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Dr.Rob · October 21, 1999, 05:39 PM

wow you guys I feel so flattered...

Um ACTUALLY DC there was this old mexican guy I met on an elk hunt in colorado:

The mexican: His skin was the color of tobacco stains and the leather of his gunbelt threatened to break under the strain of his enormous belly. In his fancy leather six shooter rig is a ruger single six.. and twenty-four 22 lr bullets ride in teeny tiny shell loops. It was 40 degrees and he was wearing nothing but a flannel shirt and jeans and his trademark stained straw cowboy hat. he was friendly, courteous.Thinks your truck won't cross the river he forded to get here. Two days later you see the tire tracks going in and out of a beaver pond six feet deep and shake your head in disbelief. Plastic jesus on the dash board, 30-30 in the gunrack of his 2 wheel drive high lift truck. Not a lick of orange on him. Nice fellow though.

Moses: He's the old man wrapped up in a blanket in a chair overlooking a long sleepy meadow of succulent grass. He has a scoped weatherby rifle and a full thermos and a whistful look in his eye. He tell you his "boys" left himthere to watch while they stomp around after them elk in the woods. He's old and frail but tough. You run into his "boys" later in the day, both of which are in their 60's. You promise yourself as long as dad can hold a rifle you will drive him into the woods every year.

Ren and Stimpy: You see these guys every year.. you consider hunting with them every tome but something holds you back. Their truck is a two wheel drive 73 ford with wyoming plates on the front and colorado plates on the rear. Both are of course expired. One has glasses so thick he can't read a map the other posesses the eyesight of a bird of prey. One is fat the other thin. They are complete opposites.You have run into thier truck late at night , stumbling out of the woods in a blinding snowstorm... they of course gave you a ride back to camp.. but only after subjecting you to a concoction they called "road mix" to take off the chill. (road mix .. take what ever left over booze you have, insert into translucent plastic canteen, leave on dash board and drive nasty 4wd logging roads at gran prix speed) They tell you as you pull up to camp it was jack daniels and peach schnapps. It wasn't bad. Ren and stimpy can be counted to be looking for you if you are lost.

Roy: you are having lunch on the last day of the hunt and a truck pulls up and warns you an old man will be coming up the trail. "if he falls off put him back on the horse, it knows the way home". An hour later,Roy shows up, a man between 50 and 90 with hands as soft as rawhide and no weapon in sight. Orange cover on his cowboy hat, red wool plaid coat. Horse as old as he is. He's calling this year done. He is of course sitting backwards in the saddle and resting a can of beer on the ass of the horse he is riding. You chat for a while and roy reaches into his coat and takes a LONG pull off a bottle of rot gut and chases to with a sip of brew. He looks over his shoulder as his horses's ear flickers. The horse returns to standing absolutely still. He tells stories for the better part of an hour and offers you some of his bottle.. you decline cause after all.. you are still gonna hunt, right? Roy finally rides off into the sunset, backwards on his horse toasting you with a can of beer. And it dawns on you.. that's what this hunting stuff is all about after all.

The indian guide: He's a friend of your dad's His 30-30 has brass beads in the stock and he has eyes like no one you have ever met.You are walking along an old logging road when you realize he is no longer beside you. You turn to see him ministering over a pile of elk bones, you feel its best to let him alone. Suddenly you hear a shot and you look behind you .. there he is standing on the logging trail with a smoking rifle. See anything?? "four elk.. up there.. in that aspen grove" You look up the hill 400 YARDS up the hill!!!! you say "was it a bull or a cow?" "Bull" he says, "shot him in the neck, shook his head and laughed at me" you go up the hill and sure enough at 400 yards uhill, in a dense aspen grove BEHIND a bush you find a blood trail. You look back at the brass beads and iron sights on his gun. You track all day and night over hill and dale. Over rocks over snow on your hands and knees looking for individual drops of blood on leaves and grass. He tracks where there are no tracks. He tracks where there is no blood. You are exhausted and pissed off when you reach the river the elk have crossed and its getting dark and the indian guide says to you "we'll get him next year". You scowl in disbelief. You tell your dad the story and he remarks... oh the indian was a green beret sniper. You think back on the magical feats of the past day.. and begin to realize maybe its not all indian tricks... but still you wonder. Years later you realize you learned a lot on that day....

Sometimes when i think of these stories/antecdotes i get a little misty eyed.. hunting and shooting are a lot of fun but also they have taught me a lot of lessons about life. Iv'e made a lot of friends, met a lot of nice and helpful folks in the woods, some ODD ones and a few i really didn't care for much. But that's how life is I guess.

hoping to keep the humor flowing,

Dr.Rob

[This message has been edited by Dr.Rob (edited October 22, 1999).]

October 21, 1999, 05:39 PM	#12
Dr.Rob Staff Alumnus Join Date: July 28, 1999 Location: Denver Posts: 2,454	wow you guys I feel so flattered... Um ACTUALLY DC there was this old mexican guy I met on an elk hunt in colorado: The mexican: His skin was the color of tobacco stains and the leather of his gunbelt threatened to break under the strain of his enormous belly. In his fancy leather six shooter rig is a ruger single six.. and twenty-four 22 lr bullets ride in teeny tiny shell loops. It was 40 degrees and he was wearing nothing but a flannel shirt and jeans and his trademark stained straw cowboy hat. he was friendly, courteous.Thinks your truck won't cross the river he forded to get here. Two days later you see the tire tracks going in and out of a beaver pond six feet deep and shake your head in disbelief. Plastic jesus on the dash board, 30-30 in the gunrack of his 2 wheel drive high lift truck. Not a lick of orange on him. Nice fellow though. Moses: He's the old man wrapped up in a blanket in a chair overlooking a long sleepy meadow of succulent grass. He has a scoped weatherby rifle and a full thermos and a whistful look in his eye. He tell you his "boys" left himthere to watch while they stomp around after them elk in the woods. He's old and frail but tough. You run into his "boys" later in the day, both of which are in their 60's. You promise yourself as long as dad can hold a rifle you will drive him into the woods every year. Ren and Stimpy: You see these guys every year.. you consider hunting with them every tome but something holds you back. Their truck is a two wheel drive 73 ford with wyoming plates on the front and colorado plates on the rear. Both are of course expired. One has glasses so thick he can't read a map the other posesses the eyesight of a bird of prey. One is fat the other thin. They are complete opposites.You have run into thier truck late at night , stumbling out of the woods in a blinding snowstorm... they of course gave you a ride back to camp.. but only after subjecting you to a concoction they called "road mix" to take off the chill. (road mix .. take what ever left over booze you have, insert into translucent plastic canteen, leave on dash board and drive nasty 4wd logging roads at gran prix speed) They tell you as you pull up to camp it was jack daniels and peach schnapps. It wasn't bad. Ren and stimpy can be counted to be looking for you if you are lost. Roy: you are having lunch on the last day of the hunt and a truck pulls up and warns you an old man will be coming up the trail. "if he falls off put him back on the horse, it knows the way home". An hour later,Roy shows up, a man between 50 and 90 with hands as soft as rawhide and no weapon in sight. Orange cover on his cowboy hat, red wool plaid coat. Horse as old as he is. He's calling this year done. He is of course sitting backwards in the saddle and resting a can of beer on the ass of the horse he is riding. You chat for a while and roy reaches into his coat and takes a LONG pull off a bottle of rot gut and chases to with a sip of brew. He looks over his shoulder as his horses's ear flickers. The horse returns to standing absolutely still. He tells stories for the better part of an hour and offers you some of his bottle.. you decline cause after all.. you are still gonna hunt, right? Roy finally rides off into the sunset, backwards on his horse toasting you with a can of beer. And it dawns on you.. that's what this hunting stuff is all about after all. The indian guide: He's a friend of your dad's His 30-30 has brass beads in the stock and he has eyes like no one you have ever met.You are walking along an old logging road when you realize he is no longer beside you. You turn to see him ministering over a pile of elk bones, you feel its best to let him alone. Suddenly you hear a shot and you look behind you .. there he is standing on the logging trail with a smoking rifle. See anything?? "four elk.. up there.. in that aspen grove" You look up the hill 400 YARDS up the hill!!!! you say "was it a bull or a cow?" "Bull" he says, "shot him in the neck, shook his head and laughed at me" you go up the hill and sure enough at 400 yards uhill, in a dense aspen grove BEHIND a bush you find a blood trail. You look back at the brass beads and iron sights on his gun. You track all day and night over hill and dale. Over rocks over snow on your hands and knees looking for individual drops of blood on leaves and grass. He tracks where there are no tracks. He tracks where there is no blood. You are exhausted and pissed off when you reach the river the elk have crossed and its getting dark and the indian guide says to you "we'll get him next year". You scowl in disbelief. You tell your dad the story and he remarks... oh the indian was a green beret sniper. You think back on the magical feats of the past day.. and begin to realize maybe its not all indian tricks... but still you wonder. Years later you realize you learned a lot on that day.... Sometimes when i think of these stories/antecdotes i get a little misty eyed.. hunting and shooting are a lot of fun but also they have taught me a lot of lessons about life. Iv'e made a lot of friends, met a lot of nice and helpful folks in the woods, some ODD ones and a few i really didn't care for much. But that's how life is I guess. hoping to keep the humor flowing, Dr.Rob [This message has been edited by Dr.Rob (edited October 22, 1999).]