A Dream Hunt For Thanksgiving

Part One

Howdy Everyone! Hope your Thanksgiving was everything you wanted it to be. As always, thank you so much for subscribing and reading my stories. There will be some additional content coming including video now that my spinal cyst issues have been fixed and I can move around and think clearly. Be sure to hit the Like and Restack buttons. It helps a lot.

When we moved to Montana, Thanksgiving meant turkey, football, and calling family but it also reminded us to hurry up and get a deer or elk for the freezer. Thanksgiving weekend signaled the end of big game season so instead of walking store aisles on Black Friday looking for deals, we were walking game trails looking for venison.

One year, back when Kerry and I were new to the area, my friend and mentor, Larry asked if I wanted to go elk hunting for the last three days of the season.

(If you don’t remember Larry, you can refresh your memory here. Be sure to sit and read all three parts! It’s Thanksgiving weekend and you need a break! The Box Part 1, The Box Part 2, The Box Part 3. )

Of course, I said yes. This was a dream come true! I had fantasized about a trip like this since I was a little kid at Thanksgiving reading my grandfather’s issues of Outdoor Life. We would take Larry’s two horses way up the Boulder River valley to Box Canyon where the road ended. From there we would saddle up and head out into the wilderness to look for an elk. All we needed was a place to stay. Neither of us wanted to go through the trouble of setting up a wall tent and wood stove. It would take up valuable hunting time. Fortunately, I knew a guy from church who would let us stay at a cabin for free. No running water or electricity and just a rickety outhouse but it had a good woodstove for heat and as a bonus, a fireplace in the living room where we could lay out our bedrolls on the floor and sleep comfortably.

Poor Larry did most of the packing since he had the equipment we needed. I felt guilty because my only contribution was helping Larry shoe the horses before the trip and being the camp cook. It took some time to get used to because normally I’m in charge of everything for a hunting or fishing trip, mostly because I don’t trust others to do it correctly.

I was astonished when I arrived the day after Thanksgiving with my bedroll and gear at o’dark thirty (that’s really early in the morning for you greenhorns), and he had everything loaded in his truck already. We went out in the pasture to catch the horses and loaded them into the hitched up trailer. After topping off our travel mugs with hot coffee, we headed out.

I’m not sure if Larry knew it at the time, but I was worried about my riding ability. I had taken some lessons from The Head Riding Instructor and rode around the ranch, but this was going to be different. Lots of snow, rough, steep trails with low tree branches waiting to sweep me out of the saddle with the possibility of crossing the river in between ice flows! Yes, I was concerned, but the excitement of an adventure pushed the worry out of my head. I was going elk hunting on horseback!

It had been snowing on and off for a few days, and I was worried Larry would call the whole thing off. I should have known better. In the past, this man worked in the woods logging. The weather did not stop work so why would it stop fun? The paved road heading up the valley was mostly bare of snow to my relief. At the end of the pavement, the snow, which had been just isolated flakes up to now, began to fall hard. Larry’s truck growled along in four-wheel drive and didn’t seem to notice the weight of the two horse trailer it was pulling. We crossed a bridge that I remembered signaled we were entering an open spot that could drift in. Sure enough, we heard snow dragging under the truck and we came to a slow-motion stop. Larry tried to back up to take another run to try and get through. Nothing doing. We were stuck.

“Yeah, I was afraid of that. Time to chain up before we get ourselves too dug in. You probably don’t know how to chain up tires, do you?” Larry said with a kind smile.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Good. Let me teach you something. This is why you carry your headlamp in your pocket!” He pulled the elastic headband around his hat and turned on the lamp. I thanked whomever looks over numbskulls because I almost left mine at home and stuffed it in my coat pocket on the way out the door. Head lamps on, we ventured forth into the dark and drifting snow where my lesson began.

“Always stash a shovel where it’s easy to get to,” Larry said as he pulled out his from the truck bed. “Chains are in that covered metal box. Never leave chains out where they can get wet and frozen with ice. It can be a big pain.”

It’s not hard to chain up tires, I’ve done a lot of it since then! However, it’s much easier and far more comfortable to do it in a shop with a concrete floor instead of in a couple feet of very cold snow. Larry was a patient teacher, as I fumbled around a bit, but we got all four tires done pretty quickly.

“Should be able to climb trees now!” Larry laughed as he got back in the cab. Sure enough, he put the Dodge in gear, and we drove out of our predicament. I was seriously impressed.

“One important thing. When we get to a relatively flat and clear spot up in the trees, we will check the chains and tighten them up. You don’t want to drive too far with sloppy chains. They will come off and make a mess of things.” Sounded like good advice to me!

The farther we drove up the valley road, the deeper the snow got. But the county had been out once with their grader to plow, leaving big piles of snow on either side of the road. Larry explained that there were a lot of private inholdings up here and the road might get plowed once or twice up to a certain point until hunting season ended so folks could get in and out one last time before winter closed the road to motorized vehicles entirely. After that, snowmobiles were the only method of travel. As if to emphasize his point we came upon a very wide point in the road in front of a driveway.

“This is where people off load their sleds. “Larry commented. “From here they’ll go past Box Canyon up to the ghost town and beyond.”

“Is that the one they call Independence?”

“That’s the one. We will ride up there for sure.”

I was trying to get my bearings as we drove. Kerry, the kids, and I had been up here many times in good weather, but the snow was disorientating. Larry grinned because he knew what I was trying to do.

“Know where you are?” He asked

Squinting out the windshield I thought I saw a bridge through a brief gap in the snowfall.

“Is this where the road comes down to a red cabin and turns sharp right onto a bridge?”

“That’s right. Flemming Bridge. I’m impressed!” I was pretty puffed up about the compliment but that didn’t last long. Out of snow and trees to our right a cow moose jumped down into the road and began to trot away with us trailing behind.

Now I don’t know if you remember but I have a special connection with moose. I seem to attract them. Usually, it’s a peaceful encounter but there have been some Western moments.

( Here Is One Of Them! Of Moose and Men)

I explained my moose attraction gift to Larry as we followed our new friend who was ambling along at a slow trot that still covered a lot of ground. If you have ever seen a moose up close, you will notice that they seem to be all legs.

“Well if you attract moose, then we need to get you a moose tag. That will keep those kids fed all winter!”

The man had a point!

“Aw come on moose, move or pull over.” Larry yelled at the cow. Turning to me he said, “You ever play tag with one of your moose?”

“Um, no.”

Uh oh…

“I used to do this with the logging truck all the time.” He said with a snort. With a blast from his horn we accelerated, driving right up on the Moose’s butt. She picked up her pace while giving us the evil eye with a slightly turned head and flattened ears. She was not going to climb over the plowed berms of snow but it seemed like she was looking for an exit. Larry was roaring with laughter as he blew the horn and chased her. We reached the bottom of the hill, and the moose took a sharp left up the drive way of that red cabin I mentioned. She spun on a dime to face us down, but we turned right and slipped across the bridge.

“Is she chasing us now?” I asked as I tried to catch a glimpse of her out of our side rearview mirror.

“Wouldn’t surprise me but she can’t catch us and even if she could, it was worth it.” he said with a grin.

I was smiling too. It was worth it. Now this was an adventure, and we hadn’t even got to our cabin yet!

My first Mule deer on our first Thanksgiving