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Just a Poor Colorado kid!

I get back I’m a wreck, wife is sure I’m going to blow a gasket. Tells me to relax and just enjoy it, she clearly has no clue🤪

I get up and get dressed for work one day, end of the day I notice the level of my insanity. View attachment 306960
If it makes you feel better, this September I was waiting for a MT ‘bool’ to expire when I looked down and noticed I had mismatching boots. Maybe it’s good luck?
 
I get back I’m a wreck, wife is sure I’m going to blow a gasket. Tells me to relax and just enjoy it, she clearly has no clue🤪

I get up and get dressed for work one day, end of the day I notice the level of my insanity. View attachment 306960

Buying all those Keens will absolutely prevent you from finding a 400' bool. The universe has a way of working things out.
 
Several of us could ghost write for him to provide alternate endings like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Although frankly I am just excited to have a thread to look forward to that doesn't involve Matt Rinella or Cam Hanes.

#thankschatgpt


Dinkshooter, a poor Colorado boy with dreams of hunting elk, decided to venture to Arizona in search of big game. Armed with determination and a worn-out backpack, he set out on a dusty trail, eager to prove himself as a skilled hunter.

However, luck was not on Dinkshooter's side. Days passed without a single elk in sight, and his provisions dwindled. In a stroke of misfortune, his boots gave out, leaving him with only two mismatched Keen shoes salvaged from a thrift store. To add to his woes, he discovered that he had brought only a single celebratory cigarette, reminiscent of Paul Sheldon in Stephen King's "Misery."

Undeterred, Dinkshooter embraced his quirky footwear and the solitary celebratory cigarette, trudging through the rugged Arizona terrain with a sense of humor. As he hiked, he encountered challenges and obstacles that tested his mettle. Despite Dinkshooter's poor storytelling skills, he found solace in the solitude of the wild, realizing that sometimes the journey matters more than the destination.

In the end, Dinkshooter returned to Colorado with not just mismatched shoes and a single celebratory cigarette but also a quiet sense of accomplishment and a heart full of tales, even if poorly told, of the untamed Arizona landscape.
 
#thankschatgpt


Dinkshooter, a poor Colorado boy with dreams of hunting elk, decided to venture to Arizona in search of big game. Armed with determination and a worn-out backpack, he set out on a dusty trail, eager to prove himself as a skilled hunter.

However, luck was not on Dinkshooter's side. Days passed without a single elk in sight, and his provisions dwindled. In a stroke of misfortune, his boots gave out, leaving him with only two mismatched Keen shoes salvaged from a thrift store. To add to his woes, he discovered that he had brought only a single celebratory cigarette, reminiscent of Paul Sheldon in Stephen King's "Misery."

Undeterred, Dinkshooter embraced his quirky footwear and the solitary celebratory cigarette, trudging through the rugged Arizona terrain with a sense of humor. As he hiked, he encountered challenges and obstacles that tested his mettle. Despite Dinkshooter's poor storytelling skills, he found solace in the solitude of the wild, realizing that sometimes the journey matters more than the destination.

In the end, Dinkshooter returned to Colorado with not just mismatched shoes and a single celebratory cigarette but also a quiet sense of accomplishment and a heart full of tales, even if poorly told, of the untamed Arizona landscape.
You really missed your chance not to have a surprise encounter with Matt or Cam in there.
 
#chatgpt (It got confused with the Poor Colorado Kid living in Arizona and elk hunting in the summer but otherwise did pretty good). Could have ended with a #keephammering too.

In the arid landscapes of Arizona, where the sun beats down mercilessly, lived a spirited young boy named Dinkshooter. Despite the challenges of growing up in poverty, Dinkshooter found solace in the vast expanses of the wilderness that surrounded his small town. His dream was simple yet profound—to become an accomplished elk hunter.

One scorching summer day, Dinkshooter's life took an unexpected turn. Cam Haynes and Matt Rinella, renowned elk hunters, arrived in town for an exclusive hunting expedition. The news of their visit spread like wildfire, reaching the ears of the ambitious Dinkshooter.

Dinkshooter, armed with a worn-out rifle and clad in makeshift hunting gear, set out to meet his idols. The two hunters, intrigued by the determined young boy, decided to let him join their expedition through the challenging terrain of Arizona's mountains.

As the trio ventured into the rugged wilderness, the dry heat pressed down on them. Dinkshooter, though inexperienced, was determined to prove himself to his newfound mentors. Cam and Matt, recognizing the spark in the poor Colorado kid, offered guidance and shared their hunting wisdom along the way.

However, the unforgiving landscape and scorching temperatures began to take their toll. Tensions simmered beneath the surface, and as the group closed in on a magnificent elk, the pressure reached a boiling point. Dinkshooter, eager to impress, made a bold move that conflicted with the seasoned strategies of Cam and Matt.

A heated argument ensued, echoing through the canyons. The arid air seemed to crackle with tension as the trio found themselves in a disagreement that threatened to shatter the unity of their hunting expedition. The elk, sensing the discord, vanished into the rocky terrain, leaving the hunters standing in frustration.

As the echoes of their disagreement faded away, Dinkshooter, Cam, and Matt found themselves in a moment of reflection. The fight in the Arizona wilderness had revealed more than just differences in hunting styles—it had exposed the vulnerabilities of each hunter, laying bare their insecurities and pride.

In the stillness that followed, the trio decided to put aside their egos and differences. They realized that, in the vastness of the Arizona wilderness, there was room for diverse perspectives and approaches to hunting. With newfound humility, they set out once again, their shared passion for elk hunting uniting them despite the earlier discord.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows on the rocky landscape, Dinkshooter, Cam Haynes, and Matt Rinella continued their expedition. The lessons learned during that tumultuous day would forever shape their understanding of the wild, forging an unspoken bond that transcended the challenges of the Arizona desert and the disparities in their backgrounds.
 
Opening morning wake up. There were bulls bugling around camp most of the night. You’d think with all the planning and angst I’d have a direction or place in mind. I do not. I actually just get in the truck and start driving on some main gravel road East. Maybe something will cross the road in front of me in the dark.

I get most of the way across the unit and decide to go check out an area that someone had showed me a pic of a giant bull in from the summer. I had also seen an obscene sized rub right off the road when driving in the day before.

I park the truck in the dark and listen. I immediately regret the location choice. I can hear a few bugles but certainly no rut fest you want to be in on September 15th.

Still I get out, grab my stuff and start heading towards the closest bugle. Bird dog him for a while then actually call him back into range. Not a shooter but cool to have a close encounter by 9am.

 
I don’t know how this tale is gonna end. Let’s hope it’s somewhere in this direction…

Dinkshooter, a bowhunter with archery skills as suspect as his peculiar name, harbored a lifelong obsession with Arizona's legendary bull elk. From the moment he first leafed through hunting magazines as a child, captivated by majestic antlers and vast landscapes, Dinkshooter dreamed of claiming the grandest bull.

Despite his questionable aim and eccentric boots selection, Dinkshooter tirelessly pursued his elusive prey. His arrows often veered off course, missing targets by comical margins, earning him both bemused glances and sympathetic nods from fellow hunters. Undeterred, he continued his quest, fueled by a passion that surpassed his limitations.

Years passed, and the legend of Dinkshooter grew. Locals shared stories of his eccentric exploits, turning him into a folk hero of sorts. Yet, the biggest bull elk remained elusive, a ghostly figure that teased Dinkshooter from the shadows of rugged canyons and pine-covered slopes.

One autumn morning, as the sun painted the Arizona sky in hues of orange and gold, Dinkshooter found himself face to face with the bull of his dreams. Heart pounding, he drew his bow, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. The arrow sailed true, finding its mark with surprising precision.

The bull, majestic and formidable, fell gracefully, and for a moment, the forest held its breath. Dinkshooter stood in awe, disbelief etched across his face. He had achieved the impossible, proving that even the most suspect archery skills could triumph against all odds.

As Dinkshooter knelt beside his conquest, he reflected on a journey fueled by passion and an unwavering belief in the magic of the hunt. The legend of the peculiar bowhunter who defied all expectations echoed through the canyons, ensuring that Dinkshooter's name would forever be intertwined with the grandest bull elk in Arizona.

Dinkshooter knelt beside the fallen bull elk, a torrent of emotions surging within him. Overwhelmed by the realization of his lifelong dream, he couldn't contain his joy. Alligator tears streamed down his weathered face, mirroring the unbridled happiness he felt in that moment.

His childlike exuberance echoed through the silent forest as he laughed and cried, a peculiar mix of emotions that defied the expected level of maturity. In that wilderness sanctuary, surrounded by towering pines and the echoes of his own jubilation, Dinkshooter's tears painted a vivid portrait of a man who had, against all odds, captured the essence of his childhood dreams.

This is the crap that fills HT as the western big game seasons wind down and the application season winds up. And idle hands and minds wander listlessly awaiting a finely told and perhaps tall tale.
 
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Opening morning wake up. There were bulls bugling around camp most of the night. You’d think with all the planning and angst I’d have a direction or place in mind. I do not. I actually just get in the truck and start driving on some main gravel road East. Maybe something will cross the road in front of me in the dark.

I get most of the way across the unit and decide to go check out an area that someone had showed me a pic of a giant bull in from the summer. I had also seen an obscene sized rub right off the road when driving in the day before.

I park the truck in the dark and listen. I immediately regret the location choice. I can hear a few bugles but certainly no rut fest you want to be in on September 15th.

Still I get out, grab my stuff and start heading towards the closest bugle. Bird dog him for a while then actually call him back into range. Not a shooter but cool to have a close encounter by 9am.

Some tight shooting lanes in that country, following along on this one!
 
I'll give a go at the ghost writing....

So then the giant bool strolls out of the trees. I'm shaking so hard my arrow drops to the ground and bounces off my lucky Keens. I regroup and send an arrow true.... Success!

Insert: picture with Smilies on horn...

The end beotches...:ROFLMAO:
 

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