SLEEPING LIKE A ROCK

by Baxter Black, DVM

Hunting with a companion who enjoys it as much as you do is one of life’s greatest gifts. It’s like two horse people or two pilots finding each other in a crowded room. You finally have someone that will actually listen to your stories!

Doug went by Phil’s house right after lunch to pick him up. They had a trip planned to go chukker hunting near Gerlach. Unfortunately, Doug walked in on the middle of a family spat; doors were slamming, plates were flying, tension was twanging and the air was blue. Phil grabbed his shotgun and shooting vest, ducked a gravy boat and scrambled out the door.

That night on the high desert the boys cooked over an open fire and taste-tested a six-pack of Night Train Express, a subtle wine (mixed fruit, 17% alcohol and bottled in Modesto). Since Phil had no coat, bedroll, blanket, long johns or earmuffs, they scrounged him up some bedding. It consisted of rubber floor mats, Doug’s canvas fender cover, a seat cushion and a blue plastic tarp.

They fed the two dogs and bedded down by the dying fire in the middle of the night. Doug was rattled awake by a persistent rumbling noise. Like a locomotive beginning to pull against 80 coal cars.

‘Dang dog,’ thought Doug as he huddled in his Cabela’s down bag. He peeked outside the top but the fire had died down leaving a black night. The sonorous grunts and snuffles continued. He reached a small pebble, aimed toward the sound and tossed. The dog never moved. The snoring continued.

‘If I can just get him to stop long enough for me to go to sleep, I’ll be okay,’ thought Doug, finding another pebble. A game bag of pebbles later his efforts remained fruitless. The noise had taken on the roar of an anchor chain being played out on the U.S.S. Enterprise. Doug’s hand fell upon a baseball-sized rock. With a slight twinge of guilt for his good dog, he lobbed the projectile toward the offending sound. He heard a solid thunk, then...silence!

Our two companions slept later than they intended. Doug got up first and started the fire, fed the dogs and began cooking breakfast. He pulled on the end of Phil’s bedding. Phil pulled down the tarp and pushed up on his elbows. He was a sight to see; hair askew, eyes bloodshot and what appeared to be a footprint on the side of his face! Dried blood clung to the top of his ear. A black and blue spot colored his cheekbone and he seemed to be squinting.

Doug winced as he watched Phil scrunch his jaw. “How’d ya sleep?” he asked his friend.

“Like a rock,” said Phil, trying to smile, “Like a rock.”