king' s outdoor world - Index

king' s outdoor world - Hunting Illustrated April/May 2008 - Index

ILLUSTRATIONS: COURTNEY BJORNN
BY JULIE KIRK
44
ME TO HEAVEN ABOVE
I
hear the door to my room open
with a quiet creak. My eyes
fl y open and, before I’m fully
awake, I’m sitting up in bed trying
to brush my hair out of my eyes so
I can see. What the…? I can hear
the craggy, gravelly voice of my baby
brother penetrate my brain. He has
the lowest voice - Sean Connery has
nothing on him. His voice is so deep
and it’s so darn cute! “Jewels, it’s
time to go!” Huh? My tired mind
tried to make sense of this. Time to
go? Oh yeah, it’s my much-coveted
and long-awaited for elk hunt! It’s
4:30 a.m. and it’s opening morning!
Luckily, I know myself and how hard
it is for me to get up in the morning
and I had decided to sleep in my
camoufl age. My camo was kindly
provided by my Uncle Nate who is
involved with King’s Camo and, as
most of you know, they don’t make
too many of them in women’s sizes -
so it was pretty loose and comfortable
to sleep in. I had to roll the waist up
a couple of times and tie the shirt
up so it wouldn’t dangle around my
knees and I was ready to go. That’s
the joy of sleeping in your clothes
- you waste no time getting dressed
in the morning, therefore allowing
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yourself approximately ten more minutes
of blissful sleep. All you have to do is
remember to put your shoes on and
maybe brush your teeth - depending on
how much you like the people you are
hunting with! That said, I do understand
the unwritten rule that if you’re not
properly tired and sleep-deprived after a
hunt, then you probably didn’t do it right.
But, I still remember the good ol’ days
when I was eight years old and my dad
would take me hunting with him. He’d
just carry me out to the car so I didn’t
even have to walk. I don’t think I ever
fully woke up; I just slept blissfully next
to the heater as my dad drove up the
mountains. Some company I must have
been! Sigh. That was the life! On this
morning, I found my dad who had,
of course, already been up for a half
hour warming the truck up, packing
our lunches and toasting my pop
tarts. I’m probably one of the most
pampered hunters (huntresses?) ever.
Anyway, it was pitch black outside
with absolutely no sign of sun over
the horizon; in fact, it’s so dark that
it’s diffi cult to even make out the
horizon. Luckily, my dad already has
my “spot” all fi gured out. Good thing,
because for all my tough talk, I really
don’t know what the heck I’m doing.
The night before, my
mother and I had had a very serious
conversation. She is
not a big fan of hunting,
although 28 years of
marriage to my father
has mellowed her
opinion of the sport
somewhat. Give her
a break - she grew
up in L.A. What can
you expect? She was
concerned about me,
her fi rstborn little girl,
going out and ruthlessly
joining the ranks of
hundreds of males out
on the mountain. But,
I come from a small
town where hunting
and fi shing and fourwheeling
rank high
on the list of things to
do. In fact, there really
isn’t too much else to do. Luckily for
me, I really and truly love to go. I’m
not sure if it’s because I get to hang
out with my dad and sometimes my
brothers one on one, or if it’s the
excitement of the chase, the beauty of
the mountains or the adrenaline rush
of taking a shot - but it’s probably a
combination of all of those reasons!
There is nothing quite like watching
a sunrise in the midst of the mountain
peaks, or watching your breath make
little clouds of white in the middle of
the aspen and pine trees. This is my
fi rst elk hunt, and my mother had told
me in all seriousness that I needed
to not fool around. I think her exact
words were, “Don’t you dare let