king' s outdoor world - Index

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

consider my safety. Was he a friend
or foe? How effective would my bow
be as a club? OK, he might take me
out, but he wouldn’t enjoy it one bit.
After a last minute prayer, I got a burst
of confi dence and headed on in with
my mini-mag fl ashlight illuminating
the way.
He was securing his gear
on a red four-wheeler parked on the
other side of the tree from me. I
couldn’t believe my eyes, it was one
of my hunting partners! Gary was a
lovable character and prone to offthe-wall
hunting strategies, but this
time he had gone way over the line.
I was incredulous and asked, “What’s
going on?” He casually replied, “I
thought I would give you at least
some excitement tonight.”
At this point, I was too mad
at him to continue the conversation
and knew I would regret using my
bow as a club. I couldn’t believe he
would mess up my only evening at the
“honey hole” and then scare the be-Jesus
out of me on top of it! I vowed to never
forgive him. He had frightened me so bad
that I cried on the drive back to camp, but
the guys would never know. I had every
intention of handling this like a man.
Arriving at camp with my
composure fully regained, I unloaded
my gear, changed clothes and joined
everyone to exchange stories. Around
the warmth and security of the campfi re,
I dealt with it - like a woman. (I couldn’t
help myself) After venting to everyone
about my feelings concerning the events
of the evening, they all agreed that I could
go there again the following day. I’m
glad they love me.
The next morning’s hunt
proved unsuccessful, so that afternoon I
found myself once again in my favorite
tree stand. The weather was a carbon
copy of the previous day. I love sitting
in tree stands to commune with nature,
to drink in the serenity and for the
quality of the quiet time. It really
was ok if no elk came in, but I still
begged God for a big bull with every
fi ber of my being. The only elk I had
ever harvested was a small, brokenantlered
bull seven years earlier.
After the sun had descended
and shadows dominated the landscape,
I heard the deep bellowing screech of
a big bull elk pierce the silence like a
knife. He was back up in the woods
behind me. Adrenaline instantly
kicked in and my body began to
tremble. It had taken years to control
the shaking, but I felt confi dent I could
make the shot if he would come into
the waterhole during daylight. The
big bulls usually came in after dark.
The bull was getting closer,
blasting out intimidating screams every
few minutes. Another bull was now
answering his challenge and seemed
to be on his way to the waterhole as
April/May 65
PHOTO: GREG WILSON