I was inspired to tell a story after seeing reports of game
wardens in search of poachers. Well, its
deer season after all.
There was a time when this time of year brought about, for
me, bright orange vests and the promise of a few hours with Dad and his
friends. It’s deer hunting season.
A few stories –
A group of “elders” (I say elders, they seemed that way to my young eyes) in the community of Taos would gather
each year at the D-H Lawrence ranch near San Cristobal. Some of the participants were there to drink
fine whiskey, eat steak and play poker until the wee hours of the morning. Us “serious” hunters – I was really just a
kid - would go to sleep early and head out before daybreak, sneaking along the
edges of fields of feed – waiting to fire a shot at a poor unsuspecting deer. Quite often we scored. By the time we got back to camp the poker
players had long departed for home. The
rest of us stayed around for another day.
When we weren’t successful on the “big hunts,” Dad and I (and
maybe a couple others) would take off about mid-afternoon and head over to Tres
Piedras in search of ol’ Stag. We’d fire
at least one shot each year – just to make us feel good.
Another time a bunch of folks trekked from Taos over to an
old schoolhouse somewhere around Roy. My
mother and her brothers had grown up in those parts – and some of her brothers
(my uncles) and a bunch of other Taoseňos headed over year one year on a deer
hunting expedition.
I can tell you it was a successful time. There were a bunch of hunters, all with the
appropriate license. Some of us could
actually shoot. I recall that trip specifically. We were going through the game and fish
checkpoint at Cimarron and had so many deer feet sticking up from the back of
the pickups, the game wardens just looked at all of us and waved us
through. Good thing – I think we had one
too many – but the statute of limitations has long expired and most of those on
that hunting trip have gone to the happy hunting grounds.
I’ll post another hunting story that involves a life and
death chase (really) through mountain roads in the dark of night in northern New Mexico.
In the meantime, here’s a picture of what I believe to be a pheasant
or a grouse release along a creek in Taos.
In this photograph are – as best I can tell – from left to right:
Tom Holder, NM Game & Fish Warden; Jack Brandenburg a prominent
banker and business leader (notice he’s wearing a suit); the gentleman standing
in the “curly” hat is Tom Tarleton, and kneeling at the pheasant stand are Dow
Bond (white hat) and Sam Beimer (dark sweater and dark hat). Notice the famous Taos Mountain in the
background. I’m guessing about 1960.
