. . . . I think I'll go back to bed.

I need to start this whole thing off with a story from the past. Last August I decide that I'm going to kill a nice big buck with my bow. I have been keeping tabs on this group of 5 bucks for a couple years now, as they live in one of my frequented predator calling and rabbit slaying areas. So after watching one grow to a nice 4x5 last year, I decided it was his turn for the freezer. I spent every night - literally - for two weeks before opening day glassing these guys up, watching them, and charting their movement. I have never - repeat NEVER - seen another human being out there. Opening morning I had to work, so that evening I head out to my little honey hole and get ready to slay a buck. I head to their little hang out hill and wait for the right time, then slowly creep over the other side and BINGO! there they are. I'd have taken any of the 3 larger ones, really, but the 4x5 was out there at the brushline at 115 yards. I start my stalk, and these deer have no freakin' clue what's about to go down. I have so much cover between me and them it's ridiculous; as soon I break the 50 yard mark, I'm gonna fill my tag. I creep forward to 90, then 80, then 75 yards. At this point I hear - no, it can't be - the demonic whine of an ATV. I hunker down in the brush and watch as an ATV carrying some moronic chick comes blasting down the old dirt road that is quite literally between me and my buck. The buck looks up but keeps browsing. She turns a corner going way too fast and rolls that ATV right over on top of her. It would be mathematically impossible for her to be anymore directly between us. The buck is now looking a bit more concerned, and all of his buddies have split. Right behind this gal is a pickup truck filled with more intelligent people, who come racing up yelling and laughing and all jump out and spill their beers and get the gal situated and off they go. My eyes are frozen on the buck who is now starting to do a neat little bouncing run off into the brush. Argggh. Another day perhaps.

The next morning finds me a little busy so I decide to head back out that evening. A friend of mine wants to go and we head out there kinda early so we climb a hill to do some glassing. Remember, I have never seen another human out here. Ever. As we're glassing we hear the BANG BANG of some target shooters, but I think they're behind us quite a ways so we pay no mind. But pretty soon here comes more fun - some little bastards on their 400cc death kittens. Two of them this time, buzzing all over the place - on the road, off the road, wherever they please. It's still a little early so I have some hope. They leave after about 45 minutes and I figure whatever, maybe the bucks weren't too dismayed by that. Well now the target shooters are getting a little closer and a LOT louder, both in gunfire and in talking. My buddy starts to get a bit nervous 'cause he got shot at before, but I tell him to chill, we'll be fine - they can't see us, don't know we're even there. The gunfire stops, we hear a truck start up and begin to drive away. Perfect timing, I'm thinking. Then the truck stops. Doors open. Doors slam shut. One guy says "Hey watch this". No kidding, he actually says this. He opens fire gangster style on something, I don't know what, but all of a sudden there are bullets hitting the dirt right in front of me and doing the little POP-ZING maneuver over our heads. My buddy grabs his spotting scope and yells "we gotta get the f**k out of here!" and rolls off the rock he was sitting on. I start yelling some very un-Christian things and the shooting stops. But that's it. No "Hey sorry we almost killed you" or anything like that. So we bail out of there and wait for those yahoos to leave. We hike a mile or so away and glass up some elk, shoot some rabbits with our bows, and generally get pissed off about idiots. Pretty soon the gansters roll out and we head back in, the sun starting to dip below the horizon. My buddy thinks we're wasting time, that these bucks won't show, but I know they'll be there - like clockwork. Problem is, the clock is what I'm fighting as the sun dips below the horizon. I almost break into a run trying to cover the mile back to buck hill. I get there just as the sun disappears, and lo and behold there they are - standing on the hill as if there all along. My buddy ranges them at 60 yards, I draw back, they step into the brush. I let off and start creeping up to the hill, trying to get around the brush. One of the bucks steps out and I don't care which one it is at this point, so I draw back and . . . . I can't see my pins. Or the deer through my peep sight. Or my hand in front of my face. Damn!

I skip a day to let the emotional wounds heal but I'm back it two days later. I work a nice full day, go home, kiss the wife, and head out to kill an animal. I'm in a fairly good mood until I get to my spot. Oh man, that SOB. My old boss lives nearby and during a course of discussion (like an idiot) I mention I was deer hunting up behind his house. He says something to his son, who then posts that same info in the school newsletter, the local paper, and Craigslist. There, at the base of my buck hill, are parked two trucks. I can actually hear the dorks walking through the brush, trying to flush something out I guess. I go up to my hill and with my spotting scope I actually watch these yahoos as they march around the woods. My deer? No where in sight. The season still has a week and a half to go, but I've had my fill of fun, so I write it off and go home, never to return.

Fast forward to today. I decide it's time to head back to the old country and give it another shot. It's been a year and I've cooled off since my last misadventure. My first stand produces nothing but cows, and I head off wondering if I'm still cursed here. As I settle into my second stand I see movement. It's . . . . it's . . . . my bucks! All five of them are still alive and well, and decide to hang out at about 50 yards and watch me for a few minutes, as they can clearly see that I do not have a bow or an archery tag, and it's right in the middle of the season. They stand broadside, browse the vegetation, and generally mock me as they prance around the hillside singing songs about my misfortune. I hate those deer.

Not soon enough they decide to leave, and I start to sing out a dying rabbit serenade. I'm standing up next to a juniper tree, shotgun in hand. Around the 10 minute mark, I see a little fox head pop up out of a wash to my right. It's a little far for me to swing, and he's looking around like he's super interested, so I leave him alone. After a minute or so he drops back down in the wash and looks to be heading over to my downwind side. I swing my shotgun up, as I know where he'll pop out when he goes downwind, but instead he's actually decided to pursue other ventures and goes to leave. I catch a nice full body glimpse as he disappears into the brush, and I swear he has "rizzo sucks" written in berry juice on his fur. I hate those deer. I throw a few loads of #4 buck into the brush, but he runs off to report to the deer about my continued misfortune.

I decide I can get one more stand in before it gets too hot, so I go over to an area just a 1/4 mile away that has produced for me in the past. The wind is all wrong, though, and blowing away from the sun, which means in order to sit in the shade I have to sit with the wind to my back. Not too bad of an idea, normally, but this stand is a huge open field. I decide it's worth the risk and start up my handcalls. Not even 2 minutes into the stand I see this jackrabbit come barreling out of the brush. That's usually a good sign, as it can mean that a coyote chased it out of there. Sure enough, right behind that rabbit comes a coyote, but he stops at the brushline as he gets a noseful of my scent. He is, after all, standing straight downwind and he's decided that the 200 yard mark is close enough. I say "screw it" out loud, pull my rifle up, settle the crosshairs on him, and - what the hell?! He's somehow managed to turn around and his butt is now facing me as he looks over his shoulder in my direction. This day couldn't get any better as I squeeze off a round and send one right up his keister. And there he goes, twirling and spinning and I figure he's done for. He kinda disappears into some brush and all I can see is a head-tail-head-tail switch as he spins and spins just out of my sight. I'm watching all this through the scope when he just stops and then takes off running. Oh great, a running wounded yote - those things can run for a while if they aren't hit solid. I jog to the area and find a mess of crap, piss, and blood sprayed all over where he was doing the death dance. There's even some bone fragments thrown around for good measure. I get a good pattern of what he was doing here, and I see where he ran off, and then that's it. No more blood. No more trail at all. He ran off into some rocky terrain and thick brush. I search high. I search low. I even kick over rocks! There is literally no sign of where this dog ran off to. I look for 45 minutes in the hot blazing sun and I can't find hide nor hair of that coyote. Finally I do what I hate to do, and I give up. I trudge back to my truck. I try to cheer myself up, dwelling on the fact that at least I called some animals in. I still got to enjoy the outdoors, breathe some fresh air, and watch the sun come up. Yeah, that's it - the whole outdoor experience was good. I smile as I climb into my truck, but as I pull onto the dirt road, I swear I hear the unmistakable sound of laughter. Deer laughter.

I hate those deer.


The last blood sign I could find from the coyote:


As I searched for the yote, I couldn't help but notice the large number of rabbits in the area. They were running around so carefree and happy, and I just couldn't tolerate that. I offered one up to the coyote god, but he was blind to my offering, and the wounded yote remained at large:

Tomorrow's a brand new day brother.  You'll be alright..........




BTW,  I'm gonna order a copy of your book on payday.  I want it autographed.

wow, heh was a good read at least, at least i know ur books gona be fun to read.

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