Well I finally got caught up at work and recovered from my fishing trip to Montana 8/7-15th. Fishing was awesome, country was just how I remembered it...absolute paradise for the outdoorsman. Course had to take my bow so I could wander the national forest stumpin when not fishing.
One evening there we got to talking about hunting while watching 6 mulies graze from his front porch. Conversation quickly turned to him talking about most of the bowhunters he guided not being able to hit anything. Well, seeing an opportunity, and after having a couple of cold beers, I thought maybe I would change his mind. I strung up my bow and proceeded to perforate a can in his pasture...much to the amazement of 3 montana cowboys. "Ferget fishin, we're going gopher huntin tomorrow!" the man says.
Next day dawned cold and sunny, warmed quickly and the gophers on a section in the valley he had planted in alfalfa were everywhere. Needless to say, it was a very good day. First shot was a crusher, and the fellers hooted and hollered with much glee at the sound of that hex head smackin the hole digger. For the next 4 hours I hammered em until I had slimed arrows to the point of being useless, broken, or lost em in the thick vegetation and rocky soil. I missed a lot, but not by much...many coups were counted that day. April 13th: the gophers will remember it and shudder!
Rest assured, they now think trad shooters are a step above those fellers with training wheels...I tried real hard to make ya'll proud. Glad to be back, was fun but ready for deer hunting in a couple of weeks and hog chasin until then.
Happiness is a bloody arrow...especially in Montana! More pics to come, but here's a couple fer now:
Gopher Pile Purdy Ranch Joe