Every year, year after year, I have applied for controlled hunt tags for mountain goat, bighorn sheep, antelope, and moose. For thirty years my name was never drawn, but at least I could always count on over-the-counter elk and deer tags so I could hunt. Once again I put in the applications with the fees for the Idaho lottery draw, and Sugar Plum said to me, “Tracker, look at all the money you have wasted over the years putting in for tags you never draw. If we had saved that money, I could have bought my new stove that you promised me ten years ago. Every time we start saving for it, you find a new gun you ‘need’ or a new fishing pole with some new state-of-the-art reel.”

     Fish and Game results are mailed July 1. Sugar Plum went to the post office and retrieved our mail which included four yellow post cards with my draw results. “Holy Hannah! I hit the lotto! I drew them all!”

     Now I had two and a half months until season opened. This would be the longest two months of my life. I still had chores to do, but all I could think about was hunting. Sugar Plum caught me with my hand in the cookie jar, grabbing her savings again. I “needed” the new high-tech King’s Desert Shadow camo and a new satellite phone; I had visions of being invisible in the mountains so that no creature could see me.

     October finally arrived. I spent three days gathering my gear and loading my truck with every rifle I owned, all the ammo I could carry, binoculars, spotting scope, game bags, wenches, ropes, ice chest with provisions, my satellite phone, tent, and the ATV in the bed of the truck. The suspension was sagging, and the tires needed air. I was “Ma and Pa Kettle” relocating to high ground where the big boys live.

     The night before opening day of hunting season I was so excited after dinner I found myself pacing back and forth. I was driving Sugar Plum crazy. I checked and rechecked to make sure I had all my gear and license and tags. Sugar Plum said, “Tracker, give it a rest and go to sleep. Morning will get here a whole lot quicker, if you will go to bed.”

     I dressed in my camo and crawled in bed, with my boots at the foot of the bed. This way I wouldn’t waste a moment getting ready in the morning. “Tracker, you’ve got to be kidding! Camo in bed?”

     “I can’t go to sleep. I am too excited.”

     Sugar Plum handed me two Tylenol PM tablets and said, “Take these. Shut up and go to sleep or you will be too tired to hunt!”

     After half an hour the pills took effect and I was snoring away in dreamland. Come morning the alarm went off at 3:30 AM. I pulled on my boots, shoveled down a great omelet that Sugar Plum had waiting for me, and grabbed a thermos of hot chocolate. Thumper and I were off on an adventure you won’t believe, but one that made headlines.

     You have to understand that Thumper and I had scouted for weeks in advance and found the entrance to a tunnel in the mountain which had been hidden by overgrowth. It led to a box canyon on the edge of the Frank Church Wilderness which was not even on the map. Not wasting a moment before daylight, Thumper and I parked the truck and in the dark grabbed my rifle, ammunition and binoculars. By the time we crawled through the tunnel dawn was breaking and we had enough daylight to glass with binoculars. We found ourselves on a rock bench overlooking the box canyon. What an incredible location from which to spot game!

     “Holy Hannah!” I rubbed my eyes and whispered, “Thumper, do you see what I see?”

     It was like a shooting gallery. To my left, there was a world-class elk. Down the hill 100 yards, there was a world-class bighorn sheep. Below the sheep there was a giant non-typical mule deer. To the right of the mule deer there was an eighty inch moose. Above the moose there was a mountain goat in the rocks. Just past the mountain goat was an antelope. Realizing they were all keepers, I set up my rifle on its bipod and laid out a box of shells next to me in order to reload.

     I decided to shoot them from left to right just like I would at a carnival shooting gallery. The trophies were all grazing and had no idea I was there. They probably never had to worry about humans intruding in this corner of the mountain. My range finder indicated my shots would be from 200 to 500 yards, well within the range of my 30-378 Weatherby Magnum.

     I took one last deep breath and whispered to Thumper, “OK, girl, here we go. Watch this.”

     KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM! The elk, the sheep, and the mule deer dropped. The Weatherby only holds three rounds. I frantically went to reload, fumbling because my fingers had gotten numb in the brisk morning air. Meanwhile Thumper kept a sharp eye on the other three animals tracking their movements. Like a Pointer, she indicated the direction of their escape route.

     Drawing a bead on the moose first, I shot. KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM! The moose, the goat, and the antelope fell in their tracks on a dead run. Thumper was here to witness the impossible, but who would believe this was the truth.

     I realized, “I’ve got my satellite phone. I can call for help to get the trophies out; then I will have witnesses.”

     The tunnel was too small to carry out the elk and the moose and possibly the bighorn sheep. I was going to need more than witnesses; I needed a helicopter with a wench and someone to rappel down and hook a line to each animal to hoist it out of the canyon. I called Sugar Plum and gave her my GPS coordinates so she could direct Search and Rescue.

     The front-page headline on the next issue of the Challis Messenger read, “TRACKER VOTED GREATEST HUNTER OF ALL TIME.” The article described the event in detail, but the best part of the story came later after the sixty day drying period. Each and every trophy qualified as the new world record. My trophy room was magnificent. All six world-record heads lined up on one wall with the headline framed below them.

     It was as if we had won the lottery. Endorsements were coming from every company whose product I used during the hunt, binoculars, rifle, spotting scope, range finder, camo, etc. Within thirty days we were multi-millionaires. Sugar Plum not only got her new stove she had been promised, but we built a new log cabin on the river. It doesn’t get any better than this.

     “Tracker, Tracker, wake up. Wake up! The alarm went off and breakfast is on the table. It is time to go hunting.”

     “Oh, my gosh, Sugar Plum. Has this all been a dream?”