In late October we went hunting to find my friend's brother his non-trophy sheep (ewe). It was one of those days where if it wasn't snowing, it was raining, or so foggy, it would have been drier if it was raining. I had not yet discovered (mid 80s) synthetic underwear. Everything I wore was really some variation of cotton, except for my "rain jacket" which was really nothing but a rubber coated nylon sweat machine. Early afternoon, we had found tracks and I urged him to follow them through the thick timber. I had already killed my ewe a couple of weeks before, so I had no dog in the fight, but i was still annoyed when we jumped them at like 25 yards. The fool didn't see them and when he did, he short shucked his Remington 700 7RM. He never did get a shot off. Pissed me off. I could have killed several, but I wanted to obey the law and also, I thought he wouldn't appreciate the 25-06 going off beside his ear. We were close to the sheep sanctuary and the sheep ran there and were safe from us. We headed back to the truck to head home and get warm. He left me in the truck with the heater on high while he went to talk to some horsemen who had the good sense to stay in their wall tents. They got into the whiskey and I shivered in the truck for two hours before we headed home. Once I had taken off the rain jacket at the truck, I could not get warm. When I got home, I climbed into a warm tub and gradually increased the heat. It took a long time for me to warm up. I can't remember if I got sick, but that is the closest I have been to hypothermia (maybe it was). I have been a big advocate of synthetics ever since.
In 1989 I had a mule deer buck tag in a special draw area. During antelope season I had seen a real nice one. It had snowed the night before opening day and as I searched (and did not find) the buck, the snow began to melt. On a coulee slope I stepped on a willow branch under the snow. That leg went shooting out from under me. The planted leg collapsed and as my boot passed my shoulder blades, I heard a distinct pop! pop! accompanied by significant pain in my afflicted ankle. Only time I have heard that popping sound is when bones etc have broken. Eventually the pain began to dissipate and I began to consider getting my boot out from under my shoulder blades (I ain't very flexible, I'm still not sure how that happened). Once that was done, I stood up and tried weight on my left ankle. Painful, but tolerable and I did not seem to be doing more damage to it. Standing up, I had enough elevation to stare across the large coulee and view my 77 Corolla hunting rig. With the naked eye, it was just a silver speck in the distance. I hobbled back and then hunted close to the car until dark. I drove for a field trip that weekend to earn some extra cash, and then went out on Remembrance Day, still gimpy, but I killed my first 4x4 MD.
Makes you think about the safety of hunting by yourself. No cell phones/coverage back then either.
In 1991, I suffered a bulging disk about belt high in September. I missed only 2 days of work (what an idiot) and after rehabbing (such as it was back then) I was deer hunting in November. After traipsing through tough snow, we were resting on the tail gate, when I went to stand up, I very nearly passed out from the sudden pain. It passed and I continued hunting that day.
In 2000, I severely broke my right ankle/fibula in an Easter snow ball fight. It was a bitch. I destroyed so much ligaments that took forever to heal after the surgery to rebuild the ankle. Rehab was almost worse for pain as the physio NAZI tried to break down the scar tissue. Even in November, that ankle was very uncomfortable walking in cultivated fields.
On July 22, 2005, my life changed forever. I blew out my L4-L5 disk baddd! Lost feeling in my left leg almost immediately and severe stabbing pain at the belt line if I tried to put weight on my left leg (I could't feel the floor at this time). Emergency surgery on the 23rd, but I still got cauda equina syndrome (look it up, you don't want it). I was released tom hospital after two weeks. I was using a walker and peeing through a rubber hose. I watched lots of Randy Anderson "Calling All Coyotes" videos. That was motivation to get ready for hunting. I was told three months to recover, but that was before the cauda equina etc. I set that as my goal and I went to physio with a purpose. It was very exciting when I could move my left leg unassisted. By November, I had ditched the walker, but still used a cane (and would for another 18 months). The rubber hose was still mandatory. A good friend took me out hunting. I darn near got a decent mule deer, but couldn't get a shot before it wandered out of sight. We later found some handicapped whitetails (they didn't run like normal) that we drove relatively close to, then I hobbled to a handy round bale, leaned against it and shot a buck. The friend kindly processed the deer for me. I am still gimpy from the back injury, but hunt slower and smarter and think about the retrieve more than before. Game carts, sleds and my girls help. Life is good. Hey, I even hunted Africa this year!
