Eli and Sophia

Saturday, March 5, 2011

More Hunting Stories

Besides hearing stories of the Sampson family hunting trips, men sitting around having a glass of beer on a Saturday afternoon would swap other people’s stories, as well, while the kids took it all in.
     A  young contractor whom Vake worked for, Bud Baldwin of Yachats, told of shooting an elk somewhere in the coast range hills. He field dressed it, cut off as big a piece as he could carry, and suspended the remainder in a tree (so bear and vermin wouldn’t get it), waiting for his subsequent trips to carry it all out.  But when he tried to return, he could not find the elk, never found it. 
     (An aside, but that’s how Sampson lore runs—you have to follow the tangents: Baldwin had built a house for himself on the sand flats just above the beach. One day he looked out and saw the ocean suddenly draw far, far back, and realized instantly that something very strange was going on.  He and his wife threw their three little boys into their car and drove as fast as they could toward the upland while a wall of water crashed onto the beach. It was a tsunami, generated by an earthquake in Alaska, and the water came just up to their west-facing sliding glass door, leaving driftwood piled in their yard, before it receded again.)
     Then there was the hunter who saw a buck raise its head just beyond a small ridge. He fired, and felt sure he had hit it, when the head reared up again. He fired again, and a second time he thought for sure he had hit the buck. But it reared up a third and final time, and he brought it down with one more shot.  He hurried over the ridge, and found that he had shot three bucks.
     Our neighbor from across 30th street, Charlie Panchow, was the local well digger, but also a great bowler, and a great hunter. He was also what Vake called a bullshitter. He couldn’t read or write, but he could witch for water, and never failed to find it— always in a place that was easy to access with his well-drilling truck, Vake observed.  Charlie was enthralled with the story of the three bucks.  Some time later, when the men were sitting around on a Saturday afternoon, having a glass of beer,  Charlie began, “You know, I was out hunting when I saw a buck rear its head just beyond a small ridge.  I fired, and I was sure I hit it, but then, the head reared up again….”
     The Sampson men, together with the LaChapelles and the Johannessons  and Dr. Ulmann trecked to eastern Oregon annually to hunt. Vake’s theory was that deer on the coast range had plenty of forage, but there was less in the east, so that hunting kept herds down to sustainable levels.  Also, he did not hunt does, since they were carrying next year’s offspring, and shooting one was like killing two.  Besides, often the does were so docile that shooting them was no sport.
      Gene Sampson was the camp cook, and nobody got in his way, because he wielded a mean butcher knife, and wouldn’t stop chopping just because somebody wanted to crib a hunk of carrot off his chopping block. Liver provided the fresh camp meat.
     Richard Ulmann, M.D., physician and surgeon, did the neatest job of field-dressing his deer.
     Vake saw a beautiful wolf, its silvery fur glinting in the sunshine.  He simply admired it, but a short time later, heard multiple gunshots. “Now I know why they call this place Murder’s Ridge,” he said.
     The hunting camp started with the men, but those liberated Sampson women started coming along. Evelyn worked side by side with Johnnie in the Western Auto Hardware Store, and Milly worked the retail sales and bookkeeping for West Lane Plumbing, all day, every day, and they figured that they could use a vacation, too. Then the creature comforts of camp began to increase.  At first, they camped on air mattresses in a tent. They upgraded to resting on bales of hay, then to army cots. Ultimately, they pulled a travel trailer, then a fifth-wheeler to the camp site.
     With age and arthritis, eventually they were limited to road hunting. “Johnnie shoots his deer so that it falls right into the bed of his truck,” they claimed.

1 comment:

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