Volume XIX. 



RECREATION 



SEPTEMBER, J903 

 G. 0. SHIELDS, (COQUINA) Editor and Manager 



Number 3 



HUNTING ELK IN A WINDFALL. 



E. B. SHANKS. 



It was a warm afternoon late in 

 September when we left the trail and 

 plunged into the hills, looking for a 

 desirable camping spot. We finally 

 unpacked well up among the ridges 

 West of the Buffalo fork of the Snake 

 river, in Western Wyoming. 



We had lived on salt side for some 

 time, and were hungry for fresh meat. 

 My friend Parker, of Galesville, Wis- 

 consin, was anxious to at least see a 

 band of elk at home in their mountain 

 range. All the other boys had either 

 secured game or had had the oppor- 

 tunity and had sinned away the mo- 

 ment of grace before fully realizing 

 what they were doing. We had made 

 a long trip and were anxious to get 

 back home, but I sympathized with 

 Parker. I proposed that we start 

 early the next morning for a timbered 

 gulch 5 miles to the Northeast of 

 camp, right up in the mountains. We 

 busied ourselves the rest of the after- 

 noon making camp comfortable and 

 getting ready for the hunt. Sunrise 

 found us on the way. By 3 p. m. we 

 reached the head of the stream where 

 the water came trickling down over 

 the rim rock from the heavy drifts of 

 snow and banks of ice that seem eter- 

 nal there. 



It' was an ideal place for game, and 

 I cautioned Parker to be prepared to 

 meet a grizzly face to face and to be 

 ready with his rifle to shoot quickly 

 and with his nerve to shoot steadily. 

 We advanced a few steps at a time, 

 then paused and closely scrutinized 

 everything about us. I was a few 

 feet in advance. Looking about, I 

 became suddenly aware that we were 



167 



in the midst of a splendid band of elk, 

 quietly feeding. I had previously de- 

 termined to do no shooting. I threw 

 myself flat on the ground and at a 

 sign Parker did likewise. I then di- 

 rected him to advance a few paces to 

 a large boulder from behind which 

 I felt sure he would be screened 

 from sight and at the same time have 

 a better view of the band. Parker was 

 a true sportsman and had determined 

 to shoot at nothing unless it wore ant- 

 lers. As I crawled to his side he said 

 deliberately, 



"There is not a bull among them." 



I could not believe this, as the band 

 numbered about 30. 



"Yes, there is, too !" he exclaimed, 

 jumping to his feet. He raised his 

 Savage and fired. 



"I missed him, sure," was his next 

 remark. He was shooting at a sleek, 

 fat, 2-year-old bull that had deliber- 

 ately crossed through between some 

 evergreens in front of us. The bull 

 soon emerged into view again, a little 

 farther away, apparently not even 

 startled. 



"There he is !" from Parker, fol- 

 lowed by the crack of his rifle again. 



"I have missed him again !" he ex- 

 claimed, as the* buck again disap- 

 peared, only to reappear a little far- 

 ther on^ to receive another broadside 

 and to disappear again. 



The band was startled, but had 

 made no effort to run away, as they 

 had neither seen us nor winded us. 

 Cows and calves were all about us, 

 sleek and fat, but they were safe. We 

 had not come after them. 



I was intently watching them and 



