Issue link: http://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/496918
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S 4 4 northwest on a two-day run to Oak Creek Ranch in Missouri to do some whitetail hunting with my longtime friend Donald Hill. The vehicle I originally reserved wasn't available when I got to the rental agency, but thank goodness, they had decided to upgrade me to a supersized SUV. Because when I got to Altizer's house this morning he had grossly over-packed—so what's new? Can you believe it? He had three, count 'em, THREE rifles, a pistol, more than a hundred rounds of ammunition, four pairs of boots, three travel bags, two shooting sticks, a full camera case, assorted binoculars and rangefinders, a half- dozen books, three pens, and his crusty old pocket journal—not to mention a gigantic Yeti cooler that took up the entire back seat. I had to draw the line when he started to tie his big fold-down camo lawn chair to the luggage rack. Altizer: Poor Chuck. Sometimes I worry about that man. Shows up at my house for the Missouri hunt, and all he has is a small travel bag, one pair of boots, one rifle, and get this . . . FIVE rounds of ammo. "I've already killed three deer, two hogs, and an armadillo this season with that rifle," he tells me. "One shot each. I'll check it when we get to the ranch, and that should leave me four rounds, more than enough. So what's the problem?" He's completely forgotten about our elk hunt in New Mexico last year when the soles separated from the only pair of boots he'd brought, and he wound up having to finish his hunt in some prissy, patent-leather wingtips with thin, slick soles. Heck, it wasn't my fault that my size 14s were too large for his tiny little feet. DAY TWO Wechsler: We stayed at a motel in Kentucky last night and then hit the road. We hadn't gone a mile before Altizer began regaling me with all his grandiose story ideas—catching platter-sized bluegills in North Carolina, hunting big mule deer in New Mexico, and stalking chachalacas in Ecuador. Really??!! And now he's rambling on and on about the old Marlin his dad left him and how he's bound and determined to kill a big buck with it. Altizer: Boy, are my ears burning. Chuck has been talking non-stop since we crossed the Ohio River north of Paducah. All about growing up in South Dakota, and all the pheasants he's killed, and about how he put himself through college hunting jackrabbits for their fur. Then there's Maggie, his son's little Brittany—"the best little bird dog this side of Sirius"—and how someday he just has to hunt those giant mule deer on the Jicarilla in New Mexico, and how he plans to set up a pronghorn hunt for us next year in Wyoming and a trout trip to the Little Red in Arkansas. And after all that he launches into a treatise on managing his deer-and- hog tract in South Carolina and the 400-pound wild boar (my friend is occasionally prone to exaggeration) he killed there. Claimed it actually charged him and he had to shoot from the hip. At least that's his story. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a word in edgewise before we cross the Mississippi. DAY THREE Wechsler: We arrived at Oak Creek early yesterday afternoon. Had all my gear unpacked and into my room in just a few minutes. Had to wait much too long for Altizer to get his mountain of stuff unloaded, then finally made our way over to the shooting range to check our rifles. Took one shot with my .30-06 Sauer. Dead on. Good to go. It took my friend over an hour to check all three of his rifles and then tediously—and I do mean tediously—wipe them down and polish the lenses on his scopes. He's still stressing over which of his rifles to use. Gee, if I can ever get that boy raised . . . Heading out this afternoon to do some scouting. Altizer: Oak Creek is really a great place, just like Chuck said— and such gracious people. Got everything unloaded and organized. Checked our guns and all are in perfect order, though Chuck is now down to four rounds. Trying to decide whether to start out with my Ruger Number One single shot or with Dad's old Marlin. I'll keep the Jaeger 7-mag in reserve in case Chuck needs it later. I'm so glad I brought these extra rifles and ammo, though I know my boots won't fit my wee-footed friend if he throws a shoe. I really worry about that man and his dearth of equipment. We'll go out scouting this afternoon and start hunting for real in the morning. DAY FOUR Wechsler: Left the lodge this morning with guide James Smith. Good weather. Spotted one buck that was truly awesome, but he was hightailing for cover. Though it started to rain, we still managed to see several other big-antlered bucks, every one the kind of deer that my Carolina buddies would die for. James wants me to hold off for now, look at a lot of bucks and find one that really appeals to me. Great dinner this evening, then I absolutely trashed Altizer in a game of eight-ball. Altizer: Headed out with guide Shane Boyer this morning. Beautiful fall day. Saw two wonderful bucks—one of which I really wanted to shoot, but Shane assured me we could do even better. Two hours after lunch a cold rain blew in, but we continued to see bucks, including some that were starting to rut.