I have recently returned from a state of Arizona bowhunting expedition, and I can say that the 70 plus degree temperatures found there were much more than welcome when compared to the frigid digits that I had left behind in western Colorado.
In many regards there were no great results to come from the trip. It was, in fact, a most challenging venture in every way.
The mule deer bucks were scarce and almost impossible to stalk, not that I ever really had one. The flittering Gamble's Quail were wildly wild and prone to running, before flushing on the highest hill far out of range. Even the sky threw down buckets and buckets of huge raindrops, and the heavy wind gusts almost blew down my tent one dark and moaning night. It was something that I did not quite expect in the previously parched desert of central Arizona.
JAdamsID / Pixabay
In short, my small hunting party did not harvest a deer, and we shot just enough quail for a quick grill at camp. I can tell you that Gamble's Quail are very, very tasty, and next time I will give them much more attention and make them a far larger part of my day.
skeeze / Pixabay
However, the biggest surprise of the trip is called cactus, or perhaps I should say cacti.
Arizona, it seems, is quite full of it. There are big cactus, and little cactus, in fact cactus of all means of form and function. All of them were deviously effective.
Some cactus were obvious to see, covered with ominous looking spines that could easily impale a small bird. Some even looked like a normal bush - until you tried to walk through it, only to quickly find out that you had made a serious mistake. And then there were the ones you couldn't see, and don't ask me how that could be. At times, it seemed like even the bare ground was full of thorns too, because, it was.
Before this trip I had only a brief experience with cactus, and I had really not given the subject much thought. But I am paying attention now, and I would like to think that I am a quick study, particularly when potential pain is involved.
From what I can find out there are over 80 species of cacti in Arizona, and I am pretty sure that I had a close encounter with everyone of them judging by the current state of my skin, and body. I have been back in Colorado now for a couple of days, and I think it is safe to say that I contain thorns and sticker things of all kinds still lodged firmly in places on my person that I forgot I had. It's obvious that a hunt in Arizona is always good for a memento or two, but not necessarily along the lines you had anticipated.
I love the names of the different species of cacti too. There's the stately Saguaro, for instance, whose name when spoken seems almost soothing, and which almost everyone recognizes as an iconic symbol of the desert southwest. They are wonderful to look at, and big and easy to avoid. Or so I thought, until that changed one sunset evening while looking for quail.
Walking up a steep, loose-rock ridge, I saw the out of focus outline of a Saguaro over the top of my hat brim, and without thinking, reached out to steady myself like I have done with the evergreens of my mountain home a thousand times. I stuck out the flat palm of my hand too, hard, and of course, instantly impaled my hand on some very long spikes. I drew some good blood too.
I can assure you that I will never do that again.
There's so many others too, some seemingly named by some sadistic botanist. There are Eagle Claws (not hard to imagine what that looks like), the Buckhorn Cholla, the Devil Cholla, the Robust Spine Beehive Cactus, the Smallflower Fishhook Cactus, the Heyder Pincushion Cactus, and perhaps the most infamous of all, the Teddy Bear Cholla, otherwise know as the Jumping Cholla.
If you have not run into that nasty little demon, consider yourself very, very lucky. It is aptly named, as it literally seems to launch a part of itself in your direction when you are unfortunate enough to brush by it, however lightly. I once picked up two conglomerations of it while deer hunting down a high flat, and they sunk so deep into my calf I did not know if I could ever get them out. Look up the Jumping Cholla on youtube sometime if you don't believe me. I did, once I returned to home, just to make sure that I had not gone cactus crazy.
With that being said, here are some pictures from my Arizona hunting adventure. My camera is really not up to the task, but you get the idea. Adventure is the key word here, but certainly not in the way that I had expected.
That, of course, is why we call it hunting, and not shooting...for you must find the game in order to hunt it, when you are not picking cactus needles from your behind...
Enough said.
Perhaps I will see you there, next time. And I hope you bring your best brush pants...
Four Peaks and the Mazatzal Mountains Over My Shoulder
This Original Content is By Michael Patrick McCarty
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