With Whom Memories are Made

If you read my blog last week, you might remember that I mentioned that I was with my uncle Don, helping to clear some trails on a property that he hunts on in Ohio. There was poison ivy everywhere and I was really hoping that I didn't get it on me. I had heard that  native Americans crushed up touch-me-nots and rubbed them on their skin as a protection against poison ivy, and since there were lots of touch-me-nots everywhere, I followed suite.

I also got an email from one of our favorite fans saying that she was praying that I didn't react to the poison ivy.

Well, something must have worked because after all of the weed eating and cutting brush with a  chainsaw, I had no outbreaks of itching whatsoever.

And even though I'm not a fan of weeds or working in the Ohio heat, it was good to spend time with my uncle. We had plenty of time to chat  and catch up on the five hour trip there and back. It's always good to reminisce and to hear what's going on in others lives.

Don told me that he was finally getting his old Dodge pickup fixed up. That got us reminiscing about an old black dodge that he used to take Brian and me hunting in. And that got us reminiscing about a trip that we took to Colorado in pursuit of elk and mule deer.

Neither Brian or I had ever hunted out west before. Don had been out several times and had the experience of taking and packing out elk, and his stories had Brian and me really excited.

And so memory took us back to the Flat Tops  in the mountains of Colorado.

Brian and Don had elk tags and I had a mule deer tag. At that time in my life I was all into deer and the mule deer tag seemed more appealing than the elk tag. Well at least until the first morning when I saw a big six by six bull elk standing in a meadow. It was frosty cold and I could see his breath hanging in the air. It was a beautiful sight and one that I will never forget. Later that morning I found myself in a thicket of small trees as I was looking for deer sign. And wouldn't you know it, three bull elk passed by me. The closest one was seven yards from me and the furthest was fifteen.  The fact that I was hunting deer and trying to be stealthy allowed me to get fairly close, and the fact that I didn't have an elk tag let them come closer yet. What a thrill to have these monarchs so close. So close  that I could actually smell them!

I passed on one small buck that day, the only deer I saw. But looking back I'd have to say that it was one of my best days ever.

Later, back at camp I shared my story with Don and Brian. I think that they had a hard time believing me as they hadn't seen any elk. Early the next morning we set out on our two mile hike up this gulley to the flats where we were hunting. At the top we went our different directions. I was lucky enough to tag a mule deer that morning. I radioed Don and Brian and they came and helped me cut it up. After that the fun started! And I'm not talking about the packing it out part that most of you are thinking. I'm talking about some real good, memory making, fun.

Don headed off to hunt some more. Brian and I headed down the valley with the deer. We stopped in this beautiful little aspen grove to take a break. We leaned our guns against a tree and sat down facing each other about ten yards away from our guns. I was tagged out and so my gun was unloaded.

As we were snacking and resting and talking, I looked up and, low and behold, there behind Brian was a bull elk walking down into the valley.

 "Bull, right behind you", I whispered!

"Huh? Bull crap!" was Brian's reply. 

"For real Brian! A bull!"

Brian slowly turned around and the bull continued down into the valley. By the time Brian was able to get to his gun, the elk was going up the other side. By then the elk knew something was up and was getting out of there. Brian got off a shot but it wasn't exactly effective, and then his gun jammed.

I told him to use mine but then remembered I had unloaded it. I tossed him the one shell that I had in my pocket. The rest were somewhere in my pack. He fired that round with no luck and then went back to figuring out what was wrong with his own gun. 

Truth be told, there were six or seven shots fired. Now you can't live off of tree bark and so we were thankful when he finally connected!

And then the fun that you thought I was going to tell you about earlier began. Butchering and packing out an elk is a tough job. If memory serves me right, we were about two miles above camp. We butchered the elk and packed out as much meat as we could that night. The next morning we were up early and hiked in to get the rest.

As I write, I'm looking back at pictures and trying to remember the important details of the trip. I really don't remember the weight of our packs or a lot of those little details. But I do remember the excitement that Brian and I had in that little aspen grove. The details and the trophies really aren't that important. What I'm most thankful for is that I have an uncle and cousin to make memories with!

Wish I could hear about some of yours.