. The guy was in his 60’s and looked like he’d spent every day of the last 50 of em outdoors handling livestock, or in a tractor doing what needed to be done to make a living, and he didn’t appear to care what I wanted or needed at the time, but stopped just the same.
“Excuse me Sir, but how much further to the park?”
“Park what park?”
“I mean the thing, you know on this road here?”
“Thing?!”
My mouth was working, but my brain had clearly given up on this pursuit, days ago; as I couldn’t get the words to correspond with what I wanted to say?
“You know the place where you hunt? Dry Creek or whatever? I keep seeing all these guys coming from somewhere and that’s where I’m heading I think?”
“Yeah there are hunters everywhere up here.” He seemed bothered by this, “They’re coming out of the National Forest”.
“That’s it the forest, I’m lookin for the Forest
!”
I wasn’t doing any of my fellow Montana hunters any favors by having this little chat with likely one of the bigger ranchers in the state, and it was clear by the look on his face by this point; I’d just confirmed his long held belief we were all a bunch of idiots?
“It’s just up the road another 3 or 4 miles.” He said then rolled up his window and rolled on by without ever looking back.
Half a mile later I saw brown sign facing me saying: “Entering Helena National Forest” and now I was really confused? I had passed another couple turnoffs, so it was likely he’d just come from one of them, but still how could he be so off on the mileage and even misunderstanding me in the first place? He didn’t seem the type to be having any sport with me.
I was just glad to finally be here, where here was on a map, wherever that might be; I was there and it felt better already?...I could now shoot something if I saw it and kept going hoping that might happen. We cruised another 4 miles and saw a few places to pull off, but hunters already in them; so trudged on…
………………….
As I rounded another empty bend in the mountain road, I came upon a guy actually waving me down for a change? Thinking I’d probably made a wrong turn and was about to be told so; I beat him to a question…
“Does this road lead to back to ‘state’ at some point?”
“I was hoping you knew too?” he responded
“Naw, heck I done know where I am?”
“Dang, I just found a herd of 16 and I can’t tell if they’re on the BMA or not?”
“Let’s shoot em anyway!” I said smiling, not really meaning it.
“Follow me!” he said whipping a u-turn, before I could clarify
…I figured what would it hurt, to at least see some elk?
…………….
This fella was driving the stupidest car I’d ever seen in the elk-woods, it was a tiny rust colored Toyota hatchback more than twenty years old, of what exact type I’m still unclear except stupid looking and could never have held half an elk, though the guy was competent behind the wheel or just an idiot I couldn’t tell, nor keep up.
It must’ve had all wheel drive, and no insurance at the speed he was going as we covered 3 miles at least, up and down, up and down; him never hitting the brakes once, and only when I finally caught up did his vanity-plate saying:”FUN-GUY” make me concerned I was falling into a perverse hunters trap out in the middle of nowhere?
Once he slowed and exited his contraption, immediately viewing the opposing slope, did I let my guard down to do the same?
“Yup, they’re still there!” he said
“Where, I don’t see anything?”
“Okay, you see that knoll over there? Well about 300 yards east of it is a finger. At the head of those Aspens you’ll see a small butte, just below that is a bull standing broadside.”
“Where?”
“Right there!”…See where my fingers pointing?”
“Oh, okay you mean way way way over there?!”
“Yeah, figure it’s about ¾ of a mile at least, on the other side of the canyon?”
“Yeah, that’s prolly not gonna happen in this lifetime.”
“What?”
“Way too far from the road, and besides what’s this fence mean?” I said pointing to the barbed wire affair not ten feet from us; holding four horses and two mules; eyeballing us since we’d stopped.
“That’s where I’m a little fuzzy?”
“But were on a BMA right?”
“Yup, most definitely; we are in fact parked on the Triple Bar Ranch!”
“Well, you’ll have to help me here since aint got a map; where are they standing -on it, or not?”
Joe, as his name turned out to be I couldn’t stand it any longer and introduced myself, since it seemed he was fine without- gathered up his maps then used my trucks’ hood for a table.
“Were here” he said pointing his finger to a point far beyond the Helena National Forest; far further than I recalled driving, but took his word for it?
“This is that high tension power line and that ridge below that butte is where the elk are.”
“So, let me get this straight; your saying this is us, and that is them, and this area in green and red is legal, but that white area is not…?
“Yup”
“…and they’re standing in the white area?”
“Yup”
“Bummer” Was not what I said
………………...
It seemed Joe and I shared a common affliction: ‘Ethical Fluctuation’ as the two of us stood and debated the possible fines compared to that of the costs of a quality shoulder-mount?
I will say I was first to come to his senses, about ten seconds before poor Joe; who seemed bummed I’d beat him to reason? Yes, I recalled not too terribly long ago (a few days has it been already?) where I’d made a promise to myself and a hundred other hunters accompanying me, that I would refrain from taking game illegally as it did nothing to enhance the story, nor the wildlife itself (though I might have those two confused); no, there’s simply no reason for such gibberish on any forum or in any book on hunting, it’s appalling to even think anyone would consider such things….
Joe hadn’t left ten minutes before I made my move….
...........
? I sat in my truck out front and simply couldn’t decide? I asked both of my hunting companions: “where should we go today; ‘back toward Area 99?’, or say ‘hit old lady Holcombe’s’ one last time?’, or maybe try somewhere new; like up around Townsend?”
”Huh? …What do you think? …Seriously? …Can you hear me talking to you or are you both deaf
?!” I was officially losing it talking in complete sentences to my poor dogs, the only living breathing things that still wanted to be around me the last few days, and desperately needed my friend Mooch to sort me out, but he was probably 'dove hunting in Afghanistan' at about this time
?I gassed up and headed toward Townsend anyway…
……………..
As we neared the town itself though, I spied a sign indicating National Forest Access/Dry Creek just up ahead and stupid as all get out decided this would do; not having a clue where this road went, or a detailed map to reference if lost?
...And of course, within 5 miles and taking a half dozen turns I was
? Thankfully there were droves of hunters exiting the area at that hour noon, and I stopped a couple to ask what they’d seen (not much) and “how much further till I was in land I could hunt?”
One guy said “two miles more and you’ll see a sign.”
So we trudged on, me occasionally stopping so the girls could drink from the stream beside the road, as I frantically searched the trucks’ interior for something of my own but came up dry; having foolishly left the main road without stopping for something to eat or drink
?It seemed I’d gone two miles and while I’d seen countless signs indicating “No Trespassing”; I’d yet to see one saying I could? I held out my hand as the next guy approached in truck and as he neared it became apparent he really didn’t want to be bothered
.This was a true Montana rancher I’d just flagged down, and the rig and cowboy hat were genuine, and both likely as old. The guy was in his 60’s and looked like he’d spent every day of the last 50 of em outdoors handling livestock, or in a tractor doing what needed to be done to make a living, and he didn’t appear to care what I wanted or needed at the time, but stopped just the same.
“Excuse me Sir, but how much further to the park?”
“Park what park?”
“I mean the thing, you know on this road here?”
“Thing?!”
My mouth was working, but my brain had clearly given up on this pursuit, days ago; as I couldn’t get the words to correspond with what I wanted to say?
“You know the place where you hunt? Dry Creek or whatever? I keep seeing all these guys coming from somewhere and that’s where I’m heading I think?”
“Yeah there are hunters everywhere up here.” He seemed bothered by this, “They’re coming out of the National Forest”.
“That’s it the forest, I’m lookin for the Forest
!”I wasn’t doing any of my fellow Montana hunters any favors by having this little chat with likely one of the bigger ranchers in the state, and it was clear by the look on his face by this point; I’d just confirmed his long held belief we were all a bunch of idiots?
“It’s just up the road another 3 or 4 miles.” He said then rolled up his window and rolled on by without ever looking back.
Half a mile later I saw brown sign facing me saying: “Entering Helena National Forest” and now I was really confused
? I had passed another couple turnoffs, so it was likely he’d just come from one of them, but still how could he be so off on the mileage and even misunderstanding me in the first place? He didn’t seem the type to be having any sport with me.I was just glad to finally be here, where here was on a map, wherever that might be; I was there and it felt better already?...I could now shoot something if I saw it and kept going hoping that might happen. We cruised another 4 miles and saw a few places to pull off, but hunters already in them; so trudged on…
………………….
As I rounded another empty bend in the mountain road, I came upon a guy actually waving me down for a change? Thinking I’d probably made a wrong turn and was about to be told so; I beat him to a question…
“Does this road lead to back to ‘state’ at some point?”
“I was hoping you knew too?” he responded
“Naw, heck I done know where I am?”
“Dang, I just found a herd of 16 and I can’t tell if they’re on the BMA or not?”
“Let’s shoot em anyway!” I said smiling, not really meaning it.
“Follow me!” he said whipping a u-turn, before I could clarify
…I figured what would it hurt, to at least see some elk
?…………….
This fella was driving the stupidest car I’d ever seen in the elk-woods, it was a tiny rust colored Toyota hatchback more than twenty years old, of what exact type I’m still unclear except stupid looking and could never have held half an elk, though the guy was competent behind the wheel or just an idiot I couldn’t tell, nor keep up.
It must’ve had all wheel drive, and no insurance at the speed he was going as we covered 3 miles at least, up and down, up and down; him never hitting the brakes once, and only when I finally caught up did his vanity-plate saying:”FUN-GUY” make me concerned I was falling into a perverse hunters trap out in the middle of nowhere
?Once he slowed and exited his contraption, immediately viewing the opposing slope, did I let my guard down to do the same?
“Yup, they’re still there!” he said
“Where, I don’t see anything?”
“Okay, you see that knoll over there? Well about 300 yards east of it is a finger. At the head of those Aspens you’ll see a small butte, just below that is a bull standing broadside.”
“Where?”
“Right there!”…See where my fingers pointing?”
“Oh, okay you mean way way way over there?!”
“Yeah, figure it’s about ¾ of a mile at least, on the other side of the canyon?”
“Yeah, that’s prolly not gonna happen in this lifetime.”
“What?”
“Way too far from the road, and besides what’s this fence mean?” I said pointing to the barbed wire affair not ten feet from us; holding four horses and two mules; eyeballing us since we’d stopped.
“That’s where I’m a little fuzzy?”
“But were on a BMA right?”
“Yup, most definitely; we are in fact parked on the Triple Bar Ranch!”
“Well, you’ll have to help me here since aint got a map; where are they standing -on it, or not
?”Joe, as his name turned out to be I couldn’t stand it any longer and introduced myself, since it seemed he was fine without- gathered up his maps then used my trucks’ hood for a table.
“Were here” he said pointing his finger to a point far beyond the Helena National Forest; far further than I recalled driving, but took his word for it?
“This is that high tension power line and that ridge below that butte is where the elk are.”
“So, let me get this straight; your saying this is us, and that is them, and this area in green and red is legal, but that white area is not…?
“Yup”
“…and they’re standing in the white area?”
“Yup”
“Bummer” Was not what I said
………………...
It seemed Joe and I shared a common affliction: ‘Ethical Fluctuation’ as the two of us stood and debated the possible fines compared to that of the costs of a quality shoulder-mount?
I will say I was first to come to his senses, about ten seconds before poor Joe; who seemed bummed I’d beat him to reason? Yes, I recalled not too terribly long ago (a few days has it been already?) where I’d made a promise to myself and a hundred other hunters accompanying me, that I would refrain from taking game illegally as it did nothing to enhance the story, nor the wildlife itself (though I might have those two confused); no, there’s simply no reason for such gibberish on any forum or in any book on hunting, it’s appalling to even think anyone would consider such things….
Joe hadn’t left ten minutes before I made my move….
...........
....I parked my truck down by this small corral where I’d had a brief chat with a couple cowboys out trying to round up strays. They assured me the elk were on a section I was not allowed, but not overly concerned I could probably hike that distance anyway; they suggested I might cut some off if they kept feeding the way they were facing?
So as they ventured up the opposing slope on horseback and it about two hours before sundown, I decided to give it a go? I dressed in all my clothes, even wearing my old scent lok suit for added protection, threw on some orange, slung my gun over my shoulder (its strap having given out days ago), and threw two Milk Bones in the cab for the girls to fight over, before locking her up tight and hoofing it up another mountain.
………..
I’d gone back to the BMA box to sign in at least, based on a cowboy’s direction; allowing me to hunt this tract, as it appeared Joe had done the same, and in fact realized I was no longer actually on Forest Lands, having passed beyond them?
Instead, I was now legally able to pursue my second heart attack while attempting to kill an elk, so far from civilization if the cowboys didn’t report me missing; I’d never be heard from again?
…………..
As I neared the second crest of a heavily snow-covered mountain, I began to notice an odd set of tracks in front of me I appeared to be following though unintentionally? It appeared someone had taken this course before, though wisely had worn a set of snow-shoes- similar to the type I promised I’d buy myself last year before this year, but hadn’t.
This fella whomever he was, had a shorter stride and meandered a lot more than I did, but appeared lost or just clueless in some of his actions I couldn’t figure it out, so ignored them and trudged on.
I came upon something kind of strange up there along the fence line and it was another fence that shouldn’t have been there ( based on the map I now had; taken from the sign-in box)?
“Wait a second, where am I?”
I studied it aloud unsure I’d even taken the right route, but then spied a small indention on the map and remembering scale, this put me another hundred yards off course to where I’d hoped to see elk.
“Bummer”
I kept going and then came upon those crazy tracks again and decided this guy was either drunk or had been snow-blind as he almost seemed to run into the fence a few times?
“Idiot”
…………..
When I spotted the elk legs though, I knew I was witnessing a cruel part of Mother Nature and man, and something unavoidable when the two inhabit the same region. Here before me were two front legs stuck wrapped up tight and intertwined in the barbed wire, though the elk’s carcass drug off recently by scavengers and nowhere to be seen.
It was a sobering reminder of how rough these animals have it out there and how resilient they must be to survive not only wolves and bears and mountain lions pursuing them, but man too.
Playing this part, I continued my hunt as the sun set, though never cut a fresh track nor saw my prized game unfortunately. Only upon my return back down the mountain under the glow of my headlamp did the obvious sink in. I stopped as suddenly as if someone had stood in my way, and bent down to inspect these huge tracks I’d assumed were made by man, and when I shown my lamp on its outline closer I realized these were no cleat boots, but bear…big grizzly bear
?!
They were two maybe three days old I assumed, but just that, no older than a week; as the snow was a fresh coat since then. Up high on the slope they became erratic and disjointed and were why I hadn’t seen them for what they were, but now down on flat ground closer to the coral; their outline was more defined and exact; as were the direction they were heading and their size left little doubt to the species that left them.
The realization I’d just followed grizzly bear tracks right to the dead elk, was also a sobering reminder and put me back in familiar territory playing less the part of the hunter, but very close to the hunted and every part the idiot.
……………..
So as they ventured up the opposing slope on horseback and it about two hours before sundown, I decided to give it a go? I dressed in all my clothes, even wearing my old scent lok suit for added protection, threw on some orange, slung my gun over my shoulder (its strap having given out days ago), and threw two Milk Bones in the cab for the girls to fight over, before locking her up tight and hoofing it up another mountain
.………..
I’d gone back to the BMA box to sign in at least, based on a cowboy’s direction; allowing me to hunt this tract, as it appeared Joe had done the same, and in fact realized I was no longer actually on Forest Lands, having passed beyond them
? Instead, I was now legally able to pursue my second heart attack while attempting to kill an elk, so far from civilization if the cowboys didn’t report me missing; I’d never be heard from again
?…………..
As I neared the second crest of a heavily snow-covered mountain, I began to notice an odd set of tracks in front of me I appeared to be following though unintentionally? It appeared someone had taken this course before, though wisely had worn a set of snow-shoes- similar to the type I promised I’d buy myself last year before this year, but hadn’t
. This fella whomever he was, had a shorter stride and meandered a lot more than I did, but appeared lost or just clueless in some of his actions I couldn’t figure it out, so ignored them and trudged on.
I came upon something kind of strange up there along the fence line and it was another fence that shouldn’t have been there ( based on the map I now had; taken from the sign-in box)?
“Wait a second, where am I
?”I studied it aloud unsure I’d even taken the right route, but then spied a small indention on the map and remembering scale, this put me another hundred yards off course to where I’d hoped to see elk.
“Bummer”
I kept going and then came upon those crazy tracks again and decided this guy was either drunk or had been snow-blind as he almost seemed to run into the fence a few times?
“Idiot”
…………..
When I spotted the elk legs though, I knew I was witnessing a cruel part of Mother Nature and man, and something unavoidable when the two inhabit the same region. Here before me were two front legs stuck wrapped up tight and intertwined in the barbed wire, though the elk’s carcass drug off recently by scavengers and nowhere to be seen.
It was a sobering reminder of how rough these animals have it out there and how resilient they must be to survive not only wolves and bears and mountain lions pursuing them, but man too
. Playing this part, I continued my hunt as the sun set, though never cut a fresh track nor saw my prized game unfortunately. Only upon my return back down the mountain under the glow of my headlamp did the obvious sink in. I stopped as suddenly as if someone had stood in my way, and bent down to inspect these huge tracks I’d assumed were made by man, and when I shown my lamp on its outline closer I realized these were no cleat boots, but bear…big grizzly bear
?!They were two maybe three days old I assumed, but just that, no older than a week; as the snow was a fresh coat since then. Up high on the slope they became erratic and disjointed and were why I hadn’t seen them for what they were, but now down on flat ground closer to the coral; their outline was more defined and exact; as were the direction they were heading and their size left little doubt to the species that left them
.The realization I’d just followed grizzly bear tracks right to the dead elk, was also a sobering reminder and put me back in familiar territory playing less the part of the hunter, but very close to the hunted and every part the idiot.
……………..
Last Day Last Chance
After last nights’ hunt I went to a lone gas station back in Townsend, absolutely starving and so thirsty I’d developed a headache.
As I walked inside I was welcomed by several huge elk and mule deer mounts staring down at me in disgust for trying to kill them and I mumbled “how much you want for that muley up there?”, convinced I could slice off a tongue, stick it in his mouth, and maybe throw some leaves over the backboard before posting a few creative shots?
“No luck huh?” the young man behind the counter said
“Nope, nothing like that anyway, tons of small ones, some good ones, but just not Mr. Right?”
“I hear ya, it’s frustrating sometimes; so many yet so few real big ones?”
“Yeah, I mean if it were numbers I was after I could’ve fed the nation, but I’ve only got one mouth to feed so I passed a few more than I mighta should have?”
“Aah, you’ll get em next year!” he said, handing me my change
…………………..
Still as I was about to get in my truck, a man and his young son came up to say hello. “Have any luck?” he asked
“Nope, just saw some elk but on private land?”
“Well, all we saw was deer and no elk?”
“I’d a traded ya days then. I really want a mule deer.”
“Yeah bad year for em I hear? Used to be almost a nuisance you’d see so many, but they increased the harvest, then a couple bad winters, and now…?”
“Just my luck” I said
“Yeah, ya might head north more toward the 400 district, or White Sulfur Springs or maybe Great Falls, or Lewistown?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard from others, but just too far and too late now?”
“Well, me and the boy are gonna give it one more try anyway?”
“I’ll show you where the elk were, if you’ll show me a good deer spot?”
“Sure.”
We traded info and parted ways, me intending on returning –‘just into the 400 district’, but not too far as my gas funds were officially depleted.
……………
That night once we returned, I fell to sleep so sound I thought I might never wake…Suzie’s stomach however was making such a racket in the early morning hours I thought she was gonna explode at any moment on my bed?
“What in the world?” I said rolling over, crawling across the floor, and turning on the light switch (I still have no box spring nor frame). She just looked up at me with those sad little green eyes that can melt butter and I invited her outside at two in the morning.
Once back in, I made a special concoction of some soft Purina I kept for such occasions and slipped in a pill left over from when Boca did the same a month earlier. She gobbled it up then fell back to sleep, her scrunched up around my head and Boca still snoozing unconcerned around my feet, though me wisely leaving the kitchen light on in case of emergency.
I’d anticipated awakening and heading out way before dawn this being the very last opportunity I’d get, but after the midnight interruption I instead overslept and never stirred again till somewhere around 7ish?
The only reason I woke at all was Suzie was licking my eyelid so bad trying to pry it open, I then recalled ‘why she might be doing this’; and jumped up from a prone position into standing so fast Boca burst from her slumber and barked constantly as we both ran for the door tripping over each other, as Suzie apparently “had to go?!”
As she did her very best to rid herself of what I later determined to be a fist-sized raw hide- meant for Boca- but stolen by her the day before; I looked at the microwave clock and determined the day was just about lost anyway, so no need to rush out when there was still some sleeping to be done?
……………..
By noon though, I was ready to hunt!
I’d now only given myself 5 hours to fill my buck tag, but for some reason I was unconcerned. I’d hunted Montana and there wasn’t anyone on earth who could say I hadn’t tried. Though I could’ve probably gone out more mornings than evenings and seen more game, I just couldn’t get motivated in the temps we were experiencing; and not having anyone to cheer me on was another factor, though I appreciate the support online.
The girls did their best to run me afoul though not on purpose, and I blame no one for not succeeding, not even myself for once.
When I was in Lewistown I recalled a man at a hardware store saying he’d “sometimes went years without taking a buck, though would see 40 to 50 during a season?” I’d originally found this ludicrous and thought he might’ve been joking or just crazy, but now I understand; as I easily saw that many and more!
While some might think its more fun to shoot deer than pass them, I kinda got this conflicting perspective from working on plantations; where I’d actually be the jerk who had to enforce fines when someone didn’t follow code. That and while there, would kill 10 does a season easily to thin the herd, so hunters wouldn’t have too.
My blood lust, which I once had, I’ll admit, has since faded and I find myself a trophy hunter by default, though likely the poorest one on the planet. This is why I simply won’t drop the hammer on anything that doesn’t at least get my heart rate up?
Don’t get me wrong though, this is just me; how I hunt; I congratulated at least 20 guys this season alone on taking one, two, and three-year old bucks, and even put a couple guys onto deer of this size so they could harvest them.
I just wanted a sure enough wallhanger, and with shoulder mounts starting at $450.00 up here, I wasn’t gonna take anything less.
………………..
So on Sunday, my buck tag still in my pocket, I drove north up toward Townsend again then headed east toward White Sulfur Springs, following the man’s directions to the tee. Only after driving more than an hour and a half did it don on me I now only had maybe three hours to end this season on a high note, and the unlikelihood of this began to sink in.
Once just below the springs, I spied the grain bins I was to be looking for and the green box indicating the guy wasn’t lying; as this too was a “Block Management Area”, though the box was out of maps so I was officially fried as far as where this meant I could or could not hunt?
I saw a truck containing orange bodies and pulled over to talk with a couple guys who’d “been hunting there for years and all morning” and since they’d simply “pushed deer toward their demise” before I got there; I quickly decided this wasn’t a place where miracles happen.
They were nice enough to give me their map, so I drove back toward where I came slowly, and spotted a lone doe out in the stubble, but her tail told me she wasn’t alone? I’d by now watched enough deer to learn the signs of the rut, and stopped to glass the surrounding knee-high broom sedge and eventually spotted him not 50 feet away from her.
His rack was a 4x4 and a muley, and though he’d thought he was hidden, his antlers stood glistening 6 inches above the weeds. His position and his stealth, though young; indicated he was a buck that would make it another year if he stayed bedded till sundown, was noted as such; though again ‘not what I was looking for’ so we drove on.
...............
Once I realized the night a bust and that much was clear, since I’d had enough of them in a row to know what was coming; I eased off the brake and applied the gas headed for home.
What wasn’t realized upon my adventure was how far I’d travelled almost in a complete circle and how close I’d come to familiar ground? “Heck, were back on 89? how’d that happen?” I said grabbing my map. “I’m a half hour from old lady Holcombe’s?” I shouted, waking both from their slumber …
With close to an hour left of shootable light; I gunned it south ignoring my route there, as I now knew where I was, and we raced at frantic pace toward an amazing standing wheat field I’d found weeks earlier that held countless huns and a few stray roosters; all of which I’d flushed unintentionally upon my deer hunt?
The girls were in their highest state of arousal as I fastened their collars to them and ignoring the passing big rigs, along with how terribly they hunted together, I couldn’t fathom not having both along nor what damage the other might do at this juncture being left alone in the truck.
Throwing caution to the wind and my shotgun over my shoulder we simply burst like three wild dogs into this magical field and flushed a dozen huns, dropping two on my first two shots, and the girls grabbed one each then paraded around with them; both reluctant to deliver to hand?!
...It was glorious and wonderful and made me laugh at all the crazy things that’d happened along the way… It was quite possibly the best ending I’d ever had to any season and I was honored to have yall along for the ride!
Moe
After last nights’ hunt I went to a lone gas station back in Townsend, absolutely starving and so thirsty I’d developed a headache.
As I walked inside I was welcomed by several huge elk and mule deer mounts staring down at me in disgust for trying to kill them and I mumbled “how much you want for that muley up there?”, convinced I could slice off a tongue, stick it in his mouth, and maybe throw some leaves over the backboard before posting a few creative shots
?“No luck huh?” the young man behind the counter said
“Nope, nothing like that anyway, tons of small ones, some good ones, but just not Mr. Right?”
“I hear ya, it’s frustrating sometimes; so many yet so few real big ones?”
“Yeah, I mean if it were numbers I was after I could’ve fed the nation, but I’ve only got one mouth to feed so I passed a few more than I mighta should have?”
“Aah, you’ll get em next year!” he said, handing me my change
…………………..
Still as I was about to get in my truck, a man and his young son came up to say hello. “Have any luck?” he asked
“Nope, just saw some elk but on private land?”
“Well, all we saw was deer and no elk?”
“I’d a traded ya days then. I really want a mule deer.”
“Yeah bad year for em I hear? Used to be almost a nuisance you’d see so many, but they increased the harvest, then a couple bad winters, and now…?”
“Just my luck” I said
“Yeah, ya might head north more toward the 400 district, or White Sulfur Springs or maybe Great Falls, or Lewistown?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard from others, but just too far and too late now?”
“Well, me and the boy are gonna give it one more try anyway?”
“I’ll show you where the elk were, if you’ll show me a good deer spot?”
“Sure.”
We traded info and parted ways, me intending on returning –‘just into the 400 district’, but not too far as my gas funds were officially depleted.
……………
That night once we returned, I fell to sleep so sound I thought I might never wake…Suzie’s stomach however was making such a racket in the early morning hours I thought she was gonna explode at any moment on my bed
?“What in the world?” I said rolling over, crawling across the floor, and turning on the light switch (I still have no box spring nor frame). She just looked up at me with those sad little green eyes that can melt butter and I invited her outside at two in the morning.
Once back in, I made a special concoction of some soft Purina I kept for such occasions and slipped in a pill left over from when Boca did the same a month earlier. She gobbled it up then fell back to sleep, her scrunched up around my head and Boca still snoozing unconcerned around my feet, though me wisely leaving the kitchen light on in case of emergency.
I’d anticipated awakening and heading out way before dawn this being the very last opportunity I’d get, but after the midnight interruption I instead overslept and never stirred again till somewhere around 7ish?
The only reason I woke at all was Suzie was licking my eyelid so bad trying to pry it open, I then recalled ‘why she might be doing this’
; and jumped up from a prone position into standing so fast Boca burst from her slumber and barked constantly as we both ran for the door tripping over each other, as Suzie apparently “had to go?!”As she did her very best to rid herself of what I later determined to be a fist-sized raw hide- meant for Boca- but stolen by her the day before; I looked at the microwave clock and determined the day was just about lost anyway, so no need to rush out when there was still some sleeping to be done
?……………..
By noon though, I was ready to hunt!
I’d now only given myself 5 hours to fill my buck tag, but for some reason I was unconcerned. I’d hunted Montana and there wasn’t anyone on earth who could say I hadn’t tried. Though I could’ve probably gone out more mornings than evenings and seen more game, I just couldn’t get motivated in the temps we were experiencing; and not having anyone to cheer me on was another factor, though I appreciate the support online
. The girls did their best to run me afoul though not on purpose, and I blame no one for not succeeding, not even myself for once.
When I was in Lewistown I recalled a man at a hardware store saying he’d “sometimes went years without taking a buck, though would see 40 to 50 during a season?” I’d originally found this ludicrous and thought he might’ve been joking or just crazy, but now I understand; as I easily saw that many and more!
While some might think its more fun to shoot deer than pass them, I kinda got this conflicting perspective from working on plantations; where I’d actually be the jerk who had to enforce fines when someone didn’t follow code. That and while there, would kill 10 does a season easily to thin the herd, so hunters wouldn’t have too.
My blood lust, which I once had, I’ll admit, has since faded and I find myself a trophy hunter by default, though likely the poorest one on the planet
. This is why I simply won’t drop the hammer on anything that doesn’t at least get my heart rate up?Don’t get me wrong though, this is just me; how I hunt; I congratulated at least 20 guys this season alone on taking one, two, and three-year old bucks, and even put a couple guys onto deer of this size so they could harvest them.
I just wanted a sure enough wallhanger, and with shoulder mounts starting at $450.00 up here, I wasn’t gonna take anything less.
………………..
So on Sunday, my buck tag still in my pocket, I drove north up toward Townsend again then headed east toward White Sulfur Springs, following the man’s directions to the tee. Only after driving more than an hour and a half did it don on me I now only had maybe three hours to end this season on a high note, and the unlikelihood of this began to sink in
. Once just below the springs, I spied the grain bins I was to be looking for and the green box indicating the guy wasn’t lying; as this too was a “Block Management Area”, though the box was out of maps so I was officially fried as far as where this meant I could or could not hunt
?I saw a truck containing orange bodies and pulled over to talk with a couple guys who’d “been hunting there for years and all morning” and since they’d simply “pushed deer toward their demise” before I got there; I quickly decided this wasn’t a place where miracles happen.
They were nice enough to give me their map, so I drove back toward where I came slowly, and spotted a lone doe out in the stubble, but her tail told me she wasn’t alone? I’d by now watched enough deer to learn the signs of the rut, and stopped to glass the surrounding knee-high broom sedge and eventually spotted him not 50 feet away from her.
His rack was a 4x4 and a muley, and though he’d thought he was hidden, his antlers stood glistening 6 inches above the weeds. His position and his stealth, though young; indicated he was a buck that would make it another year if he stayed bedded till sundown, was noted as such; though again ‘not what I was looking for’ so we drove on.
...............
Once I realized the night a bust and that much was clear, since I’d had enough of them in a row to know what was coming; I eased off the brake and applied the gas headed for home.
What wasn’t realized upon my adventure was how far I’d travelled almost in a complete circle and how close I’d come to familiar ground
? “Heck, were back on 89? how’d that happen?” I said grabbing my map. “I’m a half hour from old lady Holcombe’s?” I shouted, waking both from their slumber …With close to an hour left of shootable light; I gunned it south ignoring my route there, as I now knew where I was, and we raced at frantic pace toward an amazing standing wheat field I’d found weeks earlier that held countless huns and a few stray roosters; all of which I’d flushed unintentionally upon my deer hunt?
The girls were in their highest state of arousal as I fastened their collars to them and ignoring the passing big rigs, along with how terribly they hunted together, I couldn’t fathom not having both along nor what damage the other might do at this juncture being left alone in the truck.
Throwing caution to the wind and my shotgun over my shoulder we simply burst like three wild dogs into this magical field and flushed a dozen huns, dropping two on my first two shots, and the girls grabbed one each then paraded around with them; both reluctant to deliver to hand
...It was glorious and wonderful and made me laugh at all the crazy things that’d happened along the way… It was quite possibly the best ending I’d ever had to any season and I was honored to have yall along for the ride!
Moe
Thanks Moe.
radams1228
Senior Member
Thanks Moe. I've enjoyed the season.
fishndinty
Senior Member
Thanks Moe. Get pics of some ducks for us waterfowlers if you get a chance. I'd say 'God bless you', but we both know He already has and will continue to.
lab
Senior Member
thanks
Tomboy Boots
Turkey Killer
Daddy Rabbit Kennels
Banned
Rabbit tracks everwhere~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ >
Say MoBirds, just thinking about you and the Girls.
Wanted to check in too see if everthing is going Your way.
d.r.~~~~~~~~~~~Dixie Land~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>
Say MoBirds, just thinking about you and the Girls.
Wanted to check in too see if everthing is going Your way.
d.r.~~~~~~~~~~~Dixie Land~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>
