Wandering Aimlessly
An Elk Attack
by Phil Burkhouse
It was Martin Luther King Day, and the youngsters were free from school to roam the Big Woods. Big Jake and Isaac called in around 9 a.m. on that Monday morning to let Papa know they were up and about and had decided it would be an excellent day to go whitetail shed hunting.
The temperature was hanging around ten degrees, and the wind was whistling out of the north at ten to fifteen mph. We had about five inches of snow on the ground, and my old body dreaded the thoughts of traversing winter slopes in the dim hope of finding a buck shed. I quickly summoned all my reasoning power and told Jake, “Why don’t I pick you two guys up and Grammy can make a bunch of French fries and we’ll play some cards?” Jake’s response was immediate, “Good idea—after we go looking for sheds.”