Quarry: Bull Elk, Buck & Doe Mule Deer
Rifle: .375 H&H Magnum

Day One: Mounted horse. Waited. Just like the Army. Received word from guide to, basically, "head 'em up and move 'em out." Roger. Motivated horse ("Greek") to move forward.

Conditions: Cold and icey.

Greek is in motion for 30 seconds, if even that.

Observation about riding horses: When mounted horseback, you should see only one view -- ears and ground. You should NOT see ears and sky. Ears and sky is, as we say in the Army, "bad."

Suddenly -- at zero-dark-thirty, mind you -- I saw ears and sky. I remember, before the pain set in, that, my, it certainly was cloudy that morning.

Processing information quickly, I determined that Greek didn't like me and was attempting to buck me off. Having grown up on a gazillion westerns, I determined that I would not be sent airborne by a mere horse, so I leaned forward and dug myself into the stirrups.

However...

... it turned out that, being icey as it was, Greek slipped on said ice (no fault of his, mind you) and the next thing I knew, he and I were laying on our left sides.

Now... Greek didn't get up. I was worried that he thought I was mad at him and was going to beat him or something. One, I don't generally beat horses (I like horses, frankly) and, two, I didn't hold Greek to blame. Hell, "I" slip on ice all the damn time, so I figure he's entitled, too. That was my immediate take on it.

Anyway... there we were (this is all happening in a matter of seconds), laying on our left sides. This didn't present an immediate problem, really, except for the fact that my left foot was still in the stirrup which was, um, pretty much under the full weight of Greek. (Greek was very much an adult, heavy horse, I assure you.)

With all due respect to those of you of the feminine persuasion, let me state for the record that I know for a fact, even without personal experience in such matters, that the pain I was experiencing as the result of my foot being crushed by a rather large horse FAR EXCEEDS anything a woman could POSSIBLY experience during natural, non-spinal-block childbirth. I say this in all seriousness.

Well... this whole situation didn't exactly do much to inspire the others to ascend the snowy/icey mountains of Montana -- IN THE DARK -- let me tell you.

Anyway... a couple of chaps, my guide included, came over, after I extricated my foot from underneath the horse, and asked if I was okay. Of course, having paid on this hunt since JUNE OF LAST YEAR, I said... "Yup, I'm fine." (Lie, lie, lie... but I thought, what would John Wayne do? Hell, he'd say "Yup, I'm fine.") So, I immediately checked Greek out for injuries, as did my guide, and he seemed fine. Good. I was relieved in that respect.

Well... onward and upward. Let me rewrite that, "onward and UPWARD."

Thar's a whole lotta "upward" in them thar Montana mountains. Shore ain't nuthin' like here in Illinois. Looooooooooooooooooooooord, howdy. Up, up, up.

So... after something of an eternity (about four hours, I think), in some rather interesting winds and with my saddle coming loose once (another interesting situation, especially since it happened RIGHT THERE on the side of a rather steep drop-off), we finally got to "the top."

Yup, right purty. God's country. Mountains. Snow-capped mountains. Just like in all them thar brochures. A-yup. Purty.

Well, my guide says something to the effect that he's going to take our horses and meet us at the pick-up point, after we hunted our way down the mountain.

Uh huh. Right.

My left foot is !@#$@!#@#$@!%!@#$#$# KILLING ME!!!

I CAN BARELY STAND AT THIS POINT!!!

However... still inspired by countless westerns and war movies with John Wayne, I was determined that I'd just suck it up and drive on, as it were.

Well, that kind of "I don't feel any pain" crap might be fine for John Wayne but, as much as I loved the guy, he's DEAD. The only "I don't feel any pain" crap that exists in the world today is in the Marine Corps and Hollyweird movies about macho cops or tough private eyes. Out where I was, in "MY" world at that time, MY GODDAMN FOOT WAS !#w$@!#$#$# KILLING ME!!!

So... I just figured I'd hobble down the mountain, hunting along the way.

This, essentially, turned into sliding down two thirds of the mountain on my butt. (I want to thank all of you who said "buy the wool bibs." Bless you.)

I'm quite serious about the sliding, butt, and mountain. I was completely unable to walk down the mountain. Further, it was quite a tall mountain, as mountains go. Maybe not your Sir Edmund Hillary type of "tall," but it was damn tall all the same, I promise you.

Sooooooooooooooooo... making my way down the mountain, finally, fourteen thousand hours later, I realized I could not hoof it back to the pick-up point. No fornicatin' way.

My radio, issued to me by my guide, didn't exactly work. One of those Motorola jobs, I could hear every other !!#$@#Q#$@#% conversation in the county, but "I" could not transmit!!! Additionally, simple "yelling" of little things, like, oh, "HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLP!!!" for about an hour didn't accomplish squat. My pleas just bounced off the mountains (real pretty echoes, actually) and got no response. Okay, fine. I've read about these things. Don't panic. People panic and they die. Okay, don't panic. Hmmmmmmmm, survival. It'll be damn cold tonight. Must stay warm. Hmmmmmm. Build a lean-to. Right.

So, with one functioning foot/leg, I hobbled all over the immediate AO looking for lean-to materials. Where I was at THAT moment in THAT particular part of the mountain... well, I'd have died from a lack of lean-to materials. That's about it.

I kept wishing I'd have packed my E-tool, I'd have just buried myself to stay warm... but OOOOOOOooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh NOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo, I didn't want to add anymore weight to my daypack, so I left the E-tool back at the hooch. Marvy. Thrillsville.

Well... if you're still with me up to now... I'll condense this somewhat by saying that some guy who'd gotten lost, got himself unlost ("unlost?") and, in the process, came past my location. He was completely exhausted, having covered half of Montana, and I was crippled. What a pair. Together, we made the pick-up point. (I'm leaving a LOT of pain and suffering and misfortune out of this part of the story, because you just wouldn't believe it anyway.)

So... now, I'm back on Greek, it's getting dark, and we have about four hours back to camp. My foot is killing me. My LEFT foot is killing me. Typically, you mount a horse from the LEFT side. Pain, pain, pain. I have no idea, at this point, if my foot is broken or sprained. I've had breaks and sprains, and there's not a whole Hell of a lot of difference in the pain factor nor in the mobility factor. I had done the smart "warmth" thing by layering that morning, first with my silk sock liner, then a thermal sock liner, then a thermal sock... then my 1200-gram Thinsulate leather boots from Bass-Pro... so my foot was pretty well wrapped up. I think this was a good thing. Still, it made mounting Greek rather difficult. He was a good horse, though, and seemed to be very understanding.

Well... an eternity later, after dark treks through treacherous terrain (did I mention it was DARK???), trusting Greek to know WTF he was going (say, do horses have night vision??? -- I don't think they do), we made it back to camp. I slithered down off Greek and gave him an incredibly grateful hug around his wonderful neck, and thanked him twenty-five gazillion times for bringing me home alive (did I mention the treacherous terrain IN THE DARK??????).

At this point, I'd like to make a few observations before I continue.

1. Horses are WAY BETTER than women. There ain't NO woman in the world (yes, I said "ain't" -- deal with it!) who would haul a crippled guy FOUR HOURS down off a mountain in freezing cold and howling winds, in treacherous terrain, IN THE DARK!!!

2. If I EVER had to make a choice between a woman and a horse... well, there'd be no "choice."

3. See #1 and #2.

4. Those horse soldiers of the old west? Ballsy guys. Lots of riding in all kinds of unGodly conditions. I REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeally have a whole new appreciation for those lads. On the other hand, they didn't live long, either. Ballsy, though, very ballsy. What a life the cavalry must have been. Good grief.

5. See #3.

The next day, Sunday, I took off from hunting anything. Yes, it was MY money, I'd paid to HUNT, but after pulling my boot and socks off, my foot was pretty colorful and I didn't know if it was broken. So, I stayed off it all day Sunday. It was my money, my foot, and my choice. I was praying, literally, for "just" a sprain.

Monday through Wednesday, I hunted with the others in my crew who all pretty much said "To Hell with the horses" for various reasons and decided to use 4WD vehicles to bounce around the state in search of mule deer.

(Note: Apparently, there was a herd of "migratory" elk and they weren't migratin' worth ca-ca. The whole week, out of all the hunters in camp, only five or six saw ANY elk, and only two guys got one while I was there. If I ever do elk again, I'll know to ask about if they're a "migratory herd." Oh well. Lessons learned. There were new crews coming in when I was getting ready to leave, and I'm SURE the damn "migratory herd" will be migrating during THEIR hunt.)

Another observation: Montana has a reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeal buck-to-doe management problem where mule deer are concerned. I saw herds, literally, HERDS of mule deer... and not ONE gol-durn buck. Hey, I'm easy, 1:10, 1:15, 1:20... 1:25... 1:30 even... but 60 to 70 "DOES" in one herd and not ONE GOSH-DANG BUCK??? NOT EVEN A SPIKE??? And it wasn't just me, the reports back at the dinner table at night, among all the other guys, were the same. Does, no bucks. At best, a "couple" of spikes were seen, a "couple" of forks were seen, and two guys did manage to take honest-to-goodness "buck" bucks... but that's out of COUNTLESS does over the course of a week.

As an aside, mule deer are just adorable as all get out! I just love those EARS!!!

Anyway, I had a doe tag, so I blasted a big one at 203 yards with one shot to the base of the neck and came home with a fair amount of meat.

I stopped at the Cabela's in Mitchell, SD, both ways, so it wasn't a total loss of a trip.

Final observations:

1. "In general," no shots are close in Montana. Forget zeroing at 200 yards. You'd better be zeroed and PRACTICED at 300 yards. (There were some guys there zeroing, rather TRYING to zero, at "100" yards. It was sad.)

2. If there's ice and a hill, don't wait for someone to say "Maybe we should walk the horses" -- like AFTER mine slipped -- just take the initiative and walk your horse.

3. If you have an entrenching tool, take it. If you take it, pack it. Daily.

4. Good skinning knives are worth their weight in GOLD!!!

5. People are real nice in Montana. I don't think it's just if you're a Montanan. I think just being "in" Montana makes you nice. Hell, even "I" was nicer in Montana. Now, I'm back home in Illinois, and I feel mean and nasty again.

All in all, on a 1-to-100 scale, I'd give the overall experience an 83. My guide was technically proficient in putting me in the right places and such, but it was his first season (he was 18 years old) guiding and his "care and concern" qualities needed a bit of maturing. The gals doing the cooking and serving were great. Top notch. Crackerjack. Can't say enough good about them. Wonderful human beings, always greeted everyone with a smile. Genuinely nice people. No migrating elk, nor even stationary elk, and a pathetic buck/doe mule deer ratio. The former is just a part of hunting, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose, no biggie. The buck/doe thing, though -- man, I don't know, Montana needs to do some serious herd management... at least where I was, around Livingston.

I got my foot zapped at a clinic in Livingston and it wasn't broken. The doctor was great; he and I both can't stand Senator Daschle. Swell guy. Told the nurse the quick way to fix my (foot) problem was just to amputate. I love the West.

So, that's it. I'd like to hunt elk again sometime, somewhere, if they're there and/or if they're moving... and I'd like to hunt mule deer if there are bucks around... "somewhere"... but next year I have two bear hunts booked, and I'm looking at Alaska for a brown bear the next year.

I missed my girls (dogs -- JoJo and Bugsy) terribly, and it's good to see them again.

Illinois is flat.

Russ

[ 11-23-2002, 14:14: Message edited by: Russell E. Taylor ]

Hey Russ, Looks like a very memorable hunt.

Almost felt like I was there with you since I grew up in horse country. Only have two questions(since you wrote the story so well).

You mentioned, "...with my saddle coming loose once...".

Q1: Why were you wearing a saddle?

Really hate to see folks blame horses for things the horses really aren't responsible for. (Like when they would carry me under a low limb or stand on my foot.)

Q2: Any chance your left foot actually got hurt "before" you stuck it under Greek as he slipped? (Had to be bad for Greek's ego.)

You are very good at telling stories. It sounds like you had a very "memorable" hunt. Something to tell you children and grand children. Even with "only" a doe, it would be hard to call an experience like that and unsuccessful hunt.

I love Montana. We're getting some powder here in Bozeman so I guess that means Bridger and skiing pretty soon.

You can get some close shots in Montana. Most shots I've seen have been within 150 yards and all 3 of the deer I have shot have been at 50 yards or closer. This last doe was 50 feet. We have some thick stuff here.

And yes, us Montanans are right friendly--esp if you're on your way out

Russ, My experience with mule deer would indicate that unless seriously rutting the old bucks aren't anywhere near herds of females.I watched an old boy here for most of the fall and shot him on opening morning. Scored 202 8 yr.old. All the time we watched him he was alone or with other bucks. Just an observation. Now they are in start of rut and the older bucks seem to allow young fellows to gather some does then run the little guys off and do their business.Mark

and I'm looking at Alaska for a brown bear the next year.

Look at Afognak Island ALASKA, Brownies and ELK

A very engaging story ... beautifully told!

Glad the injury worked out reasonably well, and that everyone is home and happy to be there.

Russ -

Sounds like your experiences with the horse was pretty close to normal! At least from my years of owning them and hunting off of them.

Ol' Ned, one of my favorites, unceremoniously dumped me into the Clark's Fork river in Wyoming's Sunlight Basin after spooking at a piece of floating ice coming at him. It was 5:30 in the morning and the temp was -28. The water was 3' + deep. I really didn't call Ned by his rightful name for about a year.

One thing to do when saddling up in the cold and early morning is to walk the horse for a bit (quarter mile or so) before mounting. This allows him to get the kinks out of his back and to warm up the saddle pad a bit. It also lets him know that there is going to be work to do and the saddle isn't just for show.

Yep, there is nothing like catching sunrise services on the mountin top to get closer to God, been there, done that, and hope to always do that to the end.

Come back out we love it when you help keep Wyoming and Montana green.

Thanks, Elkslayer, and welcome to the Accurate Reloading forums.

I know I'll be back to Montana eventually, if not to hunt than to spend a day or two at Little Big Horn. I went past it both ways but just didn't have the time to stop and give it a proper visit, if you know what I mean. I also owe myself a visit to the Devil's Tower in Wyoming (same situation about "time"). I'd also love to hunt pronghorn in the Black Hills of South Dakota. On my way out, I'd bedded down for the night in Rapid City, so I got to catch the morning sunrise in the Black Hills the next day. "Wow!" I think whatever the game in question, I'm hooked on Western hunting. A guy really needs two good, working feet to get around, though, to get the most out of the experience.

Russ

Russell;
Excellent story of your hunt, someone that can give a humorous account their mishaps during the hunt, such as you did, shows a truly great attitude!
Glad to see it didn't dampen you spirit to go back and do it again!

Thanks for the story Russell. It made my morning actually...just love a good hunting story.

Where I live is essentially just nothern Montana. It would be pretty tough to live anywhere else after having lived here! I really enjoyed your observation that just being in Montana makes you nice. You are probably right. And the same seems to go for any of the western provinces north of the border, provided you stay out of the shitty, er, I mean, city.

Late season elk hunting is tough. If you go to an territory that is rutting range for elk and it snows two feet, they will be gone. Alternatively if you go to their winter range and it doesn't snow, they won't come down while you are there. Its really boom and bust. Fortunately in BC we have a rifle season during the rut. Guaranteed action if you get yourself into reasonable habitat. You may not find a legal 6 point, but you will see and hear elk, and you will have fun. You might want to give that a try for your next trip west.

Mule deer management in BC has gone a similar route as Montana. Both areas unfortunately have been suffering a decline in population the cause of which the biologists are having trouble identifying. We have restricted harvest to 4pt or better bucks, but it doesn't seem to be helping much and the buck:doe ratio is not improving. Our local R&G clubs have been pushing the gov't to come up with a rehabilitation plan, but changing gov't direction is a slow process.

Thanks again,
Canuck

You are the "Dave Berry" of the hunting world! LMAO...

I've had some hunts that featured lots of adventure too! A wise old guy once told me the defintion of adventure:

Adventure: a screw-up that you survive.

Damn, that was funny! For such a mean nasty guy, you can tell a good one - thanks.

Saeed, next time you have a book prize for best story, just send it to ol' Russ, my vote's on him. Damn fine.

Thanks
Brent

Thanks for the tale Russell! I enjoyed reading it.

Russ--one more horsey tip--after you walk that horse a bit in the morn--you can tighten the ol cinch up a bit more--dang buggers like to suck in air when you first saddle em and then when they start out they let the air out and the saddle is loose and comfy for them, this is not a good thing for you the rider as you found out--it's also good to check the cinch a couple of more times during the day----chris

I will post when I get the pics back developed and figure out how to scan and post or have someone digital photo the head and post.Tough jobs for computer illiterate.Mark

If there is one consolation Russ is that you are not the only one. As a "local" hunter this year has been a tough one for elk. There has not been enough snow for the elk hunting to get good yet. The place I hunt has a few local elk but the majority of the elk migrate into the area and they have not gotten here yet so I continue to hunt the few locals and wait for the big bulls from the other herd. Some times the season ends before they get here and some times there is elk all over the place. Like you said "that hunting". I hope you enjoyed your time in our state because it truly is a great place.

mtelkhunter (another Russ)

Russ,

Exceptional piece of prose! Last year was my first time back East (I'm from Ca) and what an experience. I hunted in Broadus kinda on the southeast corner of the state near the Powder River.

I ended up there on Thanksgiving week and was fortunate enough to spend Thanksgiving with my outfitter and his family! Now, that was worth paying for itself.

Anyway, buck:doe ratio was about 1:5 at that point since the week before it snowed and shifted everything into ruttin-gear. So many deer all over the place I about passed out! I was advised by my outfitter to plan for the potential long shot and he was right. Ended up having to shoot my deer at 380 and 387 yards lasered.

Deer was coming downhill quartering toward me at a slow trot. First shot hit a little far back but ended up rolling him down toward me a little. When he got up I smacked him again and down he went for good.

You're absolutely right, I am definitely hooked on Montana...scenary is beyond explaination and hunting was exceptional.

True Eyes

Most all my permanent aches and pains come from horses and cattle. There are three things to remember:

1. Horses are dangerous.

2. Ride a mule whenever possible. They are serious about not getting hurt.

3. See #1

[QUOTE]Originally posted by Russell E. Taylor:
[QB][QUOTE]It gave me a way to carry the horse.[qb] [QUOTE]

Hey Russ, I figured it was something simple like that. Greek had to be "stove-up" pretty good after suffering that "foot bruise" to the ribs.

Waksupi,

Wise words, indeed!

Theres nothing quite like reading a good hunting story complete with horse mishaps, lean to's and John Wayne refrences over a cup of coffee from the comfort of ones computer desk to give a guy the "itch" to get off his arss, grab a gun and get to the hill.

Very nice story Russ!

I find your comparisons of horses to Women rather interesting as both are like a box of choclates, you just never know what theyve got cooking inside. That is especially true of rental horses, you can bet your Sorrels that the guide will be mounted on the pick of the litter. I would suggest next time you take that course of action to bring along an apple and get real cozy with your mount BEFORE you venture out into the great unknown.

The Deer herds in Montana sound like a carbon copy of Utahs herds, perhaps with a few more Does. Ive found that once the hunt begins that the bucks appear to be about 5000 times smarter than the does, of corse part of this could be due to the fact that the does feel safer since they get shot at much less frequently.

On the subject of horses and Montana mountains.

I was a hunting guide and ranch hand at the Circle MR Ranch on the Middle Fork of the Flathead river in northwestern Montana in 1978. We had about 30 head of "mountain" horses for riding and packing purposes and it was my job to look after them. As is usually the case, some were gentle, others were hard-headed and a few were just plain dangerous!

One day I haltered up a half dozen of the hardcore cases and led them to the hitching rack for a routine horseshoe check and hoof cleaning.

A rancher from the property next door drove up, leaned against the corral fence and talked with me while I wrestled with the horses. Before it was all over I had been leaned on, knocked down, stomped on, kicked at and bitten.

As I led the last of the nasty nags back to the corral, the rancher tilted his sweat-stained cowboy hat back, spat a stream of tobacco juice and commented.

"Yup, show me someone what claims to love horses, and I'll show you someone what ain't been around 'em much."

I couldn't agree more!

Mark in SC

The rancher spoke the truth. When I was cowboying down on the Flathead Reservation, and shoeing horses later on, people always wondered how many horses I had. I informed them, none, thank you, I can borrow one when I need it, and let some other dummy feed, shoe, and vet them. For most people they are just big fuzzy lawn ornaments.

I have little use for horses too. As a kid it was my job to break them for others. Actually, with the proper equipment breakin' horses isn't too bad, and can be down right fun! I have been bitten, bucked off, reared over, rolled over (attempted never succeeded), etc, etc. Horses are damned clumsy too!

The only horses I have ever had any use for were heavy drafts. The ones I had worked around were much less "high strung" and therefore, much more user friendly than saddle horses.

Russell, you tell a great story. Feel free to come a little north of where you were sometime, and we'll show you some more vertical scenery to chase elk around. LOL - Dan

Russell,
Very nice stroy!
Now about those Elk... Take up bowhunting and you can hunt the rut!!!!!

Ok, I know there are a couple draws for rifle during the rut but ......

Seriously as was previously stated in most cases Elk during the normal gun season is hit or miss depending on the weather.
I am glad you had a good trip and some stories to tell, as to me THAT makes a sucessful trip.

Did you take any photos?

Russell, Great story, well told, brings back my elk/deer hunt in the Bob Marshall wilderness some years ago. Didn't get an elk either, but saw some of the most beautiful country.

Both Russell and wsternhunter bring up a point of spending bonding time with the horse before assualting his body with 240 Lbs of dead weight. Well, my horse the first morning was the largest I ever saw. I had attempted to learn how to ride, but gave up the idea after a couple of lessons (sore ass) ; so I had conditioned my self to walk up the mountain as much as ride (50%). A lot of time was spent making friends with this monster horse, feeding him, giving him walking breaks, getting him water, etc. the next few days. Laugh, but my hunting buddy was thrown off by his mount, fortunately in deep snow, and he was a ranch guy from Texas, After 12+ hours on the trail, I was in no position to direct the horse in the pitch black descents down the mountain, anyway.
Well, I was the only one of the group, guide included that didn't get his knees worked over in the darkness on trees. I credit it to being nice to the horse, showing him some respect. Otherwise, I'm afraid of horses based on my past experiences.
So, I mentioned all this to some friends of ours, who are avid horse people, and they just laughed and told me I had watched too many westerns as a kid, .
Actually, I think I had the last laugh as when we reached the corral the last day, the horse came up behind me to get my attention before we went back to our vehicles and I was one on the few that wasn't limping from battered knees.

Coincidence or other? pmm

Greg: No photos, sorry.

Paul: Yeah, I grew up on westerns, too. I don't know if that was it or not, that influenced my "bonding," but I've always felt it's some measure of respect to the horse. I think the most influential "a man and his horse" stories that has had the biggest impact on my life, and especially with my attitude toward horses, is the 1962 film with Kirk Douglas, "Lonely are the Brave." It's been one of my all-time favorites ever since I was a kid. I will never forget how he didn't abandon "Whiskey" even though he could have probably gotten away, gotten over those mountains, without his horse... but he wouldn't leave her. Loyalty like that means a lot to me. I don't generally find it among people.

The other big "a man and his horse" movie that has meant a lot to me was Steve McQueen's 1980 film, "Tom Horn." Actually, it wasn't so much the entire movie as it was his comments about his horse and, for me, the scene where his horse gets shot (and killed) out from under him. If you recall what he did with his rifle afterward... well, that's pretty much how I'd have handled it, too. Burning the guy's shack was a nice touch, also.

Russ

From one Russ to another, thanks for taking time to compose a great account of your trip. You may well be the Patrick McManus of the AR site. Russ

Paul;I am not trying to ruin your story about the horse taking care of your knees because I also believe that good treatment of a horse will gain you respect and generally better behaviour if his head is not screwed up from abuse in one form or another.There are several disrespectful statements on this thread about horses that just are not true but more than likely the horse you were riding had been packed a lot and was savy to avoid trees because of panniers banging him in the ribs when he got to close to a tree.w/regards

Russel: Great story. Reminds me of some of my fun hunts.

Thanks for the account Russell. It was a great read. I hid in my basement here in MT until I read that you went home. As harmless as you are to the game, I didn't want to catch any stray bullets, you know.