As we rush head-long into the time of ghosts and goblins this weekend, I submit to you that real life can dish out plenty to frighten us. I know I have had some close calls over the years in the pursuit of fish, game, energy, and other foolishness I guess. I have gone through the ice three times for the sake of a fish dinner. I was lucky enough to just get wet feet twice and wet legs once. I have fallen out of trees a couple times while climbing out after a hunt. One time over in Mohawk Valley, I just had lowered my new compound bow and aluminum arrows to the ground on a rope, swinging the rig clear a dozen feet or so before it settled - at least I thought it was clear. I started to climbed down out of the huge oak I had been hunting from and spied a four-inch wide birch tree within reach with all the attributes of a fireman’s pole - or so I thought. I reached for and swung over to it to shinny down; the base of the birch was rotten. It broke and tipped over, dropping this cub bear down a dozen feet or so away from the oak and down hard on some rocks and - you can see this coming, right? I bent all of my new arrows. A couple times while cutting firewood I have almost dropped a tree on myself. The worst time was back in the day when I was helping my dad and brother cut a huge widow-maker elm behind my grandma’s hog house. The tree was completely cut off and dad and I were driving wedges into one side to get it to tip and fall. It did, right at me. I jumped back away from, tangling my feet in some crushed woven wire and tripping down a ten foot bank onto a pile of cut firewood back first. Ultimately, I had smashed a bunch of muscles in my lower back. I rode home in the back our station wagon on my back and then on to emergency. I missed a couple weeks of work and hunting, but my back recovered.
I could go on, but the point is that this last week one evening Scout and I were up on our ridge checking trail cameras and trimming some limbs here and there by tree stands. I decided to take a different way out of the woods on the four-wheeler. There was only one log between us and dinner. I locked the four-wheel drive in granny gear and drove over the log, sort of. I managed to high center the entire quad on the slippery surface. I couldn’t push or lift it, so we walked home. Back at the ranch my better-half was already worried about me because she had been trying to call me - I left my phone at home. Anyway, I loaded up a come-along and chainsaw and we drove the Ranger up to the woods. I was able to drive right up to the foundered four-wheeler, so I hooked up my tow rope and climbed on. Ellen slowly backed the pickup and things looked pretty good until I goosed the throttle and managed to tip the quad up on its side. It was going over; I was able to scramble away from it before it tipped on me. I know I frightened Ellen, and I admit, it took my breath away a bit too - okay, a lot. We reattached the rope and managed to get the four-wheeler upright and off the log on the second try from a different angle. The Honda started up no worse for wear and we headed home. Back at the ranch with Scout and Gypsy fed, I apologized to my wife for being so careless. As we ate dinner and watched the tape delay of the Badger game, I also realized I had jimmied up a knee and shoulder, duh.
I’ll chalk this up to another close call; if that 600-pound machine had rolled over on me, things could have been a lot worse. You read and hear about serious and even deadly four-wheeler accidents often enough, but you never think it’ll be you I guess. I promise I will be more careful from now on for sure.
Until next time, get out - the rut is on. The roads no doubt will be more dangerous because of running whitetails for a while. This is the week to be in a tree stand all day if you can, so be careful getting in and out of tree stands, let someone know where you are planning to go, and take your doggone cell phone. Enjoy.
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