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.