HorseShoer
Well-known member
I reckon i outa start a conversation, givin the season at hand. I thot it be kinda neat to see what kinda wild tales folks from other parts might have to tell. could be a funy story , or one about the trophy that got away.
Ther I was mindin my own damm bussiness, werkin the season for a outfitter in a camp somewher deep in the sawtooth/lost river back country, wich was located a meer 35 miles from the nearest cold beer. A group of 7 hunters all from texas had been under our care and babysittin for about 2 weeks, these boys had paid a small fourtune and a pint of blood to have thrill of a life time huntin elk in the high country of Idaho. they were good ol texas boys all with better than averge professions rangin from doctors to tax accountants. Near the end of ther hunt ther was this one scawny ol feller that luck had passed over and he had not filled his tag yet, It was left to me on the last full day of ther hunt to see ifn i could help him out. So in the evining we paked up what gear was needed. A bedroll and sandwich for me , and whole pack horse loaded wif gortex, camoflage items of differnt sorts, elk calls, a few huntin videos , and god knows what else he needed for this over nite spike camp stay.. We went 7 miles or so to a place that i knew we could git on to some elk the next moring. we woke up before dark, then proceeded to make our way to a opening on a bare hill side in search of a biggun. Well sure enuff at daylight in the early moring haze the shapes of elk became to be clear in the meadow edge below, we snuck up in under a dead fall and made our rest, as more day light struck i noticed a good size 7x6 bull oft to one side, as he milled around shakin the dew off his back i took my reed out and chirped a small cow bark, yep that cought his attention allright, with head held high he came trottin our way, I says to my hunter gits ready... the hunter is all wallerd down in a nice rest with rifle at the ready, i give another bark and this bull elk came to within 40 years, i could smell his stank and hear him grunt and he trotted, he stood ther, a perfect broadside shot~ to my hunter i says" take good aim relax n pull the trigger" I waited for the crack of his custom made 7mm to go off........ once again i said " relax , good carefull aim, and knock him over" I waited, still nothing... then knowin this ol boy wernt gonna stand ther all day, I said " come on punch him right in the lungs"... I waited..then nothing, my hunter laid ther stareing thru his scope mouth half open... then he turned to me n said.. "I caint" what????? you caint? what do ya mean... he said I caint.. i jist crapped my pants! then he slid the rifle my way... he said you shoot it,,i caint... So in utter disgust i took the rifle n touched one off, the crack of the rile and thump of the impact, the elk buckled then fell. As i comenced the werk at hand of dressin kill out, dingbat was over undressing him self n cleanin up from his untimely accident. Then he came over and opend his wallet, gave me $500 for the kill... and epmteyd the rest out to NOT tell anyone about what happend total $1,240 ( tips are allways appreciated) ..... when we got back to camp i listened to him tell his pards about the stalk and freice fight he had took on to kill his trophy, and never said a word... a few hours later the brush piolet flew in and took the hunters back to civilization with ther trophys to be mounted on the wall..... yep.. as soon as he was gone you can bet.. i told all my fellow guides... about the great hunter that pooped him slef before the shot.
Ther I was mindin my own damm bussiness, werkin the season for a outfitter in a camp somewher deep in the sawtooth/lost river back country, wich was located a meer 35 miles from the nearest cold beer. A group of 7 hunters all from texas had been under our care and babysittin for about 2 weeks, these boys had paid a small fourtune and a pint of blood to have thrill of a life time huntin elk in the high country of Idaho. they were good ol texas boys all with better than averge professions rangin from doctors to tax accountants. Near the end of ther hunt ther was this one scawny ol feller that luck had passed over and he had not filled his tag yet, It was left to me on the last full day of ther hunt to see ifn i could help him out. So in the evining we paked up what gear was needed. A bedroll and sandwich for me , and whole pack horse loaded wif gortex, camoflage items of differnt sorts, elk calls, a few huntin videos , and god knows what else he needed for this over nite spike camp stay.. We went 7 miles or so to a place that i knew we could git on to some elk the next moring. we woke up before dark, then proceeded to make our way to a opening on a bare hill side in search of a biggun. Well sure enuff at daylight in the early moring haze the shapes of elk became to be clear in the meadow edge below, we snuck up in under a dead fall and made our rest, as more day light struck i noticed a good size 7x6 bull oft to one side, as he milled around shakin the dew off his back i took my reed out and chirped a small cow bark, yep that cought his attention allright, with head held high he came trottin our way, I says to my hunter gits ready... the hunter is all wallerd down in a nice rest with rifle at the ready, i give another bark and this bull elk came to within 40 years, i could smell his stank and hear him grunt and he trotted, he stood ther, a perfect broadside shot~ to my hunter i says" take good aim relax n pull the trigger" I waited for the crack of his custom made 7mm to go off........ once again i said " relax , good carefull aim, and knock him over" I waited, still nothing... then knowin this ol boy wernt gonna stand ther all day, I said " come on punch him right in the lungs"... I waited..then nothing, my hunter laid ther stareing thru his scope mouth half open... then he turned to me n said.. "I caint" what????? you caint? what do ya mean... he said I caint.. i jist crapped my pants! then he slid the rifle my way... he said you shoot it,,i caint... So in utter disgust i took the rifle n touched one off, the crack of the rile and thump of the impact, the elk buckled then fell. As i comenced the werk at hand of dressin kill out, dingbat was over undressing him self n cleanin up from his untimely accident. Then he came over and opend his wallet, gave me $500 for the kill... and epmteyd the rest out to NOT tell anyone about what happend total $1,240 ( tips are allways appreciated) ..... when we got back to camp i listened to him tell his pards about the stalk and freice fight he had took on to kill his trophy, and never said a word... a few hours later the brush piolet flew in and took the hunters back to civilization with ther trophys to be mounted on the wall..... yep.. as soon as he was gone you can bet.. i told all my fellow guides... about the great hunter that pooped him slef before the shot.
