174 THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 
MY FIRST DEER HUNT 
3y Jupce J. W. Know tes, of LaGrande, Oregon. 
For some time I have considered inflicting the readers of The 
Oregon Sportsman with some of my experiences in hunting big game 
in the Blue Mountains of Eastern Oregon. As I recall it now, it was 
in the late Fall of 1906 that I took my first regular deer hunt. For 
some time I had a desire to take a deer hunt, but the opportunity had 
never presented itself. In the Fall of 1906 a party was organized, 
consisting of Earl Jones, a Grande Ronde Valley rancher, and now 
Deputy Game Warden for Union County; George Simmons, a railway 
conductor running out of La Grande, and myself. We left La Grande 
for the headwaters of the Rock Creeks, which had always been con- 
sidered good hunting grounds. We went prepared to camp out, but as 
a fresh snow had fallen, we welcomed the invitation of a bachelor 
homesteader by the name of Ike Hill to share his cabin. Hill had 
lived in this locality for several years and knew every trail, creek and 
canyon in that vicinity. He had hunted deer and bear with varying 
success. One evening, while gathered around the fireplace in his little 
log cabin, he told about being out one day hunting bear. He had seen 
many fresh sign, but no bear. Finally he started to return to his 
cabin and was following along a trail that led around a big ledge of 
rocks. Just as he turned around the ledge a big brown bear raised 
up on its hind legs in the trail about twenty feet away and raised its 
paws as if ready for a boxing match a la Willard. Hull said that he 
was so startled that he forgot that he had a gun and said “Hello,” and 
walked around Mr. Bruin, when the bear got down on all fours and 
ran away down the hill. Hill’s experience reminded me of the experi- 
ence of Rex Beach, while hunting bear in Alaska. Beach said that 
he was going along one morning hunting bear and hoping that he 
would not find any. When turning a sharp curve in the trail, he met 
a bear face to face. He said: “The bear looked at me, and I looked 
at the bear; the bear’s hair commenced to stand on end, and my hair 
commenced to stand on end. Finally the bear went one way and I 
went the other.” The first day or two, while we saw quite a few fresh 
sign and some of the boys got sight of deer, we did not get any shots. 
It was just before the running season, and the big bucks had already 
commenced to chase across the country in quest of the does. We had 
to content ourselves with mulligan and stewed pheasants with dump- 
lings. Simmons, on account of being crippled and couldn’t get far 
away from camp, did most of the cooking and he was a good cook, 
too, but Jones made some dumplings one day in a pheasant stew 
that were certainly the best I ever ate, or at least they tasted so. 
Although it has been ten years, I can taste those dumplings yet. One 
morning Hill, who had not been out hunting as yet, told us that if 
we were going to have any deer meat in camp that he supposed that 
he would have to get it. He suggested that I accompany him, and he 
thought he could take me to a place where I could get my first shot 
at a deer. All of us got an early start, and as is customary, we sep- 
arated, but I kept close to Hill, and as I was a novice in the woods, 
I relied upon him to pilot me home in safety. The country was heavily 
timbered with tall black pines and it was with great difficulty that I 
kept within hearing distance of him. We were to let each other know 
of our whereabouts by blowing upon empty cartridge shells. We had 
adopted a code of signals as follows: One blast was to indicate our 
whereabouts, two blasts look out for deer, and three blasts to come 
to the other. We had just crossed a little creek and entered a flat 
