The 300 pound elk call

by: Gary Sorenson

Sometimes life shoots you a little curve and all you can do is smile and go on. I don’t know how long its been since I’ve really been embarassed, but a couple weeks ago I actually got caught in an embarrassing situation and it all started with my closet no less.

First of all you’ll have to understand how I ended up with a closet like I did. Twenty two years ago when our daughter was born with some very special needs I realized she was not only going to be sharing a corner in our bedroom but also now I was going to be sharing a closet with two ladies. One kind of pushes the limits but I am intelligent enough to realize that with two something had to give and all I had to do was look in the mirror to figure out ‘the something’. Being male and placing shopping right up there with going to the dentist as some of my least favorite things to do, I called a friend of mine who owned a store that kind of reminds me of a army surplus store. He assured me that he had just the right closet for me. After all these years he’s probably still chuckling. When he brought this monstrosity out it took 4 of us to get it situated in our bedroom after some smashed fingers, grunts and whatever, I knew that thing had found its final resting place because I wasn’t going to be the one to move it again. Sue has been very kind to let this bomb shelter stay there as she has learned to just work around it. As for me, well I guess I’ve kind of grown to like it, as its mine , and if something gets lost in there i just set up my own search and rescue operation and no one balks at the way I do it.

This all brings me to a couple weeks ago when I approached ol Brutus to try extricate one of my favorite shirts from its bowels. When I opened one of the doors it squeaked. So in an experimental fashion I closed it and opened it slower. Yeh, it sounded a little like a cow elk. After working with it a bit I got it to sound pretty good. So I grabbed the other door in my other hand and hot dog,it sounded better, only at a lower pitch. This was getting rather interesting as I tried to coordinate the two and soon I had them sounding like a whole herd of cow elk. I had gotten pretty involved by this point so was totally spooked when behind me I heard, ‘are you getting a little impatient for elk hunting?’ I had been so engrossed in my elk hunt serenade that I had failed to hear Miss Dead Eye come up behind me, and I began to feel that red start creeping up the back of my neck. In elk hunting vocab, I had been busted. To cover for my embarrassment I asked her if she wanted to hear an encore which she politely declined. Inside I was excited though that she recognized the sound even though it was evident she failed to recognize the skill involved.

So this fall while you are out elk hunting, if you come across an old red faced guy with his closet strapped to his back, you now have a clue. Wish him luck.