elkassassin
Long Time Member
- Messages
- 39,249
?Twas the night before Elk season when all thru the land,
Thousands of hunters were stirring and throwing gear in their Rigs.
I was polishing my bino?s lenses with care,
In the hopes that a six point Bull would soon be there.
When out on the street there arose quite a clatter,
I sprang from my bedroom to see what was the matter.
Away to my rifle I flew like a gazelle,
I opened the bolt and stuffed in a shell.
The moon and the stars were as white as new snow,
They gave a luster of mid-day to objects below.
When what roared up the driveway near,
?Twas a Chevy Truck, and nine hunters for more Beer.
Out jumped the driver, he looked ready for fun,
I knew in a moment it must be Paul Crawford.
More rapid than turtles his partners they out came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
Now 1911! Now rutnbuck! Now GATOR and CUPSY!
On RASNS! On Eel! On Snort! On Wisz and NVB!
To the back door we did go of the Truck,
And stuffed my gear, stuffed my gear, stuffed my gear in!
Then away to the Pumpkin Patch did we all fly,
And dressed in the Truck, to beat the light sky.
Up to the tower blinds and tripods we flew,
A Rig full of men?s toys, and ten hunters, too.
It wasn?t thirty minutes after I settled in my seat,
that I heard the prancing and pawing of Big Elk feet.
As I shouldered my rifle, and was turning around,
Out a Six point Bull came with a bound.
He was adorned with brown fur, from his head to his thigh,
And his antlers were gleaming, like a Neon sign.
With two kickers that reached all the way to his back,
He looked like a bush, my God, what a rack!
His brow tines how they twinkled! His main beams how merry!
But I saw in an instant that his senses were wary.
His soot black nose was drawn up like a bow,
And the backside of his tail was as white as new snow.
So I centered my crosshairs on his neck with great care,
Squeezed off a shot and heard a sound like a mad bear.
He dropped in his tracks, not a step did he take,
I let out a bellow, that sounded like an earthquake.
I tagged him and dressed him and hung his feet up high,
His brown pelt came off with forty strokes of my knife.
Then I contemplated how to butcher, for experience I had none,
Up roared the Chevy and out jumped HunterHarry.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And trimmed off the back strap to make into jerk.
And laying the meat aside in the fridge,
And giving a nod, he went to his Rig by the ridge.
He sprang into his seat, to his partners gave a whistle,
And away we flew to our stands again like the down on a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim as we drove out of sight,
?Good Elk hunting to all and to all a good night.?
Thousands of hunters were stirring and throwing gear in their Rigs.
I was polishing my bino?s lenses with care,
In the hopes that a six point Bull would soon be there.
When out on the street there arose quite a clatter,
I sprang from my bedroom to see what was the matter.
Away to my rifle I flew like a gazelle,
I opened the bolt and stuffed in a shell.
The moon and the stars were as white as new snow,
They gave a luster of mid-day to objects below.
When what roared up the driveway near,
?Twas a Chevy Truck, and nine hunters for more Beer.
Out jumped the driver, he looked ready for fun,
I knew in a moment it must be Paul Crawford.
More rapid than turtles his partners they out came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
Now 1911! Now rutnbuck! Now GATOR and CUPSY!
On RASNS! On Eel! On Snort! On Wisz and NVB!
To the back door we did go of the Truck,
And stuffed my gear, stuffed my gear, stuffed my gear in!
Then away to the Pumpkin Patch did we all fly,
And dressed in the Truck, to beat the light sky.
Up to the tower blinds and tripods we flew,
A Rig full of men?s toys, and ten hunters, too.
It wasn?t thirty minutes after I settled in my seat,
that I heard the prancing and pawing of Big Elk feet.
As I shouldered my rifle, and was turning around,
Out a Six point Bull came with a bound.
He was adorned with brown fur, from his head to his thigh,
And his antlers were gleaming, like a Neon sign.
With two kickers that reached all the way to his back,
He looked like a bush, my God, what a rack!
His brow tines how they twinkled! His main beams how merry!
But I saw in an instant that his senses were wary.
His soot black nose was drawn up like a bow,
And the backside of his tail was as white as new snow.
So I centered my crosshairs on his neck with great care,
Squeezed off a shot and heard a sound like a mad bear.
He dropped in his tracks, not a step did he take,
I let out a bellow, that sounded like an earthquake.
I tagged him and dressed him and hung his feet up high,
His brown pelt came off with forty strokes of my knife.
Then I contemplated how to butcher, for experience I had none,
Up roared the Chevy and out jumped HunterHarry.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And trimmed off the back strap to make into jerk.
And laying the meat aside in the fridge,
And giving a nod, he went to his Rig by the ridge.
He sprang into his seat, to his partners gave a whistle,
And away we flew to our stands again like the down on a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim as we drove out of sight,
?Good Elk hunting to all and to all a good night.?
