Shedding Bones
As someone who has not been above sacrificing science over a chance to rhyme, I cannot complain. You may or may not know that elk are losing their antlers right now, so “horn hunting” has begun.
“Horns” is used, I think, as a way of sounding as slick as an animal debris hunter can be. But elk have the opposite hard stuff of real horns. If they were horns, among other things such as substance, there would be more of them as females of the species would grow them, too. However, there would be less on the ground because horns do not shed. Now that we have saved the literal English students from following cows around, we can get down to business.
Being the grandfather of law enforcement tracking in Pennsylvania, I really didn’t think I would have to try too hard to trip over a set of six foot long, threefoot branched set of antlers on the ground, but it hasn’t happened yet. Underestimating the achievement, I have been more of a casual antler peeker than a horn hunter. There are die hard, hard working, dedicated hunters out there who put miles in seeking antlers. I’ve found those people out in the woods but not antlers so maybe I should have given them more credit.
There have been very close calls of almost finding horns and ruining a perfect record of being shutout. I once saw two bull elk with horns on the way to work. Coming back home that evening, I saw both bulls again but with two horns among them rather than the four they sported that morning. I got out and looked but apparently was beaten to it. I swear some of the expert horn hunters are there to catch any freed antler.
It is almost possible. Being a tracker who was paid to find the smallest of things, actions, and predict events, I was able to predict that an antler would soon fall in a specific spot. While out with a friend, I pointed to bull poop on the ground along with other bits of sign. I said, “Hey this may be a good place to find a horn. Look at the bull poop and all this sign.” My friend called me out, “You’re full of poop, you can’t tell that.” I assured him that I could and he did not seem to believe me. Yet later as we passed by the spot, he looked and right where I predicted, he found a grand antler. I’ve found antlers for other people several other times as well.
As for myself, the trained professional observer, when I’ve looked, all that I’ve found are bullet casings, birthday balloons, a couple of Zippos, several fishing rods, a baby dolls head and a few broken bottles. I have managed to find a few deer antlers (still not horns for the same reason elk don’t scientifically sport horns during the non-shedding and rhyme season). It’s true I’ve found more actions than horns. I am a verb hunter who can’t see bone.
It has occurred to me that there are three ways to hunt horns. The hard way or the easy way, both are ways I haven’t tried yet, which is following a bull around with antlers day or night until they drop or putting out feed to keep a bull on my property until they drop, respectfully. I have been trying the medium way, which entails sanely being nonchalant about the whole thing while keeping an eye open. I have taken some long strolls through where elk frequent but have only come up with the aforementioned treasures. Somehow walking right by a 40-pound antler to see a bullet casing left for evidence on a five-mile trail. Maybe I need to look for one-eyed baby doll heads and, in the process, will trip over 200 inches of discarded bone.