With all the great stories, equipment, adventures and people out there I thought it would be great to get some pictures.  If you have any pictures from a hunt, your gear or best of all you geared up that would be great.  If you send in pictures I will post on our site as well as putting some of the best pictures on all our sites.  Things I am looking for, but not limited to.

•    Gear: Clothes, utility tools, ATV’s…
•    Favorite weapons: guns, bows, sticks, stones…
•    Best Duck Blind or Hide…
•    You, family or friends dressed for the hunt…
•    Where you hunt

All I need is a digital picture in any PC compatible format and a description of the picture.  You can make the description as long or short as you would like.  If there is a story behind the picture we would love to hear about it.

Send Pictures to:

Todd Krater
U.S. Hunting Today
Managing Editor
todd@ushuntingtoday.com

Note: If you want a picture posted and do not have a digital copy I would be willing to scan it for you.  Please contact me for details.

US Hunting Today reserves the right to refuse any picture for any reason as well as edit it where appropriate.

Tanner Colten Moad, 5 years old, is one of the coolest kids I know. The youngest of 4 children of mine, Tanner never stops moving.
Before gun season in central eastern Oklahoma, the traditional bow season usually takes priority. I had taken the first week of bow season off from work in an attempt to tag out early at the request of my wife Lori. In her mind, if I was to tag out early, my deer season would then be “dear” season, with lots of additional chores getting done that get overlooked during each year’s deer season.

As a bow hunter, I was able to harvest a doe pretty quick, and two days later, stuck a nice 8 point that only took two steps before falling over. I had watched that buck spare with a 9-point two days earlier, and was in hopes I could manage to get the edge on one of them as both were very big bodied deer. Well, upon getting the close up view of the 8-point I had just harvested, I realized that half way up one side of his G-2, his antlers were completely broken off. A few of his other tines were damaged as well, which led me to believe that the 9-point he had previously been sparing with, probably wasn’t sparing anymore.

With bow season quickly becoming gun season, my son Tanner, was getting pretty excited about going hunting with dad this year. I had to work the first day of the season, but promised to take him on Sunday. Sunday afternoon, around 3:00pm, I was off to the deer woods and had my little man right there with me on the 4-wheeler. We drove to a spot where not much hunting activity was going on, and climbed into the buddy stand that was located there. The buddy stand had the camouflage netting around its fall protective bars and I knew that if a deer did come in, that the anticipated movements of my son would go undetected.

To my surprise, Tanner, sat quietly in the stand with me, pulled out his binoculars, and commenced to scanning the woods all around. When a squirrel would drop an acorn from a tree, it would hit the leaves, and Tanner would turn quickly to identify what made the noise. He would whisper to me that he thought he heard something over there, or over there, and over there. I know this sounds crazy, but I loved every minute of watching him pay attention to what was going on in the woods around him. Now he was hungry, 15 minutes after we were in the stand. He pulled out a package of crackers and quietly munched on them while looking around. We switched positions about 10 times, so he could see everything. He would ask me questions about all kinds of woods activities and now sat in my lap to get a better view. About 1 and ½ hours in the stand now, Tanner started doing the chicken head. You know, when someone is trying desperately not to fall asleep, but their eyes roll back, and their heads starts popping up. Well, it wasn’t long before “Mr. Energy” was resting against my arm, quietly sleeping.

Soon as Tanner decided to snooze, I elected to stay in the stand since there was only about 30 minutes left of daylight. So I positioned Tanner so he could lay down across the buddy stand seat that was covered with a camouflage blanket, and I would stand up. After positioning Tanner towards comfort, I stood up in the stand, now facing the rear, and spotted a nice buck standing there watching me. I touched Tanner on the face and arm attempting to wake him from his afternoon nap. I whispered to him “Tanner, there is a deer, wake up”. No response. So I looked back up the deer was gone. I positioned my rifle across the stand bars and waited for the deer to exit the brush. Just as I thought, he walked right through the opening in the brush headed for the deep woods. I announced I was there with a mouthed made “grunt”. He stopped and “bang”. As soon as the shot rang out, “Tanner, jumped up, wide eyed and said “Did I GET HIM?. Excited now, he really wanted to know if he got a deer. I smiled at him and excitedly said yes son, you got a big old buck. He jumped up and down in the stand and hugged me, and said “Well, where is he? Let’s go get him.” His little voice was squeaking high and low with excitement. This was his first experience in the deer woods hunting, and man he sure loved it, as did I. We climbed down the stand together, and went to where the buck was standing. I showed him the blood on the ground and explained to him that he should walk beside the blood, not in it, when he was tracking a deer. He started to walk beside the trail when he squeaked again. “I found him, he is right there” pointing. All of these events happening so fast, I wanted them to slow down some so I could savor the enjoyment of watching him. I showed him the caution of approaching a wounded or dead animal, helped him count the points on the antlers, and hugs and pride just rushed through me. After all, this hunt was supposed to be all about him.

He helped me load the deer on the 4-wheeler, and away we went to show the family. Close to the house now, I walked beside the 4-wheeler and allowed Tanner to drive up to the house. Picture this, A five year old boy, dressed in a camouflage shirt and orange hat with vest, driving a ranch 4-wheeler with a rifle in the rack on the front, and a 140 pound 8-point deer strapped to the utility rack in the back, coming out of the deer woods and driving up to the house with his mother waiting for him with a camera. Wouldn’t you be proud? I know I was. Tanner will never forget his first deer hunt, but neither will I. I think Lori, my wife and his mother, took a million pictures that evening.
Not only that, but he beat me this year with his deer. Mine during bow season was 150 pounds, but his rack was bigger. It is good to start them off young.

“There he was”, A fine 8 point standing in the gap”

By Mac Moad

The first week of October was finally here.  The first three days were spent in my favorite stand watching 3 raccoons in which I had named Larry, Curly, and Moe.  The mother raccoon was slightly bigger than the two younger ones, and seemed curious to every movement surrounding them.  The days here in eastern Oklahoma in October were still in the 80’s with mosquitoes buzzing everywhere.  I was wondering if it were still to hot to hunt and questioned myself again over and over.  Each day so far, I had hunted morning and evening with only a few does showing up.

Our family is one of three families (all related) that live on the mountain with about 360 acres of land owned by our families.  Each year we hunt, we always establish the rules.  {8 Point or better for the husbands} {Wives and kids, buck or doe} Now last year I hunted all year and didn’t harvest one deer, but I had seen enough antlers to keep me excited.  Every time Bill and Grover, my brother in-laws, sure let me know how I got spanked on last years hunt.  Both are avid rifle hunters and tagged out the year I brought home nothing.  I was thinking about this already early in this season while elevated about 18 feet up in my climber.  I wondered, as every other hunter does, will this be my year.  As I looked down from my stand at the raccoons again on the 4^th morning of October 2007, I was once again thinking of how pretty they were and how every day I am in the woods, I look for the highlight of the day.  Whether this was the highlight of the day again, or was an owl going to sit on the limb next to me, a squirrel sitting on my boot, quail leaving a fast trail for a coyote, bobcats on the prowl, turkeys rustling, what was going to be the highlight?

Then, I saw movement directly in front of me.  I was a deer for sure, and no does were present yet.  I had placed my stand in what my wife calls the quiet spot.  High cedars with no brush, not to thick, but perfect for a good bow shot.  A well used doe trail to my right, and another trail coming in from the left, thicker trees to my front.  I could see about 40 yards around me with a creek bed behind me on a down hill gentle slope. The deer in front of me wasn’t spooked or aware of my presence as it slowly made its way directly toward me.  Sun to my back and the breeze in my face, finally, I could see him completely.  “Very nice buck” I was thinking.  As he moved closer and closer, I could count 4 on one side and 4 on the other.  Not sure if I wanted to take the shot just yet, I moved into position just in case.  Standing now and ready to draw, I used the bow as if I was hiding behind its small limbs.  The buck was much bigger than I originally thought the closer he moved to my stand.  20 yards and still coming, 10 yards and still coming.  He stopped, head concealed by a large cedar tree.  I came to full draw and picked my shooting lane.  As if knowing I was now ready to shoot, the 8 point stepped from behind the cedar and moved closer, directly into my shooting lane.  7 yards, I picked my hairs on the buck, just behind the shoulder and quartering down.  I could sense the raccoons to my right and felt a sense of calm, took a large breath, let it out half way, became steady as a rock and released.

{‘Wham”}  I dropped him in his tracks.  I intended to penetrate spine, heart, and lung if possible for a deadly and swift kill.  My broadhead did exactly that.  I stood for a moment and watched the buck lie still and quiet.  Larry, Curly, and Moe were nowhere to be seen.  I called my wife using my cell phone and quietly whispered I had a good buck down, her response to me was “why are we whispering”.  Laughing a little I said, I am in the quiet spot.

After checking the buck in and heading to the processors, I continued to hunt the evening in another stand.  Each day I hunted, I elected to use my climber instead of pre-placed stands used each year.  October the 7^th, 3 days after my first buck of the year, my 14 year old son was ready for action.  This would be his first year bow hunting, and he practiced every day for the last two months.  He was actually quite good shooting the pillow target and 3D’s, in which I was very proud.  Sunday after church, he would be in the woods with me for the evening hunt.  Everything seemed to go wrong.  I found out he was afraid of heights the hard way, but patiently, I assisted him into a lock-on stand with steps, explained the safety belt, strapped him in and climbed down.  I hooked his bow on the bow string and up and away the bow went.  While the bow was being pulled up by my son, I was watching all around me, trying to quiet down the woods, when {Wham}!!!!  My right hand was numb.  I looked at my hand and there was a deep cut to the bone on the top.  My son had almost had the bow in his stand when the bow string slipped.  The bow caught me square across my hand.  Seriously nervous and seeing the blood, my son asked if I was alright and maybe we should just go home and get the hand took care of.  He said he was so sorry and it just slipped, and…………  I assured my son everything was fine, helped him get the bow up the stand, and assured him he was ready to hunt.  “Don’t worry about me son, you just keep your eyes out for the big one.  I will be about 100 yards straight across the creek.”  I pointed with my other hand where I would be, wished him good luck, then started walking away from his stand. After crossing the creek and out of sight from Chase, I stopped and looked at the top of my right hand.  I was hurt pretty good, and I still couldn’t make a fist yet.

Not wanting to leave the woods with my son still in a stand, I elected to set up on a trail I knew of and wait it out.  I pulled off the climber from my shoulder and worried a little about if I could even use the stand to climb or not.  After setting up the stand at the bottom of the tree I picked out, we were going to find out if I could climb with one hand.  It actually wasn’t that bad.  Up the tree I went, got situated, smiled a little at how stupid I was to stand directly under my sons stand when he was raising his bow then shrugged it off as “my stupidity, my fault.” Now situated and seated in my stand, I wondered if I could even draw my bow back with the bum hand.  So, I stood up quietly, drew the bow and wow, man did that hurt.  I sat back down and thought once again, I hope a big buck goes by my son instead of me this evening.  Not real sure I could even draw again.

45 minutes later, about 6:05pm, I caught movement from over my right shoulder.  Yep, you guessed it.  It was a buck, but a very small buck.  Knowing that early in this season the bucks were still traveling together, I stood, turned and prepared.  Sure enough, 5 yards behind the 4 point, was a small basket 8 point.  Immediately I decided not to shoot this small 8.  To my surprise, directly on his heals was a really nice 8 point.  Now I was getting excited.  By the way, the first buck in front had walked directly under my stand and was now in front of my stand.  I drew slowly, aimed center mass of the shooting lane in a gap in the brush.  The small 8 point buck walked through the gap, and then “There he was”,  A fine 8 point standing in the gap.  Once again, I picked my area of hair behind the shoulder, quartered down, controlled the breathing, paused, and slowly squeezed the trigger release.

{Wham} I dropped him in his tracks.  I intended to penetrate spine, heart, and lung if possible again and sure enough, the broadhead did the work.  Can you believe this, 6 yards, another nice buck on the ground, just laying there.  I stood in amazement, I was shocked.  This was a really nice buck, pretty wide and may score as well.  The odd thing about this was, “dropped in his tracks.”  The very thing every hunter hopes for is to find the deer, or even better a swift and clean kill.  Well, not only did I find the deer three or four days ago, I found this one too.  I was like a dream.  Two 8 point bucks, both bow kills, both in the same week, both dropped in their tracks. I realized after a brief moment of silence, that my hand did not hurt anymore, and to make things even better, my son was on this hunt with me only 100 yards away. The two bucks that were in front of this one, there would be a good chance Chase saw them or even may get a shot.  But what will always cross my mind is how big was the buck that was still coming in from behind the buck I harvested.  I saw him jump when I released.  I climbed down and walked to Chases stand, walked cautiously up to the side of him and told him we had a good buck down.  Excited, he said he saw two bucks running and asked how big my buck was.  I told him, “well, I don’t know really, maybe you should help me track him”.  Chase was so excited when he walked up to my tree, buck in plain site.  “Man, I’m gonna get me a buck like that” I went to retrieve the 4-wheeler, we loaded the deer and headed to the house.  I was kind of in a hurry as the darkness was starting to set in, and I still needed to check this buck in too.  Arriving at our home on the mountain, my father stepped out on the deck and observed our approach.  My father had just come in from out of town that day to visit us for a week, so that was kind of cool him seeing me bring in another deer.  He was a big deer hunter with hunting skills that I always admired.

As far as the wife goes, she was so excited.  Not so much that I had gotten a nice buck, but that I had gotten two nice bucks with a bow in the first week of hunting season.  She rubbed it in real good to her two brothers whom still hadn’t harvested anything.  The next morning, as I watched the brother in laws roll out to the woods to deer hunt, I told them the same thing I always told them.  “Good luck and I hope you get a big one” Every bit of this is true, and I honestly believe this will be hard for me to beat next year.  After all, now my season just went from deer season, to “dear” season.  Being tagged out in the first week of bow season is a sure sign that honey-do’s will be a major part of the rest of my season.

Mac enjoys duck hunting in the Midwest.

Send Pictures to:

Todd Krater
U.S. Hunting Today
Managing Editor
todd@ushuntingtoday.com

Note: If you want a picture posted and do not have a digital copy I would be willing to scan it for you.  Please contact me for details.

US Hunting Today reserves the right to refuse any picture for any reason as well as edit it where appropriate.

Whether hunting public or privateland, the fundamentals of calling elk remain the same.

By Michael Waddell

We heard the bull bugle at first light and snuck into his core area. When I hit a lick on my bugle, the bull simply came unglued and stormed our position like a tank, crashing through brush and small lodgepole pines like they were atchsticks. Before we could react he was in our lap and we were pinned down, myself hiding behind a camera, too afraid to even touch the tripod for fear of my shaking hands would run the footage. All I could see of my partner edged against a stunted pine was the tip of his undrawn arrow shaking uncontrollably on the rest. Before a shot presented itself, the bull smelled a  rat and disappeared as quickly as he arrived.

While this experience didn’t result in a dead elk, it did hopelessly addict me to calling them. It seems that in all walks of life, be it the animal kingdom or humans, communication is a key ingredient for all social interaction. However not all living things communicate to the same degree. If you ask my wife, I am sure she will tell you I lack in the communication department, in fact I am sure she believes I don’t listen to her at all, but when it comes to communicating with animals I can barely shut up. Of all the animals I love to communicate with elk rate right at the top. By nature elk are very vocal. The uninitiated often simply think of bulls bugling, but cows, calves and bulls make all sorts of noises year around. If you encounter a larger herd of elk while you might not hear a thing from a distance, if you get close you will hear lots of subtle vocalization. Most of the time these are sounds of contentment, but depending on what’s happening the vocalization reflects it. Elk can convey contentment, danger, curiosity, or a cow in heat. Bulls for instance only bugle primarily in the rut, but they also communicate to establish a pecking order. After spending a considerable amount of time chasing the mighty wapiti, I’m convinced every elk in the herd knows each other by sound alone. This happens with the cows as well as the bulls and based on my evaluation somewhere in this mix is the deadly secret to calling elk archery-close.

Imitation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flattery

It seems that the more vocal a herd the better the odds are for success at calling them. Some cows call subtle, while others are loud-mouth ladies actively looking for a date. By listening it gives you a better opportunity to imitate the particular tones and intensity of the herd. By calling we are automatically intruding into the social club without an invitation. The closer we can sound to a known elk, and match that intensity the better the odds are of filling a tag. Even though we may sound like an outsider to the herd, luckily for us, love crazed bulls are not looking to be intimate with just one or two cows they are looking for all the love of every cow in the world, so taking advantage of their sexual frustrations and promiscuity is what we aim to do. It doesn’t take a world champion elk caller to trick bulls within range. By simply paying attention to the herd and understanding simple elk rhythm, tone and more important volume when calling, a hunter can depend on an elk call to be a valuable asset to dulling broadheads.

Public Versus Private Land

Since I started hunting elk 16 years ago, on private as well as public ground, I have realize that comparing these two different types of ground are like comparing night and day and it is all about the amount of pressure each receives. Generally speaking private ground bulls are way easier to call than public ground animals, but this is not always the case. Some private land does get a lot of pressure, which can make for some pretty tough calling duels with elk that can serve you up a humble pie every time you bust out a call. While conversely some public land either through sheer remoteness or hard-to-get tags is like calling the best private land in the nation. Hunting un-touched land and cow calling to bulls that have never heard a Hoochie Mamma would obviously be nice and it wouldn’t take long working over these uneducated elk to start feeling like an elk calling pro only to be deflated the first time we went to the national forest and mixed it up with bulls so well-known by local hunters that they have knick names. However, regardless of where you hunt the basics of calling remain the same. Start with mastering the cow call and all its various inflections. Your basic reed type calls are the easiest to learn as well as get proficient with. You will find two kinds; both are bite down reed-type of calls, one being enclosed and the other having an open reed or reeds. These calls make a very realistic sound and before your wife can run you out of the house you will master the basics.  I rely heavily on the cow call and think most of the time hunters are better off sticking with it over a bugle no matter where he is hunting. But learning how to make a basic bugle is important, especially for locating bulls at a distance before getting close and working him with your cow call. In addition, sometimes it is the bugle that finally provokes a dominant bull to commit, especially during the early season when bulls are still sorting out their peckin’ order.

Earning Your Public Ground PhD

Lets face it, unless you have deep pockets much of the private ground in the West is pretty much off limits, so you have to learn to hunt public land. This is not a bad thing as public ground comprises millions upon millions of acres across the West and happens to have some of the biggest bulls found anywhere. While it can be tougher than private, once you learn how to hunt it you won’t be disappointed. Over the years, one of my favorite places to hunt is the Gila National Forest, in New Mexico, and even though this is a trophy area tags are fairly obtainable through application. In the Gila, the trophy potential is off the chart, sporting some of the biggest bulls in the country, but just because the big ones live there doesn’t mean thatyou automatically make one call and they come running to get in the back of your truck. These mature jokers have a PhD in avoiding hunters. Over the last six years I have hunted this area religiously and have had the opportunity to shoot some nice bulls all by using elk calls as an aid to close the coffin. Notice I said, “as an aid”, meaning the call was just one thing in a bag of tricks to help smoke these monarchs. My biggest bull that came out of the Gila was a 378 P&Y bull that had earned the name Professor because he always seemed to take you to school when you applied too much pressure. However, this bull was vocal and would bugle his butt off. He also seemed to be fairly easy to find, not only by his gnarly, raspy bugle that set him apart, but frequently he could be found early in the morning in a large meadow just south of a particular water hole that always attracted a large herd. The Professor was not the only bull in the area that had large headgear, but it was The Professor that seemed to call the shots. I had caught this bull in the open several times, but calling seemed to really make him uneasy when you were in close. The Professor however would bugle hard to distant cow calls and seem to be whole heartedly interested, but had a sixth sense when you moved in for the attack. Final we decided to have a caller stay behind as we worked him coming off the meadow at daybreak. By doing this we could keep him interested and bugling as we stalked in closer. The caller always was no closer than 80 yards behind me. While the caller kept him occupied, I slid within 50 yards and gave him a G5 Tekan right behind the shoulder. This hunt was really a stalk, but the call and caller had a big part to do with his demise. Once we started quartering the bull up, we found a piece of an old arrow lodged just below the backstraps, so obviously someone had him in close before and gave the Prof and education, which explained why he was so wary.

The Double Team

As this old bull showed, hunting with a partner can work extremely well. It not only puts the hunter out in front of the call, but it gives the hunter a chance to move and adjust the angle based on where the bull might be approaching. Likewise, the caller has the flexibility to move as well and apply a lot of different calling techniques. The double team plan worked again on another hunt. It had been hot and the bulls were only bugling early and late. As soon as the sun would rise the elk woods would turn in to a ghost town.
Just after daybreak on the fourth day of our hunt we heard this bull bugle. He hit it only two times, both very weak and he sounded like the littlest rag horn in the land but with no other game in town we went after him. Getting as close as possible to where we thought the bugle came from I eased up and sat down by a pine stump while my buddy moved back and to my right about 40 yards. Neither of us were very optimistic about our chances. My buddy made one or maybe two very soft cow calls on a two reed diaphragm then he started raking a tree and rolled a few rocks. We sat there for possibly 10 minutes in silence, then out of nowhere appeared a wide 340 inch 6 x 6 coming directly to us, at 25 yards the bull let out a soft chuckle, looked over his surrounding and kept walking in the direction of where the last rock had been rolled, which led him 16 steps from my pine stump. By now I was at full draw waiting for a broadside shot. When the arrow left my bow, I knew we had killed a call shy monster by keeping it low key and staying patient. Needless to say, I was never convinced by the two times he had bugled earlier that he was a shooter. This was a lesson in itself. Never judge a bugle until you can see what is making the sound.
The most exciting way to bag a bull elk is to get him in close, and the best way to do that is with a call. Confidence in your call is critical, because if you’re insecure about using your call there is a good chance you will spook elk. Have confidence in your calling ability and become just another elk in the herd where you are hunting. Find a call that works for you and not what works for some else. Think like an elk and do as elk do. Realism, rhythm, and volume control can make the difference between bringin’ them in or running them over the next ridge. And remember its not always about calling, it can be just patiently listening to the sounds around you and applying minimal calls, while practicing good woodsmenship, and stalking skills that could help you put that monster on the back of the truck.

By Michael Waddell

This is a warning to outdoor users about a potentially deadly biological event that could result from one’s curiosity to poke at and kick through scat from wolves, coyotes and foxes. Of course not everyone knowingly does this but many hunters, trappers and simply the curious, want to know what these animals have been eating.

Back in the end of November I gave you a link to a story, “Of Wolves and Worms”. That story introduced many of us to the subject of worms being found in wolves in the Greater Yellowstone area.

According to a new study out in the October issue of the Journal of Wildlife Diseases, three-millimeter-long tapeworms known as Echinococcus granulosus, are documented for the first time in gray wolves in Idaho and Montana. And the authors didn’t just find a few tapeworms here and there… turns out that of 123 wolf intestines sampled, 62 percent of the Idaho gray wolves and 63 percent of the Montana gray wolves were positive. (Ew!) The researchers wrote: “The detection of thousands of tapeworms per wolf was a common finding.” (Again… Ew!!) This leads to the interpretation that the E. granulosus parasite rate is fairly widespread and established in the Northern Rocky Mountain wolves.

There is discussion about how some think the worms ended up in the wolves in this region but the article tends to downplay any serious concerns people should have from coming in contact with these tapeworms and the eggs they leave behind.

In the comments section of the article, Will Graves, author of the book “Wolves in Russia: Anxiety Through the Ages“, left his thoughts on his own research discoveries about the dangers to humans of these parasites.

In the first paragraph in my letter to Mr. Bangs dated 3 October 1993 on the DEIS (Draft Environmental Impact Statement) which was titled “The Reintroduction of Gray Wolves to Yellowstone National Park and Central Idaho,” I warned about the damages and problems wolves would cause to Yellowstone and other areas by carrying and spreading parasites and diseases over larger areas. Some of these parasites are damaging not only to wild and domestic animals, but can also be dangerous to humans. One of these parasites is Echinococcous Granulosus and Echinococcus M. Since 1993 I have been working to tell people what I have learned from about 50 years of research on the characteristics, habits and behavior of Russian wolves. From that research I came to the conclusion that one of the most serious consequences of bring wolves into the US would be the wolves carrying and spreading around damaging/dangerous parasites and diseases. I did my best to explain this in my book titled, “Wolves in Russia – Anxiety Through the Ages” edited by Dr. Valerius Geist. Details about my book are in my web site: wolvesinrussia.com.

After several years effort, I finally recently obtained help from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Parasitic Research Center in Beltsville, MD. This research center will try to conduct research on the blood taken from wolves in our western states. Oneparasite they will be researching is to determine if wolves carry and spread the parasite Neospora Caninum around. It is established that coyotes and dogs carry this damaging parasite.

I remember that about two years ago there was a report about one wolf carrying Echinococcus Granulosus in Montana.

Much more research is needed about the danger wolves bring to our environment. Some of the parasites carried by wolves are dangerous to humans.(emphasis added)

Around this same time that Will Graves posted his comments, he contacted me by email and asked if I could somehow be of assistance to him in obtaining blood samples from wolves taken during the Idaho and Montana wolf hunts. The word went out quickly and hopefullyGraves gets what he needs to help him in his research. This can become extremely valuable information for all of us.

In the meantime, Dr. Valerius Geist, professor emeritus University of Calgary and Dr. Charles Kay, of Utah State University, who holds degrees in wildlife ecology, environmental studies and wildlife biology, exchanged thoughts on the discovery of worms in Yellowstone wolves in emails I received.

Well, Charles? What else is new? What did we warn about, how we were censored as alarmists………………………
And yes, a colleague assured us that all that is not a problem for us, but for some native types. Nothing to worry about, really. Remember how, early on, we put out a warning – do not kick dry wolf feces or poke about in such looking for evidence of food habits. Do not handle wolf feces as it will disturb the tiny Echinococcus eggs that float up like little dust cloud to envelop you, and you are very likely to ingest some of that “dust”. This know-how, which we older Canadian types carried away from our parasitogy lessons was poo-hood by some American colleagues. Wolves are after all, harmless! Remember the question we posed: is it really such a great idea completing ecosystems when the progression is herbivores, carnivores, finally diseases and parasites?

It is not my intention nor that of Drs. Geist and Kay to attempt to instill unnecessary fear in people but to educate, as it was back in the day before wolf reintroduction. There are very important lessons and warnings that all should heed and take into consideration when in the woods or maybe even in your own back yard.

Dr. Geist emailed me the other day and asked me if I would be kind enough to post this information so that anyone and everyone will be aware of the potential for some very serious health issues.

Urgent: could you make a point of it that now, that we know that the majority of wolves are infected with Echinococcus, that all hunters control their curiosity and not poke about in wolf or coyote feces to find out what these predators ate. these feces are saturated with tiny, lightweight Echinococcus eggs that rise like dust plume from the disturbed feces and envelop the poking hunter. If the air-born eggs are ingested, the an infection is possible, and having Echinococcus cysts grow inside oneself is not a desirable condition. Trust me!

He followed that up with more information about the dangers.

As to the pathogenicity of Echinococcus granulosus: Yes, I noticed that Foayt, leaning on Raup’s research in Alaska, toned down the dangers from this northern form. My understanding based on what we learned from an old, experienced parasitologist at the University of British Columbia is that it’s nothing to fool around with. It’s serious! In my career as a biologist in touch with the north, I have heard nothing else. I have not, however, done a recent literature search. Foayte’s assessment may be on even though it conflicts with mine. Either way, getting an Echinococcus cyst of any kind is no laughing matter as it can grow not only on the liver or the lungs, but also in the brain. And then it’s fatal.

There is however, another much more alarming angle. Echinococcus multilocularis is a nightmare, and much more virulent than Echinococcus granulosus of any strain. We cannot encapsulate this cyst, and it grows and buds off like a cancer infecting different parts of the body incessantly. Were some of the wolves infected with multilocularis? Coyotes and foxes carry it and it has been spreading. Do canids in Idaho, Montana, etc. have it? It’s found in Alberta. Regardless, now is the time to send out an SOS to ALL outdoor users. Hold your curiosity in check, do not poke into the feces of wolves, coyotes and foxes. If you do you will release clouds of Echinococcus eggs which will envelop you, and you may ingest the eggs, bring the eggs home and endanger your family. This is nothing new to me and I have lived with this constraint on my curiosity for over 40 years. This is just a know how that maintains your personal and your family’s safety. Also, never feed uncooked offal to your dog as it may become infected with Echinococcus and infect you and your family. Echinococcus cysts love to be in lung and liver, and if consumed by dogs you have a health hazard on your hands. And such cysts now grow in deer and elk where you live. Somebody should take a second look searching out Echinococcus multilocularis.

You and I probably have no idea in the world whether these worms exist in the woods we hunt, trap, hike, etc. but good advice given by Dr. Geist should tell us it’s not something we should mess around with. Squelch the curiosity to dig in the poop and just assume there could be hidden danger.

I want to take a moment to thank Will Graves, Dr. Val Geist and Dr. Charles Kay for caring enough about the rest of us to be willing to share their findings and experiences.

Eleven year old Chelsea, AL resident, Katie, went hunting for the 1st time on the Youth Hunt day (11/14/2009) and bagged a 10 point buck!

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As the old cliché goes, the look of pure joy on David’s face as he held his buck for pictures was priceless. For the first time in his 44 years he had finally been given the opportunity to hunt a trophy whitetail buck that scored higher than 100 B & C. To say the least, he was a very happy man!

Living in east Texas most of his adult life had restricted the potential of the bucks that David could hunt on his father-in-law’s or uncle’s farms. The area of the Lone Star state around Crockett and Kenard just isn’t known as an area for consistently producing large mature deer. Because of the higher than normal hunting pressure, year round poaching problems and the small acreage of most properties in the area, any type of quality deer management program is all but impossible to implement, except in a high fence situation. Because of these and other factors, most hunters in the area have the attitude of “if it is brown it dies”, which eliminates the chances of most bucks surviving long enough to reach trophy status. So just where did David take his trophy buck, you are probably asking by now?

David and I have been hosting youth/women/minority shooting and hunting events together much longer than either of us can remember. While hosting these events we have been able to observe some pretty impressive animals over the years. However, because we agreed years ago that we would never shoot an animal while hosting one these events as we were there for the benefit of the participants and not ourselves, David has passed on several opportunities to harvest mature animals. So when Barry Smith of Antler Adventures in Kerrville, TX (830-285-0229) called and offered me the chance to harvest both a mature trophy and a cull buck on one of the ranches owned by Charlie Whelan, I knew just who was going to hunt the mature buck. And based upon the reputation of both Barry and Charlie I knew that there was a good chance that David would have the opportunity to take a really impressive trophy.

The Sunday after Christmas 2004 found us on our way to Kerrville, TX. Now for those of you who do not know Kerrville is the center of one the better known hunting regions in central Texas. Not only are the hills for miles around surrounded with an abundance of native game such as whitetail deer, turkey, feral hogs and various varmints; it is also the Mecca of the exotic wildlife hunting industry in the southern US. Consequently, I love to hunt this region because you never know just what you might come across. For example on my last hunt there on Thanksgiving I had whitetail, coyote, axis, fallow, sika, red deer, blackbuck, elk, eland, zebra, feral rams and a small heard of aoudad cross the wide valley my stand overlooked. And this was on a low fenced ranch!

Of the various Whelan ranch properties, we were scheduled to hunt the home place. Ironically the western edge of this property is now the eastern boundary of the Kerrville city limits. It wasn’t always so, but progress moves on they tell me.

You enter the ranch along a well manicured drive that leads to a beautiful hill country white, limestone rock house that sits on a ledge overlooking a small, deep blue lake. Our first view of this vista was the reflection of a fiery orange sunset that reflected off of the lake and lit up the house as though with a rosy glow. Across the lake was the two story barn/hunter’s quarters made of the same limestone and rustic cedar.

To say that we were impressed by the accommodations would be an understatement. Let’s just say that Charlie has taken every step possible to make sure his hunters are comfortable. Heck, the place is nicer than many every day homes that I have seen. There are two bedrooms, a complete kitchen, den with a large screen TV and a large bathroom with an oversized shower stall, which is nice for those of us that are a bit bigger than most. All of this is furnished in the old west motif.

If you have ever been to this region of the state then you know that it enjoys a very dense deer population. It is not unusual to have 15-30+ deer coming into your hunting area at a time. Such a large herd can take its toll on the countryside, so a well managed ranch will have a herd management program in place to maintain the herd numbers at a level that the vegetation can easily sustain. The Whelan ranches are such an operation. Through selective herd culling, the introduction of new bloodlines and other sound management practices, only the best of the bucks are allowed to pass on their genes to the next generation. After many years of this type of management, the Whelan ranch deer herd offers the hunter a fine selection of trophy bucks to pursue.

The buzzing of the alarm clock came all too early the next morning, 5:00 am to be exact. David and I were greeted by a brisk morning breeze blowing around the hills in the 30+ degree temperatures, so we dressed in our warm clothes and ventured out to meet Barry.

Barry had chosen a rather secluded box stand for us to hunt this morning. It sits just off the road on the highest hill on the ranch. It was a perfect location, if seclusion was what we were seeking. The only negatives were that the roadway offered a very limited view of the surrounding area while its funneling effect seemed to amplify the force of the breezes blowing over the hilltop by a factor of 10.

As is a standard practice throughout this part of the state, Barry had corned the road we were watching on our way in to the stand. If he had not done so then it is unlikely that we could have gotten the deer to stop long enough for us to get a good look at them in the confined area we watching.

Right at grey up the first doe appeared in the early morning fog. Her silent appearance in the middle of the road helped us to understand why the whitetail family has earned the nickname of the “grey ghost”. One moment the road was empty the next moment a full grown doe was standing there eating corn. And I swear we were all awake and watching the road when it happened.

Within fifteen more minutes there were 31 deer standing in the road from within 35 to 90 yards of our hiding spot, several of them were respectable bucks, just not the type we were after. About 30 minutes later, just as the sun appeared in all of his glory, the object of our hunt made a partial appearance, of sorts. I say partial appearance because all we could see was his head, neck and antlers. But it was enough to wake us all up with the sudden rush of adrenaline.

David slowly raised his rifle into shooting position as we watched for the next 10 minutes, hoping that the buck would finally step out in the road and provide him with a shot. As though it was reading our thoughts, the buck stepped into the road and turned broadside. David made ready to shoot while Barry and I watched through our binoculars. However, just as David began to let his breath out in preparation for the shot, a doe stepped in behind the buck. Not wanting to risk wounding her David decided wisely and held his shot.

When the doe had fed on by and the buck was broadside to us once again David raised his rifle and prepared to shoot just when a small fork horned buck stepped in front of the bigger buck. Again, David had to withhold his shot for fear of wounding the wrong animal. This cat and mouse game continued the rest of the morning as each time David prepared to shoot another deer would step into his line of fire. One of these times I swear David was so wrapped up in trying to weave his shot through the herd in front of us that I believe he actually quit breathing for a spell because when I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention he exhaled so loudly that those deer closest to our stand heard him and shied off a short distance, snorting in alarm at the strange noise.

As luck would have it, all we could do is watch as the big boy finally moved off into the roadside brush without giving David an ethical shot. Somewhat disappointed we headed for the jeep while Barry suggested that he give us a tour of the ranch before heading into town for breakfast. At this point in time, none of us knew how significant this chance decision would be.

After riding up and down the hills that make up this portion of the ranch for about an hour or so, Barry and I both spotted the object of our hunt at the same time. He stood about 125 yards up the side of a fairly steep hill. In the recent past the hillside had been cleared of the cedar and underbrush that dominate the countryside so there was nothing between us and him to hide behind. However, I guess the buck thought that we couldn’t see him as he stood out in the open, just in front of the brush line. Another five yards back and the leaves and limbs would have protected him from our view.

Both of us yelled at David at the same time. It didn’t matter as David was already in the process of exiting the jeep. As Barry and I anxiously waited he leaned over the hood of the jeep trying to get a good resting place. Then shaking his head, David whispered I don’t have good rest and proceeded to walk toward a small oak tree about 20 yards away. My thought was, “well you’ve blown it now David, There is no way that buck is going to stand there and wait for you to reach that tree”. But you know what? That is exactly what that old denizen of the forest did. Through my binoculars I swear I could see the buck follow David’s progress toward the oak or so it almost seemed as he turned his head slightly to keep both David and the jeep in sight.

By the time David reached the tree and took a rest from which to make his shot both Barry and I were whispering under our breath, “Come on David! Hurry up! Don’t let him get away we might not see him again.”

The shot came as surprise to both of us. Luckily we still had our eyes on the buck with our binoculars and were able to see the pink cloud that David’s shot hitting home caused before the buck bolted up hill. The first words out of David’s mouth were, “Did I hit him? Did I hit him?” Barry replied that it looked like a good hit to him but that we had better get up hill to find out for sure.

As Barry is both younger and skinner then David or myself he made it up hill to the spot where the buck had been standing first. However, even though it had looked like a perfect heart/lung shot we couldn’t find any blood on the ground. David moaned in disappointment as we continued to scour the ground for some sign of his trophy buck.

It was at this time that I looked up hill in the direction the buck had taken when I saw him laying on the ground at the top of the clearing, about 80 yards away from us. I pointed up hill while asking Barry and David if they saw anything in that direction. Both replied in the negative and continued to search the surrounding area. Realizing that the situation presented me with the opportunity to play one of the many practical jokes on David as was our habit of doing over the years, I told them I was going to slowly climb the hill looking for some sort of sign. So I made my way up hill toward David’s buck stopping every few yards to look back at my hunting partners, neither of which glanced in my direction.

Soon I had reached the buck which lay on his belly with his head pointing up hill. All I could think was, “Man this buck is a lot bigger than the 140 B & C that Barry thought he was.” I just smiled, happy for my friend who had finally taken the buck of his dreams. I hollered back down to them and asked if they had found anything yet. Both replied in the negative so I responded that I was going to rest on this rock I was standing next to. They both glanced my way but neither mentioned that the rock looked out of place. So I sat down on the hindquarters of David’s deer and watched them at work. And watched them at work, and watched them at work and watched them at work for about another 30 to 45 minutes.

Then David made some kind of comment about his lazy friend not wanting to help him look for his deer as they had still not found any blood sign but weren’t willing to give up the task at hand. So I nonchalantly reached over and held his deer’s head up by the antlers and said something like, “You mean the friend who is too lazy to help you look for this?” I thought Barry and David both were going to beat the devil out of me.

Our conversation went something like this, “How long have you been sitting on him?” David asked as he ran up the hill to secure his prize. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe 30 minutes or so.” “You mean you knew where he was the whole time?” “Yep!” “Why you little @#&$, I ought to kick your behind!” as he playfully shoved me off of his deer. We both broke into teeth baring grins and I began pounding him on the back in congratulations. The look of joy on his face made the whole trip worthwhile. With Barry and Charlie’s help David’s dream of harvesting a mature trophy buck had finally come true.

David’s buck was tall nine-pointer in the 152+ gross B & C class. It has 6 inch bases, carried its mass all the way out and had very long tines all around. A great trophy for a great friend.

By Blaine Cardilli

As a 48 year old hunter with more experiences than I can begin to remember, it’s strange that I never gave “hunt parks” or “game ranches” a second look until now. Like most, I’ve always enjoyed the challenges of free range hunting and must have gotten caught up in the “We hunt 100% wild, 100% fair chase” mode that is so prevalent in todays hunting circles. Now don’t get me wrong; I still prefer hunting the wide open forests and fields of this beautiful country, hands down, and as a member of the prostaff with “Northwoods Adventures TV” I have some great and varied opportunities nationwide, but at least now I can understand the allure of a true hunt park after having finally experienced one. Enter ‘Peaslee Mountain‘ and owner Forest Peaslee, of Jefferson, Maine.

I got a chance to meet Forest after reading an advertisement about his property and he gave me and my hunting partner, Orrin Parker, the grand tour, taking special care to answer the myriad of questions we both had and how the park actually worked compared to others. Sure, they have high fences surrounding the ranch, and yes you can drive up the main entrance and see dozens of animals roaming the pens but it’s nothing like I thought it would be, believe me. The facility is divided into two distinctly different factions: the hunt park itself and the game ranch.

‘Peaslee Mountain Hunt Park’ offers the trophy experience of a lifetime and is among the premier hunt parks of the east coast. They offer 3-day fully guided hunts for red stags, fallow bucks, plains bison and bull elk or one-day, guided meat hunts. Rustic cabin lodging and full meals are all inclusive. The ‘Rocky Mountain Ranch’ section is home of the Maine Buffalo Company which raises the finest grade of buffalo meat in the east and here they have red deer, elk, and fallow that are available as breeding stock. Group safari tours and cabin rentals are also available upon request. The hunt park runs from September through March and consists of a 400 acre plot of land that is anything but tame. The terrain is very uneven and rolling, and is made up primarily of spruce and fir thickets sparsely broken up with hardwood pockets, and there is a natural stream, a marshy swamp, and some very rocky hard-to-climb ridges. Normally, a certain number of untamed animals, (20-40), are introduced into the area about 6-8 weeks before the season, and are left to get acquainted with their new surroundings, without any human interaction. In an area that large it doesn’t take long for them to become reclusive and shy, especially once the hunting season starts. And in 2008 Forest plans to have even fewer animals in there at any given time, yet they’ll be more trophy-class in size and antler spread.

Orrin and I saw the hunt park immediately as a tremendous opportunity for our boys, Ryan and Lance, ages 10 and 13 respectively, and Forest couldn’t have been happier to discuss plans for a hunt. We decided we would do a “meat hunt”, which meant the boys would be going after red deer does so we got our gear together and headed over after work one evening. We were met by Forest, his brother Dannie, who would also be our guide, and Charly Calpo, our hostess and cook for the next 24 hours. After checking out our rooms in the beautiful main lodge, Charly sat us down for an incredible meal of elk roast, trimmed out with boiled carrots, potatoes and onions, gravy, and homemade biscuits. We ate until belts had to be loosened and then ate some more and the kids loved the spread. Charly followed it up with a homemade apple pie topped with French vanilla ice cream.

After our gourmet meal, Dannie sat down with us and prepped us for the hunt. Apparently, this would not be an easy one at all and he pulled no punches as he informed us just how hard it was really going to be. He said that there were only four mature red deer does left in the park, and that after being hunted extremely hard for the past six months, they were very reclusive. After reminding us that they also had 400 heavily wooded acres to roam, he told us that a typical wild whitetail hunt would probably be easier than what we were about to face. Still, the boys retained their excitement and even joked about who would get to shoot first, since Dannie was planning to track and stalk with us. Before he left, Dannie turned to us and very stoically reiterated that he would do his very best for the boys but the simple fact remained that this late into the end of the season and with so few animals left, we would be lucky to get a shot opportunity at one doe, let alone two; the whole premise being that we were only there for a one day meat hunt, and not a trophy hunt.

The next morning found us waking up to the bustling sounds and smells of Charly cooking breakfast in the lodge kitchen. She arrived at 5:30am and by 6:00 we were all sitting down enjoying a huge mess of fresh eggs and a big platter of thickly sliced bacon, along with juice, milk, and hot coffee. Dannie arrived shortly after and we got all our gear together as he made some final adjustments to the days schedule as we stood around the table. Since the woods were deep with snow and the past few days and nights had seen thawing and re-freezing, Dannie felt so many of us would simply be too noisy so he planned to set us up in separate stand sites and do a little moving around on his own in an attempt to get the deer motivated. As we left, Charly handed us each a brown paper sack she said included lunches and snacks for the day.

Once at the park, a drive of some 20 minutes up the road from the lodge, Dannie left Ryan and me in the truck while he took Orrin and Lance in to a box blind set up near a spruce thicket to wait and watch. When he returned he led us down some winding tote roads and about 15 minutes later, dropped us off at a trail head where we nestled into the base of a few trees and tried to stay warm. It was close to 8:00am and when we left the lodge the temperature was a frigid 10 degrees above zero and here we were sitting in on the fringe of a forest, in the open, with a biting 15 mph wind whipping at us, causing our ears to burn and our eyes to water. Ryan was a trooper through it all and though very cold and shivering, managed to sit an entire two hours in that spot until Dannie appeared to see if we had seen anything. We hadn’t so he decided to take us about 400 yards to see how Orrin and Lance were doing.

When we got there, we found them extremely cold as well, though they said they did have an encounter with a solitary buffalo that wandered through. We talked about the possibilities and where Dannie thought the deer might be and then he proceeded to take Ryan and me to another spot for a second set up, while Orrin and Lance stayed put. To make a long story short the next couple hours came and went without incident except that we got even colder if that were at all possible. Ryan and I broke open our lunch sacks around 11:00am and ate sandwiches and snacks atop a rocky bluff under the partial shelter of a group of fir trees overlooking a small trail crossing. It was still a welcome sight when Dannie appeared to take us to our third set up of the day, as sitting in one spot in frigid temperatures was testing even my mettle, let alone little Ryan’s.

This time we followed him about 300 yards to a slightly open hardwood ridge intermixed with evergreens, and listened intently as he outlined the new scenario. It appeared the deer were moving yet were too spooky to settle into a discernible pattern, due to the crunchy snow packs so he thought it best we position ourselves over the knoll he pointed out to our left, and that we find a spot where we could see the two trails coming together and get set up. He had already repositioned Lance and his dad over the opposite ridge and said that he hoped he could kick up the deer in an old fashioned driving maneuver by circling around to where he thought the deer might be. With that said, he disappeared and Ryan and I made our way to the wood line.

After surveying the situation I picked a likely spot just inside some low hanging fir branches and was in the process of getting us both ready when Ryan suddenly announced he saw antlers coming through the woods. Sure enough I looked up and saw a red deer doe leading several other does, a stag, and even a bull elk into the trail some 50-60 yards up, apparently having been jumped by our guide. Ryan, though he’d never shot anything in his life before, not even a bird or squirrel, was calmer than I was as I nervously passed him his rifle. I had prepared him for a broadside shot but as the doe approached to within 30 yards she pegged our movement in the woods, turned to us head on and started stamping her foot as we moved and whispered back and forth.

I managed to coach Ryan into putting his scope on her lower chest and I heard myself telling him to shoot, like it was somebody else talking. He hesitated and I could see the doe was getting ready to wheel off so I told him once again to shoot. With the report of the rifle, I saw a tuft of hair take off and the doe bolted to the left in a classic reaction to a heart shot. She was down and out in seconds, not moving, and Ryan lost it as he realized he had just taken his very first animal, and a big deer at that! As we were trying to calm ourselves down and regroup, we heard Lance fire about a minute and a half later. Dannie quickly appeared and the congratulations, hand shaking, and patting on the backs began as Ryan recounted his story. After taking five minutes to absorb everything, we picked up our gear and went to meet Lance and Orrin over the next ridge.

Upon arriving to where they were waiting, Lance told us his story. They had heard Ryan’s shot and braced themselves as they saw the deer coming through the woods, but when they cleared the trail and were within 60 yards, both the stag and the elk were in front, completely blocking the does with bodies and antlers. As Lance shouldered his .30-06 he got a brief window of opportunity and squeezed off the only shot he could take, which ended up hitting one doe in the hind quarter, but at a fairly decent quartering-away angle, meaning the bullet had gone up into the vitals. She buckled but recovered, and followed the rest of the group over the ridge.

We were all nervous wrecks except for Dannie who calmly took out his lunch and began to eat, informing us that we needed to give the doe time to bed down before going after her. We agreed and once Dannie thought enough time had passed, he motioned for us to follow him as he started tracking her. There was blood in the snow but not much, and after we trekked up and over a rocky bluff, some 200+ yards, Dannie stopped us and decided it best to formulate a new plan. He sent Orrin and Lance back down and around to near where Ryan’s deer lay by means of a half circle approach, while directing Ryan and I to take the adjacent trail and simply walk it in an attempt to maybe jump her up towards Lance. Dannie would remain on her track and watch for movement.

After executing the new plan, Ryan and I weren’t 75 yards down the tote road when we heard Lance shoot. We saw Dannie inside the woods who yelled to us that he could see the doe lying down in the woods up ahead. She had gone exactly where Dannie had hoped and he had expertly placed Lance in the right position. When we all met up over his deer, an unbelievably huge doe, they recounted what had happened. Orrin had seen the doe coming through the woods about 75 yards away and he quickly led Lance a few feet ahead and got him in position with his gun up. The doe made it to a clearing and stopped to look around and Lance dropped her where she stood with a perfect shot through the right front shoulder.

Much celebration was had and phone calls placed by us, as Dannie began the arduous task of hauling out the deer with his tractor and field dressing them, with help from the boys of course, and when all was said and done no one could have been happier than the three of them. He had indeed forewarned us of an extremely difficult hunt and after six long hours of hunting under the toughest of conditions, we had to agree. For the kids, this was clearly going to be remembered as one of the most exciting hunts of their lives, especially Ryan, who had just taken his very first deer. And this is clearly not just a place to bring your kids; ‘Peaslee Mountain Hunt Park’ has the very best to offer young and old alike and as Orrin and I both found out, we experienced a hunt that day as hard if not harder than any whitetail hunt we had ever been on under normal “fair chase” conditions. We would recommend this place to anyone in the east who simply can’t afford a Midwest hunt but would like to experience one in as wild a setting as possible. And the plus side is that most Midwest outfits won’t guarantee you a trophy for the money you spend, but Forest will, if a trophy hunt is what you’re looking for, and you book the time. One of Forest’s goals is to show the public that even a place this far east, (namely Maine), is very capable of putting on a great trophy elk hunt as a viable alternative if a Midwestern hunt is out of the question, as it may be for certain individuals, due to time constraints.

We took many photos of the kids and their deer and even videotaped the entire experience. After leaving our new friends behind, we made our way to the local meat processor who does all our game and dropped them off. Ryan’s tipped the scale at 133 lbs and Lance’s weighed in at a whopping 152 lbs. Though Orrin and I have many opportunities to hunt deer, bear, wild boar and other game all across the country, I think we’ll make plans each season to take the boys back to see Dannie, Forest and Charly, and we might even want to try bow hunting a world class elk ourselves sometime, now that we know it’s definitely no “give away” hunt!

For more information about ‘Peaslee Mountain Hunt Park’ and ‘Rocky Mountain Ranch’, check out their website at www.peasleehuntpark.com and if you make plans to go, be sure and tell Forest that Blaine sent you!