A Concoction Of Last Resort. Photograph by Rocky Tschappat
What do you do when the mosquitoes are thick as thieves and larger and meaner than a pterodactyl on the prowl?
How do you hunt when wearing your headnet merely slows down the number of bugs trying to find a way down your throat?
Well, the answer is easy, my friend.
And the word is “Deet”. Maybe you’ve heard of it.
It’s about the only thing left when all your bug suit does is make you hotter and more miserable than your already are.
Unless, you choose instead to go running madly though the trees, screaming at the top of your lungs in a state of full-bore linear panic (I stole that from the great outdoor writer Patrick McManus by the way).
Effective, for sure, but awfully hard on the ol’ noggin…I wouldn’t recommend it.
It’s Deet alone to save the day, I say – 100%…
Watch your back, though. If you’re not paying attention you may even find an elk trying to get close to you to find some relief for himself.
Disclaimer: I surely did not mean to imply that Deet was an edible product. Ingestion would be hazardous to your health, and may cause certain body parts to melt inappropriately. Be careful what you spray it on too – it’s some mighty powerful stuff!
*To be doubly honest, I also borrowed “The Breakfast of Champions” title from Kurt Vonnegut, after his book by the same name. Hell of a writer there, may he rest in peace. (The work explores the boundaries and meanings of “sanity”, and “mental illness”, which somehow seemed so appropriated in this case).
We usually have a copy in our bookstore stock, as well as many of his other books, if so interested.
Bowhunting for elk brings along its own very special set of joys, and mostly pleasant miseries, and my hunt so far this year has certainly been no exception.
The weather has been hotter than Hell’s own glowing brace of hinges; the lack of moisture unprecedented. Add to that an unusually voracious and seemingly endless raft of pterodactyl-sized mosquitoes that descended from the devil’s own desert, and you can begin to grasp the parameters of this particular flavor of outdoor fun.
Still, my summer scoutings and game camera recordings have been fruitful and very enlightening, and increasingly hopeful. The elk trails had been well-worn, and you might say that I felt that I had their fairly regular patterns pretty well dialed in, at least as well as anyone can when it comes to out guessing an elk.
That was, of course, until opening day of this years Colorado archery season, just a very short time ago.
All tracks and other elk sign evaporated completely about one week before season, leaving me completely dumbfounded and at a loss for words. Still, I had faith, and as many of you know one thing an elk is really good at is covering a lot of territory.
After all, they would be back.
Right?
The first few days were elkless, and I returned home for a short, but restless break.
Then, on the night before last, I left the house at a much too early hour and arrived at my hunting area in time to change out my footwear, grab my gear, and gain a comfortable perch in my favorite tree stand. I could barely contain my anticipation as the shadow light of the moon waned and the day transitioned to that magic hour known so well to bowhunter’s everywhere.
Just Me And My Hoyt Satori
Blame it on the blood-sucking horde, my sleep deprived eyes, or my too-heavy-for-an-older-man-pack, but it was then, and only then, that I discovered why I had felt so unsteady and disjointed on the rocky trail.
Looking down, I was more than shocked to find but one boot on my left foot, and silly me, a low topped walking shoe and mismatched sock on the other. No wonder I had felt like I had wanted to make a circle as I stepped along, with one leg shorter than the other, however slightly. I don’t believe I have ever done that before, and if I had, I surely would not admit it now, pride being what it is and all.
Well, thought I, if that was the worst thing to happen this day than I shall howl into the oncoming day, but not just now anyways. Time to get ready for my upcoming 15 yard broadside shot, though the elk packing might prove a little challenging under the circumstances!
I knew from monitoring my game cameras that the elk would show by 8 a.m. or not at all, and my full length bug suit did it’s best to preserve some blood in my body as I waited valiantly on. But, as you may have guessed, it was simply not to be.
So it was back to camp for breakfast and a refreshing jug of iced coffee. Time to shelter up from the relentless sun and live to fight another day. But first, I decided to make a slight detour and check the camera at my other ground blind location.
Ready For Waiting
Truth be told this particular setup was my favorite among the two, and my hunter’s intuition had told me to hunt it this morning. Never doubt the “spidey sense” is my motto, and I do my best to honor whatever premonitions are graced my way.
Unfortunately, the morning wind would not cooperate, blowing steadily from the north instead of from its more usual southerly direction. Facts are facts, and one of the most important of them all is that you will never fool the nose of an elk.
Hence, the tree, for me…
And of course, no doubt you have already guessed it. The elk had already arrived, four or five bulls and a cow for sure, just an hour before – and gone, and I would have had a lovely shot, had I been there, one boot or not.
A 32 Yard Shot At The Big Guy, Or 14 Yards At The Other – Had I Been There…
I knew of this big bull too, and there is a snapshot or two of him in my in my growing photographic collection. He’s a handsome specimen – most obviously big, and heavy on the hoof.
I would surely love to see him again, under slightly different terms and conditions. The season’s young, though I am not, and maybe, just maybe, we shall cross our paths again before the end.
Only the fates can say.
If so, may the arrow fly true and sharp, and the elk and the glory of pursuit live on forever. Yet, for now, what can one do, but lay the head back, and laugh. For after all, I am bowhunter – and I’m used to it.
I will, however, make doubly sure to be fully dressed, …next time.
“I will still his mighty bugle if it is willed. I’ll claim him as a trophy if my puny arrow flies true. But he will always be the unattainable; with the mountain, the fog, and the silent stones”
Early August is scouting time in my big corner of the Rocky Mountains, for as many of you know the Archery elk and deer season is just around the corner and coming fast.
Placing and monitoring a pack of game cameras is one of my new found loves. You just never know what just found image awaits. For a hunter it’s like Christmas and birthdays and all things good beckoning from the end of the rainbow.
And all it really takes to claim your prize is just a little boot leather to get there.
Works for me…
Good Hunting, and may your arrows fly sharp and true!
Taking The New Hoyt Satori For A SpinWalking Into A Golden Morning
by Jewett, John Howard
First edition. Hard cover. Dodge Publishing Company (1909)
Very good. No dust jacket. Signed by previous owner. With gilt decorations on front cover and spine. Bound in red cloth, with some light wear at edges. Internal crack. Quite scarce in any condition, particularly in First Edition
Crosshairs On Target- But No Goat TodayThe Infamous “Tank” , Who Lived On To Fight another Day
Above is a photograph of “Tank”, as I so affectionately named him. You will have to take my word for it, but this is a mountain goat for the bowhunting record books.
Of course, I would have had to get close enough to kill him first, and the more I hunted him the more the impossibility of that task became evident.
“Tank” did not become big by being slow-witted. I gave up the bow and turned to the rifle, but even that was a tough assignment.
I nearly had him though. He fit bodly in my crosshairs one blue-sky morning, and I wanted badly to pull the trigger. It would have been a long shot at 540 yards, but I had the gun for it and a dead rest to go with it.
In the end, he never walked into a position where he could be recovered after the shot. Such are the frustrations and tribulations of goat hunting.
Last I saw him he was grazing contentedly with some other trophy contenders, though he made them look small by comparison.
With luck and perseverance another goat hunter may take him next year, but then again, maybe not.
My guess is that he will die of old age long before that ever happens.
Wildlife Photographer Frank Donofrio of Glenwood Springs, Colorado caught this band of Bighorn Sheep on an island in the middle of The Frying Pan River above Basalt.
Enjoy!
Heading For the High Country. Photo by Frank DonofrioCome On In. The Water’s Fine. Photograph by Frank DonofrioMY, My That Water’s Cold! Photograph by Frank DonofrioJust Another Day on The Frying Pan River. Photograph by Frank DonofrioAlmost There! Photograph by Frank DonofrioHeading In! Photograph by Frank DonofrioThere’s Some Good Rams in Unit S44. Photograph by Frank Donofrio
In the past, some limited resident and nonresident licenses for archery and rifle hunting have been available by lottery in Bighorn Sheep Unit S44 of Colorado.
