Bong, bong, babong, bong, the reverberations of that confounded cowbell
resounded throughout the drainage I had hunted so silently and quietly all
morning. A drought year had gripped the high Cascade Mountains of
south central Oregon, and it seemed the forest was a sea of
noisemakers. Wherever I stepped, a resounding crunch or crackle
rewarded even my most careful steps in soft-soled high-top hunting
moccasins. My near stealth approach to that drainage was thanks to some
well used cow trails leading into and out of the mud wallows in the creek bottom
below. Now, the cattle that created those wide, highways through the
woods, were returning from their morning feeding for water, and the whole
drainage knew in advance of their coming.
Range cattle roam free on most of this public Forest Service land of southern
Oregon. It is one way that the cattle industry manages to stay alive, by
paying the government for grazing rights to given tracts of public
land. Archery seasons and early High Cascade buck hunters must
contend with the range cattle being at large during those particular hunting
seasons. This day was the second day of Oregon's High Cascade buck
hunt. A controlled hunt with tags allotted by drawing, and I had
drawn a tag for this wonderful hunt three years in a row! It is perhaps
the premium opportunity to harvest a truly trophy Blacktail buck! Since
the tags are so limited, the odds of seeing anyone else in the woods is
slim. Archery seasons have already closed, and this hunt is at least three
weeks prior to the general season, allowing a person to hunt these beautiful
little deer in the alpine settings of the high Cascade Mountains of Oregon,
before winter weather sets in and drives them down to the lower
elevations. This hunt is truly a treasure, and one that is sure to
make lifetime memories! The scenery is without comparison, and to enjoy
such a setting without competing with hordes of other hunters is something of a
treat seldom enjoyed on public land these days.
Hearing the cattle tromping through the tinder dry underbrush and duff, my
disgust and disappointment grew, and I charged down off my ridge towards the
creek bottom with abandon, leaving caution to the wind. My hunt was
blown, and the whole morning's efforts up in dry dust! As I traversed the
south slope of this ridgeline through the manzanita and chinquapin bushes that
were interspersed with young Shasta Fir and White Fir trees, along with a few
scattered Hemlocks, I must have sounded like a freight train busting through
that waist high brush! I didn't care, all my efforts were negated by a
bunch of stupid range cows.
When I came within eyesight of the mud wallows at the bottom and the creek
that meandered through the lush green semi-open meadows, I froze! There,
eighty yards from me were close to thirty elk, and just beyond them three mature
blacktail bucks, a bachelor herd, laying in the shade of a big choke-cherry
bush! I had made enough racket to wake Rip Van Winkle and these animals
didn't have a care in the world! Until they spotted me! Once visual
recognition kicked in, so did their afterburners! I stood watching
an ever rising cloud of dust once those animals cleared the lushness of the
creek bottom and headed up the parched ridge to the south. I never
had the opportunity to even raise my rifle, and these animals were gone!
Puzzled and downhearted by the turn of events, I made my way down to the
creek, and sat in the shade of the same choke-cherry bush that the three bucks
had been enjoying. As I sat there, taking in the scenery, resting a
bit, I could hear the ever increasing din created by that confounded
cowbell! What an annoying sound out in the middle of the Sky Lakes
Wilderness area, when I was five or six miles from the nearest road, and still
further from the closest ranch! As those cattle approached, the noise they
made! It was incredible, especially when everything else was so very
quiet.... then it dawned on me!
I knew why those elk and deer didn't anticipate my coming. They
were expecting range cows! That's right, they were used to hearing
that cowbell all summer long, of the approaching cattle, and it was a familiar
sound that didn't concern them. In fact, it might have been somewhat
of a security factor, hearing the constant, slow paced rhythm of that
bell! When the cattle came close enough, I moved ever so slightly, and
they too spooked, like any other wild animal would! After being on
open range for the number of months these animals are every year, they become
just as wary as would an elk or deer. They too have to avoid the
same predators as would wild big game.
Why the bell on range cattle? Well, as I said, these cattle are put out
on this open range every year. Although young cattle are put onto the
range every year to fatten up, there are always a couple of older cows that are
put there with them. Their job is to lead the younger animals to
water, feed, bedding areas and show them the ways of the woods if you
will. Hence the term lead cow, they lead the herd through the woods,
knowing the way and having been there and done that before. The rancher
puts a bell on these lead cows before turning them loose on the open
range. The younger animals learn to stay within earshot of the bell,
so as to not lose their way around, and to know where that lead cow is at all
times. As a consequence, there are several of these "lead cows"
wandering throughout the open rangeland all summer, and the big game gets
accustomed to the annual appearance of these cattle and the resounding bong of
their bells.
Now for the inspiration! Those elk and deer thought that I was a
cow, they associated all my thrashing around in the brush with cattle, since
they heard the cowbell coming for nearly a mile from up the ridge.
It worked then, might as well make like a cow and announce my
presence! I abandoned the hunt for the day, and drove to Medford,
Oregon, and at the Grange Co-Op purchased a rather large cowbell and a
dog-leash-style snap swivel and headed back to the mountain.
I reached my camp (I was hunting alone that year), and affixed the cowbell to
the snap swivel. Then I replenished my day pack and prepared for a quick
afternoon and evening hunt. Before leaving camp I clipped that cowbell to
my rearward-most belt loop, and headed off, up the mountain toward a remote
spring that I knew was still running, it sat at the base of a big glacial basin
where I could watch a considerable amount of habitat from one place, hoping to
catch a buck coming to water.
I hadn't gone a quarter of a mile (without the aid of nice wide quiet cow
trails), stomping my way through the tinder dry duff and slick-leaf brush, when
I tromped right up on two cow elk and a yearling calf! They were as
startled as I was! I was within thirty yards of them when they
jumped to their feet out of their beds! All the while that cowbell
is going bong, bong, babong, bong with every step I took! If this wasn't
enough, I'd seen nearly a dozen blacktail deer (two small bucks), a bear and
several elk in the course of less than three miles, with that stupid, wonderful
bell clanking and bonging away at my rump!
I eased over a little finger ridge about half a mile from the spring I
intended to hunt, and there, laying sixty feet below me, in the shade of a rock
shelf was a perfect four-by-four point blacktail buck, not even looking my way,
as basalt rock clattered from underneath my boots and the cowbell went bong,
bong, clank! I was just another stupid cow! Well I
figured I had rung the dinner bell long enough for one day, and invited that
beautiful blacktail buck as honored guest to my dinner table. He
obligingly agreed, and I had my work cut out for me (no pun intended)!
That little trick of the cowbell only worked while the cattle were on open
range, but when I was fortunate enough to hunt that early in the season, the
cowbell always went with me into the Sky Lakes Wilderness area, be it archery
season or the High Cascade buck hunt, when I was drawn. It also
never failed to give me a very unnatural edge. Talk about fun when I ran
into the occasional hunter during archery season, the strange looks I'd get when
they would ask "What's up with the cowbell?" "Oh,
that, it's just my dinner bell!"
