In my experience I have found that the flock shot is
not very effective. The best way to be effective is to be in a
situation of one on one. This is especially true in the work of the
Lord. Each individual must gain his own Testimony and his own
knowledge of the Gospel. Even in the classroom the teacher must
consider each individual and help each one to learn the things he is
trying to teach.
The most effective missionary work is done not in big
congregations but in individual families. Even in the families the
missionary must touch each individual with the message and the spirit
must confirm the truth of the message to each individual.
Years ago when we had the ranch the snow Geese would
come down every winter to spend the winter in the area of the lakes.
They would arrive around the 20th of October in big white clouds of
honking birds. They would settle on the water by the thousands waiting
for the opportunity to feed on the Bermuda grass around the lakes. We
found that their breast meat was white like Chicken or Turkey
not dark like that of the wild Ducks. They were very wiley and knew
when you had a gun so we could not get close to them when we had a
gun. So we had to crawl through the grass and mesquites to get within
rifle range. Seeing that sea of white birds many hunters would take a
flock shot and usually would not hit anything so we soon learned that
you have to single out one special Goose and aim carefully at it and
that usually brought success.
To enforce this theory I will tell the following
stories. Also I wish to record these experiences before my memory
fails.
Naoma and I had gone to Douglas to visit Her Sister
Clara and family and while their I went to visit Brother Lewis'
Second Hand Store down on G avenue. There I looked at many nice
second hand rifles of different kinds. The only one that I could
afford to buy at that time was and old 30-40 saddle rifle that he had
found and cleaned up to sell. On arriving home I planned a big hunt to
try out my treasured rifle. I got permission from Uncle Harvey Taylor
to hunt up in the Malpais mountains on the Taylor and Bowman Ranch. We
drove to the ranch and there I saddled our mule Chihuahua and we rode
up to the highest point of the Malpais and dismounted and cautiously
walked over to where we could overlook a large basin where we expected
to see something. We sat down to look carefully over each side of the
basin. After searching the whole area and not seeing anything but
rocks and grass we decided to go on farther. I decided to check the
safety on my rifle before putting it in the scabbard on the saddle. I
saw that it was on safety and pulled the trigger to test the safety
and BOOOOOOOM!!!!!! That old 30-40 went off into the air. Suddenly
that whole basin came alive with bouncing Mule Deer. A bunch were
bouncing straight away from us, another bunch were going along the
left side. Another big group were bouncing along the right
slope. We were so surprised by all of this that we didn't even try to
shoot and besides we could not tell which ones were Bucks and which
ones were Does. As we watched them disappear over the high ridge in
front of us we decided that their must have been 60 or 70 Deer come
out of that Basin. We followed them and hunted the rest of the morning
but had lost our chance and we didn't see any of them again.
A few years later I had bought a Model 70 3006 rifle
and had shaped the stock to fit my face. I had to file down the Stock
so that I could get my right eye to line up with the sights. I decided
to try my luck again in the Malpais.
We left the ranch before daylight and went up the
Mesquite Pass and up a canyon leading into the west side of the
mountains. I looked to my right and high on the ridge I could see a
big Mule Deer Buck on the skyline. It was just light enough for me to
see his outline and the big antlers crowning his head above his big
ears. He watched us for a moment then disappeared from sight. I turned
my mule up the steep hill and cautiously climbed to where we had seen
the big vision in the early light of the dawn. I dismounted and walked
carefully to the edge of the steep side hill and looked over. I could
not see any sign of the Deer but suddenly there he was trotting just
under me about 15 ft. away. I quickly raised my rifle and fired. At
that close range he just humped up and fell sliding down the steep
incline a few feet.
Carlos came while I was cleaning the Deer and helped me
put the deer on the mule. We accomplished this by putting Chihuahua,
my Mule, on the downhill side and between the two of us we got the
Deer on behind the saddle and tied securely.
As we came down to the level of the Canyon I wanted to
go on and hunt some more so I untied the Deer and let him fall to the
grass on the canyon floor. Carlos offered to come back and pick up the
Buck on his way back out so that I would not have to come back that
way. I remembered the difficult time we had putting the Deer on behind
the saddle from the upper side of the hill and asked Carlos how he was
going to get the Deer on his horse. He laughed and said, "Pues a
Puchones". We decided to put the Deer on Carlos' horse while I
was there to help so he could take it back to the ranch.
We got already to lift the Deer between the two of us
up onto the horse. At the count of Uno, Dos, Tres, I said,
"Ahora a Puchones". We lifted the big Buck up but Carlos burst out
laughing, his legs crumpled and he fell with the Deer pinning him on
his back in the high grass. He was yelling frantically, "Quitamelo
Quitamelo". (Get him off me, get him off me). I was laughing so hard
that I couldn't lift the Deer off him, but finally rolled it off him
so that he could get up and try to wipe the blood off the front of him
where the Deer had fallen across him. After recovering a while we
decided to put the Buck back on my Mule and go on back to the
Ranch.
The next year in late November Militon, the cowboy at
the Taylor and Bowman Ranch, sent me word that he had seen a big buck
on the three black hills in the Bull Pasture. I had given him some
meat from the Deer that we had killed the year before so I guess he
needed some meat.
Before daylight the next morning Chelino Nuñez and I
were going in the gate in the bull pasture east of Dublan at the foot
of the three Black Hills. I drove to the east end of the three hills
and waited for enough light to begin my hunt. I wanted to walk from
east to west so that I would not be shooting against the light of the
rising sun.
I climbed to about the middle of the side hill and
began to walk watchfully along the side hill toward the west. As I
walked along I could see the smoke rising from some of the chimneys of
the homes in Dublan. My musing was interrupted by a clatter of sound
on the rocks above me. I looked up and saw the Big Buck running along
the hill above and in front of me about a hundred yards away. His head
was up and it looked to me like he was balancing the weight of his big
antlers on his head. I raised my rifle and shot him. He humped up and
turned down hill and finally fell in front and below me near the road.
We cleaned the Deer and tied him on the side of the rack on the truck
and we were in Dublan shortly after Sunup.
Naoma came out with our movie canera and took some
pictures of the big Buck on the side of the truck. I later mounted the
horns on a board and they are still here in the dining room filled
with hats.
Chelino helped me skin out the Deer and cut up the
meat. We kept a tenderloin but the rest was sent to different friends
including Chelino and family and Militon, the one that sent me word
about seeing the Deer.
I took the hide to be tanned to Don Evaristo Flores.
When the leather was done I made a little saddle, with a seat and
Stirrups that cinched on over a saddle blanket, for our Son Kiko. He
used it for many years until we could afford to get him a real little
saddle, that Nacho made for Kiko.
One day while working out on the flat finishing the
Peanut harvest. Don Lupe Nuñez, Chelino's father, came over to
visit. In our conversation Don Lupe said that he had been riding out
in the Sand Dunes, out next to the Escondida Mountains, and had seen a
herd of Mule Deer leaving the Sand Dunes and climbing into the first
ridge of the Escondidas. He also said that they had really enjoyed the
meat that I had sent them last year. All of the boys gathered around
and urged me to take them out there hunting the next morning. So it
was arranged to leave early the next morning from the Ranch house on
the Flat.
When I arrived at the ranch the next morning they all
piled in the back of the pickup. Pancho, Nicho and Chevo Holguin plus
Chelino Núñez, Chevo Alcantar and Manuel García. The excitement ran
high and as I stopped the truck at the foot of the mountains they all
piled out and went up the Hill as fast as they could leaving me to
follow behind. I reached the top of the first ridge and sat down
looking back across a little canyon. I could see no use following that
bunch of excited men. I sat there looking at the beautiful rolling
Sand Dunes wondering how long it had taken the wind to pile up that
much sand off the Dublan valley. I sat there probably for about ten
minutes and was surprised to see a big Mule Deer get up, stretch
lazily and shake his big horns. I carefully worked the bolt action of
my rifle but he heard it and started to run down the other side of the
little canyon. I shot him and he stumbled and keeled over and rolled
down the hill a ways. By the time I had him gutted all of the eager
hunters were back panting and sweating. Back at the ranch house the
Deer was skinned out and the meat was divided without me lifting a
hand. Even Don Lupe was there waiting for his share. I took home a
tenderloin and the skin to be made into Buckskin by Don Evaristo
Flores. He took great pride in making very soft beautiful buckskin.
Especially the skins of the White Tailed Deer made very good
Buckskin soft and pliable that we liked to use for shoelaces.
Pancho kept the horns to put up in the Ranch House on the farm on the
flat.
I learned that a Mule Deer can lay down in the rocks
and grass and be perfectly camouflaged and the Deer knows it. If he
lays very still you can walk right past him and not even know that he
is there.
One time Dean Turley and I went hunting out in the
Malpais mountains and we had hunted horse back all morning and had
seen nothing. On our way down we split up to take different ridges
down. He was going along and saw a Fox sitting on a big rock sunning
himself about 50 yards away. He got off his horse took out his rifle
and shot at the Fox. He thought he had hit the Fox so he put down his
rifle and walked over to get the Fox. As he approached the rock he
couldn't see the fox so he went around it to the other side. He
was suddenly startled to see a big Buck Mule Deer jump up and go
bouncing away around the hill out of sight. As I came over and he was
telling me his sad tale he said, "I could kick myself for laying down
my gun". "That Deer was only about 15 ft. away from me". I
learned another lesson that day.
When Tracy was a little boy he was an avid hunter and
urged me to take him hunting out in the Escondida Mountains out east
of Dublan. We left early one morning and drove into the main canyon
and left the truck. As we prepared to go I put on my back pack and
loaded my rifle and told Tracy that it was easier to carry a big deer
on a backpack than on your shoulders and get all bloody. We climbed
over the last ridge to the east slope where we could look down onto
the flat that extended to the Boquilla Del Negro ranch.
We were hunting along on the east slope of the ridge
toward the north when Tracy excitedly yelled, " There's a wild pig
Daddy shoot it! shoot it!" I looked back and above us a big Javalina
Sow was running across the hill side. I shot it and we went back
to see it. She had very large sharp tusks and Tracy wanted them so I
chopped them out with my Machete that I carried on the backpack. We
continued on our hunt along the side of the hill. We came to the edge
of a little canyon that afforded us a good view of the country ahead
of us. We sat down to look and wait in spite of Tracy's impatience to
get on with the hunt. I told him that I thought there was a Deer in
this place mainly to calm his impatience. We sat down and watched and
waited. I am sure it must have seemed a long time to Tracy for he
would ask, "Do you really think there is a Deer in here? I don't see
any". His voice must have made the Deer decide to try to get out
of there because he came out of the little canyon and started to run
across the hill in front of us about 75 yards away. I shot him and he
turned down into the canyon and lay down to hide. When we went over
where he lay he was badly wounded and dying so I shot him in the
head with my pistol.
I gutted him and tied him on the back pack. I was glad
that he was a White Tailed Buck and not a Mule Deer for two reasons.
First the meat of the White Tail is much better than the dark strong
meat of the Mule Deer. Second because they are not as big as the Mule
Deer and much easier to carry. I got down and slipped into the
backpack and got on our way back to the truck. As we came across the
hill where we had shot the Javalina a little baby Javalina pig jumped
up and ran up the hill with Tracy right in pursuit. As Tracy caught up
to him he turned and ran straight for me. I scooped him up with both
hands as he was about to run between my legs. He began to squeal as
only a baby pig can and I suddenly realized the dangerous situation we
were in. I thought of what would happen should there be other
Javalinas in the area. I gave the little fellow to Tracy and got into
my backpack again. We hurriedly left the area with Tracy calming the
little pig to silence.
Back at the truck Tracy wanted to hunt up the canyon to
see if he could see a Deer or something for him to shoot. We put the
little pig in the Glove Compartment of the truck and went up the
canyon. We didn't see anything for Tracy to shoot and we were getting
hungry and thirsty so we returned to the Truck. We were both saddened
to find the little fellow that we had left in the glove compartment
dead and stiff. We don't know why he died. The Glove Compartment was
far from air tight so he could not have smothered to death. He must
have died from Trauma and Shock. I remember Tracy proudly displaying
his sharp tusks to his friends and telling them of the exciting hunt
we had. I also remember that we really enjoyed the White Tailed Deer
meat and even bottled some of it.
Well the moral of this story is that when you are
dealing one on one your attention is not divided and you have a lot
better chance of success.
When I am trying to touch people's lives I always seem
to remember that it doesn't pay to take a Flock Shot. Especially this
is true in giving Patriarchal Blessings. The Lord centers on each
person and let's them know that he knows them and loves them and gives
a special blessing just for that person.