By: Bears Butt

Many Steps, Dry Dog and I joined up to shoot in the Utah Wildlife Net’s Top shooter event.  It’s an event set up for any and all calibers of weapons from pistol to rifle, 17 cal. to 50 plus long range rifle stuff.  We entered the muzzleloader event.  5 shots at 5 different circles at 50 yards.  The shooter is allowed to use a rest etc. to hopefully get all 5 shots  into the red circles.

We had planned on shooting it during the rendezvous, but due to extremely poor weather we were unable to do so.

Today was the last day to enter our targets and Dry Dog called and said let’s go!  So we packed things up and went back up to the rendezvous spot and set out our targets.  The day was a very pretty one with little or no wind and highs in the 70’s.  A very nice day indeed, especially since the past week has been so up and down with rain, wind and snow.  Thank YOU GOD!

We always have a beer bet on target shooting and this was no exception.  The targets will show you who owes who what.  I’ll give you a hint, even though Many Steps actually hit closer to what he was aiming at than I did, we still scored the same actual score.  So we tied on the beers.  Mr. Dry Dog didn’t fair so well and one of his 5 shots didn’t quite have enough power to get to the target as he only loaded with 10 grains of powder….I suppose the pressure was just too great and he blew the shot.

We even had an eye witness in the audience.  A very nice gentleman who allowed the harassment without joining in, and that would have been impossible for me to do.

Thank you Mr. Dry Dog, my lips can hardly wait for that cold beer!  Many Steps is looking forward to his as well.  May there be many more!!!!Many Steps, I’ll buy you a beer for shooting like that even though our scores are the same.  You hit a LOT closer to what you were aiming at than I did.

Written on May 31st, 2011 , Uncategorized
By: Bears Butt


It was at rendeevooo back in twenty ought eleben and times was sure a shinin.  Pinned down some in the lodges cuz of the wind, rain and snow, but our spirits was still high an we dun been havin ourselves a real good time.  We dun got into some shootin with the others but it seemed most all our rifles was a bit out of sort.  Perhaps they was spectin warmer times and with the cold of the days, they had shrunk up an made the sights go off center sum.  At any rate, only Edjukateer dun what all us others wish we cud a dun.  He dun won hisself a mighty fine patch knife, with a sheath an a  beeded necklace.  It looks pert near to be the finest of quality of any other in the Rockies.  Any mountain man would be proud to have that there patch knife.

So, my specting what the guns had dun shrivled up sum just might not be the true  deal and maybe it be just the rest of us just wasn’t line’n up right on our own sights.  Whatever, like I said, we just throwed powder down an patched ball and spent sum caps making noise an such and didn’t git no braggin rights ta speek uf.  Oh, ya, sepen Fat Duck an Dry Dog, they dun won some licker frum Many Steps an me, agin most cuz I wuz not quite on top of my shootin and Many Steps stayed up pert near till time ta shoot an wuzznt havin both his eyes focused real clear.

Next morn we woke ta see a whole ton o’snow dun felled durin the night an a whole bunch of the camp was perty much down on the ground.  Sum poles was broke and a lot of canvas an skins had tore up sum and folks wuz tryin ta fix things up an all.  Sum dun said they was movin on ta nuther rondeevoo in warmer climes an others wuz sayin they wuz headed fer the flatlands.  Well, we Willow Creekers wuzn’t bout ta leave this here rondeevoo.  We went ta doin what had ta be dunned and we put back up the dinin flys what was down an started up the fires under the newly rected flys ta dry them out sum.  Ya, our moccasins wuz soaked up pretty bad with mud an we wuz soaked ta the knee in our leathers, but inside we wuz still warm an dry an we wuz still at rondeevoo an we wasn’t bein hurt nor dead an our horses wuz still in camp an all the folks what mean stuff to us was well, so we dun continued to have ourselves a good old rondeevoo!

When it wuz about half way thru this day an the dinin flys wuz bout dry, Hunter sayz  “Hay, let’s go do sum shootin”!  So, Crazy Skinner, Hunter, Edjukateer, Trap Dancer, John Deere an me, grabbed up our guns and headed fer the range.

Mountain men don’t much care what they is goin ta shoot at, it be mostly for the right ta say they be the best shootin one once it’s all dun .  We been knowed ta shoot at big things such as knots on trees or large rocks on the mountain side.  We also been knowed ta shoot at little things like buttons or twigs stickin outa tree branches.  Well taday we wuz gonna shoot at mostly little things.  Ta begin with, Trap Dancer had sum playin cards what he dun brought ta rondeevoo so we broked out six of them, one fur each, an fastened them to our backdrop range and stepped back 40 sum yards.

Ya gotta know that a playin card aint too very big when looked at frum 40 yards.  Special with these old 60 sum year old eyes of mine.  But we loaded up an took a shot at the card what wuz ours ta shoot at.  Then we goed down an looked ta see if we dun hit or not.  Well seems that Hunter an me wuz the only two what hit.  So Edjukateer said we needed ta shoot two more times an see who is the best.  So we goed back and reloaded and each took a shot agin.  Then we reloaded and dun shot a third time.  When we goed down ta look at the cards, only Hunter had dun hit his card a second time an nun of the rest of us cud say we dun better.  So he dun won that one.

Ok, now is when things started ta  git interestin.  I grabbed up six little sticks what wuz about three inches long an just about the same size round as a  bone frum a front rabbit leg.  So weez stude them sticks up so they is standin up tall above what is holdin them an back we goed.  Now if you dun wuz standin 40 yards back frum a stood up rabbit it wouldn’t be nutin ta plug the critter, but now git just a front leg bone standin down there an there ain’t much what you kin see.  Well this is what we wuz a seein an there weren’t much of it ta see.

We all git loaded up an ta make it fair we dun took each a shot whilst the others just stood an watched.  Beins how he aint skeert of nutin, Crazy Skinner went first.  When the smoke cleared, there stood his stick just like before the shot.  Hunter steps up next and after much thinkin an aimin an the gun dun finally goes off an the smoke clears, his stick is just like it wuz before.  I dun stepped ta the line an takes careful aim an squeezed the trigger an BOOM goes the gun an when the smoke dun cleared, there stood my stick without so much as a lead burn.  Dag Nabbit!  Bout this time ol  Trap Dancer he has ta go back inta the woods fer mother nature wuz callin so he aint gonna be shootin at his stick this here time.  So, up steps Edjukateer an he is gonna be teachin each of us a lesson on gun handlin an shootin an scorin.  He caps up, aims, takes a long deep breath and goes ta squeezing the trigger.  His form is real steady an he sure is determined ta make his stick go away, the gun goes off and smoke dun fills the space frum his barrel ta the stick.  When the smoke duz finally go away, there is his stick still standin, just like afor.

Next and last man up is John Deere.  He ain’t feerin nutin, just like Crazy Skinner an he is gonna show us how it’s dun.  I gotta tell ya now, John Deere is a man what has only been on this earth for sum 13 years, but he knows where his stick floats an he knows just how sweet his rifle is ta shoot.  He dun steps ta the line an just like Edjukateer, gits his self all gathered up and with a deep breath he dun aims down range ta his stick.  Smooth as silk he is as the trigger finally does release and lets the hammer fall.  BOOM!  An that old familiar cloud of smoke fills the space and then slowly starts ta go away.  As the smoke is clearin, we kin all see clear what his stick is GONE!!!  John Deere has just kicked our butts right there on that there firin line!  He turns tawards us an we is standin there with our mouths dropped pert near ta the ground, an he says, “Boys, I am the best there is amongst all us who is here shootin right now”.  An ya know he was right , an we dun went ta shake his hand an tell him he was the best one sure.  He sure was havin himself a great time right then cuz his grinnin face cudn’t handle a bigger grin!

Written on May 30th, 2011 , Just more stories
By: Bears Butt


If you ever want a laugh like none other, just get one of your buddies to put a full Tyvek suit on and then have him cross a barbed wire fence!  Laughing can’t get any harder than that!  😉

On an elk hunt several years ago, Hunter, Many Steps, Edjukateer (then Cherry) and I were trying our best to somehow coax, or otherwise, get a big bull to cross over onto our hunting area out of a no hunting posted piece of ground.  We had tried nearly every trick we could and when they finally did show on our property, the shots were muffed in one way or another.

This particular day we found fresh snow, and it was pretty deep snow at that, when we woke up.  So, we decided to wear our snow color camo to help disguise us.  Who else but Edjukateer (Cherry at the time) would have a Tyvek suit.  I’ll have to admit, when he put it on and went out into the snow, he virtually disappeared.  The suit was exactly the same shade of white as the snow.  While the rest of us sort of looked a pale blue against the snow.

We were high on a ridge when we spot a lone bull about a mile up the drainage and very close to an old fence.    We checked out all of the terrain and picked out features that we should be able to identify once we got up to about where he was bedded.  Then off we went in hot pursuit.

Arriving at our parking spot, we spoke very softly in whispers so as to lessen the impact of our being there on the big bull.  We knew we had to be very quiet if we were to get close enough for a shot with our muzzleloaders.  So away from the ATV’s we headed.  About 100 yards up the hill we came to the old fence.  Hunter, Many Steps and I crossed without a hitch.  We were standing there with a foot on a lower wire pushing it down, and hands on an upper wire pulling it up and Edjukateer (Cherry at the time) was trying to get through the opening.

Perhaps he was a bigger man back then, or perhaps he should have picked up a smaller Tyvek suit, but any way you looked at it, that fence was loving that Tyvek.  As he struggled and became more and more entangled in the barbs of that there fence the funnier and funnier the scene became.  We were all trying our darndest to be quiet, and if you have ever tried to laugh out loud and be quiet at the same time it has to be one of the hardest things in the world to do.

The three of us were laughing so hard without making any sounds that our faces were as red as beets.  Tears were coming out of our eyes and running down our cheeks.  And still not a sound could be heard.  Edjukateer (Cherry at the time) had his head down so I don’t think he ever saw the three of us laughing.  He was so caught up (literally) and we were so much laughing that we couldn’t help him at all.  It was about all we could do to be holding the wires like we were, let alone help unstick him from the barbs.

With a big pull, jerk, lunge and/or combination of all of those things, over onto our side of the fence stood Edjukateer (Cherry at the time).  His Tyvek suit took quite a hit with that maneuver and it was rather shredded.  Lots of clothing underneath could be plainly seen.  It was then that he noticed we were laughing and he joined in!  Now if that isn’t a funny sight just in and of itself, there stood 4 grown men, with red faces, teeth showing , tears running down our cheeks and heads bobbling with the laughter caught deep inside each of us.

Once composed (5 minutes or more later), we split up into two groups of two and went looking for the elk, which probably watched us the whole time and decided red against white didn’t look like something he wanted to have too close to him.  All of him that was found was a bedding spot and hoof prints getting the heck out of there.

Thanks Edjukateer for the lesson on crossing the fence while wearing a Tyvek suit.  You made our day!

Bears Butt

May 24, 2011

Written on May 25th, 2011 , Just more stories
By: Bears Butt


Mountain men afore trapped beaver by the score

And risked their own hides in the slews

For the bounty of the plews.


The beaver did what normal came

And chewed the twigs and cane

To feast upon it’s bark,

When all the world was cold and dark.


So to you the luck of this here stick

That one such beaver fell

May your camp be well and never sick

And your game pole always full.


Bears Butt


Written on May 25th, 2011 , Poems (or sumthin)
By: Bears Butt

Prelude to the read:  I like a good old pickled pigs foot on occation.  Especially when on a muzz hunt.  So, I got to figurin I aint never read no poem about pickled pigs feet.  So in honor of them, here is what I dun put tagither for you to enjoy.  Read on.



For it has been said that God gave us cloven hoof animals to eat

And none so finer than that of the pig, that has meat so sweet

And if we look closer, we find it all but the squeal to goes

For what one finds good, another finds gooder, while others may turn up a nose


A hog lives in a trite situation.  A stinky pen in which it survives from day to day

It eats what is given and seems to love to wallow in the play

With feces to it’s knees and a stench that rivals all smells

Even the buzzards circle high above the dell


But when it comes to the table, the pig meat is sweet

And everyone enjoys to feast on the meat

Be it ham or chops or tripe or tongue

There is a pig part for everyone


Even the skin round the sausage comes from a pig deep within

It’s cleaned and prepared with care, then stuffed with meat chagrin

These tasty morsels of pork parts and fat, all ground up and mixed

Forced into the round skin tube for to fix

Then tied off and cut, and made ready to cook

With hashbrowns and eggs, it’s hard not to look


Let’s now dissect a pig in our mind

Once killed and cleaned and washed, it’s just fine

We skin it and cut it in parts we define

From the back to the front, including the spine


In the rear there is ham, yum yummy smoked ham

Some like it sliced, some like it boiled with beans or eaten with jam

Then come the chops, thick juicy pork chops

Fry them, or bake them, your choice, it’s your shop


The ribs are the next, they can be boiled or baked

Cooked on the grill in singles or racked

The sauce put upon them makes my mouth water

And the taste of those ribs, m-m-m-m, oh mother


Shoulder roasts, for bar-be-qued pork

A sandwich of, makes me grin like a dork

I love the great taste and it’s messy and able

Salad and chips and cold beer make the table






But the BEST of the pig is not high on the carcass

Nor in the rear or the back or inside the cadaver

But lower, much lower, below the knees

There are four of these


It’s the feet of these swine,

That taste so devine

When fixed up just proper,

There isn’t much that can stop her


The pigs feet when they’re boiled, opens up a tang

And when sealed up with vinegar it brings out the bang

Once cooled the gel sets and permeates the core

Making pickled pigs feet lovers just plain roar


They go good by themselves, better when shared

Or while riding the trail with those who have dared

A good old PIGS FOOT, straight out of the jar

With gelatin drippin and the sweet smell of sour


It just don’t get no better, I’m telling the truth

Than a pig foot knuckle tucked under a tooth

Or the vapor of vinegar wafting your nose

That gets me going like good old PIG TOES


Bears Butt

(All rights reserved, 2006)

Written on May 24th, 2011 , Poems (or sumthin)
By: Bears Butt

What is a “Beaver Sharn”?  Well it’s pretty much a stick what has been chewed by a beaver.  It brings very good luck to the one in possession of it and when several of them are placed together as outside your lodge or camp, it wards off evil and makes the camp a safe haven for all who participate in the fun of the camp.

Again we find ourselves at a rondeevoo, high in the Rockies, on the famous Curtis Crick.  Fun was not only what was goin on in camp, but fun was bein had outa camp as well.  The day was warm and fall was in the air.  A beautiful day indeed.

Tracker and me was up stream some lookin at all the things that was up there ta see and we wuz having ourselves a good time.  Seein  fish  swimming, birds  flyin and chirpin.  Little  water critters  scuryin about.  A great day to be alive for sure.

We wuz comin back toward camp when we noticed a large beaver dam what had the crick water all backed up and deep.  A great place for large fish to live.  There wuz this stick on the dam that was calling out to me to pick it up.  So I goes over and picks it up.  Oh the powers of that stick still come over me just thinkin about it.  A warm and wonderful power.  One of contentment and peace.  Like having a very close friend next to you all the time.

I said to Tracker, “You better git you one of these!  These have magic in em”.  And so Tracker finds him one and we are joyous indeed.  Tracker asks me, “What are they called”?  “Well”, says me, “Since they been brought offen a tree by a beaver and chewed up real good.  Aint got much bark left on them from him chewin round and round on it.  I’d say we call em ‘beaver sharns’.  Ya know, they has been ‘sharned’ by a beaver”.  (Sharned is most the same as Chewed on, but with a lot more character).

We dun took those two beaver sharns  back to camp and wuz the talk for sum time ta cum.  Perty soon we seed others what went up to that same beaver dam, (or others, don’t want ever one to git a beaver sharn offn the same dam, cuz then the dam would break the water would flood out the camp below, ya know, use yer noggin), and came back with their own beaver sharns.  Now we kin put them in a teepee sort of arrangement and stand them in our camp for letting the power protect the camp.  And we did just that.

Over time, the one what owns the sharn adorns it with more powerful things whut makes memories an such.  Ya kin carve on the sharn too, iffn ya wants.  The only thing ya just gotta do is make sure it was cut out of a tree by a beaver.  Other than that, it’s all youren to do what yous wants.

Sum mountain folks use their sharns as walkin sticks too and they work real well for that.  Others use them as “talkin sticks” around the fire too, and they work real well for that.  An  you can use it to pertend it be a gun when tellin a story too and they work real well for that.

Beaver Sharns is GOOD MEDICINE!  Go git yerself one.

Bears Butt

May 24, 2011

Written on May 24th, 2011 , Just more stories
By: Bears Butt

A little background first:  Many Steps, Dry Dog and I went on a turkey hunt in May 2011, it was Dry Dogs first real turkey hunt.  We were all using our blackpowder shotguns to take our birds.  This poem was written by myself the night prior to our hunt and it ended with a big bird going to turkey heaven.  After the hunt Many Steps altered the ending to reflect the “real story”…Enjoy!


What’s that I hear upon my ear?  The closing of a door?

It’s too dark to see, my sleep is broken, this day is on for sure.

I sense the air is brisk and clean, no rain, no wind , just spring .

The sky is getting lighter in the East, a sure sign tis near time to feast.

Was that a thump I heard below?  A deer?  A buck?  A Doe?

It matters not this time of day, I’m sitting high above.  I have no worries I’m just waking like a dove.

Ah!  The sounds of morning are filling the air.  The hoot owl calls from his lair.

A distant crow, a nearby pheasant.  Spring is just so very pleasant.

Again I see the Eastern sky is begging for the sun to come.   Another day like yesterday and all my work will be done.

My ladies are around me.  Just waking,  calling soft.  It’s such a pleasant place I live in, not a barn and not a loft.

The tall tree I call my  roost is all I really need.  It gives me safety while I sleep and keeps me safe indeed.

Again a thump, a broken branch!  I’m sure I heard this time.  Oh well, it’s just morning and time for me to chime.

I gobble out a good long call.  To wake my ladies one and all.

They purr and cackle at my voice.  They love it when I sound such rejoice.

The sky is brighter in the East.  I can see the ground now, it’s almost time to eat.

I’m so hungry from a night of sleeping.  I hope to find some grasshoppers leaping.

A bug, just any bug.  Fresh green grass or even a slug.

The ladies are all awake!  I’ll give another gobble just to let them know I’m on the take.

They all love me, this I know.  Especially that one there, just  waking  on the branch below.

Woops!  There she goes!  Flapping down to the fresh green grass.  I’d better follow before she goes over the pass.

The glide down is refreshing.  Through the branches and the limbs.  Another great spring day  begins.

What’s that I see?  Just over there!  Not another Gobbler!  Not on my hen!  I’ll kick his butt!  You dirty bird!

Now why are these two standing so still? Would they flinch if I gave a shrill? Oh well, I guess I’ll have my meal.

I’m scratching and pecking, eating these delicious bugs when suddenly I hear a sound I’ve never heard before.

Not a breaking branch, I know this for sure. Could it be a human child’s toy? Maybe something for a boy?

I look towards the sound only to see the ugliest bush in all creation suddenly move, and pop goes that sound again.

I don’t know what it was, and I don’t care. I’m getting outta here, and warning all the others, “DON’T GO OVER THERE!”

Co-Authored by Bears Butt and Many Steps

May 2011

Written on May 24th, 2011 , Poems (or sumthin)
By: Bears Butt


Most ever mountain man what cum about started whenst they was yung an wandered from the city places what they lived in afor.  Once to the mountains they wud do sumpin or other an sudden would end up bein called by a name what wasn’t the one theys kin called em.  Understand all that?  Well this hear story is bout Ol Tracker, as we is callin him, but his ma called him “Ora”, cuz that was what was his midle name whenst he was bornd.


Ol Tracker was at the rondeevoo an we wuz talkin about old times and tellin stories on each other an stuff.  The night was calm, and the cracklin o that council fire was nice.  We wuz all snuggled up in our capotes and ever one had a cool drink in they’s hands.   It was nice.  Tracker decided we needed ta hear bout a fire he had started sum time back up in the North country.  We don’t have that kind o wood here so, he perceded ta tell us sum bout it.


It be called Alder wood he said.  I ain’t never heared of it, but sum had, and nun of us nowed anything bout it, cept Tracker.  Seems this hear wood needs copper an other mineral ta grow good in.  An up ta the north where Tracker had been was loaded with copper nuff ta make a new pot fer coffee ever morning.


The Alder bushes growed like trees, with big branches and tall like ta climb and look out over a million miles of ground.  It must be real perty up there.  Sum day even I is gonna git there ta see that.  Anywho, he goes on ta tell, that when the Alder grows it sucks the copper up inta the wood sort o like the water soaks up our birchwood boats.  The copper then does stays in the wood and when you make a fire frum the dry stuff, it makes a perty fire like no other.


Right then, when he told us bout it, he jumped up and went ta his camp an brung out a piece that was stuck into a dragged moose he had dragged outa there one time awhile back.  He throwed that stick onto the council fire, and low and behold, sure as I’m standing right here right now an No Grimace is standin over there, an Wapiti Dung is where he is at, that ol fire started sizzlin an poppin an cumin ta life like no budy dun ever seed befor.  It put off a spark o flame what beat anythin we had seed to this day.  The color of the fire flames turned frum yeller, ta orange mixed with purple an blue and red an green an sweetlake an the bear river all mixed up like a concoction what do you think bout that?


WOW!  An that’s not all, it burned like that while we sat with our mouths agap fer pertnear two solid hours!  My mouth was powerful dry time it died down nuff fer my sences ta cum back, an I drank my whole cup right then.


Ol Tracker went on ta say, that whenst he was draggin that big ol moose down frum the north, that he had ta build a purty big fire usin nutin but Alder branches an that he figgered by the color of the fire that maybe the God’s had dun called his number an was showin him the light.  He was complet surrounded by Gizz Bars an Woofs an Woffmarines an figured they wud have him perty soon.  He was skeert sum an kept puttin on more wood an keepin that fire growin bigger an bigger.


Whilst his hors pulled the moose closer to rondeevoo for him, he just kept puttin on more and more wood until the entire sky waz lighted up an the clouds was taken on the color of the flames.  It was a very skeery time fur Tracker, but he made it down to rondeevoo in due time an figured that he had beet the Gods, cuz he wuz still with us.


Well, we sat ther and enjoyed sum more of that council fire and then someone noticed the color of the sky ta the north.  It was the same as the colors of our council fire!  Sure nuff!  Orange, blu, green, yellow, purple, sweetwater an bear all mixed up !!!!  It danced from cloud to cloud and made us all a bit skittish, but at the same time it was perty and we soon started ta enjoy the pertyness of it all.


Now I dun seed this several times since then, an frum my recollect, Trackers huge fire sum time back must have permanent done sumpin ta the clouds an sky particulars that keep cummin back year after year.  When I see them, I recall Trackers story over an over and we dun call the sky like that “Ora’s Borealous”.


Bears Butt


Written on May 24th, 2011 , Just more stories
By: Bears Butt

For many years the young Cherry thought about his mountain man name and had a real hard time thinking  that “Cherry” was a MAN’s name.  Well when we named him that it was because the Gods had spoken.  Remember the fires embers and how they cast themselves toward the heavens when the name “Cherry” was said?  It was an awesome, inspiring time and the name seemed all to perfect at that moment.

Since then, however, he has proven beyond any shadow of any sort of doubt out there that he is a “Teacher”!  He can teach with the best of them.  Scholastically, maybe not so much, but teach he can do.

One day he and I were sharing a duck hunting blind.  It was a very good day to hunt ducks and they were migrating through at the peak of the migration.  Ducks were decoying from left to right, right to left, straight down at us and if they could have, straight up to us.   I have hunted ducks for many years and this hunt was as good as it gets.  Well, I had my limit and was encouraging Cherry to aim a little better and save some shells for next time.     But his aimin and shootin was far from done.  He ended up shooting ALL the shells both of us had brought and still was one bird short of his limit when all was said and done.  He ended up shooting 53 shots to get 5 birds.

On the ride home I laughed at the day’s fun and how he had such a time trying to fill his limit.  He grinned and said he was educating the birds.

Another time we were camping.  It could have been a rendezvous, a hunting trip or any other outing that we were planning on spending a few nights in the forest.  He had his trailer and was having quite the time trying to keep his electrical stuff going.  The fridge didn’t work, the lights had a tough time, sparks would fly on occasion and his water pump was apparently broken.  His whole family was at wits end because the trip was ruined.  What can we do?

I think it was “No Grimace” that discovered he had put the battery in backwards and had the positive post hooked up to the negative ground and vise versa.

We had a good laugh out of it and all he could say was he was “teaching us what not to do”.    We were all very well educated.

The thing about it all is that for many, many years this sort of thing just kept going on and on.  It did not seem to matter what we were attempting to do, he was showing us how NOT to do it.

On a muzzleloader elk hunt we were trying to fill several bull elk tags.  It had snowed and rained  on us for about 5 days straight.  We were all a bit sick of the weather, but we kept on trying to fill those tags.  One early morning Many Steps spots a herd of elk in a shallow bowl atop a distant ridge.  He and Cherry are going to ambush them and I would stay and observe the goins on from the distant.  We had radios and binoculars to keep us in touch.

I watched as the two of them showed up on the far hill.   Splitting up, Many Steps closer to me than is Cherry and they began their decent onto the herd below.  The herd did not know they were being stocked and the stock went quite well.  It was apparent to me from my position that Cherry would soon be within range of the herd.  The herd was laying down and trying to stay out of the wind.  Cherry had the wind in his face, which allowed him to get quite close to the herd.

At a later time, we heard him tell us this:  I was sneaking down the hillside trying to be as quiet as I could.  I knew the wind was in my face and the elk would not wind me.  I came up over a slight rise in the terrain and there was a bull.  I ducked back, checked to make sure I had a cap on the nipple of my rifle, cocked the hammer slowly and quietly and then snuck forward.  The bull was only 20 yards ahead and I could easily make a clean kill on him.  As I snuck forward I raised the rifle and placed my trigger finger into the trigger guard……..

From my position I could see him start to raise his gun and “BOOM” the gun goes off.  The smoke plume from the shot was angling up at about a 30 degree angle from the ground.  Was one of the elk flying?  I asked myself.

His story resumed:  into the trigger guard when my glove touched the trigger setting it off.

Oh my heck!!!  In a situation like that, NOBODY wears a glove!  TAKE THE GLOVE OFF!!!

LESSON LEARNED oh mighty teacher of things we all need (or should already)  to know.

And so it goes on for years and years.  The lessons kept on coming and coming.  We are all extremely knowledgeable in all things that we do, and some in things we don’t do.  In future times, I’m very certain that more lessons will be bestowed upon us, let’s hope and pray nobody gets hurt.

At a rondeevoo a few years past the council had met and pondered the man named “Cherry” and his desire to have a name more fitting to a MAN OF HIS FEATURES AND STATURE.  The council did decide to rename him for the good he had taught us and the beasts of nature.

And forever, wherever mountain men shall meet, “Cherry” shall be known as “EDJUKATEER”.

Bears Butt

May 24, 2011

Written on May 24th, 2011 , Just more stories
By: Bears Butt

For all who are reading this, what are some of the lessons Cherry/Edjukateer has taught us?  Please just post a comment below.  I’m sure the list will be a long one.



Bears Butt

Written on May 23rd, 2011 , Uncategorized | Stories, Ramblings & Random Stuff From an Old Mountain Man is proudly powered by WordPress and the Theme Adventure by Eric Schwarz
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Just some of my old stories, new stories, and in general what is going on in my life.