The Sportsman's Journal

2004

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9/22/2004

A HUNTING WE SHALL GO

As most of you already know, our deer hunts at the cabin have been... well, the shits! For 14 years now, myself, Mike, Bruce and Wilton have trudged many a mile during deer season. And in those 14 years, Mike shot one legal buck with a pistol while fishing and I shot a... well, it was a buck... 'nuf said. So we all convened for this season's opener last weekend... high spirits and lots of promise. I might add that Bruce and I failed to send in our tag applications for the zone at the cabin in time, so we ended up purchasing bear tags so we could at least walk through the woods armed to the teeth and perhaps assist the others with a deer ( albeit somewhat misdemeanering by those who adhere to the letter of the DFG law).

So Friday afternoon the clouds roll in. By morning it is cold and occasional light rain. We all scatter to where we would expect to encounter our foe. By 10 AM I was walking down a ridge a few miles from the cabin. Two big 4 point bucks leap from the brush and run downhill. At 200 yds I draw a bead on the back of one and, about to squeeze off a shot, notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I see a bear in a full tilt run directly at me at 50 yards. Que lastima!! I turn and fire at the bear that is just a blur in the rifle scope set on 9x power for the long distance deer. Miss once, miss twice, clip his chin on the third and finish him off with the last shot at 20 yards... pistol drawn I approach.

Now, the chance of encountering a bear, on foot and without dogs in bear season is extremely rare. I believe cosmic forces were at work here as God knew I had a bear tag and was bending to the temptation of shooting at that big-ass buck. He threw the bear into the mix to test me. After much labor, I drug that poor son-of-a-bitch to the logging road, hiked 2 miles back to the truck and fetched him back to camp.

The next morning finds the weather diminishing, occasional snow, and all hunters keenly in pursuit of their foe. Having filled my tag, I stay at the cabin, get a big fire going in the pot belly, cup of coffee, and a Hemmingway book. Well, you can not be cozy in a cabin during hunting season and read Hemmingway without feeling guilty! Grab the rifle and hat and out into the snow I go. Walking from the cabin so as not to be conspicuous to Fish & Game wardens, I hiked up the ridge behind the cabin. At 10 am I encountered a 3 point buck walking toward me at 60 yards. Que lastima!! Moments after I down him the skies open up and in half an hour there is 2 inches of snow on the ground to ease the dragging of Mr. Buck down off the ridge. Another one of those guardian angel things I suspect.

So by now, brother Mike is foaming at the mouth to get his deer.Monday morning, after a night of rain and snow, Mikey is once again in hot pursuit before dawn. Wilton and I casually rise, leisurely eat breakfast and off to the river to fish. Returning at 1 we find a grinning Mikey, my ATV covered in blood and a fat forked horn hanging with the others off the back staircase. The deer was shot, again, at 10 AM.

Once again, the world was spinning in greased grooves.