For weeks now I’ve been getting phone calls from Scott.

“Yeeeaaaaaaaahhhh!!! YYEEEEEEEAAAAAHH!!!!!! You feel that, boy? You feel that cold air? Fall is here! It’s going to be a banner year for hunting! YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!”

And so on.

Sometimes he’ll leave me messages on my cell phone and just scream “Yyyyeeeeeeaaaahhhhh!!!”

So last weekend was it: opening weekend. And I had to work Friday and Saturday. I wouldn’t be able to make it until Sunday. I hope my hunting buddies don’t shoot all the bucks…

So I’m sitting at work on Friday, staring at the clock, OMFG when do I get to go home, why isn’t it Saturday night already? I wish I was at the Tansen Ranch with my friends for opening weekend. Sigh. Sigh, again.

My cell phone buzzes. Curt Houston, message incoming. What? Text message? Picture message? What is this? My heart sinks as I think of all the fun my friends must be having. I wait for an eternity for the picture to download to my phone.

Keep in mind, it’s only 3pm.

The picture is of Jimmy, and he’s passed out on a mound of groceries. Apparently Jimmy has had too much to drink on the way up to Elk Creek. He couldn’t make the 2 hour drive from Roseville. And at 3pm he’s already passed out in the back seat.

And I’m missing all of this.

Curt leaves me a voicemail explaining that they took Jimmy’s wallet and used his credit card to buy a boombox and some more booze. And that they are off to the bar to drink some more. And that they are leaving Jimmy in the truck.

Dammit. My head is definitely not at work.

The next day it’s more of the same. Scott and Jimmy and Curt and Jeff all calling me, harassing me while I’m at work, asking me when I’m going to come up, why aren’t I there yet, what’s going on, what’s taking so long Tommy?

Scott calls me again, and after another round of “YYYEEEEEAHHHH!!!!” we discuss the cold weather and the bite in the air and how it’s going to be a banner year and I’ve got a good feeling about this season, and I’ll be there late tonight.

After work I pack up the Jeep and head towards Sacramento. I’m on highway 5. I’m past Stockton. I’ll be able to see the lights of Sacramento city any minute now.

And that’s the moment that I realized that I forgot my license, tags, and gun by the door again. I’m so pissed that I’ve done this yet AGAIN that I’ve got all the windows down and cussing up a storm. I make a U turn and head back to Brentwood for the night.

First thing Sunday morning, before the sun has had a chance to rise, I’m in the Jeep and driving towards my friends. I arrive at the ranch around 10am.

And Scott has already shot two bucks that morning.

Working with Jimmy, the two of them were up very early and working the west side of the ranch property, in and around the creek bed. Jimmy happened to flush two legal bucks out in front of Scott. And Scott promptly shot them both.

Scott has now entered the ranks of the Long family elite. Two bucks in one day. Congratulations, Scott! I know your father is proud of you.

So I park the Jeep and I’m greeted by my friends. Scott and Curt are finishing up the two bucks. I can’t help but think that it could be me that shot those two, and not Scott, if only I’d gotten my ass up there the night before. I’m happy for Scott, but I’m a little pissed at the same time.

So we spend the rest of the day catching up and telling stories and hunting the Tansen Ranch property. I miss my friends.

So that evening I went out for a hunt along the western edge of the ranch property. Along the US National Forest border I scare up a deer out of the heavy brush. He takes off for the wide open field on the other side of the hill. I run up the ridge to cut him off.

I get the deer in my sights and I know he’s a buck. He’s got horns. But the light is fading fast and he’s too far away, and I can’t tell if he’s legal. I hunker down and move slowly along the edge of the treeline, trying to get closer to the buck and get a better look.

The buck sees me and lays down in the tall weeds. I’m having a hard time seeing if he’s legal. I get closer, and closer still. He’s a spike for sure. But, I just can’t hang a ring on one of the nubs. I have to let him go.

Oh well.

That night we have a wonderful dinner. My friends go to bed early, and I stretch out in the recliner under the big oak tree outside the main house. Through the canopy of leaves and branches I can see the blanket of stars above me. The wind is howling through the treetops. My friends are snoring in the house behind me. In the distance I can hear coyotes howling at the moon.

At that moment I felt the most calming sense of peace and happiness. At that moment my life was simple and happy and carefree. And I missed my Miriam. I almost packed up and went home.

And then the next day I took some more pictures, relaxed and drank some coffee, chatted with my friends, and we all packed up and went home.

I was sad to leave my friends, but I know I’ll be seeing them in Trinity in just a few short weeks.

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Pictures of the Tansen Ranch and such (PETA approved)

Warning: pictures of dead deer (not for the weak)

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