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Thread: Non Fly Fishing, An Antelope Story I am Working On...

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
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    PNW
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    1,193

    Default Non Fly Fishing, An Antelope Story I am Working On...

    Not sure if any of you had the chance to read a few of my publications in past years, but I haven't picked up a pen since late 2015. Felt inspired after an adventure and have been working on this. Please let me know what you thing. Something dies at the end, so if that's not your bag, click the back button. Thank you!


    No Place to Hide


    They are in a perfect spot. Finally, some terrain to hide behind. Sitting in the low sage I watch.

    Three blown stalks today. This is starting to feel impossible. Either the wind switches, an unseen doe picks me off, or I come over a hill in the wrong spot. Always just in time for them to see me before springing off through the sagebrush and cactus.

    No one ever kills by loading up and going home, so give myself the mental pep talk that i think most hunters have to. “It only takes 10 seconds. One opportunity, keep going. Enough time in the field and it will happen.”

    I watch for a good while, they are sitting tight. A group of about 10 antelope are slowly meandering around a dust wallow on the top of a softly sloped rolling hill. At the top of the wallow, is the key to making a stalk. The wallow is a slight depression, rimmed by a few foot tall vertical cut. It's about the size of a small swimming pool, and I think it just might be the cover I need.

    Long loop around to get behind them. The way they are facing I am going to have to walk around the entire unit. The small mountain in the center of the unit will hopefully conceal my approach. It might just get me where I need to be.

    Crouched and moving slow. Making my way down the hill towards the base of the mountain. I stop one more time before I lose line of sight to watch. Haven't moved at all. Perfect, feels like I have all the time in the world. No need to make haste. No need to get my heart rate up and make unnecessary noise.

    Arriving at the base of the mountain, the middle pass strikes as a good route, so I climb. Only about 400 feet to the top. Cresting through the pass, a young mule deer buck and a group of does catch my movement. They stare. I can’t. Maybe it’s superstition but any time I'm getting glowered at I have to look anywhere but back at them.

    Please don’t go right. Please don’t go to the right. That’s straight toward the antelope. After a 5 minute stare down, they bust left, out of sight and away from the scanning eyes that I am doing my best to elude.

    Sitting on the crest, looking through my binos. I check again. They haven’t moved. Still bedded under the cut face in the wallow. I tell myself it’s time to go. My heart picks up speed and hands start a slight shiver. Happens every time.

    Dropping off the top of the mountain I find myself in a giant flat. Close to 600 yards or so of wide open flat ground between me, and where I need to be. There’s no place to hide. Moving slow, glassing every twenty steps or so.

    Kneeling to get a good look through my glass. Movement. A doe stands up and starts to feed. Frozen. No place to hide. It felt like hours.

    Legs aching, arms heavy, neck throbbing I sit. In the open sage and dry grass. She makes a small circle and beds down. Not where I want her to, but she is facing away at a quartering angle.

    Still stuck, she sits still. She isn’t moving. Either a move is going to work, or it isn’t. Feet flat on the ground again, move slowly to the left. A small hill offers just enough terrain to get out of her periphery. 150 yards in the open feels like a mile. Her form fades into the golden shine of the prairie.

    Under 100 yards now. Pull an arrow from the quiver, knock it to the bowstring. Moving slowly now. Under 50 yards.

    Prongs reveal through the grass. Under 30 yards now. Heart is racing.

    The wind slides over the back of my neck. Stomach sinks. The small buck that I can see stands and is nervous. He turns and sees me.

    Busted. The group flies to their feet, sprinting out of the wallow. I stand with the range-finder ready. They all stop. There’s a large buck in the group.

    I click a range on him, it reads 75 yards. He’s still not moving. Roll my sight to 75 yards. Hasn’t moved. Click my release on, draw. My pin settles. The shot breaks. My bow hand reactively grabs the grip. It’s a bad arrow.

    The arrow hits back. He jumps at the impact. The other antelope bust out, all but him. Raising my binos, i see a good sign. He is bleeding, heavy and consistent. He lays down as i crouch and watch. Heart racing, hands shaking. The adrenaline dump that happens in situations like this.

    This is taking too long. He has been bedded for a few minutes. Do i get up and try to put another arrow in him? He is suffering. I begin to move slowly toward him. His head begins to drop. With valiant effort, not wanting to give up he tries to stand. He lifts his front off the ground and falls to the side. Still. The wind in the sage and my heartbeat is the only thing breaking the silence.

    That sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. He deserved better.

    A slow walk toward a lifeless form. It is finished.

    My hands slide over his body, stiff short hair. Black gnarled horns with white tips.

    Death is not something that is to be taken lightly. We all take from this world in one way or another. As hunters, we choose to take from nature directly. Death is part of life. Remorse, excitement and gratitude.

    This is why I am a hunter.

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Feb 2005
    Location
    North Highlands, Ca.
    Posts
    2,220

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    Like it Tayler, like it a lot. You get out the feeling that we hunters have after the kill. There's been way too much of the 'whack 'em and stack 'em. Get it published and I'll buy it.
    Ed
    Elwood: It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark... and we're wearing sunglasses.

    Jake: Hit it.

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Jan 2005
    Location
    Sebastian, FL, USA, Earth
    Posts
    23,837

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    In the 1960s our outdoor fishing and hunting magazines where wonderful inspiring articles that inspired the young mind to out there.
    Bill Kiene (Boca Grande)

    567 Barber Street
    Sebastian, Florida 32958

    Fly Fishing Travel Consultant
    Certified FFF Casting Instructor

    Email: billkiene63@gmail.com
    Cell: 530/753-5267
    Web: www.billkiene.com

    Contact me for any reason........
    ______________________________________

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Sep 2007
    Location
    Davis
    Posts
    756

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    Tayler - Very impressive writing. I will take you seriously when you say you want to know what I think. Keep in mind I am not a hunter or a writer and I am not anti hunting so don’t misinterpret what I say. I have probably gone too far with my comments but here they are.

    It seems like the story is really about what is going on in your head. The stalk details are great but with each one I want to know more about what you are thinking. After three blown stalks you had to fight through self doubt to try again. It seems like that would continue with each step in the stalk. Am I doing it right or am I going to blow this one also? Am I a stalk blowing loser or a winner that is worthy of getting a antelope? Should I be doing this totally differently? The long freezes when you are spotted are great but should feel longer. What are you looking at when the deer are looking at you?

    I really want to know more about your remorse and how you rationalize what you are doing. You got into the remorse and the sick feeling in your stomach but I felt like you did not go all the way with it. The most interesting part of the story is why you have remorse and how you deal with it.

    What happened with the bad arrow? Did you almost miss? Is that why there was an excessively slow death? Was the slow death your fault? Should you have prepared better? The wait for death must have been agonizing and full of guilt if you felt you were at fault but that did not come through as strongly as I think it felt. Do some soul searching about guilt, remorse, your connection to your prey and your place in the natural world and lay it all out there. Artists need to bare their souls. That is what connects with the audience. If you put your genuine feelings out there people know it is real and respond. All the best books I have read are about people recounting the crap they went through in their lives and they do not hold back.

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