Al Hansen
Well-known member
I knew dogs were smart but every once in a while I still get that jolt of excitement when something so far off in left field happens that it makes me think that no one would believe it! When Pepper had her pups we brought her into the house because it has been so terribly cold outside.
She has been an outside dog from the git go and has NEVER been in our home. Her kennel is her home and that is the way we like it. On the second day with the puppies and her in the box I watched them for about an hour before it was time for me to leave on my duck hunt for the morning. I observed a darn good mom taking care of her litter.
When I got home from my hunt, Bev told me this. “Shortly after you left, Pepper walked into the bedroom and woke me up. She had to go to the bathroom!” I looked at her and asked, “How did she know where the bedroom was, because she has never been in it? Also, she has never been house trained----just kennel trained. What a girl!”
One spring day while black bear hunting in Alaska, I walked across a shale slide still covered mostly with snow. I had seen something white that had my attention. Upon arriving at it, I found myself looking at a dead Dall sheep yearling. It was evident that he got caught up in an avalanche and had lost his life. I guess I happened along just at the right time to examine the carcass prior to the birds and animals taking over. As I looked at it, I kept on wondering how large and long those horns would have grown had he made it until the rich old age of 12. Mother Nature at work.
Not too long ago while I was duck hunting on the Rio I got to thinking about all the different positions I have been in while shooting at ducks. That made me think about other sports like upland game birds, big game animals, and I came to the conclusion that duck hunting has to be about the only shooting sport where guys and gals have taken some crazy looking shots AND have been successful by bringing down the ducks. I guess that is another reason why I like hunting by myself because it allows me to do such things. Sometimes my body has had to look like a pretzel when I was shooting. I know it sounds nuts but it is true. I would imagine that most duck hunters have stored a few of these wild postures in their memory banks. I’m talking about nutty things like shooting off the hip and bringing down a bird. It was the only shot I had------then the ultimate question----“How in the world did I ever hit that bird?”
Last fall I asked my neighbor how he had done during deer season. With a slight smile on his face he looked at me and said, “Al, I haven’t hunted mule deer in about five years now.” “Why did you stop, Amado?” I asked. He then related this story to me.
“The last year I hunted I had spotted a dandy mature 5x5 bedded down in some sage brush. I was able to sneak up from behind a small knoll when I found out that I still needed to get another 100 yards closer. Well, the only thing I could do was get down on my hands and knees and start crawling----just like we learned in basic training. I was concentrating so much on that big old set of antlers that I had seen that at first I didn’t hear it! Yup, right in front of me at “eye level” was a big old western diamondback. He was coiled up and ready for me. My gosh, I almost soiled my pants right then and there. It was as I was backtracking out of that spot for the next ten feet that I made the decision to go home and forget about mule deer hunting. I can’t stand snakes and I was just plain stupid lucky that I didn’t get nailed between the eyes from that big boy. Haven’t been hunting since.”
It was about ten years ago that Amado lost his cousin to a diamondback.
When I was teaching in Alaska I happened to have one of the best bosses a guy/hunter, could ever have. One day when I walked into Bill’s office, he looked at me and said, “Pull up a chair. Do you have any plans for this Friday?” I told him other than being here for a day’s worth of teaching, I was free. “Well, that is good. I need you to be at the Eagle River strip by 8:00AM because you will be shooting a moose for me. Our family needs the meat.” I have a pilot that will be flying you south of the Tyonek village along Cook Inlet.
My gosh that was fun. We flew south before the sun rose above the Chugach mountains and were in the area for the moose when it got light. I ended up taking a very large antlerless bull because this was during the second season and all of the big bulls had dropped their antlers. I remember wondering about how big this guy was when he was wearing antlers. Those knobs were huge.
Rheinhold looked at me and said, “This is my paperdoll. Treat her like that and she will treat you well in return.” He was referring to his Super Cub/PA18. He was taking me wolf hunting. The ultimate trip that told me one thing about wolf hunting from an airplane. It should be banned. It is way too easy to kill this magnificent animal. Put your bead on the tip of the tail and pull the trigger. Before you can see it, your trophy is dead in the snow.
Anyway, while we were flying on the western side of the Alaskan range Rheinhold told me about a hunter he had taken to Kotzebue for a polar bear. After a very successful hunt they were once again flying back towards Anchorage when they spotted a pack of wolves. The Philadelphia hunter said, “I sure would like to shoot one of those wolves, Rheinhold.” It was then that he told me this “What the heck, I can use some extra cash”----and off they flew to maneuver the pack onto the frozen river bed. The hunter had the shotgun and since it was an automatic, he shoved three shells in. The wolves now were running with tongues hanging out of their mouths and using the frozen river bed to try and outrun the plane.
Rheinhold told the hunter to open the left side window and put the bead of the shotgun on the tail, then squeeze the trigger. When the polar bear hunter touched off the shot, he got so excited about killing the wolf that he squeezed off another round. This shot went through the leading edge of the left wing missing the gas tank by two inches. After seeing what he had just done to Rhinehold’s paperdoll, the hunter in total frustration jerked back and when doing that knocked out the left side window.
They landed and skinned the wolf, then took off for Bettles. He told me that it was 30 some below zero out and the Philadelphia hunter about froze to death in that back seat.
When he was done with his story, Rheinhold twisted around in the cockpit to look at me and said, “Now, Al, you will understand why I am giving you only one shell to put in that gun.”
I am 6' 6" inches tall. That wolf I shot is 6' 8" from the nose to the tip of the tail.
Al
