My parents live in New Jersey (yeah, I know — but at least they don’t live in North Jersey!), and their friend and neighbor Paul Bruni sends this report on his recent elk hunting trip in the western U.S.:
Unfortunately elk steaks will not be on the Bruni menu this year! A lack of shooting accuracy is the apparent cause of this shortage. However, in defense of the shooter from NJ, where a two hundred yard shot is considered long, these shots were extremely long. The six missed shots ranged from three hundred yards to five hundred plus yards. At that range, the characteristics of the bullet’s trajectory can be tricky and dramatic. In other words, I missed!
I saw six bulls (that’s elk talk) and no cows (that’s elk talk too), and got six shots at four of them. No one else got a shot and some guys didn’t see elks, period. I am satisfied with my first attempt at something that was much more than just a “kill” for me.
This was a real western, cowboy and somewhat dangerous experience that I will never forget. From the location of the base camp to the areas we horse backed to and hunted, up to five miles, the scenery was spectacular and the air was very thin. We hunted at ten thousand feet with camp at nine. WOW, we were wakened at four a.m. as the guide re-lights the fire in the pot belly stove. Head to the food tent and have a great breakfast. By five a.m. saddle up and off you go into the darkness. Thank god for the horses, my new favorite animal. You look up and see more stars than you have every seen before! It was incredible. After hunting all day, we would return, in the dark and have a great dinner prepared by the cook Debbie. Some good conversation follows and then back to our tent. It consisted of a dirt floor, a bucket and a pan for plumbing, a pot belly stove for heat and a Coleman lantern for light! There, much of the conversation was, “what am I doing here and how in the hell did the Indians live like this?” Now we know why their population stayed so high! But, we were without squaws. We had only each other, our horse or a mule named Amos.
My roommate (tent mate) drank a lot of beer thank god. He got up to pee frequently enough to maintain a decent fire. But getting out of a sleeping bag and trotting outside, in ten degree weather to pee is the PITS! There were no phones, no computers and no human interaction other than that of the camp. I loved it!
It’s nice to be back home though.
I think Paul needs some practice at this “great outdoors” stuff <smile>. I especially liked his reaction to waking at 4 AM, and his thoughts about Amos in the absence of “squaws”.
And Paul: I really hate to break this to you, but … the Indians didn’t have buckets, pot-bellied stoves, or Coleman lanterns!
