I ain’t one fer figerin stuff out real quick, but sumpin in the wind made some fate cum tagither.  It were back in ’96 an my lodge wuz hungerin fer ven meat.  It had been a long time since fresh meat wuz hung on the meat pole.  Once all the good byins wuz done, we headed the harses fer the high country.  One ol boy, what aint got no name as yet, even came ta try his hand at baggin a Rocky Mountain mule deer buck.

This guy claims ta have his roots clear over on the other side ‘o that one big river,  The one theys calls Miss-sip.  Says he probably even comes from Dan’l Boone blood line.  Ai aint sayin nutin, cuz this boy is big as a mule, strong as boiled coffee and eats purdy much, ta keep his shape an all.  He came out here with some of the dangdest stuff too.  I guess maybe I been in these here Rockys too long.  Since bein borned he dun moved his be-longins ta the Percific water.

Well we hunted hardern ever back in ’96.  Had some little, un sum bigguns runnin round.  Got some shots off, had sum miss begivens happen, what should uv put meat on the pole. You know the kind uv stuff what’s called buck fever, an causes a guy not ta cock his gun, ner cap up.  An these here camp stories wuz the ones we heared bout, not ta say what else went on out there what ain’t bein said.

Anyway, me and this ‘Ol boy who came from the Western ocean hunted hard.  Ever day we wuz lookin and stompin.

Durin a nap, while it wuz still dark on the morning of the last day, I woke frum a dream.  I visionaried a big ol heard of mulies all circled up.  Sum wuz bucks, but most wuz girl ones.  Over theys heads ya could hear some strange fluttie sound, kind ov eary, an my dream kept up till I got up ta ready my harse fer the last days hunt.

No name and I hit it hard all day and I wuz gonna be glad when dark cum, cuz I had pert much dee cided we wuz  gonna eat a lot ‘o muskrat and beaver tail this winter.

At the top of the mountain, the last bit of light wuz fadin fast when there stood what wuz my first chance ta bag a buck.  When the smoke dun cleared, it took till way past dark ta git the buck an us out ‘o the hills and back ta the lodge.  I really think my dream ment sumpin, an the noise those fluts wuz sayin wuz meaning Butt Luck would prevail.

Gotta Go !

I figure sup otta be bout ready.  We be havin steak tonight.

Bears Butt

Oct.-Dec 1996

(The other hunter is now named “Hunter” because of this years hunting)