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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1746792-Hunting-Wolves
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Nature · #1746792
story of hard times, in Ranch country of Montana, upon the onset of winter.
    It was hard times, in Ranch country that year. As cattle prices were down at the time. and being late in the fall. as winter was about to be coming on.  I had just been laid off, from the ranch where I had been working. and I rented a small house in the nearby town. it was cozy to say the least. but, being single, it met my needs, then.      I had spent month driving the gravel and dirt roads, which took me to all the ranch homesteads I had to visit,  of which to apply for some form of employment for the winter.  I must have already stopped at at least a dozen by now. With the first snows, the funds I had saved were getting rather thin. and with paying rent, and feeding my horse, Poncho. and buying gas for the old pickup truck. it was time to get double serious about work.  I had about reached the limit of farms and ranches known to need a hand though winter. The tires on the pickup, by now had worn a little bald. and were not really up to the task of pounding the back roads, seeking employment.  There were a few Ranches, I had visited for work. however, they were not the first choice for work. being they were Sheep Ranchers. and they did not hold the same prestige as a cattle operation. I had spent the last few years as a Ramrod on a ten thousand acre ranch, for an old homesteader. who had bought all the family lands as they had passed on, or quit the land. and bought out the disheartened neighbors over the years. to obtain the acreage he had then. but, his son had gone to college, and gotten his degree. he was the first in the entire family line to ever do so.  They were from Russia. Germans from Russia. Ironic, as they had been homesteaders there too. and over the decades, were displaced, due to politics, and prejudiced.  Circumstances had brought them to Montana. where they were the first to open the lands up to Ranching and Agriculture. but, the son did not have the same appreciation for hard work, or the ranch lifestyle as the father. he had become accustomed to the good life, that town living had to offer. His Dad had gotten sick, and had passed on this last year. so the son was in the process of selling the operation. all the livestock were gone by now, and the machines were up for sale too.  So, he had let the entire crew go this last fall. even though it was a depressed cattle market, he sold the cows anyway.  This was to leave me with as gratuitous an resume as he was able to offer. but, not having been the owner, or the Boss. he was only guessing as to the experience or leadership given, or expected of the position over the years.  He had chosen the law, as it was something needed due to land issues, not addressed over the years.  not to mention the potential of political office this offered too.

      This specific morning, as I set out, the heater in the old pickup, was struggling to dispel the cold. to be honest with myself, the list had whittled down to the last potential employers.  That came to mean mostly, the Sheep ranchers. As I headed out of town, I was to find myself on the road to one of the larger ones in the area.  after an hour, I found myself at the gate to his ranch. I stopped, got out, and opened the gate, to drive on to the homestead. closed the gate, and drove on. being it was yet some four miles into his yard.  he had already had some snow at his place, being it was higher in the foothills of the mountains.  the finger drifts were somewhat hardened, being warmed by the sun, then refreezing at night. the old bald tires spun as I broke through these. and I pulled into his yard. stepped out, and walked to the front door.  I knocked, and stood for some while. in the wind it seemed like quite a period. but, then the door opened. the aroma of a sweet pipe tobacco and a fresh ground coffee wafted through the air.  He welcomed me in, with the offer of, "Want a Cup ?", I said I did. he exited to the kitchen, and returned to the huge dining table with two mugs of the fresh brew. the steam rolled off the top, rather inviting as it were, having come in from the cold wind outside. 
    We spoke about the weather, and the regular issues farm and ranch people did most often. He finally breached the question as to my visit. and I told him I was looking for a position for the winter.  Earlier that fall, I had stopped and gave his wife a copy of my handwritten resume. from the Ranch I had worked the last few years, along with a copy of the reference the former employers some had given.  He stated he had no work for someone with those credentials just now. as he had taken on all the hands needed for this winter.  I felt a little downhearted, as this journey had taken more gas than I had anticipated, to get to the ranch. and visions of having to sell my stead Poncho', and or, the pickup to make the rent and utilities, passed before my minds eye. the silence was broken when he next spoke. He said, I do have one job which needs done though.
    He began to tell me of a situation which existed for him.  This was the loss of some number of sheep to wolves. he explained that for some reason, the wolves had done well, with the number of offspring this summer. and they were being rather aggressive, more so than what was normal. This brought him to the part where he told me, he could use a good shot. someone with the experience to track, trap, or hunt these old predators. I explained we had this same issue at the ranch were I had just worked too. that Wolves, and Coyotes had taken their toll there too.  As I sipped the remaining black brew from the mug, I envisioned the needs and labors the position would require.  He spoke again, stating he would provide the Rifle, and all ammunition needed for the task.  And from time to time, the gas for the pickup. depending upon the success I had, in the task at hand. he even offered a set of tire chains for the winter, for me to get around the dirt roads and prairie trails thereabouts. The pause was rather short, as this was generous to say the least. for most would not offer more than a few dollars for each set of ears you brought in.
    I said that the job seemed good, and the benefits plentiful enough. that I would take on the task.  He rose from the massive wooden table, and walked to a gun rack on the wall. he took an lever action rifle down, opened a drawer, and took out three boxes of bullets. he strolled to my end of the table and laid them in front of me.  I took up the rifle, and inspected it. the model 99 Salvage 243 seemed like brand new. and well up to the task. as it is a real Varmint gun. with a long range, and a flat trajectory. and three boxes of ammo, a good start.  I told him he had the man for the job. and after a short exchange of niceties, walked out, and to my truck. as I drove back to town. I felt as if, the winter would not be a whole loss. at least there would be the potential of a buck or two from time to time.
      Reaching home, as it were. I took the tools of my new trade in, and cleaned and lubed the rifle, and loaded an Bandolero I owned with the rounds it held.  This made me as ready as I could be, were I to decide to go out the next day. by this time, it was late.  And I headed to the bedroom, to get as much rest as possible. being that is harder work than most might imagine. tracking, and hiking, or riding the ridges and trails to locate wolves. I pulled back the huge quilt my Grandmother had made and given me. it was rather big, more so than say, a queen or king sized bed. she had taken a real pride in making it for me. as she knew most of the bunk houses, that ranch hands were provided to live, were often just a shack slapped together for a rather crude bunch, of which most were drunkards, at least in her mind. and she wasn't going to have her grandson freeze because some drunken hand had forgot to stoke the wood stove, or had just passed out. I was real unique, being it contained a lot of patches of cloth she had never found the place for, in all the quilts she had created in the past. some were shinny silken looking, some corduroy, some even for what most likely would be a babies quilt. or for a girls room. but, this was to be utilitarian at best, for the most part. and it had a new fabric to her, a microfiber. she had been told they were a thermal material. and thus, good for a cold old bunk house.
        It felt good to climb in, and under the quilt. I fell asleep fast. As a matter of fact, the quilt was so well made, that most often, I slept with both feet outside from under it, as to cool down enough to remain at sleep.  As so often in Montana, one is sung to sleep by the winds singing it's whispering song. and having been raised, and growing up on a farm, next to the railroad, my crib and bed had been rocked by the trains that passed during the night. as the frost goes so deep, that it actually allowed the ground to shake or quiver as the trains went by. the song of the winds were often only interrupted by the mournful call of the trains horn.  The sunrise in winter is rather late in the morning.  the light from the sunrise, could fall upon my face in this bedroom. so I was able to know when it was high enough to pierce ones closed eyelids.
        It being so late in the morning, I felt I had wasted a lot of day light. but, I made breakfast, of eggs and bacon. then got dressed into the work clothes, and went out to visit Poncho, and bring him some oats, hay and water. he greeted me as so many mornings, with a whinny and a snort. often I felt this was a " where were you, when I was first hungry ?" like I was rather a lazy companion of his. As a matter of fact, old Poncho was rather a bright horse. as he from his youth, had figured out, and learned how to untie the rope used to keep the gate shut. and even taught himself how to lift the chain or wire over the post, to let himself out of the corral. This often accomadated the other head of horses or cattle being kept there too. however, he took it upon himself to herd them about the yard, and even chase them back in, while he was free.
there were days, when I walked out of the bunk house, to find him standing there, as if to say, "Well, lets go here !". he was a real self starter, and had he the ability, I have no doubt he would have saddled himself to be ready to go. Having set him for the days leisure, of the small stall in the barn. I returned to the house.
      I poured a cup of the coffee that had been rolling away, while I was outside. it had boiled away some, and was thicker than the first cup I had poured upon rising. I went about getting the gear ready for my first days hunt. It's layers of cold weather suits. most of the gear is made for weather at fourty to sixty below zero F. the boots rated at least to -45 degrees. then you add the socks, and perhaps a shopping bag or two to keep even more dry, should you cross some little open water, or such. sometimes, when you get it all on, so you wont suffer frostbite, its kind of like a little kid, being dressed by Mom, to go out to play. and them saying, but, Mom, I cant make snow balls now.  Well, it's not that bad, as you have to plan your sizes as not to bind you up, and unable to move all the ways ranching or farming require. I was feeling kind of lucky, in that the rancher I last worked for had bought me a 800 amp battery, when he ordered some of his own. and I had five weight oil and lots of cans of heat for the gas tank. plus a can of ether just in case. so, I most probably could leave the pickup parked on some hill side as to get it started, when I returned from the hunt. Plus, I had the set of chains now too.
      When I had let the truck warm a while, I came out rifle and ammo and cold weather gear on, and ready to make the first days adventure. having known the lay of the land, of the Ranch I was to hunt, I had made a point to know the best place to start the work from. I drove there in the subzero morning, and parked the old truck in a spot where it would get less snow or drifting, while I was away. I got out, and crossed the barbed wire fence, and began the trek. into the snow at the tree line, as I figure I could spot tracks or movement easier from up there. I had walked some four or five miles already, and chose a spot to have a smoke, and some water. while there, I used the high power binoculars to look around a little more carefully. I didn't have to look too hard, to spot the dead and frozen antelope carcass. it had been fed on for some time already. must have been an old or injured one. as the snow had not been too deep for the herd to feed as yet. however, it may have been taken by wolves, or likely shot by poachers, and just wounded, to run off and die elsewhere.  Now this is a great opportunity to just work my way a little nearer, and make a little snow cave from which to observe what might come to feed. Already there were ravens feeding on the meat. and this lets me know that they haven't seen or heard me, if they remain feeding. although the furry predators are a little more cautious as they just cant flap a wing and depart. I found a spot out of the wind, and in the sun, to make it a little more bearable to stay a while. didn't smoke though, as the wind would carry that odor for a long way, and the varmints come to learn human smells and odors, once hunted and shot at enough times. But this day didn't seen to want to net anything other than birds. I was almost ready to move on, when a small pack of coyotes shown themselves. and were heading toward the meat source.
    I had cut a branch with a good y in it, and the right length to make a mono-pod.  I steadied the 243 and judged the wind, and guesstimated the distance. the pack had just chased away the Raven, and were mock fighting each other for pecking order.  they had settled into feeding, and had posted the young to be lookouts. when they were not begging a bit from time to time. one had set itself to be high on a snow drift, to have the best view. but, it too had made a real good target, as it was backed by another drift, making it stand out real clearly.
I took the branch and cradled the 99 in its notch. breathing slowly, and moving my finger so slowly, I squeezed of a round.  the drop and windage were great.  and the round impact was just inches from the animal. and I was so far off, that the report went unheard. although it did startle the creature some. and it did set up more, and look around awhile. but it settled in again. this time, I adjusted for the last hit, and just a little more of a drop, and squeezed off another round. this one hit the mark. the coyote jumped straight up into the air. and hit the snow, never to move again. the others noticed, and a few went to inspect. they heard nothing, and smelled nothing, and in little time, had come to accept the non moving member as having being asleep or somehow dead, and returned to feed some more. I thought, well, its just that much more meat for baiting in other predators. and it wont take long, the raven will be at work on it too. or its own. however, I had just wasted two rounds. that brought no pay for the effort. although, it does build ones ego, to know you have not lost the knack, as it were.
      When I had been moving to the site, I had seen some marks in the snow, which were much like a bear of some sort had passed by some time ago. like several days earlier. but, not fresh enough to make me think it was still lingering near or about. however, the raven had been annoying the coyote, and then something made them startle, and reluctantly move away. didn't see anything, and wondered what it might be. maybe they were not as hungry as I had imagined ? or sometimes the raven will be too much for them, or numbers too many, and they will move on. I watched the birds for some length, and no other predators had shown themselves. so, I decided to move on, as the cold had begun to penetrate the boots a little. and walking would return circulation to the affected areas.  For the nest several hours, I trudged over hill and valley, and now sightings of any targets of employment. and eventually returned to my parking place. and slowly returned home. the spot had worked as intended. and all I had to do was, pull the brake release, and roll a way and turn the key and pop the clutch. and "Zaroom", away I drove.
      Once again at home, I disrobed from all the cold outdoor gear. and hung it near the furnace and potbelly to build warmth, and dry out the perspiration of the day too.  then I reheated the remaining coffee to set back in the recliner and unwind and stretch the old muscles, I had not used through out the year, until todays workout. eventually I slipped off into sleep, a well deserved nap as it were.  It was several hours later when I awaken, somehow the recliner had made my muscles even stiffer.  It seems that setting in one spot in that position makes the matter worse. and so, I got up, and limped stiffly to Grandmothers quilt. it felt somehow refreshing to slip into the cool recesses of the bed. and I did again fall off into deep sleep.
      The sun came in upon my eyelids once again. and I knew that it was time to rise again. and perhaps today the situation would bring some funds. and it was again out into the wilderness.  this morning was one of those on which you appreciate the invention of five weight oil.
the truck engine turned over with the freedom of the advances of science in oils. and the anticipation of the warmth of the heater to come. although, when your dressed for -50 to -60 below zero, you know your not going to feel the heat, at least not for a real long time. and again its a long while to the tree line. As I drove through the finger drifts, I envisioned the spot at which I would set up, to have the best outlook for the days hunt.  I again parked as before. and the hillside seemed a little more icy than the day before, but, the brakes held without sliding downhill. so that was a good sign.  I took the 99, and headed out. the snow seemed to have crusted over, and I was making good time without the occasional falling through up to your inseam. I have thought of getting a pair of snowshoes, but, they are not cheap. and I guess I could make some of my own. but then, I have never used them, and didn't know if I wanted to learn something new just now. besides, I had found a patch of grass, that was out of the snow shadow, and with the winds was still clear, somewhat. I saw ahead an rock outcropping, and it looked like a good spot to set awhile, and perhaps have a smoke ? it was as though it was some sort of fortress. it seemed like it had four towers and the front gate and walls. I set in the sheltered area, and lit up. it wasn't still enough to blow a smoke ring, but, still enough that the wind did not seem to sting as bad as in the open. upon finishing, I thought I would climb to the top of one of the rock like towers, and look over the area. it was somewhat of a surprise that I could see  the spot of the day before's shots. but, there it was, some ways further away, but, I could see the ravens again, and it looked as if something had even dragged the coyote off a ways. and began to feed on it. and the raven were having some difficulty determining which they wanted to feed on.
    as I slowly checked our the area, I thought I had seen some movement in the trees.  I watched, and for some long time, nothing but ravens, could be observed, so far.  then I heard something crashing through the brush. I sharpened my gaze, and took the rifle and laid it on the rock, again it seemed there were a notch, and this makes a difference in your shots. then again my mind went back to the summer before, and how I had been out on old poncho. I remembered seeing some tracks in the dust. and even though the wind had blown away most of the track, it seemed to me it was a bear track. but, it did remind me that there were bear in the immediate region.  and sure enough, I could see it was a brown bear, and it was looking for some meat, I suspected. and while I waited, the young bear headed toward the frozen animals from the day before. and upon watching it feed for a while, I again noticed more movement in the woods. and it was something rather smaller than the bear, and from time to time I was sure it was a wolf, based upon the coloration of the fur.
    Whatever it was, it was being real cautious. and I could not fault them for that, as who would want to take on a hungry bear for a meal.
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