Big Chief Running Bear

Ahhhh...the first two days of rifle season have come and gone and alas, no deer. Not for us, not yet anyway.

This was Drey's first year to go hunting...well, tag along is more like it. He didn't get his hunting license (never took his hunter's safety course this past summer) so technically he couldn't hunt. He's 12 years old, so that prohibited him from the youth mentoring program as well, considering it is for youth under the age of 12. I believe next summer there won't even be a question as to whether he will take the hunter's safety course or not.

With Ty being in Iraq, I had plans to head to Bear Valley and hunt my usual spot with Drey tagging along. Dad had also decided to go hunting up at the top this year out of Pap's Hollow, and it kind of worked its way out that it was just the three of us the last two days.

Needless to say, with the rain, heavy fog and the cold, Drey was broken in quite well for his first day in the mountains where Dad assured him if he could withstand that, he could withstand anything because it was the worst kind of weather to hunt in (not to mention the hour and a half it took for us to hike up to the top). Drey and I didn't see a deer all day. Of course we couldn't hear them when it was pouring down rain and when the rain would let up, we could hear animals moving around but couldn't see within 20 yards of my blind in any direction from the fog laying so thick. Not really a good day for hunting. Dad did see four doe; two up in Pap's Hollow running and too far to shoot at, and he jumped two on the way down through the fog but couldn't get a shot at them either.

Anybody who hunts or has grown up in a hunting family knows that killing a deer and being able to harvest it is an awesome achievement, but they also understand even more that time spent together in the mountains during hunting season can't even be put into words.

As we are headed down the mountain on our way out, Drey isn't exactly being "light-footed" and Dad calmly turned around and said, "Drey, walk like you're an Indian, try to step quietly." So Drey did...for about ten yards LOL. Dad then turned around again and said, "Drey, shhh, remember, be an Indian," showing him how to step through the leaves. And Drey did...for about twenty yards LOL. Finally after awhile, Dad turned around and simply said, "Drey, you Big Chief Running Bear trying to kill deer. Shhhhhh...." to which I couldn't help but crack up.

I do believe Drey has acquired a new nickname. Drey has been called Big Chief Running Bear since yesterday. Not sure whether he likes it or not, but Big Chief Mama Bear do and she now call her son Big Chief Running Bear LOL.

We headed out again this morning, just the three of us, determined to do it all over again. We went farther down into the valley and Drey and I hiked up almost to the top, about ten yards or so down, and Dad decided to do some walking, hoping to chase some deer into us. While Drey is new to hunting and what goes along with it, I believe the last two days have helped teach him the necessary steps in making sure he is quiet, doesn't move, has to patient, endure the cold, etc., all of those things that only come with experience. I, myself, have learned that over the past couple of years.

Drey was able to spot a doe running in the distance that I wouldn't have been able to get a shot at earlier on in the morning, but after not seeing anything all day yesterday, I think this perked his interest just a bit. So we sit there patiently waiting; me sitting and watching uphill, Drey sitting and watching downhill. I heard some noise above me and noticed two doe heading over the top, I could see the first one's face but barely could see either of their bodies. There they stood ten yards from us, one was staring me right in the face, and I was frozen, not being able to move, waiting patiently so I could get a shot. All the while, I'm telling Drey not to move without moving my lips, my voice barely even a whisper.

He hears me and apparently "Drey, do not move" was quickly translated to "HURRY UP AND LOOK AT THE DEER BEFORE MOM SHOOTS 'EM!" Needless to say, the does quickly disappeared down the other side of the mountain in an instant never to be seen again.

Did he spook them by turning his head quickly, causing the second one to look him in the face before jumping backwards and disappearing with the first one following suit? Or did I, with the first doe being able to read my lips that weren't really moving? Who knows. But Drey sulked for a little bit, blaming himself, and I had to assure him it was okay, that we all spook deer and we'll probably all do it again at one time or another; and that if anything was learned today, he learned the value of being quiet and patient in the mountains and how keen the deer's senses really were to their surroundings.

Of course, I also kindly reminded him that my fingers were numb from being cold and had I killed one of those doe, my hands would've been warm by then from gutting her out.

We get to the truck, tell Dad what happened, and Dad says, "Big Chief Running Bear wouldn't have scared off deer."

Poor kid. But he insists he had a good time and is glad he went, and I'm glad he went too, and I'm glad we got to go with Dad. That is certainly something that no one can ever take from any of us and I'll cherish it forever.

Hunting license and doe tag: $26

Gas to get to the mountains: Probably more than $26

Two days spent in the mountains with my dad and my oldest son, even though we harvested zero deer: Priceless.