We were elk hunting in the Heppner, Oregon area in Septemeber. Then hunting had been arduous, more because we didn't know what we were doing than anything, but we were having fun regardless. There were 3 of us on this trip, my buddy Ken, and an old friend of his, Kevin.
There are 2 treestands within about 20 yards of each other, and then another a couple hundered yards away. Ken had shot a spike elk while I watched from the other stand the day before, so the gut pile was beginning to decompose and fill the air with stench. Ken decided to go ahead and use the stand down the ridge a ways to allow Kevin and I a presumed better chance at the next elk. We agreed before we split up that we would bugle in ridiculous fashion to let Ken know if one of us had gotten an animal, and he would do the same.
Well, there weren't any elk in the area, but a black bear came in, likely to inspect the gut pile. Remarkably, Kevin placed an arrow right through the forehead of this bear. The broadhead lodged into the back of it's skull and the bear never even took a step. She laid down on her belly, arrow sticking out of her head at a 45 degree angle, about 20 yards from the tree Kevin was perched in. But that's not even the cool part of the story.
As agreed upon, Kevin began bugling to get Ken's attention. No reply. More bugling from both of us. No response. Where did he go? More bugling... No reply. Protocol must be followed, but maybe he's got animals around him and is afraid to signal back. So we'll wait a bit and try again.
More bugling, more waiting, and still no response from down the ridge. What is the deal??? So we either have a real problem, or Ken is sleeping. Just before Kevin is about to go find Ken, we decide to play a little bit of a joke on him when he gets back, assuming everything is OK. Instead of telling him what really happened, we would tell him that Kevin shot a deer instead, but made a bad shot, and we needed Ken's expert tracking skills to help us find it. Sure enough, Ken just didn't hear the signals. Kevin had Ken in tow about 10 minutes later, and we explained to him what had happened (sort of). Trusting his friends, Ken dropped his bow, and fanny pack to make the trip lighter, and started to where the "deer" had been hit.
The area we are in is full of pecker poles laying every which way like toothpicks thrown into the forest. Many are 2-3 feet off the ground, so you have to step over them, which, of course, makes you keep your focus pretty close in front of you.
Which is exactly what we expected Ken to do. So we let him go first, the "expert" tracker and all (his credentials are unverified, but that didn't stop us from electing him). Over the poles he went, with us in short tow to make sure we didn't miss anything. He made it about 15 yards toward the spot where there should be a blood trail to follow, when Ken started stammering and attempting to walk backwards over the pecker poles. All I remember is "What the, What the, What the..." as he stumbled backwards only to see our faces of sheer pleasure. His fear turned instantly into absolute disgust. He couldn't believe we would do such a thing. After letting us know of his digust, he checked with us to make sure it was really dead, and then we all went to inspect further and get to work. What a day!!!
