The Furry Weapon- Chapter 1
November 15, 2007. Somewhere in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
I awoke with a sun coming through my tent window. I looked at my watch, 630 Hours. "Well, better get up." I put on my coat and boots and stepped out of my tent. I heard something rummaging in my bag, so I looked in that direction. "Hey!" I grabbed my rifle and ran over to it. When I got up to it, a raccoon jumped out and took off. "You little bastard!" I pulled up my rifle to shoot the damn creature, but he was long gone into the woods. "Shit." I did a check through the bag, and luckily he didn't take anything. I thought about the little guy, almost chased him down, but figured it wasn't worth it. I have already been out here for three days, no sense in wasting energy. I stoked up a fire and threw on a can of beans. While warming up my body, I pulled out my thermometer, 19 Degrees. There was some fresh snow from the night before, and I could feel the cold chill of winter coming in. This was my favorite time of year; November. Deer season just opened, I had nine days before I had to go back to my shop in Fort Bidwell, and the weather was my favorite. I packed up my tent, bags, and ate breakfast. Then I extinguished the fire and was on my way.
A few hours later, I came to an open plain. I figured that some deer might come through, so I sat for a while. Sure enough, an hour and a half later, some deer moved in. I looked through my binoculars at them; they were about 400 yards away. My heart sank when I didn't see any antlers, but then I heard something from behind, no wait, above and behind. I looked in that direction and saw a glimpse of a ringed tail. "Hmm..." I noticed that ever since I had left camp, I had a feeling something was following me. I decided to keep walking and find a different area. A half hour later, I came to a wooded area. I saw a lone brown rabbit eating some grass about 100 yards away. "Hmm... well having a 7mm Weatherby magnum rifle would more than likely destroy the meat... so the head it is." I pulled up my rifle, aimed, and POW! Traveling over 2000 feet per second the bullet connected in no time, literally ripping the head to shreds. I snickered to myself as I thought of my son's video game- "Headshot!" I was happy, because I had a nice lunch to eat in a few hours.
Figuring that no deer would come into this area after hearing a gunshot, I decided to walk for another few miles. But I had to take a few minutes for water and to skin the rabbit. After that I was on my way again, looking forward to another long hike. It was times like these when I thought back to my army days. I was a Delta Force sniper back in the early to mid '90s. I fought in Desert Storm and took the most shots and hit the most targets in my squadron, at least as far as snipers go. Wow, that was 16 years ago, now here I am at the age of 41, and still doing what I do best, shooting at a long distance. Years of training and fighting made hunts like these easy to me. But the emotional parts also took its toll on me. I can't sleep unless I have a large knife under my pillow, in many occasions I would wake in the middle of the night gripping that knife so hard it would almost leave handprints in the handle. But other than that the service was definitely a life changing experience for me.
At around 1200 hours, I decided to cook and eat lunch. I knew that if I cooked and ate the meal fast, no bears would have the time to investigate. I quickly stoked up a fire and cooked the fresh meat. Mouth drooling and a small puddle from my mouth later, the meal was finally done. I ate the white meat like I haven't eaten in a month. It tasted a lot like chicken. I extinguished the fire and took off in hurry, because I had a sense that something was wrong. As I walked it was too late. I saw a huge furry mountain coming toward me like a freight train. I dropped my rifle and pulled out my Colt, pumping seven rounds of .45 into the head of the bruin. He dropped instantly and rolled down the mountain, creating small avalanches as he went down. WHEW! That was the closest encounter I have ever had with a bear, and hopefully it would be the last. I picked up my rifle and figured that no deer would come around after that escapade.
Night was starting to fall, so I decided to call it a day and start to find an area to set up camp. I came to an open clearing and decided to make it here. I put my tent, built a fire, and put on another can of beans. I wrote in my hunting journal about the encounters I had with the wildlife that day, especially that raccoon that I had a feeling was still following me. I wrote down the high temperature, which got up to 46 degrees, and the low temp, which was 19. After the fire died down and my stomach was full once again, I hit the sack at about 1900 hours, still hearing a faint rummaging creature near my camp.
630 hours: "Wow I am consistent with waking up." I put on my coat and boots and stepped outside of my tent. This time I put all of my belongings inside of the tent, and sure enough, about 50 yards away was the same Raccoon sitting and watching me. I decided he wasn't harming anything so I let him be, for now. Same routine, fire, beans, pack, leave. A routine that was imprinted into my mind forever from months of army training. I climbed up the mountain I was camped on, and came to the top. What I saw now astounded me. Valleys and mountains as far as the eye could see, covered in fresh white snow and green fir trees. Huge forms of rocks bigger than some of the biggest buildings in the world, jutting up into the heavens which seemed like ages away. I started to look for areas where deer would gather around. Deep into a distant valley, about five miles away, there was an open field without too much snow on the ground; perfect. I started heading that direction, figuring I would get there by nightfall.
Finally, just as the sun went down in the Sierra Nevada's, I made it to an area close enough for me to bag one in the morning. Before I started to make camp, I turned around and the same Raccoon from at least 8 miles away was still distantly trailing. I made camp and before I knew it, it was time for bed. Before I slept, I looked at pictures of my wife, two awesome sons, one 16 and the other 14, and my great house. Then I came across my drivers' license, Rob McKinley, wow have the years took a toll on me since this picture. Now a little depressed, I decided to turn off the light and go to sleep.
At about 517 hours, I could feel something moving at the end of my feet. I looked, and there was that Raccoon with a bag of chips scattered all over that half of the tent. "You son of a Bitch!" He took off out of the tent, me trailing in a blaze of fury and hate, rifle in hand. He scurried up a tree, and I mounted my gun, put the crosshairs on his head, and right before I pulled the trigger, he stopped moving and sat on a branch. Suddenly I saw myself back sixteen years ago in the same situation. Out of ammo, backed in a corner with an insurgent five feet in front of me with an AK-47 at my head. I looked him straight in the eye, after killing most of his comrades, and he said something in his language and walked away. Now here I am in that same situation, and I felt pity. I pulled down the gun and almost started bawling right there. I sat down and thought for a long time. I looked back at the tree and saw the 'Coon coming toward me. I turned to look at how far my tent was and saw another 'Coon. I was astounded for a split second when it looked me straight in the eye and said, "Lights out." I saw a large chunk of something come toward my head and then... Black. I was out.