SCOUT

SCOUT
Gently he nudged the black mule forward, his feet were out of the stirrups, the reins laid over the mule’s neck. Both of his hands were folded over the saddlehorn. Both mule and man watched each step carefully as they entered the large, wide, long, steep, rock slide. They had been here only once before and nearly had disaster grab them then. Years had formed a bond of trust between mule and man, and clearly the mule was in charge now. Though he wore spurs, they seldom came into play, then only as a nearly unseen command to the mule. The message to the mule, that would be unseen by a casual observer, was: “You are in charge here, because you can feel the rocks and available footing, but I reserve the right to intervene if necessary”. Only once during the treacherous crossing did he give a signal to the mule. About three fourths of the way across, the mule was about to step out on a particularly wet slick looking slab of rock, when he said, “whoa”. He never touched the reins, but instead gently raised his right heel untill it touched the mules ribs on the right side. The mule immediately gave slightly to the left, going around the rock in question.The first time they had came here it was as part of a volunteer group looking for a downed aircraft that was last seen on radar, near Blackfork Mountain. The pre-mission briefing showed a aviation map of West central Arkansas. It was clearly marked with a large purple rectangle with big letters saying “High Crash Incidence Area”. That day the Operational rendezvous point was the Rich Mountain Store, and it was where he parked today.Today’s mission was of a recreational nature and didn’t have the urgency of the last time they were here. Today they were on a post season scouting trip for signs of a particular whitetail deer. It was March so the winds and weather could change rapidly. There was no briefing today, but none the less he and a friend went in to the store, made a couple of small purchases, then left word with the Watson’s, Steve and Suzanne, about their plans. The Blackfork wilderness not only could be, but actually was , an unforgiving place to the careless or unlucky. They knew that the Watson’s would be a quality safety net in an emergency.The rock slide must have been over a mile long and over a quarter of a mile wide at that point. There was absolutely no dirt or vegetation present. Looking North from Rich Mountain, the rock slide was a large slash on the side of Blackfork Mountain. The boulders in the slide were large, many the size of a volkswagon beetle, some as large as a school bus. That meant there were large gaps through out the slide that could break a leg after one slip or loss of footing.To make things worse as you entered the rockslide, the lighting changed because of the sunlight not being filtered by the tree overstory. In this wild “moonscape”, the terrain fell off extremely steep on one side and rose wildly on the other. Water could be seen in places, and it could be heard constantly, through the gaps in the rocks, rushing fast down the mountain. Vertigo was a tangeable thing to be dealt with. Luckily, today they didn’t have to contend with that other thing, Snakes. The sunlight warmed the rocks in the daytime and gently gave off that heat through the cold nights. The water and warmth made it a perfect hunting place for a snake looking for small creatures to make a meal of.Stepping out of the saddle to give the mule a break, he waited for his friend and mule to finish crossing. He had not been here before and had wanted to follow close enough to have the lead mule pick the way across.As the friend stepped from the saddle they began to talk about the reason they were there.He had been at a seep just below a rock ledge, watering his mule. As they had rode back through a gap in the ledge they had met head on with a very large, old buck. They had been so close that they could see that the buck had a lot of grey around his muzzle and eyes. As the old buck had whirled around suddenly, and in the narrow gap he could actually hear the sound the buck’s intestines made as they “heaved’ around. Stunned at the magnifigance of the stately old monster, the mule and he, just sat there listening to the rocks rattle as the buck faded out of sight.It was the kind of thing a life long hunter wouldn’t forget. Later he had told his friend and they had decided to try to hunt him the next year during the first muzzleloading season. This was their first chance to scout for him.The narrow window of fair weather this time of the year would be something to contend with. They would, out of necessity, have to keep one eye on the weather.The higher they climbed the smaller and more stunted the oak timber became. As they “topped out”, they were in a dwarf oak forest of beauty. Native grasses grew in small “glades” that they passed through. The lowest limbs on these small oaks could be as close to the ground as six inches. This was a different and wildly beautiful place. He knew they were nearing the old house place when they came to the first rock fence. Though he had seen the fence before, he reined the mule to a stop to marvel over it again. Many of the rocks must have weighed well over five hundred pounds. Just thinking about all of the hard work involved in building the fence amazed him.As they neared the old rock fireplace, chimney and foundation stones, at the old cabin site, they began to see the first old rubs and scrapes.The chimney had no mortar holding the rocks in place. The whole thing had been laid up and carefully “chinked” with mud. The mud was long gone but the carefully laid stones still stood. It was a rousing testimonial to old fasioned craftsmanship.The rubs seemed to follow a game trail towards the rock ledge that he recognised as the one where he had watered the mule before. Passing through the gap in the rock ledge they found the seep and cleaned it of leaves and sticks. Flowing readily now, the seep cleared rapidly. As the mules drank they decided they would ride over to the South side a bit more, along the rub line. When they entered into a large grassy glade well below the top of the Mountain, they jumped the buck up. He must have been bedded down in the sunshine, out of the wind. Waiting until they got close enough to make him uncomfortable. Suddenly, he bailed out, over the side of the mountain disappearing in seconds.After several seconds of silence while they listened to determine the bucks direction of travel, his friend said, “you think it was him?” “I dunno’, he was big enough alright, but there’s no antlers to speak of this time of the year.”As they circled along the deer’s exit route looking for tracks, they could hear rain coming through the timber towards them.Hours later, after putting the mules in the covered trailer and wiping them down, they stomped across the front porch of the Rich Mountain store. Hanging their rain soaked coats outside, they went inside, asking, “hey ! I hate to interrupt the domino game, but could a couple of wet hunters get a hot cup of coffee ?” The domino players at the table waited for Steve to pour coffee and return to the game. Finally one of them said, ” see anything up there besides rain and briars ?” He answered, “one antlerless deer for about three seconds”He winked at his buddy and said, ” you know a man has to be absolutely insane to work that hard and take all that risk to look at a old slick head for three seconds !”As Steve returned to the domino table he said, ” help yourself to more coffee when you are ready, you two look like drownded rats !”