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2021 In The Nameless Range

Nameless Range

Well-known member
Joined
Jun 6, 2013
Messages
5,788
Location
Western Montana
This year all my hunts were within 30 minutes of my front door, and all occurred during rifle season.

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Most of the first week of rifle season was spent in Hunting Camp. Funny, because though we were in camp, I could've driven home in 20 minutes. I love the rhythm of hunting camp. Exert the hell out of yourself, get back to camp and drink and bullshit with great friends, get to bed by 9, and repeat. It is how life should be lived.

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I hunted good country. Some old, some new, some mine waste, some beautiful. I took pictures of trees and sunrises, as unsuccessful hunters often do.

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My dog was sad everytime I walked out the door. My wife said this is what she does when you are gone.

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I came across a spike bull someone had shot, discovered it did not have browtines, and left to rot. You could see the story play out in the snow. Bummer.

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I hunted a fair amount with my 7 year old.He is the most enthusiastic human I have ever met, and I cannot wait for him to be old enough.

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Myself and a buddy dug some kids from Bozeman out of the snow. They were at 8,000 feet with tennis shoes and no coats, had no idea where they were, and were cold. It was good Karma from the Hunting Gods.

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The next week I found a bull. Killed him at 70 yards in the timber. My hunting partner killed a cow two days later.

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I have held a hunting license every year since I was 12 - so 25 years. This is the first year in my life I did not fill my deer A tag. Just a serious lack of bucks over 2.5 years old here. As tough of hunting conditions as I can remember too.

I am beyond grateful for it all. Dang lucky.
 
Great values expressed in a few lines of text. Grats on your time enjoying the great outdoors and of course, the great future dinners / left over lunches and maybe even some breakfast sausage?
 
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Hotspotter.
 
Great pics and great times. Congrats to you all.

My grandpa once told me that he used to drag 1/2 an elk out of the woods and I thought it was one of those “slightly” exaggerated hunting stories. After seeing the pic of the two hinds being towed out I’m starting to believe more of his story. I’m simply not strong enough to pull that off 😆
 
Great pics and great times. Congrats to you all.

My grandpa once told me that he used to drag 1/2 an elk out of the woods and I thought it was one of those “slightly” exaggerated hunting stories. After seeing the pic of the two hinds being towed out I’m starting to believe more of his story. I’m simply not strong enough to pull that off 😆

As I have hunted as an adult I have told myself I will almost never drag anything out ever again. The last three days of my hunting season I hauled out my bull entirely in packs, my father‘s buck in one pack load, and my buddy’s cow - only half in a pack.

Got very lucky. We were on mile 6 of about a 9 mile loop. Where he shot it, we could drag that back half less than a mile downhill the whole way to a road. Boned out the shoulders and ribs and back straps and tenderloins and hauled those out on our 3 mile walk back to the truck. Then drove around the mountain below where the elk died and drug the last half out.

Coors were consumed, yippies were hollered.
 
I love the rhythm of hunting camp. Exert the hell out of yourself, get back to camp and drink and bullshit with great friends, get to bed by 9, and repeat. It is how life should be lived.
No truer words have been written.

Fantastic summary, Nameless. I really enjoy your introspective approach to hunting and life. The stuff you say resonates, man.
 
As I have hunted as an adult I have told myself I will almost never drag anything out ever again. The last three days of my hunting season I hauled out my bull entirely in packs, my father‘s buck in one pack load, and my buddy’s cow - only half in a pack.

Got very lucky. We were on mile 6 of about a 9 mile loop. Where he shot it, we could drag that back half less than a mile downhill the whole way to a road. Boned out the shoulders and ribs and back straps and tenderloins and hauled those out on our 3 mile walk back to the truck. Then drove around the mountain below where the elk died and drug the last half out.

Coors were consumed, yippies were hollered.
A cold road beer after a pack out might be the best beer on earth.
 
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