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Sunday, November 13, 2005

Curses!

Our buddy Mr. York took us hunting this morning. We saw a mule deer buck with some does and I somehow ended up being the only one with the correct tag. So I shot at it and (in my retardation) blew a chunk out of its lower leg. Its clear that I'll need to purchase my own equipment. If only to have something to be familiar with.

Robert and I chased it about 5 miles. Near the end when it was clear that it was long gone I happened to stumble onto a little house in a ravine. It was such an odd place for a house that I didn't see it until I was almost in it. Of course I riled up the dog and drew out the owner. I think he had more feet than teeth, but its hard to say as I was more concerned with the revolver (357 perhaps) he had tucked in the waist band of his sweats. He was not happy that I was trespassing. Considering how far I had gone its quite possible that I was. We agreed that it was best I leave, quickly.

On the hike back I saw a giant Elk. I have a tag for one but I guess the wrong kind. It was moving pretty quickly so no shot would have been possible. Hot on its tail was a nice rancher lady. She was very disappointed that I hadn't killed anything. "We have way too many elk out here.". An amusing dichotomy in opinion.

York suggested that the buck will likely heal up and then regaled us with tales of giant three legged bucks. Robert suggests that their great healing is owed to there refusal to eat cheezy popcorn. Which sounds like crap to me. I didn't partake in his cheezy popcorn and I still have a wheeze from traipsing around after the damn thing.

Labels: culture, hunting, mood, opinion