I am a very lucky man in that I have been able to hunt 60+ years of my 67 years. My first weapons of choice were high caliber river rocks. I would spend serval minutes picking ones that fit my small hands but still had enough heft to deliver a good thud when launched at unsuspecting critters. When 9, I proudly drug home a world record Jack Rabbit, which gave me fleas and a firm verbal scolding. As I slinked, crawled and laid watching all types of animals on our farm I started to understand them less than 1 percent but, I did learn by being quiet and dead still I could be tolerate. As the years have passed along the lessons animals have taught me well exceed what man can. I hunt by myself most the time except when helping others. I was able to take several youth who did not have parents or family that hunt and some individuals with profound disabilities. Needless to say joy and excitement was boundless and many stories generated for lifetimes. But this year I was able to hunt with a family in their area, and was treated like the long lost grandpa. They worked so well together and communicated without any hostility or anger, never. A dad, 4 daughters, 1 son-in-law, 1 boyfriend and 3 friends in one camp crazy. This group has hunted the same area for about 12 years and they understand how working together means success for some or most but not necessarily all. This man’s girls know the mountains and can pack out elk with any man. Yet they are ladies of respect and humor. Some beer is consumed but being able to be up and going by 4 AM is a daily event. I hunted the first day with his 15 year old and she steered the way to our designated hide out. She had an, any elk tag and I possessed a cow tag. We set up about 90 yards apart and continue to be bored to death for 10 hours. We got together at lunch time and she told me they kill elk here almost every year and just give it more time. At 3:50 PM a big deep raspy bugle came crashing in from the timber to my right, and I knew it had to be close to her. After 20 minutes I took a peak in her direction and she was holding true to form and had not moved. At 4:45 another bugle, but this one was high pitch and whiny and a different direction. A few minutes later I hear her 270 Winchester blast the stillness and 2 more rounds explode. I gather my wits and get my old bones to respond to complaining muscles and start looking to see what had she done. After a few minutes I find her looking between some trees and I was in shock to think that a house could have four legs and incredible bones coming out of his head. The old dog learned that pups sometimes can teach us lessons and that young girls have an ability to be tenacious and if dad said sit here that what she did. I also learned that a good family joined together to pack the elk out and the only words said were of those of wonder and excitement for the family’s success. My dad became disabled when I was young so never got to hunt with him and so I did not understand this man’s level of commitment to teaching his children the joy of hunting. By the way he also has 2 older sons that are great dads themselves.
The hunt is the best way to teach and learn. olefish
The hunt is the best way to teach and learn. olefish
