GAHunter,

I've got it figured out... How you can beat the gremlins that have obviously been dogging your hunts.

Don't tell anyone that you've done it, but when you top off the magazine in your rifle put a blank shell on top.

When you see that mediocre game and shoot it, knowing you just shot a blank, act like you're REALLY disappointed. When the gremlins send the really nice trophy animal out to make you mad just act mad for a few seconds.

While the gremlins are rolling on the ground laughing just jack another, live this time, round into the chamber and kill your trophy!

See? Nothing to it...

btw... If you take someone with you would you please loan them a video camera so we can have some more entertainment?

$bob$

So, GAHunter, how much are tickets to watch you on one of your hunts.... Dutch.

I think I'd find another hobby or find a good witch doctor to take that spell off of you.

Oh my, what a story!

I have to go with you next year. Not necessarily to shoot an Elk, just to see what happens!

Better luck next time.

GAHunter,

I want to go hunting in your area. I'll even shoot the smallest of the bunch so you can't, I'd just like to not come empty handed for once.

Sevens

GAHUNTER-Your not an idiot.Most would think I am.I'll take a nice juicy Spike or Cow anyday over the old nasty tough trophy bull...Been there done that...You can't eat pictures and Cows and Spikes are far better eatin than the "Old" in my opinion.

Trophies are for "Bragging rights" Cows and Spikes are for "Eatin" and of course..Just the meat hunter for food.Did it this year and glad I passed on the larger.

Jayco

Thanks for the interesting story. May I say, at the very least, you have not walked away empty handed. Even though you did miss King Kong, 1 elk is better than no elk...

Otherwise, if this really bothers you, I may have a solution: I'll trade ya. See, your hunts sound like a lot of fun. I bet they sure beat sitting on a pipeline right-of-way freezing your ass off while waiting for Bambi to wonder too far out into the open. No sir, big elk or little elk, I still think you all have a large time while at it.

Any hunt you can walk away from with something in hand ain't a bad hunt. It sure beats going home empty handed!

Your account is not so bad, allow me to relay an incident that ended with the person being and admitting to being an idiot.

Think old 30-30, lever action, and not to with it old hunter, spotted a real nice 4X4 whitetail, and levered all rounds out to the ground while yelling "bang" for each round! I witnessed this, it was his shot, and by the third "bang", I was laughing to hard to try for him myself. That was OK, as he was older, and it was predetermined that this was his deer.

He was adamant about rifle failure, till we tried the salvaged rounds on a stump, with no problem. We didn't talk about it any more either.

I have seen many examples of the "fever" hit people, this one sticks out in my mind. The gentleman has gone to his reward, otherwise I probably would not discuss it today.

Sounds like you are all set up for another hunt, eh?

Dutch,

Just ask Randy Greene and Bob Michaels, my two buddies who got to see my whole hunt this year from the front seat of a Suburban, how much a ticket to witness one of my screw-ups is worth.

I'm afraid their answer will be, "Priceless!"

The worse part is just one day earlier, I got to witness both of their kills on trophy elk.

Get this: Every time I schedule one of these "big" hunts, I tell my taxidermist (Charles Watson at Wildlife Taxidermy in Lawrenceville, GA) to hold me a spot in line for the "trophy" that I am sure to bring him. Yesterday, Charlie told me that he's been holding that spot for five years now, and that If I don't kill something worth mounting in the next four or five years, he's going to have to let it go!

What a guy.

Actually, I am not an idiot, nor am I a bad hunter. I've killed as many trophy whitetails as anyone around my part of the country.

It's the incredibly bad luck I have when I go on "big" hunts that I am lamenting. Another example: Two years ago I went on another "dream" hunt to Newfoundland. I carried both a woodland caribou and a moose tag. We hunted moose the first day (without success) and decided to try and get the caibou out of the way on day two. We climbed out of the valley onto the high tundra and started glassing caribou right away. All day we glassed without seeing anything approaching a trophy (woodland caribou are somewhat smaller than their barren-ground cousins).

Finally, right toward the end of the hunting day, we spotted a stag with kinda, sorta, ok horns if you are really desperate. The guide said lets stalk it, which we did for the next 45 minutes. Finally, I got into position for a shot and, bam, the caribou is mine.

As we were walking toward the downed boo, the guide suddenly stops and yells, "good God almighty, look at that!" What he was looking at was a caribou, a big caribou, a gigantic caribou -- pure white on the back with dark horns that arched over his head and practically touched his massive shovels. He was a trophy that any barren ground hunter would love to have, much less a woodland hunter -- and it was standing broadside to us at 75 yards.

"You can't shoot it," the guide said. "I guess we were a little too quick to take the other one, since this one was obviously here all the time!" The boo finally turned and ran away in that classic gait that trophy caribou hunters dream about.

Speaking of dreams, I often dream of that caribou, I'm not sure it wasn't a record. Record or not, it would have been a great trophy from a wilderness adventure. Instead, I have the rag-horns from the one I killed on a plaque to remind me of the virture of patience.