Happy New Year to all the Old Bulls

[Leatherstocking]

Spike Bulls

Several years ago, I was hunting elk on some private property, down in the pinon pine country of southern Colorado. It was muzzle loading season and I was carrying my old bear killin 58. cal. flintlock. The night before the season open, I was glassing a herd of about 50 head that had come down to graze in an alfalfa field just before dark. The old herd bull, was then and still remains about the largest I had ever seen, probably scoring well over 350. I couldn't get an exact count on his rack, but felt fairly certain, he was a seven by, with antlers that reached his hind quarters when he raised his head. I had determined, that each evening this old boy brought his large harem down off the ridge along a thin strip of private land which was surrounded on three sides by Indian Land. Each morning they would return to the reservation by this same piece of property. As it turned out, this escape route was also owned by the same sweet elderly Hispanic grandmother who had given me permission to hunt her land.

My plan was simple. I would return before daybreak the next morning where I would set up and lay in wait to ambush this old regal giant as he returned to the safety of the Southern Ute Reservation. I had decided that I would not try and attract attention to my self by bugling but would set up and pray that God would allow me the opportunity to see the herd as it made it's way back up the ridge to safety. As light began to fill the eastern sky, I began to hear the sound of hoofs rattling the loose rocks which covered the ridge side. Not seeing anything, but afraid to move from my spot, I decided to use my cow call, and softy make the "mew" sound of a searching cow elk. Suddenly from the opposite side of the huge full cedar tree I was standing near, came the sound of a hot and bothered bull, making a guttural clucking sounds, while he was trying to determine where this possible new member of his harem might be. Both of us were frozen, with only the old bull making sound. Occasionally he would grunt and almost bugle, but then would stop, as though he wasn't quite sure of himself. The wind was right for me, but never the less the lack of visual verification of this new female intruder was more than the old boy could handle, and quickly he made for the barbed wire fence that acted as boundary for the reservation. Unknown to me, the border was only 75 or so yards away. Once the whole of the harem was across the fence, he stood on a ridge that was several hundred yards away and began to bugle like his mind was set on drawing this mystery "Honey" across the fence and into his waiting arms. Well, now what was I to do? I decided to go for broke and try and lure him back across the fence with a threat. I began to bugle. The more that I bugled the more excited he got, but, he wouldn't budge! I guess he knew he was safe where he was, and if this new bull in the neighborhood wanted to fight he'd have to come to him. By now I had moved out into the open, hoping to get a better view, incase he came back. Still bugling, I suddenly heard back behind me and to my left, the sound of rocks clattering again. Slowly turning my head, I discovered two spike bulls, not more than thirty yards away, curiously staring at me. Since I was using a mouth diaphragm to cow call and bugle, I continued to make the both sounds now, thoroughly confusing these two youngsters who though the were "in the blood", they had no idea what was going on and how to respond to it. Finally I knew that for me the hunt that morning was over, and I moved slightly, which caused the two spikes to move off slowly, still a bit unsure and rattled at the morning events never the less making themselves perfect targets. As a Hunter's Ed. instructor, I knew the regulations wouldn't allow me to fill my tag with these foolish youngsters, so I let them walk away.

Years of elk hunting has shown me some interesting similarities between males of different species. I'm speaking about Elk bulls and Human males. Okay bear with me on this. Young men, say the age of 18 to 25, are like spike bulls. They got it figured out that eventually they will be herd bulls, but too often their trying to strut their stuff long before they got it learned that they can't just run to any cow call that comes within ear shot. Now it's natural for a young man or spike bull, to have his thinking on all them young heifers.....women and elk that is, and wanting to romance the first one what ain't already taken by another bull...errr man. But the problem is, just cause you hear the voice of a sweet young thing calling, it don't mean she's callin you, and it don't mean if you go a running full bore towards the sound, that you're going to meet up with the right woman.....or cow of your dreams. Fact is you might run into a big old herd bull that's got no tolerance for a young whipper snapper flirten with his women folk. Worse than that you might run into a hunter who's not as honest as I am and who might shoot you...especially if you sneak up behind him. Never the less, though the danger might seem obvious, young men and spike bulls still make every attempt to impress their peers, male and female alike, with their strength, talent, education, virilness and yes, even their ability to bugle.....or toot their own horn.

As a dad of young bulls.....I have discovered like all dads, that our son's have decided often before they reach puberty, that the old herd bull don't know very much. By the time they are 20 something, they decide, not only does dad not know very much, but they actually could rule the herd much better than dad, having learned with great wisdom, all the mistakes that the old herd bull has made. Wisdom is often worn by these young upstarts, like a crown of majestic antlers which reach near to heaven, carrying on them such impressive tines as like precious jewels.

Dad, now must take his place outside the herd..........living a solitary life. Wandering aimlessly, looking for soft forage that his now toothless mouth can digest. Waiting for that fateful day when his tired old joints have finally given out. His rib cage looking like a wrought iron fence. His hide rough and mangy, missing patches of hair. His toothless grin dripping drool. Finally the once magnificent stag lowers his aged frame upon a soft grassy ridge, just as the sun's fading light cast orange and blue hues upon the western silhouetted horizon. He lowers his head to the grass, closes his tired nearly blind eyes, takes his last dying breath and finally forever rest with his forefathers. NOT!

Take heart guys! Just because you're forty something yourself, I hear from even older bulls than I, that eventually these youngsters figure it out that, we ain't so dumb. Why some of them even come around and ask our opinion sometimes. But there's an even more sinister group of bulls out there, that don't belong to the family. The "Satellite Bulls".

These are the 4x4 and 5x5 bulls. You know the type. They are late twenties to mid-thirtyish. Most of the time they got a bit of a smart mouth. Bugling when they ought to keep their mouth's shut. Making so much racket, every hunter in the woods knows your location. They are the ones who hang around the herd trying to pick up stray cows. They're the ones who even have the audacity to challenge the herd bull for "supremacy". Call him the young executive. He's the up and coming. He might even be that young associate who you've befriended cause........well, you like the guy. You see his talent and potential and want to give him a head start. Sorta reminds you of yourself when you was his age. So you encourage him. You bring him into the business. Give him his big break. Take him under your wing. Suddenly you're being challenged from this young upstart. Not so unlike that spike bull, you find this guy knows more than you do. Thinks he's got a better way to run the herd, and if you give him an inch while you're sparing, he'll take a mile. So you flex your muscle a bit and he backs away, but he's found your weak spot and next time pushes you further. Finally you have to give him a sound thrashing, if you're going to maintain order in the herd. Push him hard enough and he'll go packing. The problem with that is, he might be the very best candidate to replace you when nature finally takes it's course.

Yep it's a hard job being the herd bull. Everybody is watching. Make one bad move and "BANG!", you're hanging in camp, upside down with flies flying around your private parts. But remember something. Being the herd bull means that you've been dodging bullets all your life. It means you were smart enough to slip in and out of hunter infested country without being seen. Even though the eyes couldn't see the "hunter orange", you could smell 'em! You heard them trying to sneak up on you. And when the lead cow barked, you were the first to skedaddle. So let those youngsters spout off. Let them think they are smarter than you. Let them go snooping around even though you've told them a million times not to. Just remember. It's those spikes and satellite bulls that get shot first. Keep your head down and remember your own wisdom......and okay, pray for the young bulls too!

Be Blessed! Doug

[Trigger Dr]

You have pretty well described my first 25-30 years of life. I suddenly discovered how much that "Old Bull" had learned in the last couple of years.
God Bless and happy returns.
Jim

[Omak Cowboy]

The story reminds me of another, which I was told about some years back.

A good friend, Pat, was at drill when one of the guys came out of the shower. Now Pat, at that time, was bout '40 and this young man was much younger and alwasys bragging about how well he was equiped. So this day the braggart comes out of the shower, holding the towell in his hand and making comments about how well he is endowed..so Pat looks up at the guy from where he was seated and says "You know, you're always talking bout how big you are, so let's see it. Bring it over here and lay it in my hand. Let's see if you really are that big"

Well, "Young and DUMB' comes to mind as this fool does just that. Only problem is that Pat has a grip like an old farmer whose has milked all his life..and he grabes the guy, stands up and announces 'We're gona go for a run". And they do - he with a firm grip on that which the young studd most does NOT want to loose! Around the inside of the barracks, out the door and up the street, down another street, past some female officers and enlisted and by the Commander's office too. Probably all told maybe a good 15 minute trot for all to see. Naturally the Commander had a little chat with my friend but it happens that he too had a belly full of this young man so the penalty was, well nothing serious.

Omak

[RMulhern]

Yep! You nailed it! Reminds me of the Old Bull and the Young Bull story! They were up on the hillside over-looking a vast herd of heifers and the young bull runs over to the Old Bull and says "let's run down there and get us one of them cows"! The Old Bull...looks at 'em an says"why don't we just amble on down there real slow like....AND WE'LL GET 'EM ALL!"

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!

[Leatherstocking]

Omak,
I'd paid good money to have seen that one! Thanks for sharing and happy New Year to you,Sharpsman, and Trigger.......Be Blessed!
Leatherstocking