Re: what happened?
Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 5:54 pm
We are the last buffalo hunters and we’re now embarking on the last great hunts. We are a rag-tag bunch who shares a common bond and enjoys our similar interest but we know the writing is on the wall. This is it.
Some in our party believed that the buffalo would never run out and held onto that belief a little longer than they should have. They fondly remembered what it was like not that long ago and thought those times could return. They missed the long train rides headed west onto the plains with cars full of young fresh faces toting around newly purchased .45-70 rifles. The new hunters’ s excitement was contagious. Their enthusiasm to ask questions and listen to stories from the old timers seemed limitless and most of the grizzled vets enjoyed answering them and telling tales of herds so big the only thing that limited them was the horizon. A handful of the most seasoned hunters preferred interacting with the youngbloods by giving them shyte. They liked to ride them for not knowing how to drink whiskey and then relished in drinking them under the table. Plenty of pity awaited any newcomer foolish enough to get into a late night poker game with a hunter who’d been on too many trips west to remember.
As time went on the herds diminished and most everyone who wanted a buffalo head or robe had already got theirs and were content to start families and live the settled life in the East. The remaining men who had each killed thousands of buffalo still at it noticed there were less and less fresh faces each trip down the tracks. Until there were none. They looked around and walked through the train cars and all they saw were the familiar rough faces of their peers. Some whom they liked, the majority they didn’t. Even so, it was a long ride and you had to talk to someone to pass the time.
The conversations were much different. No one talked about guns or equipment anymore since there was little point in doing so. They all knew what they preferred to use and established their choice years ago. It came across as condescending to even bring up why you thought a certain rifle or round was superior to a man who had killed just as many buffalo using something else. Condescension could get you punched in the face or worse, tossed off the back of the train. No one cared to tell stories of the greatest hunts they’d been on or the biggest herds they’d seen. They’d all been on great hunts and seen big herds. The conversations were definitely much different. Often times they had nothing to do with hunting at all. Despite the differences it was still better to be on that train headed west than to not be on that train.
The calendar no longer says 2002 on the top. People aren’t flocking to duck hunting forums in droves. They haven’t for a long time. They won’t ever again. To conduct a forum at this point in time with the hopes of attracting newbs, not running off the sensitive types, or out of fear that someone’s kid might read a swear word would be like trying to recruit scores of new buffalo hunters in 1880 by offering a free hunters ethics course before boarding the train. It'd be asinine.
This is it.
Al has finally embraced being on that train headed west for the last great buffalo hunts.
That’s my theory.
Some in our party believed that the buffalo would never run out and held onto that belief a little longer than they should have. They fondly remembered what it was like not that long ago and thought those times could return. They missed the long train rides headed west onto the plains with cars full of young fresh faces toting around newly purchased .45-70 rifles. The new hunters’ s excitement was contagious. Their enthusiasm to ask questions and listen to stories from the old timers seemed limitless and most of the grizzled vets enjoyed answering them and telling tales of herds so big the only thing that limited them was the horizon. A handful of the most seasoned hunters preferred interacting with the youngbloods by giving them shyte. They liked to ride them for not knowing how to drink whiskey and then relished in drinking them under the table. Plenty of pity awaited any newcomer foolish enough to get into a late night poker game with a hunter who’d been on too many trips west to remember.
As time went on the herds diminished and most everyone who wanted a buffalo head or robe had already got theirs and were content to start families and live the settled life in the East. The remaining men who had each killed thousands of buffalo still at it noticed there were less and less fresh faces each trip down the tracks. Until there were none. They looked around and walked through the train cars and all they saw were the familiar rough faces of their peers. Some whom they liked, the majority they didn’t. Even so, it was a long ride and you had to talk to someone to pass the time.
The conversations were much different. No one talked about guns or equipment anymore since there was little point in doing so. They all knew what they preferred to use and established their choice years ago. It came across as condescending to even bring up why you thought a certain rifle or round was superior to a man who had killed just as many buffalo using something else. Condescension could get you punched in the face or worse, tossed off the back of the train. No one cared to tell stories of the greatest hunts they’d been on or the biggest herds they’d seen. They’d all been on great hunts and seen big herds. The conversations were definitely much different. Often times they had nothing to do with hunting at all. Despite the differences it was still better to be on that train headed west than to not be on that train.
The calendar no longer says 2002 on the top. People aren’t flocking to duck hunting forums in droves. They haven’t for a long time. They won’t ever again. To conduct a forum at this point in time with the hopes of attracting newbs, not running off the sensitive types, or out of fear that someone’s kid might read a swear word would be like trying to recruit scores of new buffalo hunters in 1880 by offering a free hunters ethics course before boarding the train. It'd be asinine.
This is it.
Al has finally embraced being on that train headed west for the last great buffalo hunts.
That’s my theory.