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REFLECTIONS OF THE HUNT
" Pilgrim " By Michael G . Freeman
“ I know who you are ! You ' re the same dumb pilgrim I ' ve been hearing for twenty days and smelling for three ." That is a quote from Jeremiah Johnson , one of my favorite movies thanks to my Dad , and I ' m the dumb pilgrim . At least that ' s how I feel sometimes .
The old logging road beneath my feet was frozen solid . Each step I took sounded like baseball cleats on concrete and the cold November wind was steady at my back . Behind me about two miles was a warm truck with a thermos full of hot coffee . Beyond that is a highway which would take me home to a wife and four kids sleeping soundly in comfortable beds . Far beyond all that are many miles traveled by foot and mountain made memories . My aching legs and exhausted mind attested to that . This last hunting season had not been easy . Two weeks spent chasing elk in September on the Continental Divide near my home town , two weekends up and down coulees near Great Falls and three days cursing the wind on the Rocky Mountain front . Why would anyone want to do this ? Why spend so much time away from everything that matters , away from home and loved ones ? Why not just buy meat at the local grocery store ? Ground beef was on sale at Super One . Why not save gas and my truck from the wear and tear ? Why am I here ? How did I get here ?
Butte , Montana is where it all started . Born and raised in the " tough town ." It was all I knew and it was perfect . My mother was a caring homemaker with a strong faith in God . My father was a hard working man with a passion for all things outdoors , especially hunting . He taught me well . I learned to be a part of Montana . A part of life and death not just a spectator but a caretaker . I found I need a strong dose of nature to function in this busy world . The days of hunting with my Dad are sadly over but soon I ' ll be taking my kids into the woods to teach them all the lessons and skills my Dad shared with me .
So it ' s here I belong on this frozen piece of earth with memories of Father and son tracking elk and deer together through the forests of Big Sky country and a hope that I ' ll get a chance at a decent buck . The sun was starting to rise . All the things grey in the morning were beginning to take color and my steps become quieter as the ground softened . One switchback leads into the next and trees were becoming more abundant while leaving behind the clear cuts of the past . I look down the drainage that the road that I was on would pass through and see the biggest bull moose I have ever seen .
I ' m no expert on the species but his paddles were massive , his body was jet black with a small patch of white on his neck . I raised my rifle to get a closer look through the scope . I counted , One , Two , Three , Four , Five , Six and he was gone with a thunderous crash , producing a noise much like that of the heavy equipment once used to extract timber from this land . His mass cleared an escape route to safety . At first I was in awe but then the smile on my face slowly became a blank stare . I knew any animal in that canyon heard that beast in his retreat . Again I started to think about retiring to my pickup but I ' m was there and it ' s where I live to be . I walked on and could see my road was reaching its end . I paused to go over my choices . Up or down ? I glanced up and saw a formidable outcropping of rock with a timber stand just above it . It would have been a climb but was doable . Next I looked down and there was a gradual finger ridge with good grass and sparse trees . The branches of a tree just two hundred yards away began to rise and turned into the rack of a mature buck as he stood up . I dropped to one knee and sat my rifle upon my shooting sticks . I settled my crosshairs over his vitals . The whitetail gave me ample amount of time to determine if he was the deer I had been hunting for . Is he the deer I want to debone and pack out darn near three miles ? If he is the deer I ' ll feed my family ...
" You got him pilgrim , you nailed him clean !"
Publishers Note : George Nass and I met Michael as we were coming out of the Thompson River drain from hunting last year . Michael was sitting at a gate catching his breath and resting after the long pack out . I grabbed my camera and took a picture of him and asked Michael if he would share his story with us . He said he could not only share his story but would like to share a story of his Dad ’ s in honor of him this Father ’ s Day . Since it is Father ’ s Day this month we wanted to share it with our readers . Go to page 27 .