One clear crisp Saturday morning in October, the family was making plans for a day of hunting. Mother invited Laurel to go along with her for the day. I was riding behind Mother on her saddle horse and Laurel rode alone. We rode up on the West Mountain through Uncle Laurence’s pasture, high on the mountain near the River of Rocks. We were riding along up Deep Hollow and I was the first to see him. I said, “There he goes, Mum!” She moved quickly from the saddle, pulling the old lever action 32-20 rifle from the scabbard hanging from the side of the saddle as she stepped down. She moved back, took careful aim and BOOM, she got him with one shot! She had learned to ride, hunt and handle a gum during her growing up years in Grouse Creek. I was so excited and yelled, “Ya’ got him, Mum, ya’ got him”! We rode over to take a closer look at our prize buck.
Then came the job of preparing him to take home. All that Mother and Laurel could find to cut his throat was a little pen knife of Laurel’s with a tiny 1-1/2 inch blade and so they took turns hacking away at the bloody throat to let the big animal bleed out. By the time they were ready to load him onto the horse Dad came along the mountain to give a hand. We really went home that day with bragging rights! He turned out to be the only deer bagged by the family that day. It was really an exciting experience for a little boy of seven.
Mother always shot left-handed and preferred to carry the old pump-action twenty two. In the 1960's Dad bought Mother a new left-handed bolt action rifle, which later became mine, being another “lefty”.
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1964 Deer Hunt at hunting cabin |
One of my favorite memories of deer season and gathering at the ranch was in October of 1996. VaLayne brought her little boys and came to Idaho. Ellen invited us up to the ranch for the Friday night Dutch-oven dinner with the request to bring Mother along, by then in her 93rd year. That afternoon we drove up to Lynn. We sat in the old family kitchen, Mother in her favorite old rocking chair in front of the kitchen window. A fire burning in the old fireplace and surrounded with love, laughter and great hunting stories.
As we drove down through the valley that evening, bright lights flickered from all the homes and yards. The roads were filled with cars and trucks pulling horse trailers coming in. The valley had come to life once again. Hunting season was in the air. It was a fun ride back to Burley as we sang old songs and reminisced.
Just ten days later Mother passed away suddenly at her little home in View leaving a pot of homemade soup simmering on the stove.
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