As you might guess, it was an interminably long, hot, frustrating summer that sorely tested my resolve, but through faith and determination I managed to persist with my exercise and practice sessions.
When August finally arrived, my doctor gave me the go-ahead to slowly put aside my crutches. I was ecstatic! My elk hunt was edging closer to reality, and now, more than ever, I wanted to push myself. It took every ounce of my willpower to maintain a disciplined routine. Even a small re-injury of the repaired tendon would not only trash my elk hunt but likely would prevent hunting of any sort for the entire year. So I doggedly went through my daily routine of stretching, walking, and shooting -- all seasoned with fervent prayers for patience.
The final stages of my rehab went extremely well. When September came, I still had a severe limp, and my ankle swelled to painful proportions at the end of each day. Didn't matter -- I was going elk hunting. Sure, I would be slow, and packing out an elk was out of the question, but I could already hear the elk bugling in the Rockies, and nothing was going to dampen my enthusiasm.
To celebrate my great progress, Marcie and I decided to take a Labor Day camping trip. The second day into the trip, our celebration came to an abrupt halt when I awoke early in the morning with the world swirling uncontrollably before me. I closed my eyes in an attempt to make the dizziness subside, but it didn't. It got worse. The dizziness, accompanied by nausea, lasted the entire day and all of the next. On the third day, desperate for relief, I headed to the doctor for his assessment of this latest malady.
Labrinthitis was the diagnosis -- an inner ear inflammation that occurs inexplicably but usually disappears in a few days. My problem was I had only a few days before my elk hunt, and now I was not only crippled but also dizzy and nauseated. Fortun-ately, prescription medication took care of most of the problem, but I certainly was not a picture of health and definitely not the ultimate predator I had envisioned at the start of the summer. However, lamenting my condition was not going to change anything, so I dutifully dropped back into my well-worn daily routine of walking and shooting.
SEPTEMBER 12, DEPARTURE DAY, finally arrived. I, along with two other members of our hunting party, pulled into our hunting spot at sunrise and set up camp just as Matt arrived. Amazingly, everything had fallen into place, and I had made it -- elk country! It was all here -- snow-covered mountains, white-barked aspens with brilliant yellow leaves shimmering like gold against the deep green spruce, fresh elk rubs as thick as my arm, musky wallows hidden in places that only the elk and a few lucky hunters knew, and big bull elk just waiting to respond to my alluring bugles and cow calls.
On our first hunt late that afternoon, an eager bull responded to our bugles with two hoarse, raspy squeals. Forty-five minutes later, he crashed away like a train after sneaking to within 40 yards and busting us, leaving me without even a glimpse of him. Despite the excitement of having a bull respond, I was disappointed and vowed that tomorrow I would turn my predator mode up a notch and watch and listen more carefully. I would be ready when that next bull showed up.
North American Whitetall
North American Whitetail is designed for the serious trophy hunter. It provides authoritative coverage of world-class whitetails, the latest approaches to deer management and advanced hunting techniques.
