Don't forget

Many, many, moons ago whenever I took to the hills, there was some good advice in that famous packers guide and artist Joe Backs book, "Horses, Hitches and Rocky Trails."

Have yer check list so ya don't forget.

Elk season com'n up so I went over my list like them folks go'n over Obama's birth certificate. Yup, looked good at the time.

Sett'n up the wall tent with Indian autumn com'n on sure was grand out here in the great outdoors. Had the ponies on the high line out back. Gave'um a little hay I'd packed in previous. First night an elk bugled about 100 yards from camp. Sign of good things to come, maybe.

Be'n on the edge of a meadow had its advantages and disadvantages. About to drift off into dreamland it started, mice scurry'n along the edge of the log the tent was tied to, so's the tent wouldn't freeze down to the ground--old Indian trick.

Anyway, I tried to ignore 'em but when one ran across my head all bets are off. I reached behind me in the pannier, got some original ear plugs--toilet paper, cause when I commenced to shoot'n it would be a little loud in the tent, don't ya know.

I grabbed my 22 pistol and flashlight.

There on the far side of the tent was one of the varmints. I blasted away--the splinters flew--the mice dove for cover and all was quiet. But I knew they'd be back. I'd be ready.

Half out of my sleep'n bag up against a pannier, pistol in one hand, flashlight in the other, I didn't have long to wait. Sounded like they brought along reinforcements. I let 'em get a sense of security for a few seconds and then blazed away again. The noise in that tent was a little loud. Must be the noise got to 'em. They didn't come back.

Next morning I rode to another outfit and borrowed a mousetrap. The moral of this story, well actually morals don't have anything to with it. Just a reminder: don't forget the mice traps.