In the Hunt of the Plaid Pajamas I was foiled in my attempted transformation from Mild Mannered Gunsmith to Elk Terminator. I was foiled, you will recall, by the arrival of some interlopers from the Elk Valley. There are apparently no elk in the Elk Valley otherwise the entire population wouldn't come to my driveway to hunt.
Anyway, during my conversation with these gentlemen (I use the term "gentlemen" somewhat loosely. A real gentleman will not look at another man's attire and smirk!)the younger of the two told me, "My Dad (who I took to be the older man)has a cow permit. We aren't interested in a big old bull." Yeah, right! He went on to say that since they hadn't scored this morning they were finished for the day. The cow permit is only good for that particular piece of private property.
Yesterday turned out to be unseasonably warm with a brisk southwest wind blowing. Now, usually in these coditions, the local elk don't get out much but I figured I'd better make a try anyway. My plan was to drive in on an old logging road that ends up to the east of our property then check down along the lake for sign. I figured I would ultimately set up to the north east of where the elk had been coming in. I got into the old Dodge and headed out at about 4:00pm.
When I got to the end of the road there sat the very same pickup that had driven in my driveway that morning. Now as the Mild Mannered Gunsmith I would simply have withdrawn since they were there first. As The Elk Terminator though I wasn't quite so accomodating. Besides they weren't interested in a big old bull anyway. Right? I parked beside their truck. It almost seemed like their shiny new four door GMC was shrinking away from the battered old Dodge the way a snobbish gentleman might draw back from an old bum on the street.
I dropped down to a bench above the lake and sure enough, there was an elk highway! I made my way carefully to my preselected ambush site. I settled into the middle of a juniper bush and dozed. I was awakened by the thump of hooves on the ground and peered around to see a whitetail doe and two fawns. They were looking back and seemed a bit anxious and pretty soon along came a "hunter" cruising along on his four wheel ATV. He passed about 15 feet to my right and didn't appear to have seen me. He rode off into the distance. I didn't really expect to see the elk now and was a bit startled to hear a chirp. A second chirp sounded quite a bit like a lost kitten and when I looked around I saw the two gents from the GMC skylined on the ridge. Odd that they would be hunting where their cow permit was no good. Almost as if they were after a bull! They wandered off toward their truck and I sat a bit longer. From here it was actually closer to my house (about a mile)than it was to the truck so I decided to simply walk home and go get the truck in the morning. It was a quiet night for a change with no elk making a racket and I slept well.
So this morning I get up and start the coffee. I step out on the porch and listen for elk. There is no sound. A movement catches my eye and I see a whitetail doe walking nonchalantly off with a leaf from one of my apple trees hanging out the side of her mouth. She smirks and flips her tail at me as she leaves.
As I get ready to walk over to get the pickup I almost don't even take the rifle but decide that would be foolish so I pick it up on the way out the door. I and the dogs strike out across the field. The beagle takes off on the trail of something, nobody knows what, and goes yelping off through the woods. By the time I hit the top of the ridge she is in full cry. There are those who like the sound of a trailing beagle, calling it music. These are sick people.
I've tried to get Beagle Bailey to quit running off like this and advetising her presence to every coyote in the country but I'm convinced a beagle can't be trained. Some disagree with me on this and one guy told me a friend of his trained beagles.
"Oh, really", I said. "What does he train them to do?"
"He trains them to hunt rabbits!" He said this with a straight face.
Anyway, Beagle Bailey is making a heck of a racket now. She sounds nothing like an elk but apparently close enough for OUR elk since I hear a bugle sound from behind me! I hear it again and it sounds like it's coming from down at my gate about a helf mile away. I look through my binoculars. I fully expect to see a pickup with a sign on it saying " We (heart)the Elk valley" and an elk bugle trio sitting on the hood. Instead I see a whole bunch of elk! On the driveway! As I watch they move up along the fence and past the yard. The herd bull bugles once and one of the sattelite bulls answers. I hope nobody drives in right now! There's nothing I can do so I continue on to the truck. The beagle meets me there and jumps in when I open the door. She still carries strong evidence of a recent skunk encounter.
It's about 1 1/2 miles back out to the main road and it's rough. Especially in the old Dodge which is obviously designed to connect the driver with the terrain. We get out to the road and I drive through the ditch and up on to the road and there in front of me is a whole bunch of elk! I don't even look for the bull because I don't want to see him! I can't shoot from here! I drive on to my driveway and turn in. I drive for another 200 yards or so then shut off the truck and get out. I move quickly toward where the elk were, watching for elk amongst the trees. There are none. I have a pretty good idea where they are headed but I've been spending too much time chasing this elk and not enough time in the shop so it's back to being Bill Leeper, Mild Mannered Gunsmith for today. Maybe tomorrow.

Bill, normally I'd think, this guy is a kick-ass gunsmith. But what's this with him wanting to have a life and actually hunt during season instead of working on my rifles?

But I can't! These hunting diaries you're sharing are so damned entertaining it's worth whatever wait it takes to get my new toys! I've never had a doubt about your skill in the shop, now I wish you'd write more because I can't find stuff this good on the magazine rack!

I'll give you a call later in the week.

Patrick McManus, move over.

I eagerly await chapter two, the slaying of a 410 B&C elk by B.L. or is that a .410 in gunsmit terms.

Great stories Bill. More please. - Dan

Bill, you have found a new vocation. That was absolutely riveting. Thank you for a wonderful start to my normally dull morning.

Keep 'em coming, Bill. This beats the devil out of arguing "bolt thrust" with an Rube Goldberg wannabe.