Blessings of THE GREAT HUNT-pics added page 5

[hormoan]

Atta boy Vance    thats a nice smile.


                 Brent

[Terry Green]

Take note you two....

Here's the 'Spaghetti Junction' I found when Vance and I split up at the 'Sea of Fallen Aspens'.  The area behind that group of small trees in the middle of the pic is null and void of anything solid....all sticks, leaves, pine cones, and debris is all crunched up ....nothing but dirt.  This place needs to have a tree stand.  There is also a trail just above this junction on the left that could also be covered and well in range if one picked the right tree.

This little run is a funnel between two very large groves of recently fallen aspens.  Wish I'd had a few more days, as I did find a relatively easy way into this area.

Vance, this area is just inside the timber where we split up at that little switch back....and deserves an afternoon for sure.  Man, looking at these pics is killing me!!!

     

[Terry Green]

Here's a lower bay in the sea of fallen aspens...

 

Lets have a closer look.......

 

Hide and seek.........

 

[Terry Green]

Congrats on the Buck Charlie.....the elusive buck I might add!!!

I could have arrowed an antelope buck, an antelope doe, mule dear doe, and a moose.....but only had a tag for a mulie buck.

I only saw one, but he was a hammer, and many thanks to Vance for letting me slip into his turf....who knows what would have happened if I hadn't got cheated out of that last hour and 15 minutes by that broadside electrical storm.......it sure was a rush slipping inside his turf.

 

[hormoan]

I have a feeling, somethings cooking out there    


                  Brent

[Terry Green]

[Guru]

second page?   no way!!

[Charlie Lamb]

The last couple of days have been very busy. Not much happening, but very busy none the less.

Let me start with day before yesterday.

I was up early and headed for the Double Bull which is down the creek a few miles sitting harmlessly next to a waterhole that I wrote about last year.

It should be a great place to watch for antelope, but so far it hadn't produced a single sighting, let alone antelope drinking from it's cool depths.

The morning temps here in the valley have been hovering around 20 degrees first thing in the morning and I went prepared...thermos of coffee and my down sleeping bag would add to the pleasure of the morning, keeping chill blanes away.

What a pleasant morning. Not a thing showed except the usual bird show, which included a golden eagle, a marsh hawk, and assorted dicky birds that I don't recognize.

When the sun was high and I had exchanged the down bag for a short sleeve shirt, I finally plodded  slowly up the road to where I had my truck hidden.

A lone buck antelope fed quietly not fifty yards from the truck. He refused to budge until I'd gotten within 50 yards and then trotted slowly off into the sage.

What a time it's been. Every other antelope that I'd seen that was in a position to stalk, bolted as soon the truck came over the hill.
Wild to say the least.

And I'm talking scarce as well. Where there would normally be antelope in nearly every pasture on this ranch, there are now few and those that are here hold to the centers of the meadows, never approaching the willow cover close enough to effectively stalk them.

It may be that I've bitten off more than I can chew this year... but it's like that most years for me.

I'm sure there are better places to hunt with higher success rates and all that. But I continue to hunt my old haunts, most often stalking failure and watching success flee over the hill.

I like it that way and wouldn't change a thing.

[steadman]

Very nice Charlie. Congrats on your buck earlier.

[Charlie Lamb]

Back at the house, I finished off a sandwich and a couple glasses of water before heading out the door to shoot a few arrows at Vance's 3D deer.

As I pulled my armguard from it's place on my bowquiver, I instantly realized my Big Shot glove was not there with it. Odd!

Thinking back I couldn't remember even putting it on in the blind. This would not do!

I checked the truck to see where I might have dropped it, to no avail. I was starting to obsess over that glove even though I had two spares in my arrow box.

Well, before long Vance and I were loaded in the truck and headed down to Brodie draw to press the search even farther.

We checked the area where I'd parked, checked the road down toward the blind, spread out and searched the low sage where I'd cut down hill to the blind and lastly, a thorough search of the blind.... nothing!

This lost glove thing began to eat me up. I never lose my glove. I always put it right back on the bowquiver when not in use.... well, apparently not always as of today.

We reasoned that since I couldn't remember having the glove in the blind that morning that it was possible that I'd dropped it the night before while we were loading up from our rabbit hunt.
Nothing to do now but head up the mountain.

[Charlie Lamb]

Grabbing my spare I shot a few familiarization shots just to make sure it felt right. Just fine! These Big Shot gloves break in easilly and the transition from old to new went without a hitch.

Soon we were headed up the road watching for antelope in stalkable places until we reached the timber where we switched focus to deer and a chance for Vance to swing into action.

We saw little in the way of antelope and no deer greeted our slow progress up the mountain.
Neither did we find the shooting glove where we thought it might be laying where we'd cleaned the snowshoe the night before.

I finally gave up hope of finding the glove (I fully expect it to turn up in some of my gear somewhere.) and we retraced our trip down toward lower ground.

There was one place that I wanted to check for antelope before we got home. Those of you who followed along on last years trip may recognize this place as the cabin where Terry Green shot his antelope buck.

 

There were a few antelope in the area, and I may just have to sit there a while and see what comes by.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully as the warmth of day relinquished it's hold on the land and gave way to the cold of night.

[Charlie Lamb]

With the days of my hunt dropping away much too rapidly I took time to reflect while Vance and I cruised into town to take care of business yesterday.

Vance had called a buck antelope a "buse-kee". I'd chuckled when he said it and remembered how long ago we'd adopted that "corruption" of the word buck.

Remembered how, leaving early one morning for the hunt ages ago, we'd heard a newby radio guy giving the stock report for the day, "lambs and "eewees" are bringing x dollars.....! Had he really said "eewee" and not ewe?

From that day forward any female of a species or it's offspring would be referred to by that name. It trips as naturally off my tongue as any other word I know.

Late in the afternoon, Vance announced that today would be the day we made a move on the "willow buck".

[JC]

Originally posted by Charlie Lamb:
I'm sure there are better places to hunt with higher success rates and all that. But I continue to hunt my old haunts, most often stalking failure and watching success flee over the hill.

I'm not so sure about that Charlie...I have a good friend who helped me realize a few years ago that the best place to hunt was in the company of brothers; success rates were best measured in fond memories, smiles and laughter; the hope, anticipation and excitement of a stalk makes it worth doing for it's own sake, no matter the outcome....and many times, being there is good enough.    

Thanks for sharing the adventures, sure makes a feller want to take off the entire month of Sept next year...

[Charlie Lamb]

Thanks Joe! Couldn't have said it better!!

My memory may be getting bad, but aren't you supposed to take the month of September and spend it in the mountains. That's why God made September!  :D

[knife river]

Originally posted by Charlie Lamb:
Vance had called a buck antelope a "buse-kee". I'd chuckled when he said it and remembered how long ago we'd adopted that "corruption" of the word buck.

Charlie, an old buddy of mine pronounces it "an TELL oh pee."  When talking about a herd of them, they are "AN tuh low pers."  Any situation that starts turning bad is "ball-bearic."  When it gets "truly ball-bearic", the transmission is blown and you're 30 miles outside Ekalaka, MT in a ground blizzard at 2 a.m.            

[knife river]

One other thing -- I'm ready to start passing the hat to finance your next trip to see Vance and those mountains as long as you keep writing so well about it.  You've turned some phrases that make for top-drawer reading.  Excellent craftsmanship with words, Mr. Lamb, and when you're ready to write a book, I think most of us are ready to buy it.    

[IB]

Woody......PLEASE let's get this visit over for we start on NEXT YEAR  

[Charlie Lamb]

The move on the willow buck went just about as we had expected.

With a buck of this size, you only get one chance and so far he hasn't even known we were hunting him. I guess that's a good thing, but it sure doesn't make me feel like we're all that deadly.

It would  have been 3 hours before last light as Vance and I donned our ghillies and pushed forward into the willows that line the creek. (if you live here it's pronounced "crik")

Before long a doe and her offspring passed us coming from where we'd been and going to who knows where... we thought we knew "where" but couldn't keep up with her.

At least we got a small confidence boost as regards the ghillies.

Stitching in and out of the willows, Vance and I were sometimes 50 yards apart and then again often within feet of each other as the maze of close growing bushes demanded.

At one point I'd eased over to Vance. He'd beckoned me with a finger motion. With a whispered word he pointed off into the willows between our position and the "crik".

A dark form could be seen back in the greenery, indistinct, but clearly something there. A quick look with my glasses confirmed the whispered answer.... Mooose!

If there is a danger to this willow game it is the moose that love the dense cover and tender leaves.
Vance and I both have our "crap your pants" moose encounters to remember, so we're pretty careful when in their habitat.

[Charlie Lamb]

Along toward dark, I'd gotten separated from Vance, so I made my way slowly to the open meadows by the "crik".

I waited in the open until well past dark and feeling that my partner would be making his way to the truck by a different route, moved on.

Not sure where who zigged and who zagged, Vance had moved to the eastern edge of the willows and in the fading light of another day came upon the buck we were looking for.

He was much too far to make a move on at that late time of day, so being ever so prudent Vance watched as the monarch and his entourage fed out of sight.

We met at the truck at almost the exact same time.
I've always been a little surprised by that phenomenon which has old hunting buddies showing up in the same place at the same time without previous planning.

It's happened so many times now with Vance that I just expect him to show up and I'm sure he's the same.
Little is said, yet the plan comes together.

[Charlie Lamb]

A new day dawned snappy cold and clear. The thermometer on the back porch read 21 degrees before the sun topped the hills to the east.

It was a good morning to sit and drink coffee and make a couple entries on TradGang.

Aware of the running out of time and the two antelope permits in my pocket I determined to spend my remaining days on foot stalking and scheming on the local goats.

At last the rut seemed to be kicking in and the long absent antelope are starting to drift back onto the ranch in numbers that should have been there all along.

By mid morning Vance and I were behind the spotting scope planning the demise of several groups of speedsters in the valley below.

The closest group looked like a slam dunk stalk...note my frequent use of the term "slam dunk" and how often it turns into a double dribble.    

Without fanfare I finally slipped off down the hill on my mission. It would be hours before my return.