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Jackson Hole Outfitters
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August 1999 Newsletter
Last day of the deer hunt,
Oct 9, 1998. Four hunters with tags not attached to an antler.
Hot dry weather. Guides Tom Hruska, and Chris Settelmeyer, Outfitter
Maury Jones (that's me, Jonesy), and camp wrangler Randy Snow, are pulling
out all the stops trying to get the guys their big buck, the guys being
Corky Johnson, Ken Woodson, Larry Harris, and John Grow. We have
climbed a monster mountain, hunted hard all day, and it is now late afternoon.
Because of the heat it is unlikely that the bucks will come out of the
heavy timber before dark, leaving us no choice but to try a drive. Drives
sometimes work and sometimes are just hard work. Only a couple of
hours of daylight left and we are tempted to just call it quits since we
are so hot and tired but I force some enthusiasm and say, "Okay, guys.
We still have a couple of hours left, let's go get 'em." My enthusiasm
is contagious and we climb to the top of a ridge. I send Tom, Chris,
and Randy down to start the drive while I position the hunters. I'm
sitting with Ken while Larry is down below us somewhere. Corky and
John headed off to the east to ambush points I described. A few minutes
after the pre-arranged time for the drive to start a big buck trots out
of the timber 250 yards below us. Ken takes careful aim and fires.
Missed! Downhill shot, possibly shot over him. A shot sounds
from Larry's direction as he has also seen the buck. Ken fires once
more missing again. Another shot from Larry. A hit? Sounded
like a thump, but the buck is still moving. Another of Larry's shots
and the mortally wounded buck staggers into the timber. It takes
a while for Larry, Chris, and Tom to converge on the spot, then yell to
us that the buck is down, 28 incher, heavy beams, dandy buck. (The
Game and Fish Biologist later aged the buck at 8.3 years) I yell
down to leave Chris there with Larry to take care of the buck and Tom and
Randy can complete the drive through the next draw. I send a disappointed
Ken Woodson around the top of the ridge to another vantage point where
we may kick one out, while I drop down into the canyon to help out with
the drive. Halfway through my patch of timber I hear a couple of
shots down below and ahead of me. Someone in the saddle must have
had some action. I find Ken and we carefully lead all of the horses
down a treacherous slope. Arriving at the saddle we have some difficulty
in locating the hunters and guides, but finally find them where they have
followed the blood trail to Corky's great 11x6 non-typical, pictured here.
John Grow is actually the hero of this drive. John and Corky hiked
down to the saddle and had mistakenly passed one good ambush point where
one of them was to have stayed. So John let Corky have the prime
spot while he found another likely spot. Very sportsmanlike of him.
The buck is only 23 inches wide, but heavy dark antlers, high, deep forks,
with beautiful cheater points make this a tremendous buck, proving once
again that width isn't everything. It is actually a much better buck
than Larry's 28 inch trophy, mainly because of the cheater points.
Ken, John, and I head off in a hurry to try another drive over the next
ridge. All we kick out on that final drive is a big bull elk.
Thus closes the 1998 deer season.
No word from the Judge
On April 16 we, the Outfitters,
had a hearing before the judge in Cheyenne, concerning our lawsuit Vs the
Game and Fish Department regarding the licensing system discriminating
against outfitters. The judge said he would issue a ruling "in a
couple of weeks". He still has not issued that ruling. Our
attorney, John Jackson, says that is a good sign, indicating that the Judge
will rule in our favor. His reasoning is that if the Judge rules
in our favor it could change how every state issues licenses to non-residents,
a landmark decision with far-reaching implications. So the Judge
wants to get every word right and does not want the ruling to be overturned
on appeal. If the Judge was going to rule against us the decision
would probably come quickly as it would not affect much. I will keep
you posted. If you have email, be sure and send me your email address
so I can inform you right away.
Thanks for Donations
For those who donated to
our lawsuit by buying raffle tickets for a Remington Rifle, we really appreciate
it. Tickets are still available $10 each, five for $40, ten for $80.
Drawing to be held at Outfitter convention first week of December.
Proceeds pay legal expenses. Attorney has donated his time but court
costs and research are expensive.
Book Now to Reserve
Your Spot
If we win the lawsuit the
drawing system will be altered to give outfitters preference on permits.
If that happens my camp will be booked solid very quickly. A $100
deposit will reserve your place in camp. I already have a number
of reservations for future hunts, so you need to get your place in line.
My New Website
I designed and built a new
website. Go take a look at it. Still need a little work on
the pictures as they load slowly. I'll do thumbnails for faster loading,
when I find the time.
http://www.JacksonHoleOutfitters.com
If your small business or
family needs an inexpensive website give me a call.
Just a Lion All The Time
The lion-lovers are at it
again. Last newsletter I reported that they had increased our lion
quota to 10 female lions. This was welcome news to us locals who
are concerned about the recent increase in numbers of lions having an adverse
affect on our deer and elk populations. It didn't take long for the
anti-hunters to get into gear. The Fund For Animals has geared up
to get the liberal quota reversed and they claim they will file a lawsuit
to stop all lion hunting. We had a public meeting in Jackson where
the G&F explained their lion management. The Fund For Animals
wackos were there in force giving their baseless opinions, such as their
accusation that the G&F doesn't know exactly how many lions they have,
therefore this liberal increase in harvest is not valid. Of course
the biologists replied that it is impossible to count all lions but based
on their helicopter surveys in the winter, the increased sightings of tracks,
kills, and lions themselves, and the sightings of females with multiple
kittens, they are sure this increase is needed. My comment to the
G&F Commission via letter is that the burden of proof should be on
the Fund For Animals. If they think we don't have enough lions then
they somehow need to disprove the sightings, lion kills, lions showing
up in town, etc. Of course we all know their real agenda is to eliminate
all hunting and the best way to do that is to protect the predators until
they eat the elk and deer out of existence. Just your basic commie-pinko
wackos. You hunters that are coming to my camp this fall should think
about purchasing a lion tag. There is always a chance…...
Whopper Bull Elk Spotted
The other day on a trail
ride, taking a family from Vermont, we spotted a tremendous bull elk.
He will score 360 or better. He has a perfect 7 point rack on the
right, a big six point rack on the left, with the 4th point forking at
the top. He also has heavy long beams, a very wide spread and long
brow tines. A great trophy bull! We have a number of these
big bulls in the area. I seem to talk about deer more because we
have Boone and Crockett record book deer, but we also have some great trophy
elk. The elk may not make Boone and Crockett, but we kill bulls scoring
over 300 every year and some of them are in the 350 class. There
was one bull on the feedground this past year that might make the minimum
375 B&C book. On our trail rides we have seen one herd of over
150 elk, all cows and calves, and saw another herd of 40 or 50, including
some raghorns and spikes. So we also have some great elk hunting
and beautiful country to hunt them in. Give me a call for booking
your next year's elk or deer hunt.
Chased by a Moose,
Again
I have this thing going
with moose. I've been chased or confronted by moose 5 times now.
This particular time was last week. I had a group of 10 guests at my camp
and we were riding up Sawmill Canyon. We came to a small meadow and
saw a cute calf moose, at least it was so ugly it was cute. It ran
off up the draw and I yelled for everyone to stay still to see where the
mama was. Didn't take long to find out, as she came from another
direction, looked around and didn't see her calf, so she started for this
big line of horses, thinking one of us had kidnapped her baby. I
yelled, "Turn around, quickly, and go back down the trail". Shadow
and I were bringing up the rear, being heroes by putting our bodies between
Mad Mama Moose and our precious guests. She followed us a ways, then
stopped, so we went a bit further and stopped. She came for us again,
ears laid back, hair standing up on her back to make herself look bigger.
She needn't have bothered. We thought she was big enough already.
After a couple of hundred yards she stopped again, we went further, then
stopped. I expected her to go back looking for her calf. No
such luck. She came for us again, running this time as if she meant
business. I yelled, "Run down the trail, hurry." I might
have saved my breath as the bunch of riders was already in full gallop.
We ran a quarter of a mile, finally stopping when one of the riders fell
off, fortunately uninjured. We stayed there for a full 20 minutes,
giving the Mad Mama Moose time to go back and find Junior. Then Andrew
(my 15 year old nephew) riding Jake (a big black horse about the size and
color of a moose) and I riding Shadow (a fleet and nimble Arabian who can
out-run, out-dodge, and out-smart any old moose) returned up the trail
to check it out. One of the guests riding Dino came behind us for
backup. It was good that he did, as he suddenly yelled, "Behind you!"
Sure enough, there was Mad Mama Moose, coming hard from ambush spot.
I had already told Andrew that I was tired of playing around so if we saw
her we would counter-charge, yelling and hollering, which we immediately
did. The sight of two obviously deranged humans astride two suicidal
equines (that means horse, for those of you in Rio Linda) unnerved Mad
Mama Moose to the point of forgetting about Junior and being concerned
with self-preservation. We pursued her quite a ways into the timber,
then gingerly gathered our troops and proceeded up the trail, where a scant
half hour later we bumped into a herd of over 150 elk. Mad Mama Moose
scored on us once again, though, as on the way back down three hours later
she once again appeared by the side of the trail, causing Cinnamon to shy
violently sideways dumping his rider. Andrew and I immediately charged
her and ran her off again. When we were telling the story around
the campfire that night, and the guests had made up a cute song about it,
Grant was laughing and telling about my other times being chased by moose.
He claimed that I provoked the confrontations by "talking moose" with grunts
and moose-moans. That is absolutely not true. In only three
of the five run-ins with moose did I have some verbal interaction with
them before becoming the object of their malice and scorn. I need
to figure out what I am saying that causes such a reaction. I remember
grunting a few times at a huge bull moose who evidently was on a date with
an ugly cow, but my moose-talk portrayal of her as homely was the honest
truth and should not have been cause for antagonistic behavior on his part.
Din Kneads My Knee
We all have humbling experiences
in life. I have always prided myself in being physically tough.
I'm not big, being 5'8" and 160 lbs, but I can out-tough men half my age,
right Warren? Then just recently stepped in a hole while loading
hay and developed a knee ache. Stupid knee. Got worse and worse.
Finally on crutches I went to the knee specialist and he said torn medial
meniscus (fancy kname for knee cartilage). Arthroscopic knee surgery
was scheduled for July 8. Then my lovely wife, Din, rose to the challenge.
She has always been into herbal medicine and natural healing methods.
She will try the "herb of the week" on me for various ailments. Once
we were walking down the street and she said, "Look, some wild Yarrow!"
She insisted that we go pick it, even though I pointed out that it was
private property and they were probably raising it to sell at fifteen bucks
a pound at the health food store. "Nonsense!" Was her reply.
"It's just growing wild and they won't miss it a bit. They probably
think it is just a weed." I started to point out that they weren't
the only ones who thought it was just a weed, but I figured it was best
to pick the stuff and run. Anyway, she started pouring the potions
down me and rubbing them on my knee. One particularly noxious concoction
tasted like it came straight out of the Tar Pits of La Brea, complete with
all the critters that had been entombed. When I gagged and coughed
she said, "It might be a little strong, let's try a bit of Golden Seal
to flavor it up." I personally think some Ajax Cleanser might have
"flavored it up" immensely. One morning as I was lying in bed,
knee propped up, feeling sorry for myself and bemoaning the fact that I
may never again be able to beat Warren to the top of Whopper Peak,
Din came in and said, "Here, take some of this," pinching my cheeks to
open my mouth and spooning some yellowish-brown liquid into my protesting
maw. "I'll have you up and around in no time." Well, she was right
about that. I was peg-legging all over the house like a one-legged
grasshopper in a flock of Robins, knocking over the furniture, bouncing
on the cat, and generally trying to mercifully destroy the rest of my body
to put me out of my misery. It was a reaction worthy of being
written up in medical journals. But you know what? Four days
before the surgery I called and canceled. Knee was feeling good,
combination of Din's witches' brews and a magnetic knee brace, courtesy
of Tom Hruska, one of my guides. Knee feeling better and better,
getting to the point I can even run again, and run darned fast, too.
Look out, Warren! Just get out of my way as we go up Monster Mountain
or you'll get run over.
Reminiscing
Many years ago, while outfitting in Colorado and getting discouraged with
the lousy trophy quality, I got to talking to an outfitter in Wyoming about
buying his camp. I made a trip up here on Sep 19, 1983 and the next
day went up with Guide Grant Gertsch and his hunters, hunting deer.
It was a bitter cold morning following a storm the day before. I
liked the terrain, scenery, wildlife, and hunting so much I bought the
camp and I liked Grant so much I bought him with the camp. We were
laughing about that around the campfire the other night. I guess
I've owned Grant and the camp for nigh on to 16 years. I still honestly
believe my camp is the best place in the whole Greys River.
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