When I was a teenager back in the 1950s, I enjoyed hunting and fishing. We lived in Arcola. The area was mainly prairie but four miles north of town was the south edge of a large area of aspen parkland named the Moose Mountains.
This was home to many game birds and animals. Frequently my father and I, along with some friends, would go out after game birds which were plentiful and we appreciated the source of food.
I was an avid reader of outdoor magazines. My favourite writer was Jack O’Connor, who was the hunting and shooting writer for Outdoor Life. He particularly liked the .270 calibre big game rifle so when I was 16 I purchased one using proceeds from my job delivering groceries. That fall I got a deer licence, had a good time but was a little too particular about what I would try to shoot and ended up not getting one.
The next year, in November 1955, on a cool Saturday morning, I set out early with our 1950 Dodge, drove 10 miles west to Kisbey and then headed north into the rolling hills of the Moose Mountains. By that time it was snowing. In those days there was no such thing as all season tires.
One had either summer tires (smoothies) or winter tires, some of which were called knobbies. Our car had summer tires and with the fresh snow on the road I began having difficulty getting up the many hills. I would get close to the top but tires would spin and I would back down, back up the previous hill and take a faster run up the hill, sometimes with success. (At this point I think a few angels may have been keeping an eye on me as I was doing this).
I was having no success with one particularly difficult hill when I encountered farmer friends, Clarence Waind and his teenage son Doug, who were also hunting. They assessed the situation and let some air out of the tires to provide more traction. This was very successful and I was able to continue on my way without further difficulty.
It was becoming more stormy but soon I was able to reach my destination, which was the farm of two bachelors Sheldon and Lewis Long. By that time the storm was in full force and I appreciated the warmth of their kitchen and the lunch they provided.
Before going inside, I noticed a skinned elk hanging from the beak of the front of the barn with a single optimally placed bullet hole in mid-chest. I was able to telephone my parents on the Long’s party line and let them know I was safe.
By mid-afternoon the storm was over and it was clear and sunny. Lewis got out his .270 rifle and their snowmobile which he and Sheldon had made. It was much like those sold commercially a few years later with skis at the front and a track to propel it. It had a small truck box at the back. Lewis said that immediately after a storm the deer would start moving so we should see something.
The storm had produced substantial drifts which we glided over. We continued along until Lewis spotted some large deer tracks which were obviously fresh. He stopped the snowmobile and said we should spread out and walk in the direction the tracks were headed. He said we should not try to follow the tracks. We started walking and soon I saw a nice white-tailed buck about 150 yards to my right. I fired a shot but missed. The deer stood still, seemingly trying to figure out where the shot came from. I fired another shot and this time the deer went down having been hit in the spine. We loaded it into the snowmobile and headed to the house.
By that time, it was supper time and we went in and enjoyed the meal Sheldon had prepared. After supper Sheldon and Lewis quickly cleaned and skinned the deer and hung it in a tree. I was then glad to crawl into a comfortable bed. It turned very cold that night and the next morning the deer was frozen solid.
The storm had drifted in the roads making them impassable. Lewis put chains on the back tires of the Dodge. Sheldon put five gallons of gasoline in the tank. Fortunately I had three dollars with me to pay for the gas. (At that time gasoline was 55 cents an Imperial gallon, which is 4.546 litres). I sawed off the nice set of four-point antlers. Alas, they did not make it along when my parents moved from Arcola four years later.
Lewis accompanied me on my trip home. Initially we drove at the edge of cultivated fields where there was less drifting. Later we were able to get back on the roads. I was home before dark.
The next day we took the front half of the deer to the locker plant to be cut, wrapped and stored. It weighed 99 pounds and they said it was the nicest wild game they had processed that fall. It was a good addition to our meat supply that year.
With that adventure, hunting was finished for me for the year and I was able to settle down to complete my Grade 12 studies.
I am very grateful for all that those two bachelors did for this young town kid who arrived at their farm unannounced at the beginning of a raging storm. They certainly provided an exciting adventure for me. I am also grateful to Clarence and Doug Waind for their vital role in the weekend’s successful outcome.
