Fastest Trigger in the West

Thirteen years ago I hunted quite a bit with my brother, Benji.  This particular fall, I was elk hunting with him while my dad came along to help us find the critters. I really don’t remember much about that day, really, but I do remember the final 20 minutes of the day quite vividly. The three of us were coming down off the mountain and Benji and I had both figured we’d done enough tramping the hills without seeing elk that day, so were in “headed for the barn” mode. Pretty soon, Dad is hissing at us from 40 yards behind, “Boys! Boys!”

Of course any time you get hissed at while hunting, the heart does a few cartwheels and the eyes bug a little bit. People don’t hiss for no reason, and young as I was, I knew Dad had either spotted elk, or he was in minor danger. Turning around, I guessed correctly it was the former. He had his binocs in one hand and was looking across a draw. When Benji and I reached him, he pointed out the little brown dots on the opposite hill about 400 yards away. Sitting down to study the group of elk, we found one bull – and now we had to decide which brother would get to shoot first. Immediately, I saw a chance to prove my generosity and proclaimed ot Benji, “I’ve already shot an elk, so why don’t you shoot first?”

We settled in, then. I put my cross-hairs in the general direction of the bull (I wasn’t much of a shot in those days) and waited for Benji to shoot. And waited. And waited. I wondered if he had lost his gun somewhere along the way. I glanced over – no, he had his gun and he was looking down it at the elk. I waited. The elk wasn’t going to surrender at gun point, and I was getting antsy. Finally, Benji’s rifle barked, and what followed was a little bit of a blur. I remember noting that it looked like Benji missed, and then my instincts kicked in. My instincts in those days were ‘put enough lead in the air, some of it might hit what you are sort of pointing the rifle at.’ I emptied the magazine. “Did you get him?” I asked Benji. He was still a little too shocked to speak.

Dad had a grin and said, “I don’t think either of you hit him.”

Finally Benji spoke again, “You didn’t give me another chance to shoot.”

“How many times did you shoot?” I asked.

“Once.”

Once?! How could you shoot just once? The elk was in sight for at least 3 seconds!

Benji and I don’t hunt together much anymore.