The Winter Cow

We went hunting for cow elk in New Mexico in January on the Vermajo ranch owned by Ted Turner. I had the honor of taking the first shot between the three of us, my son Louie and friend Bill. A driving snowstorm began on the first morning of our hunt while we were with the guide in his truck at a tire shop in Raton, buying new tires because one had gone flat the previous day. The people from Arkansas who we had dined with the night before had gone on and on about seeing elk and how wonderful the weather was, but that was not to be the case for us as we headed out into four inches of snow on the road and a heavy dump coming down from a windy sky.

We had never hunted here before and had no idea what to expect, but I felt there was a lot of pressure on me to get an elk and get the skunk off the hunt. We'd already missed our first early morning hunt buying tires, and Louie wanted to get home to his wife of less than one year. Adding to the pressure was the fact that we saw a mountain lion, a huge one, just half an hour earlier, and the guide stated that he thought the lion might have pushed a lot of the game out of the immediate area.

That turned out not to be a problem however, the ranch is 535,000 acres, but I was not used to hunting such a large property, so when we spotted a single cow elk browsing in the trees five hundred yards off the road, I didn't hesitate in saying I'd shoot it and help the guide drag it back across two icy streams. That would give Louie and Bill two and a half days to bag two more elk and put us on pace for getting home when we'd planned.

Louie videotaped as we stalked within 240 yards and I shot from behind some brush. I thought our stalk had been successful, the animal was totally undisturbed. One shot with the 338 Win Mag Remington my son's had given me for my 60th birthday was all it took to dump the cow elk. She struggled for less than a minute, then collapsed dead.

It was a long hike to the elk and we had to ford two streams to get there, fortunately both no more than six inches deep. At first I thought I'd shot a nice animal, but when I got closer, I was dismayed to see how old and bony she was. She had one tooth left, and when the guide gutted her, it was apparent there was very little meat on her. However we tagged her and dragged her out.

The next day the butcher said the elk was inedible, that she was diseased and the marrow was white and milky, a sure sign of disease. We called New Mexico Fish and Game because we were worried about Chronic Wasting Disease, but they assured us that the animal probably had a blood worm which made her deaf and blind as well.

So, that was why I was able to get within a couple of hundred yards, she was blind and deaf and trying to stay alive eating with one tooth in a blinding snow storm. I wasn't allowed a new tag, that was my hunt and elk for the year, so as I continued to hunt with Louie and Bill I started to think that all I had done was act as a mercy killer for this poor old cow elk.

It was almost one year to the day since my mother had died, and I couldn't help think of her because she had many of the same problems as that poor old cow. My mother had been unable to eat or drink in the end, and had more than anything else simply wasted away. It was awful to see her suffer and die slowly but there was nothing any of us could do, and to her credit, my mom retained her faculties almost to the last, so each day we had with her allowed some time to recall memories and talk about her life and the world.

But I have to admit that helping that old cow elk leave the world so quickly satisfied a hollow place in my heart that had been carved out by my mother's death. There is a terrible toll placed on loved ones when death is lingering. Each day that goes by might be the last, and all life is placed on hold until the death comes as a release from a painful vigil.

That poor old cow was alone, unable to stay with the herd any longer, unable to see, just grazing on grass in a thicket of trees, making an effort to stay alive long after any reason to live had gone by in previous springs and summers of bearing and feeding young ones.

Maybe I cheated that mountain lion out of a meal. Predators go after the easiest prey. If I did, I apologize to the mountain lion, though I think I saved him in the long run from indigestion and disease himself, so in the end I helped out two animals, though both will never know.

It was a different hunt, but this has been a different year.