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In this barren country there is some real beauties such as this water fall which we found a short distance from the road.

 Now I’m reaping my reward for getting them cranked up about such a hopeless cause.  My mind is still saying yes but the body is calling me some awful names.   Deep inside I knew better, but it wasn’t until we stopped at the base of the hill and looked up that I had to face the fact that my smarts had stayed at home.  Roaming the hills for elk is one thing, but chasing these berating little birds is another.

Looking down river on the Snake. This is looking at the south slopes where the snow line is higher.

 The boys were kind enough to give me the south slope of the hill to hike up on as the north slope became snow covered shortly after leaving the pickup.  We had hiked for an hour, seeing no birds and hearing no shots, before I started getting those familiar feelings of being snookered by my own mind into thinking this would be fun.  Shortly after I was reasoning with myself and coming up with the sane idea that there was no birds around and I might as well head back down.  Just then I heard my first bird calling and as close as I could tell it was coming from way up in the head of the canyon.  To those that haven’t heard the chukars’ call, it sounds like their name ‘chukar’, but to those that have hunted them it sounds more like ’sucker’.  I don’t know what there is in that call that makes us do stupid things, but all thoughts of reason and the pickup disappeared and I headed back up the canyon.  Looking across the canyon I could see the boys struggling in the snow but they had evidently heard them too and were heading up the hill.

Lunch break, Todd and Tom. Thank goodness for the ridges which gave some relief from the deep snow.

Within thirty minutes I too had reached snow line even on the south slope, and shortly thereafter found out what the boys had been dealing with.  I had kind of thought they were over doing it that morning when they put on there heavy boots as I chose my 6″ hikers.  Sons are now smarter than dad.  It was the kind of snow where you could walk on the crust four or five steps then you’d fall though.  First it was up to the knee, then it became up to the high center mark.  I was exhausted, but those birds sounded just around the corner.  The next time I fell though the crusted snow I lost one of my 6″ hikers and it’s just as well as I had to take the other one off too as it also was needing to be emptied of snow.  I hadn’t gone 20 feet when the bottom went out again.  I was just standing awkwardly in this hole wondering if it would work to call AAA to get me a tow truck to pull me out when less then 10 yards ahead of me two chuckers took off.  I should have saved my lead but I didn’t come this far or work this hard just to watch chukars fly off without a fight.  They were far enough out there by the time I got situated good enough to shoot that I’m sure all those #6 shot were responding to gravity long before they got to the birds.   I was thoroughly disgusted with myself and was having a little talk with self when a third bird barrelled out from the same bush.  Bird going down hill, pull below it and fire.  This bird was going down hill, but was still on the rise.   Self, your brain has got to react faster then that.  I had reached my limit so I sat there and waited for the boys to come around to where I was.  As they came I saw at least 4 covies leave the area ahead of them.  These birds had evidently been well educated and were leaving early.

Getting below snow level we spread out for one more shot. Nice thought but not very productive.

When Todd and Tom reached me, they dined on their cold pizza and I on my chicken sandwich as we discussed our disgust for these birds.  These were some of the most uncooperative birds we had ever seen.  One thing we acknowledged was defeat and we might as well start our 1600′ vertical decent to the pickup.   When we cleared snow line we spread out along the hillside to give it one last try.  Hope springs forever, you know, for hunters.   Tom got caught blowing his nose when a bunch of 15 got up and he gave them a ‘fair thee well’ send off.  About twenty minutes later I had a long shot at the same bunch I think.   So as Todd put it, I was 0 for 4, Tom was 0 for 1 and he hadn’t missed all day so he did the best.  I couldn’t argue with that.  It still doesn’t give us much to eat though.

The snow storm hit us about half way down and kept us moving till we hit the road at the bottom.

 The thing that scares me the most about myself after that day is, if the season were still open next Saturday, I’d probably be fool enough again to have another go at them.

I had to look this up to make sure it was the description I wanted… and then had to look up adroitly( this always happens to me!)

adroit (a droit’) adj. Skillful or clever in performance; quick to grasp and execute; resourceful; deft.

…and that pretty well sums up how the elk handled us poor inept humans on this elk hunt!

 Thank goodness this wild elk chase took place in some of the most breathtaking backdrop the eyes will ever feast upon… and the other elusive creatures that live there would dance in and out of this backdrop, keeping the interest  pitched to a high level!

Here’s the video that explains it all!

This year has been one of both personal happiness and professional success but not without some pitfalls as well.  Let me start by saying “Thank  you” to Tom and the whole Base Camp Legends staff.  They have given me the opportunity to be a part of something that I truly enjoy and hope that it teaches some others out there how to work on their own equipment and help make them a better shot and a more lethal hunter.  I have been very lucky to be able to work with a very professional bunch of folks there and the web site looks awesome! I hope to write some good articles this year and get the modern bow portion up to where it may become a virtual tool box for archers to come to so that they are able to come to it and review step by step how to tune or tweak their bow.

Work at the pro shop has been crazy, we have sold more bows this year than we have in the last 2 that I have worked there.  Mathews has really stepped the bar up, last year the Reezen turned the single cam bow world upside down with the speeds that they were producing with it, but they have really turned the bow world on its ear this year with the Z-7, but I will talk about that in the future!  We have really seen an increase in bow sales since the ammunition cost increase in November.  Additionally, I have met some wonderful people in the last year through not only this web site, but have met some lifelong hunting partners as well.  This was probably the best year so far at the shop, but looking forward to 2010 will be just awesome!

Hunting this year has been full of ups and downs, the season started off well, I was seeing lots of deer and turkeys and success came quickly in the spring with 2 gobblers.  I got very excited and deer season could not get here soon enough! Finally getting out I had the chance to draw on several deer, but shots just did not happen, they would either turn the wrong way or just couldn’t get clear shooting lanes! I guess that is why they call it hunting! I ended up having to leave to go to Panama City, FL right in the middle of hunting season, but when you have to go, you have to go.  Finally getting back to Georgia, I hunted the weekend I got back and ended up shooting a hog.  I have about two weeks left of hunting season as of this article, so with any luck I will get a shot at a deer before the season is out. 

Personally, I have enjoyed my first year as a Grandpa.  My 14 month old grandson is the apple of my eye and makes every day worth walking in the door just to see his 4 tooth smile!  He can make the worst day better just by being there.  My wife and I will celebrate 16 years together in March and both my youngest daughter and son will reach another milestone in their lives when they turn 18.  Time sure flies when you’re having fun. 

Well, seems like I have rambled enough for this month, I hope this article finds all of you well and hopefully everyone has had a very Merry Christmas and all of you are looking forward to the New Year! Please take a second to reflect on the good and the bad over the past year and make the changes for a happy new year!!  One last Thank you to all who have helped me over the past year, Tom, Jeremie, my wonderful wife Amy, Anna and Phillip, Dobbs-my trusted hunting partner and all of you who take second and read our articles! Here is to a bright 2010!!  Until next month! Keep ‘em in the X ring!

Scott

It was one of those hot fall days where we hiked into the hills before day light and hunt all day in the heat and bugs and the domestic cows having moved into the area so the elk had moved out.  But being the bull headed creatures we are we keep at it all day till the sun has moved on to the other side of the earth.  We stumble down to our pickup which is parked on a dead-end skid road which is six  miles from an approved seasonal road and 17 miles from a paved road, and as I drag my tired body in behind the steering wheel I see a business card stuck under my windshield wiper.  Who in the world found us way back in here and who would think to leave his business card?  What kind of business is he in that he would think I would ever want to call him? Enough questions came to mind that I forced the old tired body back out of the pickup so I could reach the card under the wiper.  There it was in real life.  MR. ERRAND GUY – “No errand is to great or to small – just call 1-800-xxx-xxxx.” 

When I get tired and a little frustrated I’ll admit to becoming a wee bit, I think you’d call it sarcastic or cutting or maybe even sardonic.  Anyway this gave me some ammo for the topic of conversation for all 60 miles home.  Sue had to listen to the mostly one sided conversation so could actually tell you how it went better then I, cause most talkers don’t listen to themselves most of the time.

-OK, where was this guy several years ago when I was still trying to turn an elk, that had fallen in a root wad hole,  into meat, and this was at 1:00 in the morning.

-Where was this guy when after packing 11 miles into camp through 20″ of snow, we find the snow had collapsed out tent, and this was about 30 minutes before dark.

-Where was this guy when we could figure no way to pack a wood stove on a horse so I ended up packing that monstrosity on my back for one and a half miles into camp. 

-Where was this guy when I stood eye to eye with a  she bear with two cubs at 17 yards, and nothing but bow and arrow between me and her temperament.

-Where was this guy the time I drug myself out of a canyon in a dark I’ve never seen before or since.  I actually was running into trees.  Climbing by Braille.

-Where was he the day Snowflake the donkey refused to pack our wall tent 12 miles into camp, so my brother in law and I took turns.

On and on it went.  The poor guy was getting blamed for a lot of things he was totally innocent about.  I guess if I’m going to give a guy a hard time for things in the past he never knew about, I should have at least kept his number and give him a chance in the future, but I didn’t.  I mean if you find a fall guy, you sure don’t want to let him up.

 Hey Mr. Errand Guy – got a little errand for you!

This whole subject never entered my mind until Terry over at Women’s Hunting Journal wrote a product review a month or two ago.  Since then in watching outdoor shows I’ve given the subject matter a little more notice.  I’ve found it kind of a source of humor to watch fashion become a bit more important than the actual hunt.  Have you seen a young lady in stalk mode camo’d from top to bottom with the ear rings glittering in the sun light? No wonder its never been of interest to me as the hunt is why we are out there and to make a hunt successful shouldn’t the most important things include practicality, comfort, usefulness.  This I understand leaves the door wide open because there are hundreds of ideas on what would determine this.  But some of these clothes that are coming out are obviously fashion first.  That’s fine, but please don’t call them hunting clothes.  Maybe lounging around the lodge or house clothes, but not hunting clothes.

Sue and I just got back from spending a week in eastern Idaho bow hunting elk from a tent and several times I found myself ribbing her about her fashion statements in clothing.  She definitely puts usefulness ahead of looks, but when its zero degrees out you have a tendency to do that.  She also likes to haul along everything that she may need to use (I talked her out of the kitchen sink) so she can appear a bit balky at times.  She is a fan of wool in wet and cold weather which does not compliment a ladies figure, but she’s never hesitated wearing it.  I got to looking at her one day and recognized the wool pants as a pair I had bought for myself when we first married and the first time she washed them they were no longer my size.  Her wool shirt I have no idea where it came from.  I remember wearing it one time but I think she had figured out by this time how to make my stuff, her stuff. 

 Now here is a real classic.. it was about 4 degrees above zero, wind was a blowing and we had the ATV out doing a little scouting the evening before our first day hunt.  Nice hat – its camo though.  Carhart bibs she chose ahead of the camo coveralls I bought her, because of fit.  The coat is the only thing that kind of looks in place – not real flattering, but its all practical I’d guess.

  I asked her about the camo outfit and the white hat.  Her answer was when an animal saw her crouched in the sage brush she wanted to look like a snow covered rock.  Can’t argue with that as it looked pretty convincing to me.  That Camo coat I believe was the 6th layer.  Not real fashionable, but effective.

 I may not survive putting  this picture in here, but this is her lodge (tent) get up.  I’ll have to agree a little, that some of this could stand some improvements.  But even in the tent the temp wasn’t real hot at times so I sure wasn’t going to argue with her comfort level.

 I had to go back and see how fashionable she was on her deer hunt and got some more chuckles.  I believe she bought the pants (yeah, they are guys, but they fit better then mine do on her) and she likes them.  But that shirt I remember twenty years ago when it fit me. O how we change.  That vest is the remains of a long sleeve shirt I had, she actually makes it look pretty good.  I believe she wears it for the extra pockets.  Can’t forget the hat from Wal-mart, it says Remington on it and since she has a grandson named ‘Remington’, thats fashionable enough for her, and Mr. buck didn’t seem to mind.

I’m sure the industry in its infancy has gotten a little carried away with looks and fashions, but hopefully it will start leaning a little more to practicallity, usefulness, and comfort in the field wither its in the desert or in the mountains of Alaska.  There’s a lot of ladies out there that are serious hunters and they do deserve a little more attention when it comes to their clothing needs.

Seriously, I’m hoping some clothing manufacturer is able to make me apologize for this because then I’ll know we have arrived already.

 Rick Overby’s cats.  Like he says it puts new meaning on it when the little wife asks you to go start the car for her on those cold mornings.

Lions really haven’t been on my mind of late but when a friend of mine from the great flat lands of the Dakotas sent me an email with cats in them, I sat up to take notice.  I had no clue that they had cats there.  He said these pictures were taken about three miles southwest of Esmond, North Dakota, about 60 miles from where his folks live.  I had to get my map out because I had never heard of Esmond ND.  Shock of shocks, there it was about 125 miles west of Grand Forks.  When I have been in Grand Forks and looked west, it looked so flat and endless I thought I could see all the way around the world and see the back of my head.  But here is proof that there are trees besides telephone poles( the state tree) in North Dakota.  And in the woods lives at least three cats.

 North Dakota Felines.

Growing up in Northern Minnesota I always assumed that Mountain Lions were only in the western mountains.  I remember getting pretty excited when we went out to cut pulp wood one winter day and found the tracks and the print of a cat that had sat down in the snow and left a fan in the snow were its tail had went back and forth.  Since moving out west I have only had two sightings of this animal but have seen their paw prints aplenty in the snow on occasions, so they are out there.  These cats are deadly hunters and have proved it wherever they have had a chance to prosper.  In Oregon where the misguided voters chose to do away with hunting them with dogs, they have multiplied to the point where they have killed off some of the best deer hunting spots in the state.  They seem to really prosper in mountainous areas where the deer, and sheep will lay up in the rocks because they can stalk in on them from above.

They all appear to be about the same size.  Wonder why they were running together as cats are pretty independant and territorial. 

Sue’s brother, was helping his wife on a elk hunt a couple years ago in the Snake River area in Oregon.  While he was scanning an elk herd with his binoculars, he noticed a cow lagging behind the herd and as his glasses stopped on her, a yellow fur ball came barrelling out of the brush and hit the cow on the front shoulders knocking her completely over a rock cliff.  So if their dinner is to big they figure out other ways of dispatching them.

Benji with G’pa Ed, his cat and one the cat running dogs.

Like so many of the predators that we are competing with for hunting opportunities, a person ought to take advantage of any chance to in turn hunt them.  We’ve taken plenty of coyotes, a very few bear, no wolf as of yet, and only the one lion that our oldest son Benji got about six years ago.  He is terribly allergic to cats, both the tame and wild kind he found out, so the hide hangs in my office.  Nice of me to hang on to it for him don’t you think?  They are a beautiful animal, but also a deadly predator.

Benji’s rug.  They aren’t near as distructive when the hides off of them.

 Dad did a great job of brushing in the blind! 

 Dad looking like “Chief Whitebird”

Saturday we woke up with great expectations! The air was crisp and a light snow had covered the ground during the night… it just felt perfect for the deer to be moving! As we were hiking into our blind we saw bobcat tracks over the top of the boot tracks we’d made coming out the night before. A good sign that animals were on the move! Around 9:00 we heard two gunshots several ridges over… that was the vicinity where Gary was … so we were pumped up with the possibility Gary had a deer down!  It was cold this morning, and I felt for dad, as the cold really causes misery for him these days. I remember when I was a  kid seeing him work out in cold weather without even wearing gloves… but since the heart attack in 2007,  he’s on blood thinner and the cold just penetrates right through. We had brought a little propane burning heater and dad fired it up…I was glad for the warmth too! For lunch, Dad toasted his ham sandwich over the heater, then toasted mine… to top it off  he fixed hot cocoa… I’ve never had a better lunch! This is where I learned some great cooking advice from Dad…  ”When it’s smokin’, it’s cookin’…when it’s black it’s done!”… it was a special day… even though the deer never showed up. When we got to camp we were looking for a deer hanging … but alas all that greeted us, was Gary with a sad tale to tell! He had an opportunity at a nice buck at 15 yards…and missed…then again at 20 yards… and missed!  He did have an awesome experience later in the afternoon, as a bobcat wandered by his stand and he was able to get a little video of it. Gary said in all the years he’s been in the outdoors he’s never seen a bobcat…  Dad and I were encouraged by the deer movement Gary had seen… so far we’d not even seen  a white flag waving goodbye!… so we felt hopeful that our turn would come!

Sunday we spent a quiet day. We had our turkey dinner complete with stuffing and sweet potatoes. In the afternoon we took Dad up on a high ridge where the wolves seem to like to hang out, hoping Dad would get a glimpse of one… or even hear them howl… but they were not out and about. We did see their tracks all over and a few were  pretty good size.

 Cooking the Turkey 

 The feast is spread!

Monday I woke feeling a little tense… I was so anxious for Dad to at least see a nice buck … the weather was very unsettled,and windy…  and we spent another day not seeing a thing… Gary reported that his day had been the same… no deer.  The mood must have effected me… I just opened a can of Dinty Moore stew for supper…

Tuesday I have to admit I was getting very anxious…and perhaps a little cranky! Poor Dad! He is very hard of hearing, so I had resorted to writing little notes on a folded paper towel if I needed to tell him something. It was late afternoon and Dad had just finished a rattle sequence, when I was sure I heard a buck grunt coming from the one blind spot where we couldn’t see! I couldn’t get Dad’s attention, as he was looking the other way, and I couldn’t get him to hear me without shouting! I wrote in bold letters on the paper towel, “I heard a buck grunt!” … my heart was pounding! Dad gave a few soft grunts… we waited, holding our breath, straining to hear and trying to make out the shape of a buck in the thick growth of trees… nothing…  Dad rattled softly, sounding like two bucks just tickling their horns together.We continued to stay in high alert mode for some time , but finally realized the buck must have silently slipped away. I’m ashamed to admit I felt very frustrated… but Dad remained optimistic and cheerful… another lesson learned…  We returned to camp with another day of no deer sightings… but the things I had seen were through the eyes of the heart…

Wednesday we woke to a thick blanket of snow covering all in it’s splendid purity… it always amazes me what a great equalizer snow is… brown dirt looks just as splendid as the green trees with a covering of white! With the fresh snow came renewed hope! Gary decided to cover some ground today instead of sitting in a tree stand. He had seen a lot of fresh tracks not far from  our blind… so he thought he’d hunt our way and perhaps push some deer toward our set up. Late in the afternoon I thought I heard something in the brush, again on our blind side. Dad wasn’t aware of it for he couldn’t hear… it made me realize how precious our hearing is, and how much one misses if the sense of hearing is gone… I didn’t try and alert Dad this time because I really wasn’t sure it was a deer. After 10 minutes had passed there was a loud wheeze and snort… followed by the thumping sound of a deer bounding away… Dad still hadn’t heard anything… so I never bothered him… I think we perhaps had more deer come in than we realized… they were just slipping in where we couldn’t see, and getting wind of us. The wind was very unpredictable… a frustrating aspect of hunting in a blind… sometimes it was in our favor, and then it would swirl every which way! When we returned to camp after dark, Gary had the lanterns burning and a warm fire going … those simple things are such a pleasure after spending 9 hours in the cold! Gary had seen deer and had an opportunity at a doe… but it was late in the day and he was far from the road, so decided to pass on her. He came across a huge scrape… how he’d have loved to see the buck that made it! That evening we enjoyed exchanging the stories of the last 5 days…

 Sure would have liked to see the deer that made this scrape!

Thursday morning Dad served us coffee in bed at 5:00 am! I don’t think even 5 star hotels offer that kind of service!  Gary and I broke camp while dad headed out to our blind for just one more try… never give up! I think Dad was looking forward to being out there by himself for a little while… just the quiet solitude and a chance to reflect… when he drove into camp several hours later with no deer to show for all his efforts… he had a big grin and was so happy… it really touched a chord in my heart… another lesson learned… 

  Served coffee in bed at 5:00 am!

As I reflect on our hunt there are the intangibles that can’t  be put in words… Dad never made one remark about being disappointed. He told Mom that he had the best hunt he’s ever had… I know for myself, there are precious things that will remain burned in my heart from this hunt…  Dad turned 80 on November 28th… I was privleged to spend 40 plus hours with him in a blind… Priceless!

 … Thanks Dad!

“Muley Crazy Ed”

Dad with his beautiful 190 class mule deer in 2007

 After months of  thinking it over Dad made the commitment… I was so excited for the opportunity to hunt with my dad! I knew our time together would be special… and I had visions of sharing the thrill of Dad grinning from ear to ear with his monster whitetail!

Our day of departure finally arrived. It was November 5th and we felt sure the rut was kicking in… it would be about perfect! My dad and Gary both had tags, I was along to film and just enjoy camp life and share in their hunt adventures. It was 70 degrees when we turned off the main highway at Grangeville and headed up the south fork of the Clearwater River… the thermometer read 39 when we turned up Newsome Creek! The temp difference is amazing… the cold just seems to hang down in the creek bottom. But it was still a nice sunny afternoon and we were able to get a cozy, comfortable camp set up, line our gear out and plan our strategies for the morning hunt. Gary was planning on setting up a tree stand in the same spot we had used last year. On our hunt last year a nice mature buck passed within 50 yards of our stands, but never came any closer… I was the only one with a tag and I didn’t feel comfortable at that range. Gary felt this  would be a good place to start for this year’s hunt. Dad and I planned to set up a ground blind in the same area that I had killed my buck last year.

Home for the next 5 days

Whitetail buck we just got a glimpes of through the thick stuff on our 2008 hunt

It was one of those stories that if you focused on the deer, it was kind of gut wrenching.  If you focused on the hunters it was truly agonizing and  frustrating.  If you stepped back from the hunter and the deer there was an element of amusement in what happened that day. 

  The Snake River behind my brother in laws house.

The setting was an archery deer hunt that took place in Oregon, and it was next to the Snake River which divides the states of Oregon and Idaho.  It seems my two nephews had been deer hunting and seeing very little till shortly afternoon when they spotted a deer and began the stalk.  Who finally got the shot was not really clear nor was it important to the story, but it was taken and it seemed like a good hit.  They had parked their vehicle at a public park along the river and had hunted up and away from the river.  Now they watched in amazement as their deer made its way out of the bare hills and actually laid down within 20 yards of their pickup.  By now they had figured out that their hit wasn’t as good as they had first thought.  Because there were families enjoying picnicking at the park they didn’t want to make a scene by going down there to finish off their deer in that atmosphere so they sat a ways off and watched and waited until the last picnic was packed up and gone.  Because the deer was in the brush they weren’t sure what condition it was in.  They were really shocked when they approached the brush and the deer jumped up, ran to the river, swam the Snake River (150 – 200 yards) and was now in Idaho.  When the deer reached the other shore it laid on the bank like it had expired.  The boys had their cell phone so called the Oregon Fish and Game to tell them what happened and see if they could cross the river and collect their deer.  After permission was granted they flagged a Bass fisherman down and he took them across.  After landing at a suitable place they walked up river to where the deer was.  They were shocked again as they approached the deer to have it suddenly jump up and bail off into the river and head back to Oregon.  This time a boat came along and saw the deer swimming and then saw the boys waving so they came over to where they were.  The boys filled them in on what had happened and that they would like a ride back over to Oregon.  On the ride over they found out one of the guys was an anti-hunter and they got a head full of chewing out from him.  Fortunately the driver was a hunter and helped equalize the situation.  The boys were never the less happy to get out of the boat when they landed.  At this point it was starting to get dark so they were really anxious to get this deer in the back of the pickup and head home.  So they started their stalk on the last place they had saw the deer, being much more careful this time.  It seems the deer by now was very aware of the boys every movement and before they got very close at all, it come barrelling out of the brush and headed for the river once again.  The boys watched in helplessness as it swam out about 60 yards, laid over and disappeared.  There was no boater in sight and light was fast disappearing so for all their effort all they could do now was watch till there was nothing left to watch.

 The Snake River

I think if I lived another 500 years I’d never hear a stranger story, but then hunting is like that and can produce some very strange circumstances and situations.  In many cases the unexpected will happen, its part of the intrigue of spending time in the outdoors in pursuit of game.