Not long after the last issue of “The Tracker” was put to bed, I received a postcard from my good friend “BB”. I was ecstatic to hear from him and of course in his usual cryptic style he simply wrote “Still living on the edge…see you in March, glad you are NOT here…LOL “BB””. As the days slowly came closer to March, I received another postcard, this one directing me to meet him in Forest Lakes at the Bugle Inn. He wanted to meet in the middle of the night–in the middle of the week. He also asked that I bring along my GPS unit. Puzzled, but happy, I armed myself with the necessary tools and my GPS and headed up to Forest Lakes.

The bar was of course closed for the season, but “BB” and I have a spare key to get in whenever we want. The standing rule is no droppings, no roughhousing and all libations to be paid for in cash and left in the register. As I walked through the side door, “BB” in all his bald glory was sitting at the bar reading some kind of papers. “BB” I said, “So nice to see you even if you look like a baby bull again. I can’t tell you how worried I was last December when you never showed up for our quarterly meeting. I’ve had folks looking all over for you and I even went up to Show Low to identify a rack that I thought was you.” “BB” nodded and said, “Yeah, I know. I read the article in the Tracker, but by then it was too late. I had had my fill of all your hunting brethren and I wound up going clear across a couple of units to find some peace and quiet.” I simply grinned and said, “So, we finally put a little pressure on you and your friends for once?” “BB” had that arrogant look in his eyes and responded, “Pressure? You want to talk pressure? Just try having your house bugged and see what kind of feelings you have.” I have to admit I was confused by that outburst and so I asked “Okay, what are you talking about? We don’t bug the forests, so what’s this all about?” “BB” got that angry look and said, “Did you bring the darn GPS unit?” “Of course” I answered. “I have it here in my pocket.” With that I dug the GPS unit out of my jeans and handed it over to him. “BB” rolled it over between his hooves and finally said, “This little device is going to be the downfall of us elk, this thing and that other gizmo with those damn little lights that go off in the dark.” Now I was really confused. “BB” what on earth are you talking about?” “BB” gathered himself up and started shouting “You know darn well what I’m talking about. Every time I go down to a stock tank or a pond at night these little lights go flashing off in front of my eyes.” Next thing I know during the day some guy comes down to one of the trees around the pond and takes this machine off and next thing you know I have all kinds of hunters showing up around my bedding area looking for guess who?…ME. They have 8 x 10 glossy pictures of me going for a drink at night. They have pictures of me rolling in the pond. They even have one photo of me and a certain cow I know at a very delicate moment if you know what I mean.” Continue reading →

The letter arrived as usual, smelling a little rank, and sealed with a hoof print. BB had invited me to meet with him at our favorite spot, the Bugle Inn in Forest Lakes. The note said we could spend some time, as it was prior to the rut, and he would just be getting in shape. Since it was mid-August, I was looking forward to some conversations without his usual screams, chuckles and whistles. I actually thought it might be a fun evening. Little did I know how wrong I was to be.

Just one day after receiving the invite from BB, I received the dreaded messages from the Arizona Game and Fish department: “Not Successful.” Now I don’t know about the rest of the readers, but there is just something wrong with that message. I would prefer to see something like, “Gee, you’re a really great person, and we appreciate you for trying to get these wonderful tags, but there were a few more people applying than tags available, and this year we had to let others hunt rather than you.” I somehow would feel better than seeing those two nasty words. However, I digress. I knew that meeting BB in a bar with no elk tag for the year was less than fun, but a job is a job, and elk relationships are hard to develop, so I went up early. The bar was just getting ready to close, and the owner let me in as long as I promised to close it up tight when I left. I agreed, and sat down to watch some big screen entertainment until BB arrived. Sitting there nursing a good bottle of Cabernet, I started thinking about how hard it would be not to be hunting this year. Pretty soon, the bottle was gone, and I was brooding about how to handle the rough season ahead. Continue reading →