THE BOX IN THE TRAIL

Now this has just got to raise the interest level of the reader of this little tale. A box you say? In the trail? Must me something somebody dropped out of their pack when they were fishin' around in it trying find the bung fodder. I'll go into the necessity of ample bung fodder some other time, for now, lets get back to "the box in the trail". I'm pretty certain that this here box was not in this particular location by accident. In fact, I can't figure out, for the life of me, why on earth it was there, but there it was, big as life, surely planted where someone would find it. Thats where Randy and I come into the picture.

We had, or Randy had I should say, gotten a cow elk on opening morning. As a side note, this guy (I'm talkin bout Randy) seems to be in the right place on a pretty darn regular basis. Now I don't know if it is because he is such a masterful hunter or if he's just plain lucky either way, the elk seem to be drawn to him. What I'm finally beginning to figure out is that I should just stay close, maybe it'll rub off me someday, please someday soon.....

Well anyway, we get this cow back to camp on Randy's mechanical horse, some people know em as quads or 4-wheelers, and get her up on the meat pole. After this the elk seem to be pretty scarce. We've hiked and glassed and hiked and glassed and, well, you get the picture. We aren't seeing critters. So about the 5th day of the season we figure it's time to check out another place to hike and glass, yup, same thing different place. We drive down the road a piece and stop off at a locked gate, we do this a lot, and head off down an old loggin skiff. Now its a nice day, not too cold and the ground is quiet, but no snow. We walk for a while and then stop and glass the far wall of the canyon below, lookin' for any sign of life. There's ravens and squirrels and chipmunks, but no elk, looks like yet another day void of our quarry, so after checking this spot out for a half hour or so we move on. We've been following this loggin' skiff for the better part of an hour now when we come across this box. Not just any box, but a sealed beam box. I spose there are a lot of you out there that aren't familiar with the term 'sealed beam.' Well a sealed beam is a headlight for a car. Not really all that long ago, we didn't have just a bulb that you twist into the headlight assembly, NO we used to have to remove 3-4 screws and unplug this big lamp called a sealed beam. Then you put the new one in and put the screws back in and you have to adjust the beam so it isn't shining too high or too low or too right or, whatever.

Back to the box. This thing is setting there, right in the middle of the trail, like someone had carefully and meticulously placed it where someone would find it. We stop and start lookin at the thing, its all closed up nice and neat like and appears to be in pretty good shape. After a bit I say, "why don't you open it". "Naw" Randy replies, "not sure I want to know what's in there". "Aw c'mon" I add. "You open it" he says. To tell you the truth, I honestly don't remember who opened this thing, but I do remember the surprise we got.

Now picture this, we are about an hours walk from the truck, down this ole loggin' skiff which has pretty much turned into a trail. We come across this box, which, when it is opened reveals, now this is the honest truth, six sets of buck deer genitalia. Yup, deer balls, a sealed beam box clear full of papa deer's family jewels. Six of em! I know, this sounds like a tall tale, but who could possibly make this one up. Back in those days I didn't carry a camera with me, and I have wished ever since that I did. I still have a couple questions.

#1 Who on earth goes to the trouble of boxin' up 6 sets of deer jewels in a sealed beam box and hauls em out on a point and sets em in the middle of the trail for me and Randy to stumble upon?

#2 Where was this yahoo sittin' as he watched us argue over who was gonna open the confounded box and see our faces as we discovered the surprise contents?

I figure we were being watched, cause what fun would it be to plant this thing if you didn't get to watch the show. I'll probably never know the answer to either question, but if you do, let me know.

What is that Aroma Anyway?

Have you ever caught a whiff of something that you just wish you had been upwind of rather than on the downwind side? Yeah, I can almost see you wrinkling up your nose as you remember how your nostril hairs were burning. Not an aroma you want to remember, is it?

I had one of those experiences out on the side of a big ole canyon one really chilly, no, downright cold morning while I was a watchin for wapiti. Now it was quite a hike down into this hole, so even though the mercury was hanging out well below the freezing level, just the moving about was enough to keep me warm. Thats all good and well as long as the moving about part is still happening, but I've reached my destination. I've been planning on heading down to this ole log on the side of the canyon to set my tail down and glass the openings on the far face. So, sit down I did. And I sat, and I glassed, and I waited............repeat.............repeat (getting chilly)..........repeat (cold now)...........repeat (okay, I'm freezin'). I gotta do somethin' different, but I know this is the spot to be (why I don't remember, but I just knew).

Well, I can't leave, I need to stick to my preminitions. So I get this idea, why not build a little warming fire. I know, fire tells the critters that man is around, but dog-gone-it, I'm COLD. So into my fanny pack I dig. Yep, right where I figured it was was my fire starter and some matches in a waterproof container. Let's see, I figure, what can I find here on this canyon wall to burn. I scrounged some grass and twigs and needles and a couple fair sized sticks, but not enough to make a fire warm enough to get me thawed out good.

Then it hit me, why not light this ole log on fire? I get my gathered kindling together inside this log and, daydreaming about someplace warm, I light it. Now this fire doesn't take off right away, it just smolders and spits and coughs up a little smoke, and yep, you guessed it, it smelled a little funny too. I'm not too worried about the smell though, cause remember, I'm COLD. I choked back the tears and blow on the fire to get it going and pretty soon I've got, not a fire, but a real stinkin, rotten, smellin, smoke emitting, thing to get away from. But, I don't, cause yup, I'm COLD.

Now, down the canyon a ways are my buddies. I know they're down there, but what I don't know is that this retched smoke is starting to affect them as well. They do figure out that something is burning, and they just hafta come see what is so bloomin' aromatic. Along they come, Brad and Randy, my hunting partners through thick and thin. Only the best of buddies will go toward this smell for you, or, they are a bit deranged. Or in this case, probably a little of both.

They've been moving, so they aren't COLD like me, and they can't for the life of em figure out why on earth I'm cuddled up so close to this smoldering log of reeking whatever it is. They back off and convince me that if I don't get out of there I'll smell just like that log for the duration of elk season.

So here's the thing, I truly believe that this ole log, all by itself on the side of the canyon wall, must be the only thing that the resident black bear can find to mark his territory on. I've never burned bear scat, and I don't think I'll ever try to, but if I do, I'm pretty certain it will smell like that ole log, and me too, for the duration of elk season.

Elk Camp Trickery

Several years back, back when it was always possible to hunt the second Oregon elk season if you didn't draw a first season tag, we were camped at our favorite meadow which we shared with a group from Ashland, Or. We set up camp on the North side of the meadow and for 3-4 years in a row the Ashland party set up on the South side.

Since it gets dark early, and we weren't exactly filling tags in a big hurry, we took to wandering back and forth across the meadow and sharing tales of the day's events. Of course, we were careful not to divulge too much information regarding the whats, wheres and hows of our day and I'm pretty certain that the tales we were hearing left out a tidbit or two as well.

It was an unseasonably warm second elk season, you see ussually the second week of November brings some snow and frost and a bit of the brisk breeze that lets you know that winter is not all that far off. Now the good thing about having some "weather" is that it tends to make the animals move around a bit and start looking for greener pastures at lower elevations. Well this particular season we spent most of our days wearing just our shirtsleeves or maybe a light jacket. The thermometer actually streched all the way up into the 60's, so when we made our trek accross the meadow to "share" with the Albany party, it was mostly to complain about the weather and not seeing anything remotely resembling an elk. The banter typically ended up with a "good luck tomorrow" or a "we'll find one first" or some such comment that by the third day, no-one was believing.

Well, along comes the fourth, or was it the fifth, day of way too warm weather. We tramped through the dry and crackling woods until we had just about had all we could stand of wishing there was a pool and a cool drink around. We had hiked out of camp that morning, so were on foot all day. As we entered the meadow about midway between the two camps we couldn't help but notice that something was different over on the Albany side of things. Could it be, yup it sure was, naw can't be, but yes it was, there was something hanging from their meat pole.

Now Randy and I had covered a whole lot of territory and we hadn't seen animals, we hadn't seen tracks, we hadn't even seen elk pellets that were remotely fresh. Just so you know, it is not customary to walk into someone else's camp if they aren't around. This is just an unwritten rule that gets followed pretty darn well by elk hunters everywhere, but we were pretty doggone curious.... We resisted temptation and headed to our camp to offload our gear and get a cool drink, still no pool to relax by. We're sittin there talkin about where on earth those fellas from Albany had come across an elk, and we just can't seem to figure it out. Now the more we talk, the more we get curious about what they've got hangin in the tree. You know, is it a 4-pt, a 5-pt, or a big bull, or ?? We can see that they musta left the head on the animal, cause we can make out some antler times hangin out the bottom of the game bag, but it's partially blocked and we just can't tell what it is. Dang it all anyway, those Albanians still aren't back to camp! Well the curiosity got the best of us and off we went to check out another elk camp..........

We get closer and we can tell that yep, fer sure, there is definately something hangin. When we get within about 20 yards we figure it out.......We'd Been Had!! Those Albanians had found a deer carcass and absconded with the antlers. Then they took an "Elk Sized" game bag and filled it full of sticks & twigs and pine needles and moss and whatever it took to "fill" it up. Finally, the tied the absconded antlers to the bottom of the bag. Crapola, they had gotten to know us too well, they knew we'd crumble and and come wandering across that meadow to see their "Elk".

Now we knew we would have to come clean on this, cause it was a pretty good prank, and they deserved their kudos. That evening when they made it back to camp we all shared a drink together and a whole lot of laughter. That was the last year the Albany party showed up in the meadow, we haven't heard from em since. They sure left us with a memory though. Dadgum Albanians anyway....................

Elk Camp Blown Away

Well, I'm pretty new at this, so check out the comment on the first post. Yeah, I'm too lazy to figure out how to paste it here