Tall Pine Trees are Pointing me to Heaven Above

Tall Pine Trees Are Pointing Me to Heaven

Julie Kirk

I hear the door to my room open with a quiet creak. My eyes fly open and, before I’m fully awake, I’m sitting up in bed trying to brush my hair out of my eyes so I can see. What the…? I can hear the craggy, gravelly voice of my baby brother penetrate my brain. He has the lowest voice – Sean Connery has nothing on him. His voice is so deep and it’s so darn cute! “Jewels, it’s time to go!” Huh? My tired mind tried to make sense of this. Time to go? Oh yeah, it’s my much-coveted and long-awaited for elk hunt! It’s 4:30 a.m. and it’s opening morning! Luckily, I know myself and how hard it is for me to get up in the morning and I had decided to sleep in my camouflage. My camo was kindly provided by my Uncle Nate who is involved with King’s Camo and, as most of you know, they don’t make too many of them in women’s sizes – so it was pretty loose and comfortable to sleep in. I had to roll the waist up a couple of times and tie the shirt up so it wouldn’t dangle around my knees and I was ready to go. That’s the joy of sleeping in your clothes – you waste no time getting dressed in the morning, therefore allowing yourself approximately ten more minutes of blissful sleep. All you have to do is remember to put your shoes on and maybe brush your teeth – depending on how much you like the people you are hunting with! That said, I do understand the unwritten rule that if you’re not properly tired and sleep-deprived after a hunt, then you probably didn’t do it right. But, I still remember the good ol’ days when I was eight years old and my dad would take me hunting with him. He’d just carry me out to the car so I didn’t even have to walk. I don’t think I ever fully woke up; I just slept blissfully next to the heater as my dad drove up the mountains. Some company I must have been! Sigh. That was the life! On this morning, I found my dad who had, of course, already been up for a half hour warming the truck up, packing our lunches and toasting my pop tarts. I’m probably one of the most pampered hunters (huntresses?) ever. Anyway, it was pitch black outside with absolutely no sign of sun over the horizon; in fact, it’s so dark that it’s difficult to even make out the horizon. Luckily, my dad already has my “spot” all figured out. Good thing, because for all my tough talk, I really don’t know what the heck I’m doing.

The night before, my mother and I had had a very serious conversation. She is not a big fan of hunting, although 28 years of marriage to my father has mellowed her opinion of the sport somewhat. Give her a break – she grew up in L.A. What can you expect? She was concerned about me, her firstborn little girl, going out and ruthlessly joining the ranks of hundreds of males out on the mountain. But, I come from a small town where hunting and fishing and four-wheeling rank high on the list of things to do. In fact, there really isn’t too much else to do. Luckily for me, I really and truly love to go. I’m not sure if it’s because I get to hang out with my dad and sometimes my brothers one on one, or if it’s the excitement of the chase, the beauty of the mountains or the adrenaline rush of taking a shot – but it’s probably a combination of all of those reasons! There is nothing quite like watching a sunrise in the midst of the mountain peaks, or watching your breath make little clouds of white in the middle of the aspen and pine trees. This is my first elk hunt, and my mother had told me in all seriousness that I needed to not fool around. I think her exact words were, “Don’t you dare let your dad talk you into trying to find something bigger – if you see a good one, you just shoot it. And get home quick.” Or something very close to it. She pretty much made me swear a blood oath – she knows my dad hunts hard and extreme. I’ll bet that if there was a reality TV show on hunting my dad would kick a….uh, he would kick butt! I’m his biggest fan! This hunt wasn’t only exciting to me, but to my thirteen-year old brother whose birthday happened to fall on opening morning. Tyson was turning thirteen on the day of the hunt. He informed me in no uncertain terms that all he wanted for his birthday present was for me to get a big ol’ elk! (He told me this after he had unwrapped the jersey of Payton Manning that my sister and I had gotten him.) Clever little son of a gun. My dad was just as excited, if not more so, than me and Tyson – probably because he actually understood just how coveted and hard to draw this tag was! I’m blissfully ignorant of all those types of details. Luck was with me this year, I only had three preference points and I got the tag! Wahoo!

We listened to the radio as my dad’s trusty old truck wound its way up the mountain. I usually sleep when my dad is driving, but today I was wide awake. I must be growing up! We got there pretty quick and not even a minute after Tyson and I noiselessly climbed out of the truck and expertly closed the door without slamming it, we heard our first elk bugle. It was glorious! There is something magical and almost prehistoric about that sound! It gives me goose bumps all over my body. I love it. There was another bugle and another and another. They were everywhere! I could see the smile on my dad’s face despite the lack of light and Tyson squeezed my hand. Dad had already given me the pep talk of, “Even if we don’t get anything, even if we don’t see anything – we’re going to have a great time.” Whatever Dad! I think that’s what everyone tells themselves, but thanks for trying to make it easier!

As we started off, I felt pretty good. I had been worried before about keeping up with my dad because he hikes me to the ground. My legs usually feel like bloody stumps of jello by the time he’s even winded. I hadn’t really been exercising in preparation like I had planned, but I figured my adrenaline and anticipation would make up for my lack of training and endurance. I kept a keen ear out for “red flag” words and phrases that I had learned in the past while hunting with my dad. Things like, “Let’s walk up over that hill and glass the other side.” This actually meant, “Let’s hike up that entire mountain and the next one behind it in under fifteen minutes.” Another one of my favorites is, “I’ll take a quick peek down that draw and if I see anything I’ll come get you.” Translation: “You’re slowing me down and I’m going to miss my shot.” Yet another golden one, “It might be a little bit chilly, but you’ll warm up soon and you can always wear my jacket.” This one means, “There will be times when it will be below freezing and your lungs might actually bleed and you could lose a couple of toes.” But, let me remind you, I am one of the most pampered hunters ever! I don’t carry anything but my weapon – all my water and extra clothes, GPS, food and snacks, binoculars, scopes, hot chocolate, camera and anything else you could ever need is carried by my dad, although he gives a little to my brother to carry. Not that I mind – I love the perks!

We walk a little way and let the sound of the elk rush over us. I can feel my heart race and my feet feel lighter than normal. We picked out a couple of the bugles and started to follow them. Up the “hills” and down, across the draws and “cricks,” through the trees and brush. The bugles get louder and then softer – taunting us, tricking us, to pay no attention to the screaming, burning pain of our thighs as we climb the terrain and take our thirty-second rests to calm our breathing. Suddenly, there is a very steep hill of shale and dirt right in our path. We can hear the elk on the other side bugling – beckoning. My dad takes my gun to free up my hands and I start up the hill. I can hear Tyson trooping along behind me. Just when I have almost reached the top, my feet slip out from under me with no warning. I didn’t even have time to be startled. I started to fly down the hill at an alarmingly faster rate than it took me to get up. I caught a glimpse of Tyson’s face as I started to pass him. He made a heroic attempt to stop me, but he’s only thirteen for crying out loud and somehow ended up just jumping on my back and riding down the hill with me as a buffer. Right before we went off the embankment towards the dammed up crick below where there was a good-sized pool of water, I hooked my leg around a little baby “quakie” tree and stopped our descent. My dad, his hands full of my gun and his pack and everything else, breathed a sigh of relief when we stopped. He patiently waited for Tyson and I to control our silent giggle fest and get our footing again. When we finally made it up the other side and hiked for about twenty minutes more, my dad finally noticed how far behind Tyson and I were getting and motioned for us to come to the top of the clearing where he was barely in sight and let us have a rest. We crawled in on hands and knees. I was busy trying to figure out if the spots dancing in front of my eyes were bugs or a sign that I was about to pass out. Tyson stretched out on the soft grass and I concentrated on breathing. My dad took off his pack which meant that this was an actual rest and not a quick breather like he had dangled in front of us before! Hallelujah! He hiked up and over to another clearing to see if he could see anything after handing Tyson and I water bottles. Man, that guy just doesn’t quit. Seriously, reality TV – The Hunting Edition, I think it would be huge! When my dad was out of earshot, I heard Tyson’s quavering voice ask me if I was dead. Wanting to maintain as much dignity as I could, I asked him why he was asking me such a silly question. Feeling no shame and being as honest as a boy scout can be he answered, “Because I sure as heck am! And look at Dad!” That made me laugh and with a couple handfuls of trail mix and a bottle of water my energy was rejuvenated. A few minutes later Dad came back and decided that the bull elk that we had been following was running from us and bugling back over his shoulder at us – but he sounded a little small. Those were his exact words, “He sounded a little small.” Now, do not ask me how an animal can sound a certain size, but who am I to question an expert? Dad thought it would be a good idea if we headed back to the truck to eat lunch and try a different route. Tyson and I hobbled along behind the mountain man that is my dad. Two hours of hiking and huffing later and we were back at the truck. It was farther than I remembered and we took the wrong trail once. Tyson tried to take a shortcut – bypassing the switchbacks and heading straight up the steep hills. We met him with his hand trembling reaching out to us and trying to pull himself up onto the trail. He ate a granola bar and was ready to go. Ah, to be thirteen again. We made it back to the truck and ate like champs. We had been resting maybe ten minutes when the shadow of my dad blocked the sun from warming my skin and he said that he usually shot all his elk in the middle of the day when everyone else was resting. So, it was time to go. Food is fuel and Tyson and I valiantly kept up with him as we walked in the opposite way as we had that morning. Almost immediately we heard bugling again. We all froze. That one was close! I pretended to understand while my dad talked with his hands and “military signed” to me what I was supposed to do and where the elk was. I nodded confirmation although I had no idea what the devil was going on. I hoped that I could wing it. We circled around a couple of places where we could see that the elk had wallowed in the mud and water. We could smell the musk of the big animals and my heart was pounding louder than I thought was healthy. Suddenly, a bugle ripped through the afternoon and thundered in our ears! My dad froze and Tyson and I nearly knocked into each other. He pointed to his eyes and then through the trees – that meant he had a visual right? I nodded like I understood and he pointed again. A bugle so loud and close nearly lifted me off the ground. I looked through the thick timber and saw him! Or at least I saw part of him. I saw his beautiful tan body lying down underneath a tall pine tree. He bugled again and I felt my blood pumping through my veins. This was what it was all about! My dad looked through his binoculars (the binoculars that cost more than my soul – and my mom is not to know about) and counted the points on the beast in front of us. Seven on the right and six on the left. I could see my dad considering. Finally he leaned in to me and whispered, “He’s pretty big, but I think we could get you a bigger one.” For a second I almost said okay, but then the words of my mother raced back to me. I had promised her that I wouldn’t let my dad talk me into anything crazy; I would get the first decent bull I saw. I couldn’t see any of the points, but I’ve always been partial to atypical animals. The fact that this bull had seven points on one side and six on the other made me smile. I think they have so much character! I looked at my dad and over at Tyson standing wide-eyed beside me. “Dad, is he decent?” I asked him. My dad looked through the binoculars again and told me that he was. “Then I want him, I’m going to shoot him.” My dad looked like he might argue with me, but then changed his mind. Maybe my mom had made him promise the same thing – I don’t know. He nodded and grabbed the “shooting stick” that my brother had been carrying for me the whole time. See? Pampered. I knew I could shoot the bull without it, but I also knew that I always get a serious case of “buck fever” or in this case “bull fever” and that I would get off exactly one shot before I probably started shaking. Previous encounters had taught me that. I still couldn’t see the rack, but I had complete faith in my dad and his years of experience. If he agreed that it was a shooter then I was going to get him. I took careful aim with my great-grandpa’s WWI 30/40 Krag and I pulled the trigger. Nothing. Just a click. Misfire! Panic! I looked at my dad with bug eyes and he calmly unloaded the bullet and another slid into place. I looked through the scope. The elk hadn’t budged. I tried to breath easy but my get “one shot free of the shakes” was already over and I could feel my arm start trembling. I took a quick breath and let it out slowly while sighting down the scope. I had to make this quick! Bam! The elk dropped. Now I could see his rack as he thrashed for just a moment in death. I felt a rush of emotions envelope me. Joy, sadness, thankfulness, respect, excitement and awe! My dad told me to get another bullet ready and shoot again just to be sure. I loaded another one in the chamber, but I had already pushed my luck getting off two shots without shaking like someone in electroshock therapy. The gun kept jittering and hopping right off the shooting stick despite my efforts to keep it on. My legs were jumping so violently that I could have rivaled Elvis in a dance off. Luckily, there was no need for another shot. He was down to stay. Tyson was jumping up and down and we all rushed down to the elk. We walked up beside him. It was hard to keep up with Tyson and my dad with my legs buckling and trembling! He was beautiful and my heart swelled with admiration and respect again for this magnificent creature. He was glorious! A prayer of thankfulness filled my whole soul and I looked at the tall pine trees pointing to heaven. My heart was full. He was bigger than even my dad thought, and his smile stretched across his whole face! It was hard to tell who was more excited – Tyson, my dad, or me. It was probably a tie! There were high-fives and hugs with me still shaking like a banshee. About a thousand pictures and poses later, my dad started to quarter him up. It took six hours and four trips (even with some fellow hunters that my dad knew who happened to be bear hunting in the same spot). My dad did most of the work- or all of it – one back leg weighed about as much as I did and my dad didn’t want me carrying something like that! I breathed a secret sigh of relief, but I tried to be as helpful as I could and provided lively conversation to keep him entertained. We (okay, my dad) packed it all back to the truck and and tied it on tight! Tyson and I periodically checked the back to make sure my bull hadn’t somehow disappeared or been twinkled away. We drove off the mountain into the setting sun with the wind at our backs, success warm in our hearts and the road downhill all the way back home! What an amazing hunt!