Went out for the elk opener up on Manashtash Ridge with two of my friends; my neighbor, Don, and our friend and fellow cigar clubber, Jan, who's Czech. I'm sitting there overlooking a million miles of no elk, when I hear two shots. Get up to check, and grab the backpack, since Don and Jan were hunting in the area the shots came from. No sooner had I left camp, when the wardens appear and check my tags. Since I'm legal, there's no problem, but I let them know that I thought my friends might have an elk down, and the senior warden tells me it's probably one of the two rigs parked just a little beyond the bend in the road, so I head back to camp and head for town to pick up some items I'd forgotten to bring along for that night's dinner. I get back into camp, and there's my two pals, gleefully skinning quarters of elk!! I glance around while backing in my truck, and notice stuff clinging to the side of my tent. Seems the boys felt their knives were insufficient to the task, and since I had the axe with me, Jan fires up the ol` Huskvarna, splattering elkburger on the side of my tent! They did quarter the elk, though! View attachment 45519 View attachment 45518 View attachment 45520 It reminds me of that Gary Larsen cartoon, where the city slicker bends down to pat the dog, sleeping with his paw over a chainsaw, and the country guy says "I wouldn't do that if I were you, mister; ol` Zeke's liable to fire that sucker up".:clown: Oh, and we froze our ever lovin' asses off!!!