Hello, To many of my readers, this time of the year is a great time.
Pheasant hunting is open, you can blast those ducks that are heading south, and deer season is right around the corner.
Coyotes are nearing prime and prairie dogs are enjoying wrecking the prairie and standing above their dens and bragging about it.
By Dean Meyer
But, thinking of hunting, reminds me of a couple of stories.
One involves a good friend who passed away a several years ago. Jerry Linseth.
He had a ranch west of Grassy Butte on the Little Missouri. He loved his ranch. The rugged buttes, the prairies, the wildlife. And he allowed only limited hunting.
But mixed in his ranch was Federal land that he could not control.
But he knew that hunters were required to stay on established trails. Well, one day he sees this pickup go down the road, turn off the trail, and drive out on a point. This guy takes binoculars and starts glassing this deep canyon. With the strap of the glasses still around his neck. He is looking for the monster buck and doesn’t notice Jerry drive up behind him.
Jerry walks up quietly, grabs these binoculars, practically jerks the guys head off, breaks the strap, and throws the glasses down over the cliff. This kind of startled the hunter and he gets belligerent and starts to argue with Jerry. Jerry doesn’t argue real well. He picks up a big scoria clinker and smashes it on the hood of this guys pickup.
By this time the hunter is not liking this and starts to back out to return to the established trail. On the way he shouts to Jerry that he is going to Watford City to press charges against Jerry for vandalizing his pickup. Jerry says while he is in the sheriffs office, may as well file charges for “assault and battery too” cause he is going to beat the hell out of him when he comes out.
Now, Jerry, is about six-five and quick. The guy comes to his senses and decides not to press charges.
One time, when Alfred (my nephew) was pretty young, we were kind of patrolling the ranch during deer season.
It was open for hunting and was packed with people. And most of them were pretty darn good. They were staying on the trails. The only problem was there were way too many hunters for the amount of game.
s we were heading home, I was following a Suburban loaded with hunters. They all of a sudden slowed down and pulled off the road. Kind of like Jerry’s deal, they drove to the end of this grassy ridge and stopped to look for deer.
I never said anything to Alfred. Just pulled up and politely asked these guys to not drive off the trail. They wanted to know who I was and what right I had. I politely asked them to leave. Maybe I was a little loud.
Anyway, when I got back in the pickup, Alfred’s eyes were this big. He asked how come I kicked those hunters out?
I looked at him and replied, “I didn’t like the way they looked at my wife!”
Alfred looked at me and replied, “Reeaaallly Uncle Dean?”
Take care and good hunting.