Tales about THE 7th �NO BULLS TOUR�:

I recently returned from my first of three rat whacking trips this summer. Although I have been at this for almost 25 years, since two years ago, each trip has been named the �NO BULLS TOUR� and gets the appropriate number. For those of you that have done this for a while, you can probably guess why, but for those of you that haven�t, please read on.

It is June of �02 in (a state that has prairie rats). My hunting buddy E-rod and I just met a rancher that doesn�t require Money for shooting rats. (I have the highest respect for these guys). The Rancher tells us that he has just moved the cattle out of the area and no one has shot the town we are looking over. I discreetly hide the drool that is dripping from my mouth while trying to get E-rod to stop jumping up and down yelling, �Oh my God, oh my God�. Under the circumstances I can understand his enthusiasm, but he still embarrassed the hell out of me.

The Rancher takes off and we proceed to plan out the carnage that is about to take place. We decide to split up (divide and conquer type thing). E-rod will stay where we are and I will set up about 300 yards to the South. I offer to let him drop me off and bring the rig back to where he wants to shoot but he declines. This chance decision may have saved my life.

After setting up, we begin shooting. I have three guns with me and had to stop once to let all three cool off!! We shoot for several hours when I noticed a BIG black bull come over the rise about 300 yds to my left. E-rod is shooting (uncontrollably) off to my right. It wasn�t a few minutes later and I noticed the Rancher and his Forman riding their horses through a gate into the pasture where the Bull was. The Bull was not in the town and I was not shooting in that direction so I kept on shooting, but kept a keen eye on the situation. The Bull was just walking ever so slowly towards me with the Rancher about 150 yards behind the Bull.

It wasn�t very long at all and the Bull started picking up the pace. So did the Rancher. I have had run-ins with bulls before, more times than I want to remember, so the little voice inside starts talking: �Ok, you got a BIG black bull, followed by two Cowboys that probably know what they are doing, converging on my location. OH SHIT!!!� At that moment the Bull decides to turn on the after-burners and so do the Cowboys!! The Bull is less than 100 yards from me now and the Cowboys in full gallop trying to make up the difference. I look around me and make the quick calculation that I have $4200 dollars worth of guns spread out on the prairie and the Bull is closing FAST. Well, I have time to save one gun anyhow, so I grab the 22-250 and head for the back of the pick-up. As I am placing (throwing) it in the back, the Bull has closed the distance way more than I would have liked. I head for the drivers door, throw it open and pray the truck starts as I hit the key.

The truck starts and I floor it. As I am looking out the still open door I see the Rancher (in full gallop) ride along side the Bull and using his horse, turn the Bull away from my shooting bench and two guns still laying on the prairie. But the Bull is still headed for the pick-up. Some how the Rancher turns the Bull again and the dust settles on another near miss. The Rancher and Foreman escort the Bull into a stock trailer on the other side of the fence without saying a word to me.

The next few minutes are still kind of a blur to me, but I can remember downing several alcoholic beverages to stop the shakes. Then I remembered the decision E-rod and I made several hours earlier. If either one of us had been there without the pickup, the outcome may have looked much different. Of course, E-rod was shooting the hell out of the dog town the whole time this was going on!!

After talking with the Rancher later, we found out the Bull was not theirs and had gone through, �at least six fences�. I asked what I did wrong to provoke this reaction from the Bull (as there were no cows around), the Rancher replied, �Oh hell, he was just havin� a bad day�.

(Ya right, the Bull had a bad day)!!

And so, the report from the 7th NO BULLS TOUR. I have not got the report from E-rod yet but I fired 570 times and had 485 confirmed kills in three days of shooting using my 223, 22-250 and my 300 Vaporizer. (85%) We only count the �blow-ups� and turn the empty case mouth up in the box to keep count. All doubles and triples must be confirmed. My newly rebarreled CZ 223 Drive-By did 92.5% out of the pick-up window. It is really an awesome weapon.

For those of you that saw my post (On a Mission) a couple of weeks ago. Do not drive in the dark with your sunglasses on. It only works in the movies, and I didn�t have enough gas. pdhntr

Pdhntr: Thank goodness you and your Hunting buddy were not gored or trampled - or worse yet one of your Varmint Rifles bent! Just kidding there. I am thankful you are both in one piece.
Your story reminds me of an incident that occurred to me and two partners in Idaho some years back while we were Rock Chuck Hunting. A rancher/rodeo stock handler had several fields that were absolutely infested with Rock Chucks. The holes they made and the grass they ruined made them public enemy #1 to the rancher. He sent us right out into one of his pastures that had bucking bronco horses in it and told us just to not shoot in the direction of the stock and to not go into the adjoining field that had rodeo bulls in it - for any reason! These were huge fields and eventually we had worked our way over (on foot Hunting only) to near the edge of the "forbidden" rodeo bull field! We had split up into two groups myself and one partner in one area and our partner about 250 yards away on a slight ridgeline shooting away from us. One of the rodeo bulls became agitated with our shooting (or wanted to run us over!) and approached the fence bellowing and scraping dirt and dust into the air - with gusto! The bull began running up and down the fenceline and we became worried that he would crash the fence so we began packing up our day packs with our sandbags, ammo and optics preparing to call it a day! Then all of a sudden the bull rushs straight at the fence and lept into the air attempting to jump over it! Now remember I have two witness's to this feat! The massive bull (that I am sure weighed 1,200 pounds at least) cleared the fence easily and was just 60 yards or so from the now sprinting Rock Chucker. Well I should have said NEARLY cleared the fence! The bulls scrotum (full of bull testicles!) caught for an instant on the barbed wire fence! The bull literally did a full half twist (a "180") in mid air and bellowed out a horrendous bawl! When the bull landed he went into a heap of dust and did a spin around and charged the fence. The resulting crash sent shivers up my spine and I grabbed my gun leaving my Nikon camera and day pack where they lay. I sprinted toward the fence the bull had just jumped and I got on the original bulls side of the fence. My thinking was that I assumed that bull would not try and jump that fence again any time soon. I began running directly away from the agitated bull. My close partner just ran toward the county road that was about 400 yards away! My far partner was "running backwards" (backing away) holding his Varmint Rifle at port arms and watching the bull that was luckily now focusing his attention on the fence (and maybe his hurting scrotum?)! We later laughed about his Rifle (a 22-250) being able to stop a charging rodeo (Brahma?) bull. But at the moment of the fence leaping bull it was literally every man for himself as we scattered! We later recovered the rest of our gear and then went and reported the bull leaping into the horse pasture to the rancher!
I shudder to think what would or could have happened if that bull would not have gotten preoccupied with that fence?
Use caution around large animals is my motto!
Hold into the wind
VarmintGuy

VG: Really enjoyed your story.

There was a stretch of years when it seemed like I was cursed. There was another time I got my gear in the pick-up just in time, but the Bull wouldn't let it go. He proceeded to chase my pick-up around the dog patch until he finally lost interest.

Got me to thinking. Why does a guy have to go to Africa to experience the thrill of a dangerous hunt? I mean, exposing yourself to a ton of angry bologna, armed only with a .223 has to rank right up there with the great Masters and their stories.

Do you think Capstick ever went "Varmint" hunting without Silent backing him up with a double that had "Nitro" in its name? Patterson never went after the Lions with a .17!!! And yet we continue (after really meaning-full learning experiences) to arm ourselves with "pop guns" with fragile bullets and head out across the prairie without a care in the world!

I mean really, where is the sport in facing down a charging Rhino with a .458??? Jerk that gun out of his hands and give that man a 22-250 with 40 grain bullets!!! Now lets see what happens!!

Ya VG, those guys up there in the Africa section got nothin' on us. Later.

pdhntr