Hillbilly Slide

On one particular hunting trip, Hillbilly and I decided to hunt an old burn we had hunted many times before. As we were walking along an old, over-grown logging road discussing politics, the weather and the apparent need to switch over to light beer, we happened upon a group of deer feeding on new-growth grass in a small, open field.

Upon first sight of the grazing deer, Hillbilly and I instantly slipped into super-stealth mode as if we were a couple of Force Recon soldiers trying to surround and invade an enemy camp. Dressed from head to toe in forest camouflage, we instinctively ducked behind a group of evergreen trees unnoticed. Without uttering a word, we signaled to each other in a series of hand gestures which detailed a fool-proof plan of attack on the unsuspecting deer.

As relayed by his precise hand signals resembling a fight sequence from a Three Stooges episode, Hillbilly signed in agreement to split up, walk wide 3 clicks in a north easterly direction, and sneak in from the back side toward the small herd of deer. I was going to remain in my location among the trees until Hillbilly was in position. Then I was to flank wide 2 - 4 clicks in a southerly direction until I was within shooting range.

The plan was perfect in its simplicity and I was overcome by an overwhelming sense of excitement as the thrill of the hunt began to set in. I watched patiently as Hillbilly crept North through the trees and ground foliage in an effort to complete his mission. Soon he was out of my sight and I settled back against a tree making step-by-step mental notes of how to accomplish my plan of attack in the most efficient manner.

One more time I pulled my range finder out of my pack to double-check the exact distance of the herd so as not to misjudge the distance I had to travel to reach my position. A quick movement just a hundred yards from me caught my eye. It was a legal buck bedded down in the shade beneath a large cedar tree. I also noticed two other bucks feeding a short distance beyond the buck resting in the shade and just below the location Hillbilly was supposed to show up.

In a split second I made a command decision to take off my shoes and stalk the bedded buck. Slowly and silently I started to make my way closer and get in a position that afforded me a clean kill shot. Suddenly another quick movement caught my eye; it was Hillbilly coming out of the brush revealing his position. Frantically, I began flashing him hand signals and other gestures in a large, flailing manner in an attempt to draw his attention to the bucks just below him. The look of confusion on his face indicated he did not understand my directions.

Taking a deep breath, I again signaled in a most clear and concise military manner. To no avail, Hillbilly began to make his way out of the brush and toward my current, shoeless position. From my vantage point I could clearly see Hillbilly was standing on a relatively high outcrop of rock strata covered in dense ground vegetation. The untrained eye could easily underestimate the steepness of the descent down the hill. As if able to predict what might happen next, I tried in vain to gain Hillbilly's attention and warn him of the impending danger. With arms flapping ferociously up and down as if trying to take flight, I tried unsuc-cessfully to prevent what happened next.

For a brief moment I thought Hillbilly may have correctly interpreted my flailing arms as a sign of warning. All to soon that moment slipped away with one unsuspecting step forward onto a clump of seemingly firm, stable grass that gave way under his weight. The sound of breaking, crumbling shale rock began to echo through the mountainside as Hillbilly started to tumble downward.

It happened so fast, yet so slow. I could see the whites of his eyes staring wide in disbelief until a cloud of dust and debris enveloped his careening body. Rocks and small stones rolled violently downhill at an equal pace. Small branches and twigs snapped effortlessly from trees and bushes to joined the ruckus. Hillbilly's two-hundred and fifty pound body began to gain momentum as it plummeted down the hill with the force of a speeding, steel locomotive. Wildlife in the immediate vicinity froze in terror at the sound and spectacle of the camouflaged invader disturbing their peaceful way of life.

As soon as it began.....it stopped. Still holding his rifle unscathed in his right hand, Hillbilly grumbled and groaned in an effort to stand. Twigs and grass blades were imbedded in his baseball cap. The skin on his face and arms were two different shades of dirt. His camouflaged attire no longer blended with the trees of a dense forest, but with the dirt and sagebrush of a high mountain desert.

As the dust and rock settled, we both became aware that the deer were still miraculously standing nearby and within range. They stared as if entranced by what they had just witnessed. The stalking methods of this hopeful hunter was one they were most unfamiliar with. They were confused more than afraid.

Hillbilly and I made eye contact. My facial expressions screamed, "Shoot!"

With the ease and nimbleness of an arthritic seventy-year old man, Hillbilly pulled up on his rifle, aimed...... and missed. He drew in a large breath, shrugged his shoulders and gave me a look of exasperated indifference as he hobbled toward me.

"Why didn't you tell me I was standing on Mt. Kilimanjaro?" he asked.

"I did tell you," I rebutted. "I flapped my arms in silent Morse code patterns. You were in the military as well as I; don't you understand Morse code?"

"I understand Morse code just fine in beeps and clicks as it was intended," Hillbilly argued. "Your flailing arms said to me, 'Hey....I'm over here'!"

"No....that meant stop. You're standing on a highly gradient precipice and will more than likely fall to your doom," I argued back.

"Just so I'm clear, why did you send me walking in circles on my tiptoes?" Hillbilly inquired.

"What are you talking about?" I said. "I clearly told you to walk wide 3 clicks in a north-easterly direction and then sneak in from the backside of the clearing."

"Well, obviously the Army taught you wrong. This is just another classic example supporting my theory that you should have joined the Navy," Hillbilly chided.

"What do you know about hand signals? The only signals you ever learned in the Navy were the red blinking lights and alarms indicating your ship was going down," I teased.

After much banter back and forth regarding all branches of the US armed forces, we decided that whatever training we had received, nothing could prepare us for the battle we would face at home if we didn't make back in time to pick up our children from school.

With packs and rifles slung over our shoulders, we walked and limped our way back to my truck rethinking the day's events. We had both learned a little something about ourselves and about the great sport of hunting. Next time hand signals would be understandable, high outcrops of rocky strata covered in vegetation would be avoided and a first aid kit readily available with an ice cold Bud Light Lime.