Because I spent a week in Kansas helping to take care of my Dad, I missed out on the first week of archery elk season. Before he passed away, one of the last things he said was, “Go home so you can hunt.”
Hunting runs deep in this Kirkpatrick clan.
Now back in Colorado, my alarm goes off at 4 a.m., I have a quick coffee to go, followed by a nice uphill hike to my elk blind.
The first morning back I could really tell I had spent nine days at flatlanders' altitude with little sleep, as I had lost some of my lung capacity. But with practice and repetition, it is better now. This morning, I actually made it all the way with just a few breathers. I probably resemble an old horse wheezing and blowing at the stops. May smell like a horse, too. You’ll have to ask Miss Trixie.
While I’m on the mountain slaving away chasing elusive elk and bear for our freezer fodder, this is Miss Trixie’s time to do whatever she wants – like she doesn’t do that anyway. Just yesterday she felt compelled to send me her schedule which looks like it's been shot with a shotgun. Every day and evening seems to have something planned. I had to remind her that all of those social butterfly events were way down on the totem pole for Ol’ Dutch. Somehow being up in the aspens hunting beats out a pig roast any day for me.
There are quite a few hunters up where I go and yesterday I was fortunate enough to meet a couple on the road. Now when I saw “couple” I mean as in a young man and his main squeeze. I got a good giggle at her stretchy legging and crop top for hunting apparel. They were from far away and asked if I knew where there were any deer.
Of course, I showed them a picture of a big one hanging out in the front yard, in town. He is no dummy.
After giving them some pointers on where to find the dumb deer, I suggested that they find a gun to carry as there are a lot of mountain lions in that area. And then I had to tell them about my Disney moment with a cougar.
This happened a few seasons ago. It was a moonlit night after a week of rain. I had been up on the mountain hunting elk when darkness overtook me. It took a while for me to find the road where the truck was parked but because the moon was so bright, I didn’t even have my flashlight out. I was just a-singing as I trod down the road nary a care in the world. Well, except keeping an eye out for Bigfoot.
I finally found the truck where I left it of course, and took my own sweet time getting in. As soon as I turned on the lights of the truck, though, there was the biggest mountain lion I have ever seen. Not ten feet in front of my headlights. Tongue hanging out, drool dripping, certain that his next meal or ten was close at hand. Judging by his paw prints on the wet road, Unbeknownst to me, that lion had followed me the whole mile down the road.
Now I know they say music calms the savage beast and I don't know if that helped my cause due to the sweet melodious tunes I was singing or if my caterwauling made him think I would be one sour chunk of meat. But most likely the good Lord spared me an attack that night and I now carry a gun in case the Lord is busy if there is a next time.
This story had the desired effect on the hunters and the girl's eyes got as big as saucers and I could tell the poor man was in for it now. He will have to hold her hand every step or maybe even take her home.
Man, I love a good story.
Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com.
