(Yawn) "Yeah! Today we're going hunting with the Catletts!" I shouted excitedly. Usually when we go hunting, my dad wakes me up, but I believe I woke him up yelling. "Come on dad, get up!" "Okay, okay….. I'm up!" my dad mumbled sleepily. I saw him rising out of bed in the darkness, so I went to get ready.

First, I took a shower. In the middle, the water turned to icicles, almost. So I shut off the luxurious, warm shower. I heard an echo beneath me. It was my dad, taking a hot shower while I freeze. With shampoo in my hair and a towel on my body, I took a shivering stroll down the stairs to my parent's room. " You took all the hot water!" I protested. "Sorry little son" my dad said in a half drown voice, silenced by the stream of boiling water. So I washed my hair out in the sink and put my best hunting clothes on. Camo wool pants, waterproof camo jacket, fluorescent orange beanie, wool socks and a snowy camo hat.
Just to make sure, I checked all my supplies.

- space blanket……..check
- food ……………...check
- fire starter………...check
- extra gloves……….check
- whistle…………….check
- water container……check, etc.

My pack is ready!
By the time I was getting our rifles, dad was getting dressed. I hunted with a single shot .243 Winchester, with a shortened stock, recoil pad, scope, sling and an ammo holder on the butt stock. My dad hunted with a 30-06 Springfield and a model 92, 30-30 Marlin. He shot a deer last year, around Thanksgiving, with his 30-06, boy was that spike good.

We gave mom kisses, then loaded our things in our Chevy and met our hunting pals at the Stoners Inn, near Martin City. We were going hunting in our truck. The Catletts' trucks were parked in Columbia Falls, because they didn't want to leave their trucks in Martin City. You never know who might come across your truck at the Stoners Inn or anywhere near Martin City. By the time we were ready, it was 5:30 AM. It took us three hours to get to the Sweet Grass Hills, but we made it.

Once we were at the public access, we grabbed our rifles. We split into groups. Ron and Ronny, Danny was by himself and my dad and I. We stayed in our groups and stayed on our planned routes, so everybody knew where everyone was.

Around 9:00 AM, we spotted a herd of elk, about 200 head of elk, in a narrow gully. Most of the herd was cows and calves. All, but about 30 to 40 bulls. These bulls had massive antlers. We're not talking little bulls either, anywhere from 6 to 15 point bulls. Suddenly, a monstrous elk crept over a hillside, making its way to the stream below. Now this bull was probably crazy, or it didn't know we were there. It walked within 10 yards of our positions. (My dad and I) The bull put its head down to graze, while I loaded my .243. I cocked the hammer. But, just then, some sage grouse spooked the bull off. But the bull stopped 300 yards away. The adrenaline was pumping! BOOM! It seemed that as soon as I pulled the trigger, the bull hit the ground without a single solitary step. It was as dead as a stick. BANG! I was so excited that I didn't notice my dad getting ready to shoot. I was deafened by the blast of my dad's 30-06. Both my dad and I got bulls. He had shot a young bull that was near some cows.

So we walked over to our glorious elk. Dad had shot a 5 point, bull. While I on the other hand, shot a 10 pointer.

We tagged; field dressed and packed our elk to the truck.

When we arrived at the truck, we saw that Ron and Ronny had both gotten some muley bucks. Ron's was a 4 by 5. Ronny's buck was a 4 by 6. While we were examining the bucks, I was thinking " Like father, like son!" Danny met us at the truck empty handed. On our way home, we spotted some monstrous bucks in a little creek bed, eating clovers. We let Danny take the shot.

Either he didn't site in his rifle, or he's just a bad shot, but that bullet went zinging over the deer's head. That buck was quite possibly the biggest buck in Montana.

When we stopped to grab something to eat, a man parked next to us with Danny's buck that he missed. Boy that heated Danny up! Some years later, we found out that buck was the biggest buck in the Montana Record Book. Though Danny believed it was his deer, it was in the record book under that old feller's name. The next day we had all the Catletts over for Thanksgiving dinner. My dad did the honor of praying before dinner. Here's what he said: "Good bread, good meat, good God let's eat!"