While going to CWU in Ellensburg in the late '70s I spent quite a bit of time in the hills around town. I had traded for a Sempert Krieghof 16x16x8x57JR drilling and really believed in it.

On a deer season opener (always a Saturday in WA) my father and I had driven up to the OK Corral in the dark and walked out to the canyon rim just as it was getting light. I dropped into the canyon and crossed it, finding myself climbing the worst part of the far side at the prime glassing time.

I clearly remember topping out and taking a sweaty break, a big drink, and a peek through the glass... Several bucks stood out on the West side of the canyon now that I was on the East side. None were big, but that meant less than nothing to me in the '70s.

Then I noticed my father jumping aroound madly and doing all osrts of things I could not begin to understand... But he kept pointing down...

So I stood and looked down. There was nothing there. So I stepped out a bit and looked down again. There was nothing there. So I stepped a bit farther out and looked down again. There was something there.

A very modest 4x4 mule deer was trying to let me walk right past him without trying to sneak out... At less than 50 yards it was a very bad plan.

I boned and bagged the buck after watching my father shoot a big fork horn. Through hand signals and wierd gyrations we established a plan to stay on opposite sides of the canyon and go to the river (Yakima) with our deer just a couple miles away.

At noon the bird season opened and that was the real plan from the start. An hour or so early I bumped a flock of chukar and sat on them until the season opened.

I believe the limit was six... and I killed most of my limit on the first "interaction" on a steep sidehill. They flew across the canyon and my father was on them right away. He chased them and killed at least several.

Packing an entire boned deer was a challenge, but there was no speed contest and we made good time down the hill. I flushed a large covey of chukar across the canyon and my father got on them right away, killing several and probably limiting out as I remember.

Soon after that a covey came running up the canyon side and I watched a large number of birds popping up and running uphill. I got in the middle of the route and shot another pair.

The finish to the limit was not memorable, but reaching the parking lot on the Yakima Canyon Road with a small buck and a limit of chukars was very memorable...

My father also killed a limit of chukar to go with his deer. And we did it again the following year... and at least a couple others.




Mark Begich, Joaquin Jackson, and Heller resistance... Three huge reasons to worry about the NRA.