slipped off the safety on his rifle.
The elk emerged from the trees about two hundred yards upstream. The bull held his head high, sniffing the air, but the slight breeze was blowing toward the men. Jake lifted his rifle and lined up his shot, waiting for the elk to move closer to the water. Jake refused to shoot any animal unless he could be sure of a clean kill.
The elk took one hesitant step, then another, and Jake moved his finger to the trigger. He held his breath, waiting for one more step. Before Jake could squeeze the trigger, he heard voices and the sound of hikers in the woods behind him. Just that quickly, the elk was gone, spooked back into the shelter of the trees.
Jake blew out his breath and took his finger off the trigger, putting the safety on. “Is it possible for them to make any more noise, do you think?”
“They’re out early.” Jeb checked his watch. “You think they’d know better than to hike this time of day during hunting season. Hope they’re at least wearing orange.” Jeb referred to the bright orange vests and caps that ensured the wearer would stand out against the wooded background. It was the law that hunters wear orange, and while the law didn’t apply to recreational users, it was common sense.
The voices of the hikers had faded and the men settled down to wait again. They would hunt for a few more hours, then they’d have to head back to Casper because Jake had to be in court on Monday. It frustrated him that he could spare so little time for hunting, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least if he were County Attorney, he would be able to take time off and not have to worry about his caseload.
Emma’s brother wanted him to go to Texas next year to hunt wild hogs. The animals had overrun parts of Texas, which was unwilling host to half the wild hog population of North America. The animals did extensive damage, both by tearing up the physical environment and by driving out native wildlife. A large hog would feed both families for a year.
Like most hunters, Jake hated trophy hunting. The idea of taking an animal’s life simply to have something to hang on the wall was abhorrent to him. Game meat was lean, organic, and hormone-free. Jake, like his father and grandfather before him, hunted to fill the freezer. What he couldn’t eat, he donated to local soup kitchens and food banks.
When the elk did not return, the men waded across the stream and walked up the far bank until they found the bull’s tracks. They followed the tracks into the woods, stepping carefully to avoid dislodging stones or breaking twigs that would warn the elk of their approach. They lost his tracks in a rocky area and fanned out until they found them again, then followed him until the day had become so warm they became concerned that even if they found the bull now, they would not be able to get the meat back to the cabin and on ice before it spoiled.
They traced their steps back to the ATV and headed back to the cabin. “You’re welcome to hang out here, Jeb. No reason for both of us to go back and forth to town. If you want to get in a little fishing, I’ll be back tomorrow night and we’ll have three more days before the season closes.”
“Never was much for fishing. I’ll ride back with you and check on my livestock. If we don’t get your elk, why don’t you pick up a general deer license and come up to the house with me next week?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
As they neared the freeway, Jake’s phone started beeping and chirping with a weekend’s worth of notifications. One of the things he liked best about the cabin was its poor cell reception. When the alerts finally quieted, he pulled over to the side of the road. He ran through the list of missed called and grimaced.
“Sorry Jeb, I’ve got to return a call.” He stepped out of the cab and walked around to the back, leaning against the tailgate. He punched call return and listened while the mother of the client who
The elk emerged from the trees about two hundred yards upstream. The bull held his head high, sniffing the air, but the slight breeze was blowing toward the men. Jake lifted his rifle and lined up his shot, waiting for the elk to move closer to the water. Jake refused to shoot any animal unless he could be sure of a clean kill.
The elk took one hesitant step, then another, and Jake moved his finger to the trigger. He held his breath, waiting for one more step. Before Jake could squeeze the trigger, he heard voices and the sound of hikers in the woods behind him. Just that quickly, the elk was gone, spooked back into the shelter of the trees.
Jake blew out his breath and took his finger off the trigger, putting the safety on. “Is it possible for them to make any more noise, do you think?”
“They’re out early.” Jeb checked his watch. “You think they’d know better than to hike this time of day during hunting season. Hope they’re at least wearing orange.” Jeb referred to the bright orange vests and caps that ensured the wearer would stand out against the wooded background. It was the law that hunters wear orange, and while the law didn’t apply to recreational users, it was common sense.
The voices of the hikers had faded and the men settled down to wait again. They would hunt for a few more hours, then they’d have to head back to Casper because Jake had to be in court on Monday. It frustrated him that he could spare so little time for hunting, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least if he were County Attorney, he would be able to take time off and not have to worry about his caseload.
Emma’s brother wanted him to go to Texas next year to hunt wild hogs. The animals had overrun parts of Texas, which was unwilling host to half the wild hog population of North America. The animals did extensive damage, both by tearing up the physical environment and by driving out native wildlife. A large hog would feed both families for a year.
Like most hunters, Jake hated trophy hunting. The idea of taking an animal’s life simply to have something to hang on the wall was abhorrent to him. Game meat was lean, organic, and hormone-free. Jake, like his father and grandfather before him, hunted to fill the freezer. What he couldn’t eat, he donated to local soup kitchens and food banks.
When the elk did not return, the men waded across the stream and walked up the far bank until they found the bull’s tracks. They followed the tracks into the woods, stepping carefully to avoid dislodging stones or breaking twigs that would warn the elk of their approach. They lost his tracks in a rocky area and fanned out until they found them again, then followed him until the day had become so warm they became concerned that even if they found the bull now, they would not be able to get the meat back to the cabin and on ice before it spoiled.
They traced their steps back to the ATV and headed back to the cabin. “You’re welcome to hang out here, Jeb. No reason for both of us to go back and forth to town. If you want to get in a little fishing, I’ll be back tomorrow night and we’ll have three more days before the season closes.”
“Never was much for fishing. I’ll ride back with you and check on my livestock. If we don’t get your elk, why don’t you pick up a general deer license and come up to the house with me next week?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
As they neared the freeway, Jake’s phone started beeping and chirping with a weekend’s worth of notifications. One of the things he liked best about the cabin was its poor cell reception. When the alerts finally quieted, he pulled over to the side of the road. He ran through the list of missed called and grimaced.
“Sorry Jeb, I’ve got to return a call.” He stepped out of the cab and walked around to the back, leaning against the tailgate. He punched call return and listened while the mother of the client who
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