We see a mess of cows first then hear him “glunking”…bingo…there he is…hooking cows on his way down. Elk love is sure not Disneyland. There are maybe a dozen cows now scattered around the tank and on our side of the hill. Amazingly enough, not one has drifted down enough to pick up Bob’s scent stream. All those eyes and no one sees us! They don’t even look through us…we were, simply enough, not there.
He’s not as big as he sounds, but plenty good enough for us. The bull waters and then he’s 25 yards broadside….come on Bob, turn me loose! Then he’s 20 yards gently quartering away…he is focused on a cow. Now’s my chance! Do it! Draw the bow you idiot…then the terrible truth smacked me like an 1200 grain Martha Stewart taking out a squearll…the tightwad didn’t buy an elk tag. Mighta interfered with his buck hunting. I shoulda never, ever left sweet, sweet Gawgia….thanks Terry!
We stayed past the last scintilla of light hoping for a deer…any deer to show up but it was an elk day from start to finish.
It was a long slug out of the draw and that cheap SOB was sure dragging his butt by the time we got back to the truck. Oh boy, I couldn’t wait to see what kind of lies he would have to tell the boys back at the cabin.
I noticed they have a bit of a strange ceremony, no real talking until everyone has settled down a bit. Bob put an extra touch or three of Jose Curveo in his glass and then it started…”whatcha see”. While out and out lying is not permitted its up to the questioner to ask the right questions, vague questions breed similar responses. Bill, perhaps still recovering from his shell shock was pretty quite and Gary is just too young to pin down the old geezer. No true confessions tonight but this isn’t Las Vegas and the truth always, sooner or later, comes out at cow camp.
Six o’clock the next morning finds the Tundra eating up the pavement on the way to Rifle and we are back at the tank by 10:00, elk tag in hand. Its very quiet, nature seems stiff and awkward and once again we grunt our way back to the truck in the dark…no deer and no elk. What happened?
True and pittifull confessions tonight…it was worse than a Jerry Springer show. Bob hung his head in shame and told the guys all the doins at the tank. To really pile it on he showed them the pictures of the bull. Bill pointed out that he had seen a truck parked above the water tank probably about the time we hit the pavement on the way to town. What a miserable excuse for a hunter!
To break the gloom he pulled me out of the quiver, stropped my edges and spruced up my feathers. At least we can get serious now about the elk hunting.
Once again we are starting to run out of time…the hunting is taking on a sense of urgency that always happens when you start to calculate the timeline. The tempo increases. Good thing the elk are talking, we can find them but shot opportunities are just not blending together.
Bob is not really a tree stand kind of guy. He has tried them but he has little patience and he considers three hours on a stand pretty close to a life sentence. Earlier in the week he put a stand on the edge of a bowl as he had seen two bucks bedded there.
We climb into the stand and immediately see two does. Hey this might work! Down below three bulls are bugling at each other. Bob tries to ignore them but is unsuccessful; he gives off a few plaintive cow calls. He will go after them in the morning when the wind is steady.
Forty minutes later here comes a little forked horn buck. The bulls have moved away but are still in “hearing distance”. This time he throws in a few whiney “I am in estrous, big boys”.
Half hour later, here comes a shooter buck running at a good pace. No shot. Don’t know what that’s all about. Twenty minutes till dark, windy but not too cold, spittin some rain and dark clouds coming fast in our direction. Bulls have circled back around and they are in the same spot as when we arrived. A few more here I am Big Boys calls. Time to pick up Bill.
Hey wait! There is a nice six point bull down about 200 yards, that just stepped out of the quakies and is looking uphill at us. Customer? A few more calls and he is sauntering up in our direction. Fifteen minutes till dark…if he makes it up here, will he get here before its too dark?
He’s in no hurry, a few more BB calls over the shoulder speeds him up. He’s coming! Hangs up at 35 yards, looking things over…wondering where those cows are…now he is paralleling the hillside, Bob squeaks out a soft cow call, he turns, UP he comes! Now he is on the trail, feeding right under us…chomp, chomp, coulda jumped on his back. Another couple of yards down the trail and it will be a 10-12 yards shot, oh no, the wind starts to falter, Bob gives him a mouse squeak, he stops mostly broadside and I am OFF! Glory be ! Right lung, left lung, out the other side. I hang on as he plunges violently downhill, but no use, he busts the shaft and I am thrown into the brush.
Each leap takes him ten or fifteen yards down the hill but I can see him developing the hospital wobble, and I hear him crash to his final resting place.
Its dark now, the brothers have walked over me on their way down to the bull. They found him without any trouble, quartered and hung him in the trees, they will take him out in the morning. Its coal black and raining pretty good now; they will find me in the morning.
It rained hard last night and all this morning. Thanks to Jim and his son, Neal and their four wheelers it was a quick but potentially dangerous drive up the hillside to the truck.
Bob looked for me for quite a while only finding the fletching end. For some reason he can’t hear me calling out to him. He promised he would take me blacktail hunting with Faith, the Tradgangers St. Jude auction bow for 2008.
The weather is clearing up and its going to be cold tonight.
Bob came back the next morning and looked for me again. But now he is searching too far down the hill. I think I am staying here for quite some time.
I wonder if in the future another bow hunter will find me and think about how I got here and what my owner was like….I know that Bob does that and he has a special place in his heart for everyone of us he finds.
It’s snowing now…
Topic: Terry Green's "Little Woodie" & Too Short (Read 2291 times)
