I had a Great Elk Season this past year! Now , some would say that this statement is really, really odd, but then they just don't quite get it. No, I did not shoot an Elk. No, I did not see any Elk. No, I did not hear an Elk bugle. No, I did not even make it to Elk Camp. So why, you say, can you say you had a Great Elk Season? Come to think of it, it is a pretty odd statement, isn't it?

I love Elk Camp, I mean, I really love Elk Camp. It seems that I just simply survive from one season to the next. I even dream about Elk and Elk Camp and huntin' Elk and, well it's a bit of an addiction, I spose. My screen name is usually Elkaholic, I have a window sticker on my Durango that says Elkaholic. Actually, there are two stickers, the other one says "I'd rather be Elk Hunting". So, yeah, it's a little, or a whole bunch, odd that I wasn't in Elk Camp

Why on earth would a feller that rambles on so much about Elk Camp miss the one opportunity of the year to actually be in Elk Camp? You know there were a number of reasons. Some monitary, some work related and some, we'll just leave em to your imagination, that just made it clear to me that I needed to stay home this year. What it came down to was simple, it just wasn't meant to be. I struggled with it, thats for certain. I argued with myself and tried to convince myself and came up with excuses to go, but in the end, I found some peace in the decision to leave the gear in its place and stay home.

So, once the decision was made, I had to let my hunting partners know of my decision. That was the toughest part by far. You know, I love these people and I flat out love being in Elk Camp with them. Yep, it was tough!! They seemed to understand, asked if everything was alright, offered to help, told me I'd be missed, yep, they said all the things I expected. Thing is, I know them all too well and I know how I'd feel if I had heard the same news from them. Deep in my heart I'd be saying, No Dadgummit, you can't miss camp. you've got to figure out a way to get there!! But they didn't, and I wouldn't have either. Sometimes news you hear just isn't the news you want to hear, but you still know that you heard it for a reason.

Back to that question, Why on earth, for cryin' out loud was it such a Great Elk Season if you weren't even there? Here's why, because even though I was hundreds of miles away, my friends, no my great friends, made me feel like I was there. Heck, I got a call when the first Bull went down and I got to celebrate with Brad. And I got to hear all about him seeing two Bulls and knockin' one down and how the other Bull was headed toward the others and if he figured things right there would be two Bulls in the tree by that evening. Sure enough, he was right and soon after the first call I got word of Deb's Bull, ole number 2. Holy Cow, er, I mean Bull!! It had been many years since there was a two Bull Elk season and I sure as heck didn't have to be there to be just as bloomin happy as the rest of em.

Later that evening, after the Bulls were hung in the tree and the Elk Camp crew was in the Wall Tent sharing the tales of the day, I got yet another call. This one was the best yet!! I got in on the celebration again. I lifted a glass to my Great Friends and laughed til I cried with the best people on earth. Here's the thing, they took a part of me with them to Elk Camp. They took a piece of my with them as they hiked into the woods. There was a chunk of the Elkaholic with them when the Bulls were harvested, and there I was again at the end of the day celebrating in the Wall Tent. What more could an ole Elk Hunter ask for than to be there in a way that made me feel so much a part of Elk Camp that the memories will be just as real for me as all those other trips and treks in the Wapiti Woods.

To my hunting partners and Great Friends, I say Thank You, Thank You for yet another Grand Adventure. Until next season.....................

Collectables and Treasures

Everybody needs a hobby, you know, that one thing you do just because it is your thing and you enjoy it. Notice that nothing was mentioned about whether or not someone else enjoys this thing you call your hobby, because it is your hobby, your thing, your escape from whatever it is you want to escape from.

Some people collect coins. I tried that, didn't work. After I collected enough coins to go buy something, well, my hobby was over. No more coins, no more hobby. Some folks collect stamps. Never quite understood that one, just can't figure out why I'd buy stamps and then not use em on a letter. Not that I write a lot of letters, more like I put em on payment envelopes, yup thats it. Spending money so I can spend money, something here is just not right. Collecting bugs, now come on here. I tried, but after I squished the bugs and stuck a pin through em, they all looked the same anyway, yeah thats right, like squished bugs. I've seen these bug collections that look real good, but I'm awful confused as to how the collector gets the bloomin bugs to hold still while he skewers em with a sharp pin. I know if I'm a bug, and some collecter type is about so poke a hole clean through me, I'm gonna bite him and bite him good and hard and if I've got a stinger, you can bet it's gettin' used too.

Well, Elk Hunters collect stuff too. We collect all manner of stuff. We collect stuff that we stuff into boxes full of stuff and never see the stuff again until its time to unpack the stuff for the next Elk Camp. See you gotta unpack yer stuff before you leave just to check on the stuff and to see for sure if you put the stuff in the right box of stuff, cause you don't wanna be lookin' fer stuff in the wrong box of stuff when you really need yer stuff. This gets more important every year, cause with each year comes more stuff and therefore more boxes in which to stuff yer stuff, and if you don't stuff the stuff in the right stuff box, yer stuff gets lost amongst the wrong stuff in the wrong box full of stuff. See, some boxes are for cookin' stuff and some boxes are for shootin' stuff, and some boxes are for campin' stuff and other boxes are for wearin' stuff and yet other boxes are for stuff to decorate the Wall Tent. There's also stuff for the dogs and stuff for cleanin critters ya shoot and stuff for eatin and stuff that's just stuff ya can't seem to leave behind, whether ya ever use that stuff or not. But it's your stuff, and you just can't leave home without your stuff, cause sure as you don't bring the stuff along, you'll be needin that stuff and being with out the stuff you need just is not acceptable.

You know what else Elk Hunters collect, or at least a good many of them? They collect antlers, whether the headgear is a big ole 6x6 or a lowly spike, the antlers are collected. You've seen these collections if you've ever visited the home of an Elk Hunter or driven a country highway in Elk Country. Some folks have special rooms in which to display their collections. Yup, the heads and horns of many a Wapiti decorate the walls of Elk Hunters everywhere. Some of em even get decorated for Christmas with a red fuzzy ball at the end of their nose, or sleigh bells hangin round their necks. Makes em look like a bigger more handsome Rudolph I spose. Makes em look a little embarrassing too. I mean, decorations hangin from the Bull of the Woods, sheesh, gotta be a little bit demeaning, don't ya think? There's barns and fences all across the land that have antlers adorning them. Some with a single stately rack of horns centered perfectly over the barn door and others that have many different sizes and shapes and descriptions of horns and antlers plasterin the whole bloomin building. I've seen em used as gun racks too. Yup, forever sentenced to support the firearm that brought him to his demise. Not sure about what message there is in that scenario, but it does make ya think, huh? Then there's Elk Hunters that just wish they had a collection. I feel bad for those poor folks, cause, well, lets not get into it alright!

Back to those boxes of stuff in which we Elk Hunters stuff our stuff. I spose we could just label the boxes, or put a list of stuff in the box of stuff on top of the stuff in the box of stuff. But that would defeat the whole purpose of gettin' a chance to handle and gander at all the stuff. See a whole lot of that stuff is full of memories. Each box is truly a treasure chest of memories. Memories of mountainsides, streams and meadows, of guns and knives and scopes, of gloves and boots and hats, of stew and steak and jerky, but mostly of friends and family and all the times we've laughed together, worked hard together, commiserated together, celebrated together and just plain been together in some of the best country in this country.

I don't think there is a single item of stuff that doesn't have a story to tell about where it came from, when it's been used and for what purpose and how it got to be in that there box full of stuff. There is a decision that must be decided upon when you pick up an article of stuff and consider which box of stuff in which to store this particular item of stuff. It takes some consideration you know, I mean, after all, when will you be using this stuff and will you be using it when using other stuff in the box? Will this stuff be in the way of getting at other stuff that you may need to be getting out? These are important decisions and must be considered carefully. After all, who wants to be searching for the hanger for a lantern in a box of cookin stuff, or diggin for a bottle of propane in amongst your fanny packs and gaiters. I mean this is a waste of precious time that could be used for other, much more important endeavors, like tellin tales and sippin' yer huntin partners "Pendletons".

Seriously though, there are many Elk Camp "duties" that need to be done. Things like splittin wood and haulin wood and stokin the stove with the wood you split and hauled. You've gotta get yer pack ready for the next day and make sure its got a good supply of snacks and water and knives and bags and ropes and twine and emergency blanket and first aid stuff spare gloves and socks and whatever else ya just can't live without for a day in the field. So, don't you see the importance of stuff organizing, unorganized stuff is, well, just stuff, but stuff stuffed in the proper place is good and useful stuff.

Over the years I've collected a plethora of knives, some I use on a regular basis and others I just don't use at all, but none the less they are my knives. I've got this one knife, I suppose it's better described as a machete that I've had since high school. I picked it up at an army surplus store, not sure why, but I just needed that bloomin thing. I've taken it with me on just about every huntin' trip I've been on since that day. I sharpened it up good and used it to chop wood, clear away brush, split an Elks rib cage and pelvis, heck I've even shaved with the crazy thing. A friend of mine, made me a sheath for it. She was takin' a leather working class in high school and needed a projected and my knife needed a sheath. It was a perfect match and they are still together, the knife and sheath that is. What on earth were you thinkin' anyway?? I call it my pocketknife, but I've never had a pocket that would hold it. I have carried it on my belt while hunting though. You've got to lash it to your leg to keep it from beatin ya to death while you hike through the woods. I remember one knife that I lost many years ago, and I still miss it. It was my grandfathers hunting knife and I had it in my fanny pack on a hunting trip that took me out on a hogback in the Wallowas. One of the fellas I was with shot a nice 3pt buck up near the top of that ridge and by the time it stopped tumbling down the mountainside it made for one heck of a pack to get the critter back up outta there. Somewhere along that mountainside my pack came open and the only thing that spilled out was may Grandpa's knife. I looked for it for quite a while out there, combing the rocks and sticks and such, but never could find it. I've thought about that day a thousand times, not just about the hunt and packing out the deer and being so exhausted we could barely move, bust mostly because I lost a part of me out there on that ridge. A treasured possession that I'll never be able to replace, see it wasn't just a knife, and it wasn't just my Grandpa's knife. I was a piece of him, hand made by him that had been entrusted to me by my father. I was protective of it too, so much so that I wouldn't wear it on my belt. I made certain to put it in my fanny pack where it couldn't slip out of the sheath. I used it that day to help clean Greg's deer and I hope Grandpa's knife's story didn't end there. I know it sounds a bit odd, but I hope someone stumbled across it out there and put it safely in their pack and took it home and added it to their collection and that stories have been told about the day on that steep hillside that he caught a reflection of sunlight off the blade and bent over a found a very special knife.