May/June 2008                                                                                      Vol. 5 No. 3

     In a semi-comatose state, I start to wake up. Gee, it has to be 3:00 a.m. I roll over and snuggle up against my soft, warm wife. Quickly I fall back to sleep. All across the Valley, couples are snuggled up together sleeping in since it is Saturday morning.
     Suddenly the peacefulness is shattered by a blaring alarm. I jerk upright, shut it off and slip out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. I slap cold water on my face to wake myself up. Ugh! My buddy will be by at 4:30 a.m. to go hunting
     Why do outdoorsmen subject themselves to such torture on a regular basis? Are they sadistic and enjoy being miserable? Is it because they all have miserable marriages and it’s better to be sitting out in the freezing cold than to be home with HER?!?
     No. I have the best prettiest wife in the world. I love being with her. She’s my best buddy.  But, something down deep draws me to the outdoors like a moth to a flame.  To answer this philosophical question, let’s go through some different scenarios.

Scenario One: You pull over at the trailhead and slap on your pack. It has your waders, fly rod, fishing vest and snacks in it. You strap on a pair of hiking sandals and take off down the trail. Your body hesitates the first hundred yards but you know you have a 2-½ hour hard hike before you, so you block it out of your mind and punch it.
      After the first ¼ mile, you’re in a rhythm and really start to cover the ground. In 2 hours and twenty minutes, you hit the first hole.
     You slide off your pack. The cool air chills your soaked back. You quietly slip into the water and lay an elk hair caddis out near the front of the hole. You strip line as the fly lazily floats along. You mind drifts off as you admire the beauty around you. You’re the only one out here and you soak in the smell of the woods as your soul enjoys the beauty of the handiwork of the Creator. All your thoughts of work and bills are washed downriver with the fast current. You’re back in time 200 years.
    Suddenly your peaceful thoughts are shattered as an 18” native Cutthroat slams your fly. He peels line off as he races upstream.  You turn him as he hits the end of the hole. He then races back toward you. As he gets even with you, he goes airborne - a good two feet!  His beautiful colors dazzle in the morning sun as he sunfishes through the air.

 Scenario Two: You get up 2 ½ hours before daylight and whip up some eggs and bacon. You dip a pot of fresh water out of the nearby stream and fire up a pot of fresh coffee. You slam down your breakfast and hit the trail while it is still dark.
     In less than 2 hours, you hit the top of the mountain just in time to see the sun peeking over the rim. Suddenly the morning stillness is shattered as a raging bull whistles out his lonesome tune across the ridges. Bow in hand, you run toward him.
     You slow down as you start to crest the rise that separates you and the bull. It sounded like he was within 300 yards. Swiftly you glass the slope in front of you. You see a cow, and another and another until you see at least 6.
     Suddenly the herd bull majestically steps out. He stretches his neck and head out and curls his lips. An eerie sound known as a bugle passes out of this huge beast. It doesn’t seem to fit the animal that it is coming out of. You notch an arrow as you slip towards him.

     Things are right. There’s enough brush to slip within 60 yards of him. You chirp a couple times on your cow call. He turns his head and starts ambling toward you. He comes within 20 yards and then a cow comes out from behind a small pine tree and distracts him. He turns broadside as you come to a full draw. With robotic precision you touch off your release.

Scenario Three: Why does a Rodeo Cowboy ride rough stock? Picture yourself crawling down in the chute on a rank horse. You slide your hand into the rigging. Then you gently slide up on his withers. You slip your feet up near his neck and nod for the gate.
     Even though you knew a storm was coming, it still surprises you when all heck breaks loose. Milliseconds before, you were on a semi-calm horse. Now she’s gone totally ballistic. Her muscles are like uncoiled steel springs as she blows up toward the stars.
     As she’s coming down, she suddenly throws her front end into a hard right and kicks her rear end around. She’s jumping and kicking and spinning all at once. Suddenly she jumps out of it and hits two straight licks and then reverses it and spins the other way. She jumps out of the spin and starts jumping and kicking in one spot, sucking back so hard if you let go, you’d fly 20 feet out in front of her.
     Four seconds into it, you know you have a good ride going. You could’ve played it safe and half spurred her and still could have won the show, but something deep down inside of you decided to throw all caution to the wind.  You laid back and poured the steel to her. The harder you spur, the harder she bucks. You hang on by a thread and finally the bell sounds.
     You jerk your hand loose and go flying - forget waiting on the pickup man. In a flash, she sunfishes over on top of you and stomps the tar out of you before you can roll out from under her. You lay gasping for wind. Did she puncture your lungs or just knock the wind out? Slowly you gain your breath. Even as you pick yourself up out of the dust you’re on top of the world. You just rode a rank horse and did it right and you know it. You wait for the announcer to tell your score.

Scenario Four: You come back to camp as the last ray of light is disappearing over the mountains. Luckily your buddy Roy has a huge campfire roaring. You tiredly drop down into a chair in front of the fire to warm up. Roy announces that he got back to camp early and has a huge dinner ready.
     He tells you to wash up as he dishes out sizzling French fries and slaps a thick rib eye onto your plate and pours you a glass of freezing cold milk. You wolf it down in record time. Your body aches all over but it’s been a good day. You shot a nice buck and can sleep in the next morning.

Scenario Five: Somewhere deep in the mountains, a young boy is waking up to the busy camp noises. This is his first hunt. He’s finally twelve years old and a man now. He can carry his own rifle. His dad strides into the tent and tells him breakfast is ready. 
     As he stumbles out, his uncle hands him a piping hot cup of coffee and asks him how he wants his eggs. Over easy will do fine, he sleepily mumbles. His uncle slaps on three for good measure and to one side he piles on 3 flapjacks. Eat up son - you’re going to need lots of energy to get your first buck today.

     Suddenly he’s wide-awake. He’s no longer a boy; he’s one of the men. Even his uncle’s voice had confidence in it that he’d get a buck today. Finally, he was of age.

Tom Claycomb with his 16-year-old nephew, Monty Statton on a bear hunt.

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Last modified: 26 May 2008