SOME HUNTING DAYS. 



HOWARD CARL. 



The deer hunting season would open 

 August 1st and as peaches would not be 

 ripe until about the /th there would be a 

 week in which I could hunt, so I deter- 

 mined to spend the time in that way. 



1 lived about 3 miles from the hunting 

 ground, which necessitated my getting up 

 at 3 a.m. in order to be there by day- 

 light. I had been out several times with- 

 out seeing game of any kind, or even a 

 track, when one morning as I came up 

 over the top of a ridge, I saw a coyote 

 trotting along in the trail about 100 yards 

 away. 



I whistled as I threw the gun to my 

 shoulder, and as the brute stopped I pulled 

 the trigger. I miscalculated a little and 

 the bullet struck just in front of him. 

 I threw in another cartridge and fired for 

 a point where the trail entered the head of 

 the can} r on. The bullet and the coyote got 

 there about the same time, and by the dust 

 that was raised I thought I had him ; but 

 no, I soon saw him making tracks far down 

 the canyon. 



In a big brush patch at the bottom of the 

 ridge I shot the heads off 2 bush rabbits 

 and went home. I was thoroughly dis- 

 gusted with deer hunting and gave it up a 

 while. 



It was September 20th before the last of 

 the peaches and prunes were gathered. 

 There were still 10 days of open season 

 left, so one morning I picked up my 32-20 

 rifle, and with a lunch in my pocket started 

 out. I had determined to make a day of 

 it that time, hunt in a new country, and 

 hunt until I found tracks at least. 



The sun was well up when I got to the 

 top of the ridge. As I was walking slowly 

 along I heard a rustling in the leaves, and 

 at the end of a patch of sage brush, I saw 

 another covote trotting up the trail. I 

 held just ahead of him and fired, but did 

 not know anything about a sharp turn in 

 the trail around a big rock. The bullet 

 went singing off the rock, and the coyote 

 wheeled like a flash and ran. 



He went through a little clump of tim- 

 ber and came out about 75 yards below me, 

 broadside on. He had not seen me at all. 

 Pop ! Pop ! Pop ! went the little 32 and 

 the coyote again disappeared around a 

 friendly curve. I had gauged his speed 

 well, as every shot went directly over his 

 back, but I had not held low enough. 



I had not gone far after my adventure 

 with the covote before I saw a few deer 

 tracks. I followed the trail, which led me 

 down into the canyon and up the opposite 



ridge. I had climbed about half way up, 

 when I saw, on the ridge I had just left, 

 4 deer. Hoping to get near them I crawled 

 into a small gulch, and down that to the 

 big canyon, taking care to keep the deer 

 between me and the wind. Then I began 

 the ascent of the ridge. 



I got where I thought the deer ought 

 to be, but could not see them unril one 

 saw me. He made a few jumps and 

 stopped to look. I aimed just back of the 

 shoulder and fired. As he started to run 

 I saw his tail flop and I knew I had hit. I 

 fired again and he jumped into the. brush 

 and disappeared. I heard a great rustling 

 in the brush and hurried around th'e end to 

 catch the other deer as they came out. 

 They did not come, so I went back through 

 the cover. 



I had not gone far before I saw a deer 

 in a little clear place about 75 yards away. 

 I immediately fired and he started to run. 

 I saw he would give me a chance for an- 

 other shot as : he passed through a small, 

 clear place and I covered the opening. As 

 he appeared I fired and down he went. 



I went back into the brush to see if I 

 had killed the first one I shot at. As I did 

 not find him I returned and dressed my 

 deer. 



After doing that I concluded I would 

 have a drink before starting home, and as 

 I was going through the brush again I 

 found deer number one in a heap by the 

 side of a log. 



That was more than I had bargained for. 

 Talk about Friday being an unlucky day 

 and 13 an unlucky number ! That was Fri- 

 day and I had left home with just 13 cart- 

 ridges. 



I dressed the deer and carried it where 

 the other one was. They were both year- 

 lings and weighed about 75 pounds apiece. 

 I put one over each shoulder and started, 

 but I soon found that would not work, so 

 I hung one deer in a tree and toted the 

 other. As I had to carry him down 

 one ridge and over another I was almost 

 exhausted when I got him where I could 

 reach him with the buggy. 



I did not want to leave the other 

 deer, nor did I want to go after him 

 alone, so I went to town that evening and 

 related my story to a friend. He immedi- 

 ately picked up his gun, climbed into the 

 buggy and went home with me. We were 

 out by 3 a.m. and by daylight were on the 

 ridge. As I had had plenty of shooting I 

 let my friend go ahead. When we reached 

 a point about 600 yards from where I had 



