At this point in my life the butchering of game is just part of the hunt. I’ve never had a bad piece of venison from my own kills and I like to keep my record going so I don’t let other people process my game.
I always know what I’ve got.
In short order I had it packaged, labeled and frozen.
The following days went by much too quickly. Terry headed to the hills for deer
and Rob focused his attention on the lower ground where the antelope play. Brent and I worked our various plots and strategies to little avail, but had a heck of a time doing it.
Many long waits and some blown stalks were behind us as it drew time for Terry and Rob to leave the sage and pine scented hills of Wyoming.
My buddy Brent is ever ready to get video footage or snap a good photo. Well, he a chance at fame and glory but blew it. Of course it’s not like we’re Will Primos or Knight and Hale, or something.
We were out bouncing over hill and dale when we stopped to check an old pond for sign. Having found the waterhole fit for an ambush plan we cast about for an ideal hiding spot.
I don’t remember who saw it first, but what we ran across had to be one of the unluckiest critters on earth.
What must have been the last ground squirrel above ground for the season, was standing up looking us over from about twenty five yards.
Brent whispered for me to get a little closer and wait for him to get the camera going.
I took a step closer to the squirrel and in front of Brent as he scrambled to get his little video running.
Soon the camera was set and I double checked to see when he wanted me to shoot. “Now! I’m ready”, he whispered back.
A ground squirrel at twenty five yards is a pretty small target. Only two inches wide and a little over four inches tall the brave little guy stood stoically, looking us over.
I drew the carbon shaft to anchor smoothly and held a second as my alignment and back tension settled in. “Thunk….. WHOP!! The judo tipped arrow lifted the squirrel from the mouth of his den and deposited him in the nearby sage. A perfect shot through the ribs.
Elation over the coming together of bow and camera quickly faded to dejection when Brent realized that in his excitement he’d forgotten to push the record button on the camera.
I tried to be a good sport about it and let Brent know that I wouldn’t remind him of his mistake.... of course I had my fingers crossed.
We shot a few still photos and went about our business.
(Cont. Monday)
Topic: OH NO......IT'S SNOWING/TradGanger adventures and the hunt for old Crooked Horn. (Read 22438 times)
