Obviously Annie gets right into it...more often than not a little too much into it.
We just returned from a two-week swing through eastern Montana. Our mission to search out and destroy as many wild birds--roosters, sharpies, Huns--as possible. Bearing in mind however our gang is aging fast and not nearly as lethal as a few seasons ago--two geezers, Kate (12th season) and of course the indefatigable Annie--Reigning Queen of Terror on the High Plains--"as possible" holds severe limitations. The trip came off without a hitch except for way too many too hot afternoons to say nothing of severely depressed bird numbers in most places and though it pains me to admit sometimes downright pathetic shooting...nothing like the deep slump of last mid-season but still not so hot...Anyway, we camped the first night at Issac Homestead WMA hunted a little in the morning to no avail (birds seemed to be around but mostly in the still standing corn which was everywhere...
Camp 2 was at Intake on the Yellowstone River. A nifty camp and even better just one other rig. The highlight though was dear sweet Annie ferreting out and rolling on a really dead catfish head. I'm here to tell you in case you never been "really dead catfish" STINKS to HIGH HEAVEN. Even after a thorough scrubbing in the Yellowstone we smelt the little bitch for at least a week after...enough about that. Next morning we found a few birds but none even close to Hail Mary range so...we decided to give it another go next day...end result deja vue all over again.
Camp 3: Medicine Lake where we rendezvoued with our pals Barb and Gig and their CA buddy Sam (our age, a really nice guy and one I wouldn't have any problem sharing a camp with again). We hung out there for about a week, hunted many different spots up and down the road, all the way to Whitetail even. Most afternoons were way too hot, I found myself in the throes of what would become a really painful knee problem and while we went hard most days the birds were scarce, wild as hell and the shots few and far between...oh well twas a good hunt despite all and a fine time had by all...what more could you want.
Camp 4: Our plan was to eventually kick Med Lk and haul ass for Malta but G&B reported "sucks, worst ever" so...instead we headed to Fort Peck. Turns out a good move as is a really nifty place. First night we had but a single neighbor in a huge campground...with electric to boot...and all for 8 bucks per...thanks to our golden ages...I know, a sick joke, but...Actually the hunting there was as good as up at Med Lk, the killing was about on par also but where else can you tour a nifty interpretive center...dinosaurs even...gaze upon an awesome inland sea, delve into one of more interesting sites in all of Big Sky, enjoy a fine camp and gourmet camp food with your best buddies, celebrate yet another gd birthday and like I said all for a measely 8 bucks per...hell can't beat it.
Camp 5: Deadman's Basin near Harlotown where dear sweet Annie found not only a much dead antelope head to roll upon but pointed a small covey huns to boot. Had an interesting though much strained conversation with our only neighbor a rancher/sugar beet grower from Joliet...strained only because nearly deaf, I doubt he heard much of what we said...we all laughed a lot though so what the hell...
As a sort of added bonus the drive to Dillon did not feature off the charts wind for a change, although we did lose the spare tire off the Bird Huntin' Haus...proving once again beyond a shadow of doubt you really can't have it all...
...which of course means a lengthy and tedious comb-out job...which of course in not high on her list of favorites..thus one would think she would learn to avoid the sticky bastards, but as Gale points out "no way, I think the little bitch really loves the attention...sounds about right to me...
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