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Dad drove to my Uncle Steve's house. We were to ride the rest of the way with Uncle Steve and my 2 cousins, Tom and Mike. I checked my watch; it was 5:30 am. Plenty of time to be at the hunting spot before day breaks. The "Hunting Spot" that in my minds eye had to be better than anything "The American Sportsman" could offer up. And it was there that my 12 point trophy buck was just waiting for me to put it into the middle of my guns crosshairs, then into the Boon & Crocket.
As dad pulled up in front of the house, we all noticed that there were no lights on. My brothers and I sighed. It was not uncommon for Uncle Steve to over sleep, but how could he do it on the opening day of hunting season! Dad knocked lightly a few times. Finally a light turned on in the kitchen and the door opened. It was my Aunt Karen in her house robe. "Come on in. Steve and the boys will be ready in a few minutes. " Well a few minutes turned into almost an hour. Finally after transferring our guns, packs, and lunches into Uncle Steve's brand new white 1973 Toyota Land Cruiser, we were on our way heading south towards Clark Canyon Dam-Reservoir. A unique feature of the 1973 Toyota Land Cruiser was that it had two three person seats in the back that faced each other. They were located above each wheel well and folded down when needed. This is where the "boys" sat. ysl bag , I also remember that the Land Cruiser rode like a rock. It had such stiff springs that when driving over a bump, or dropping into a rut all the occupants of the seats, if not buckled in, could be launched in to space causing major bodily damage. yves saint laurent shoes , This helps to explain why my mother and Aunt often stated that we boys had brain damage. I always thought that I was just born that way.
Reaching Clark Canyon Dam-Reservoir we turned right and drove across it heading to our hunting area. yves saint laurent handbags , By now it was starting to get light, it was around 7:30am and Uncle Steve said that we still had another 35 miles to go, but to start watching out for game. Traveling another 5 miles, the two lanes that were paved turned into a narrow two lane gravel road, which was marked with large muddy potholes. You know the ones that if an unfortunate hunting party drove into, they probably would never be seen again. Montana State would just consider them a good source of road fill, and place a white cross on the site. After only seeing around 20 Antelope scattered on some of the grassy slopes below the timberline, and eating the remainder of the powdered donuts, my brothers, cousins and I became bored. So what do young teenage boys do when they are bored? Yep, the burping and farting started, and then the testosterone kicked in to high gear.
Each of us determined not to be out done, started to burp and fart louder and louder. This went on for a little while until Uncle Steve slowed down and stopped. He and dad rolled down their windows, turned around in their seats and in unison said "that's enough!" After that they both just stared at us. We must have been a site, our faces and hands covered with white powder sugar, and a look as if we all had just been caught with our hands in the cookie jar. And as I stared back at them, I had a strange feeling that they were not as concerned about what we looked like, but more that their flesh and blood, their own sons, would some how become the next generation of big game hunters. Or could this behavior be a symptom, of the dreaded "Buck Fever"?
To be continued….
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