A story of me and DAD fo bcat


New member
Jan 9, 2001
Shoshoni WY
It was the elk season of 1986 and I needed time to myself and elk hunting always seemed to offer me that chance of solitude. I was in the mountains East of Lovell WY next to the MT border. This was a brand new area to me, and a place I had never roamed. The season would start in 3 days and I was covering as much country as possible on foot. The nights were crisp and the seat of my old Chev truck felt good after the countless miles of scouting. I was pushing myself to hard thinking about dad and him not being around to share my stories with. We never got along until the last few years and you never miss what you have till it’s gone. He hunted and fish lots in his youth and was the best shoot I ever saw. I sat under trees and glassed the hills and valleys and talked to dad about myself, and how his love for my girls let me understand him in a new way. He was not a genital man but he let the girls romp through his newspaper like a puppy chews on its mom’s ears.
We never saw one elk but seemed to clear up lots of problems I was holding in my heart.
I was led to a new spot the day before the season and met a bunch of guys that were setting up camp. They opened their camp to me and said that I should join them. I had been a loner most my hunting life and could not understand why I said ok so easy. The next day I went out with 3 of the guys with the 2 horse they had for riding and packing game. We went in to an area unknown by me and headed toward a basin 5 miles off the road. We had covered about 2 miles when we met a packer with 2 elk and he told us that there was a heard of elk at the head of the basin meadow. We were off like a shot and cover those 3 miles in a matter of minutes. We saw cow elk in several places but just could not grow any bones on them skin headed cows. After looking for about one hour I was in need to strip down and cool out. So me and one of the guys stake out a place under this huge downfall tree over looking the meadow, and the other 2 take the horses about ½ mile across to the other side to watch. My ability to sit still was not any better than my kids, so after 45 minutes I start getting my shirt and coat back on and tell my new bud that I will kick around some and see if I can stir up some action and for him to keep his peepers wide open. I walk around behind the tree and to my surprise there lies a spike elk that had came and fell over dead while we were sitting on the other side. I let out a yell “there’s a bull elk” and he says shoot it, and I say no time. That’s when My dad came out in me cause he was worlds best rascal. I always carried a green river knife with a 12 inch blade on my hip and I whip it out and stab it into the bullet hole were the blood is running out, about the time the guy looks around the tree. You could have driven a truck into the hole his mouth made, and he starts shuddering about you killed it with a knife. I tell him well I just did not have time to use my gun. I had a feeling that this bunch was not your real outdoors types any way and this just proved it to me. Well we get the elk dress and quarter about the time his buddies show back up. They look at the elk and want to know were we got it cause they never heard any shooting from were they were at. Their friend looks them in the eye and says, he killed it with his knife. They all get into an argument about the whole thing, while I just stand back and just smile a little. Well he gets his friends convinced about the GREAT ELK TAKEN WITH A KNIFE STORY; by the time we get back to camp. I believe that is the most I have ever been call sir in my life. I cut the back straps out and roasted them over the fire while sipping on something very smooth and let their minds go wild over a guy they new as ole. I left at dawn the next day leaving them with a memory and me a story.
I learned that hunting alone was not all it was always cracked up to be and that if I was going to share my dads sense of humor and wit I could not do it alone. I still communicate with dad to let him know how the girls and I are doing and to say thanks for the memories. olefish


Thanks Olefish for the story! My dad is still alive and well but I would still like to hunt with him once while we have time. Dont bring a gun to camp OLEfish, just bring yer knife!!!hehehe You can just run one down with a horse and tackle it and cut its throat!hehehe I want to take pictures of this wreck!!!!!LOLOLOLOL bcat GREAT STORY OLEFISH!

If you aint the lead dog the scenery never changes

[This message has been edited by bcat (edited 01-16-2001).]

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