Frustration

I wake up at 4 am, grab the pack I loaded up the night before with my camo taped tri pods, high powered binoculars, water, ammo, and my 7mm magnum. As I open the door to my truck I wonder why the old people feel the need to walk their rodent like dogs in front of my house and stare while i am covered head to toe in brush camo. Can they see me?

I drive 30 miles away from home onto a dirt road up the mountain and see truck after truck. Shit everyone is coming out for the last 2 days of the hunt. Finally i found a spot to park and see a hill that I want to glass off of. I grab my 70lbs. pack out of my truck and start my mile and a half hike.

"I am too fat for this shit" I told myself, but still pushed on.

I reach the peak that I wanted, out of breath and wanting to throw up. I set up the glass and wait for the sun to start peeking over the hill tops. As I scan the half dead bushes, and cactus the wind starts to blow mildly shaking my optics so I can not see much movement on the field.

As the wind dies I am staring at a patch of cactus being approached slowly by a small group of javalina.  Some movement from beyond the prickly pear patch catches my eye. I set my rifle on the other tripod and focus my scope in.

BANG! Someones shot startled my buck down an canyon and out of range.

"Where the fuck is he?" I said to myself.

Suddenly  more shot fire, one after another, I hear yelling off in the distance as i am glassing to see if more people are around. Nothing.

I hike up to another hill top, this time leaving my pack behind. I glass down and see 4 people target shooting at what seems to be nothing. Fucking assholes.



I wonder if this round will be fired off this season.

-Kyle, who wants his first deer.

Coulda Been a Contender

Walt Redman called that fucker in, and the son of a bitch just about jumped into the truck. He stood about twenty yards from us, grunting and snorting, bloodshot eyes, covered in piss.

He had just been talking to her from down in the valley. Then he heard some other asshole bugling up here with her and he came to see about that. She was here somewhere; that pretty little cow elk that he had heard talking all slutty.

He got to the top of the hill and stopped.

What the hell is this? He stared, still quivering with desire. Who are these bastards? Two big metal bastards and three two-legged bastards standing up here all alone in the early morning light.

He stomped the ground and turned slightly, grunting. Something ain’t right, he knew now. The wind shifted and he caught the scent and turned his big head bolted down the hill, pussy be damned this shit smelled dangerous and he got out of here.

That was Tuesday. Elk season stated Friday. That randy kid wasn’t going to be tricked a second time. No sir.

Friday morning we hit the call, waved, and said hello from 425 yards as he turned and walked away, knowingly. That was the end of that.

I will become a better elk hunter. Yes. I will.



-Alex who will never be okay with 2am as a "get up" time.

Daddy would you like some sausage? Daddy would you like some sausages?

I bought a new toy, I have some Elk, I have a smoker, And I made some sausage.

Old recipe I made a few years back for my own spicy pork sausage. I was wondering how well it would work for game meats. I quickly found out Elk is very dry when cooked with the spices I add for sausage, so how do you fix the problem? Lard, lots and lots of delicious lard! 

 The new toy for the Kitchen Aid

 The mix

 

The casings (pig intestines) 

 The process

 The rope

 Link it up

The smoker is ready

 Smoked and ready to eat

The French Toast, what the wife wants after seeing how sausage is made

Kyle- Can't wait to get  some more game.

BRING THE PAIN!

I know little of hunting, let alone Bow Hunting.

I know your basics;

-Be quiet
-Use your safety
-Bring Ammo
-Don't shoot your buddy
-Don't hunt with Cheney.

Rusty Ulmer (my soon to be father in law), along with his brother Randy, are both very well known bow hunters. Rusty, after many years of bow hunting has developed a new broad head that will be taking the market by storm. The new action from this broad head and his ideas have made this one of a kind and possibly the last way to make a fully functional broad head. Sometimes as Fly Fishermen we have to practice with the same line that we plan on fishing with for our next big trip, so why would you not practice with the same broad head? Well you wouldn't until now, now you don't have to damage your blades, or worry about not having a tuned head in your arrow due to the thoughts of a man who loves his hunting. But that is not all of it, the design to cause more damage to your target, whether the arrow gets pushed in deeper to the animal or it begins to come out this will make for a faster kill.
I cant go into too much detail, because I don't know enough about bow hunting to fully understand this new product that Rusty has decided to collaborate with the fellas at Trophy Taker .

More details please check out this video for Ulmer Edge, taken from the 2012 ATA show in Ohio.
This will explain more than I can.



It just looks meaner than hell. -Kyle

Getaway

Luke sat with his back against the cold rock, his hat pulled low on his head. A Winchester repeating rifle leaned against the low rock wall to his right as he squinted his eyes against the wind and looked out over the pass.

Walter had told him it was real important that he keep a keen eye, because they would most likely be coming up through from south, so “keep your damn eye lids open, boy.” Walt had said. “I come back up’er and you catchin’ a wink im’a clean yer plow.” So Luke watched the moon-lit valley as he was told.

Movement caught his eye and adrenaline flushed through him. He looked hard. There was something moving, but Luke thought it seemed too small to be a man. Lots of night critters run around these hills. He stuck a blade of grass in his mouth and settled back into the rock and continued his vigil.

Luke was fourteen years old, and hard as any man, he reckoned. He had been with Walter for as long as he could remember. Luke’s parents had been killed when he was just a small boy and Walt had taken him to raise him best he could. He remembered little from his childhood.

They had once ridden with a hand named Francis, who had been one of Lem’s men till an unsettled dispute had sent Francis looking for work. Francis loved his Whiskey and had got full as a tic on stump one night and told Luke that Walt had killed his parents over a debt and grabbed him as cover from the sheriff’s deputies bullets on his way out the door.

Luke didn’t believe the story and had told Walt what Francis said. Walt assured Luke that it was just a tall tale, said “You should never believe words that smell somuch like whiskey, boy” and walked off with a limp. Francis never made it back to camp. Luke just assumed Walt had run him off. Luke thought he might have seen Francis’ saddle for sale in the store the following week, but he couldn’t be sure.

Luke heard a rustle over this left shoulder and turned his head. Walt’s dark outline slowly moved around the rock, cresting the hill in his direction. The shadowy figure quietly made its way to his side.

“Anythin’?”
“No sir, but this’s a dandy spot, yes sir, we’ll get the bulge on ‘em, alright.”

Walt nodded in the dark and turned away.

“Walt?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it true that Lem got the rope? I heard they came and drug ‘em right outta jail.”

Walt stopped and turned his head slightly, pulling his Stetson down against the cold. “Yeah, they lynched him.”

Luke swallowed hard and stared at his boots.

Walt turned full around, facing him.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout it, boy. In a few days we’ll shove the queer and be bendin’ our elbows someplace nice. Maybe get a couple ladies keep us company.”

Luke nodded in the dark. Walt turned back and picked his footing around the hilltop and disappeared.

Luke pulled his gloves tight. He thought about the money. He thought about ladies with skin fine as cream gravy. He thought about Lem Redfield swinging from a rope and shivered.

Luke stared out into the dark over the pass.

One hundred-and-something years later...

Luke's Wall

Aaron as usual.

Be afraid of this.

Some gotten.

-Alex who hopes Luke make it to the ladies with skin fine as cream gravy.