Outdoor Writer

Geez, for that price, it should be able to cook a gourmet meal and do the dishes. -TONY

Aha. Good. I just started reading it last night and only got part way thru Chap. 1 before the Suns game began. So don't tell me the ending. I think a new Pickett series book is due out in a couple months. -TONY

Bill, Here's another article I wrote in the 1980s that's strictly about the buffs. -TONY SHUFFLE OFF FOR BUFFALO His name was Charles "Buffalo" Jones. He roamed much of the west and midwest during the late 1800s and the early 1900s. His nickname resulted from his skill at hunting buffalo during the time the American bison roamed the plains by the millions. Although his name might be unfamiliar, his legacy to Arizona remains. At the turn of the century, Jones came up with a novel idea. He decided to introduce elk and buffalo into Arizona, choosing the North Kaibab Plateau as the site for his experiment. Jones planned to sell the hunting rights for both species. He also intended to crossbreed the bison with domestic cattle, winding up with a hybrid animal called either a cattalo or beefalo. Supposedly, these critters would provide the same benefits of beef cattle but would be much hardier, capable of living through weather and on land unsuited to domestic stock. Though the elk transplant never materialized, Jones did bring buffalo to Arizona. Jones and his friend, lion hunter Jim Owens, had captured a herd of buffalo in the Texas panhandle in the 1880s and moved them to Kansas. Later, part of the herd wound up in Monterey, California. Jones transferred 35 from there by way of Lund, Utah to the North Kaibab in 1905. He brought another 87 from the Kansas herd to Arizona a year later. Jones eventually became disenchanted with raising buffalo and rounded up as many as possible in 1909. He drove the buffs into Utah and sold them. Unknowingly, however, he left some strays behind. These became the property of the Grand Canyon Cattle Company, owned by none other than Jimmie Owens. By 1927, when the state purchased the herd for $10,000, the stray buffs had increased to 98 animals. The herds inhabiting Houserock Valley and the Raymond Ranch, established in 1945, are the descendants of those. According to the historians, the American bison might have existed in Arizona during prehistoric times. In contrast, estimates of their numbers living in the rest of the country during the 19th century often mention billions. In reality a truer estimate would be in the millions. When Lewis and Clark explored westward, they told of masses of buffalo, sometimes numbering more than 20,000 within sight of their wagons. The explorers also related how the huge herds darkened the Great Plains and seemingly made the land look like it was constantly moving. Other accounts tell of the concern the settlers had for their own safety as they occasionally used up several days moving their wagons through a single herd. Before the white man began his move West, the buffalo's only enemy was the American Indian. For them, the big mammal meant survival. The meat from one could feed an entire village for days. The hides became clothing and shelter. Because the buffalo provided these basic necessities of life and were so numerous, the tribes depended on them. They followed a particular herd for months at a time and developed ways to harvest the beasts with the primitive weapons available to them. Stampeding a herd to its death was a favorite technique. Indians on horseback drove the animals off a steep cliff or into dead-end canyons where they systematically dispatched them with spears or arrows. Some indian hunters covered themselves with a buffalo hide and stalked into the herd or waited patiently for one to come to their imitation call of a calf in distress. Yet, while the indians used the buffalo to survive, the white man was responsible for its downfall. Expeditions, made up of hunters from eastern America and Europe, came out west with the express idea of slaughter in mind. To them, the final tally of dead bison on the ground was a sign of their success. When train travel across the Great Plains later became a reality, the slaughter continued. While crews laid the tracks for the iron horses, hired buffalo hunters kept them supplied with meat. Usually, they removed only the choice parts and left the rest to rot or as food for scavengers. Once completed, the railroads provided a new sport. Shooting the animals from a slow-moving train turned into the entertainment of choice for westward-bound passengers. Naturally, given the weapons of the day and inexperience of those shooting the large creatures, many buffalo died a lingering death after being wounded. Then in the 1870s, a new boom helped put the American bison closer to extinction. With the advent of a revolutionary tanning process, the trade in buffalo hides expanded. The leather was far more durable than cowhide, and the grand buffalo population made it fairly easy to obtain. Both the white man and Indian quickly entered the hide-trading market. While the Indians continued to use the entire buffalo, the white hunters usually removed the hide and left the rest. Most hides were shipped off to Europe for tanning. In 1884, Congress finally passed legislation protecting the buffalo from further damage. Unfortunately, by then it was too late. The slaughter had taken its toll earlier. Already in 1883, few bison remained on the Great Plains. Some historians say the population in the U.S. had dropped below 800. Since than, the buffalo number has increased to about 30,000 in North America. Thanks to Charlie Jones, about 200 now live in Arizona. The first state-authorized buffalo hunt occurred in 1927 at Houserock. The Arizona Game and Fish Department (AGFD), the new custodians for the animals, handed out 17 special permits and took the lucky hunters onto the buffalo range to kill an animal. Every year since then, the department has allowed the state's sportsmen to cull the excess animals in this way. Although most fully grown bison average between 1,500 and 2,000 pounds, some can weigh 2,500 pounds or more, Consequently, killing one in the field was merely the beginning of the hard work to follow. The animal had to be skinned, quartered and transported back to the ranch headquarters. Considering the weight and bulk of the buffalo, this sometimes was difficult. In 1962, no doubt to ease some of the post-kill chore, the AGFD drastically changed the hunting method. The result was a hunt more appropriately called a "shoot." Each hunter who drew a permit also received a date and time for the "shoot." The department then rounded up the excess animals for culling and placed them in a large corral. Here, the "hunters" waited in three-man relays to shoot in the order their permits specified. The first hunter took his choice of three animals that were moved into the shooting pen. The second killed one of the remaining two buffalo, and the last hunter wound up with the third. A top shooter from the game department served as a back-up if a hunter only wounded his target. For the price of the permit, the AGFD provided the skinning and processing and gave the hunter the head, hide and one quarter of the meat. He also had the option of buying the rest of the meat for the same price per quarter as the permit fee. If he passed, anyone willing to pay the price could buy the meat. In 1973, the corral shoot became the focus of much controversy when the movie "Bless The Beasts And The Children" showed in America's theaters. The AGFD had allowed the filming to take place during one of the hunts. Unfortunately, the filmmakers had shrouded their intentions in a bit of mystery. The final editing made the hunt appear like an inhumane slaughter and raised the hackles of people across the nation. In reality, though truly not a hunt, the procedure was efficient. Dispatching a wounded buffalo was easy, permit holders had a 100 percent success and the harvesting of surplus animals was exact. Because of the criticism, however, the department reacted by returning to the earlier method. Another change came about in 1981. The price of a permit went up, and hunters kept the entire animal. The "Catch 22" was each hunter now shouldered the responsibility for taking care of his trophy; no longer did the department provide skinning and processing. A year later, the first REAL buffalo hunt occurred at Houserock Valley. A permit holder no longer would have a game department employee holding his hand in the field. The entire process of killing a buff and getting it out of the field became the hunter's responsibility. Because fences surround Houserock Ranch to keep the buffalo from roaming across northern Arizona, the hunt sounds quite easy. In fact, it can be very difficult. The ranch encompasses about 60,000 acres, including some rugged hills, deep canyons and large stands of trees. To make matters worse, the Arizona Wilderness Act of 1984 converted a large chunk of the ranch into part of a national wilderness area --- closing it to vehicle use. Thus, a hunter within the wilderness boundaries must either ride a horse or walk. Of course, when he kills a buffalo he must get it out the same way. At Raymond Ranch, the first hunt occurred in 1950. Because of its size --- about 14,700 acres --- all hunts remain like the original one at Houserock. An AGFD employee goes afield with the hunter to help him harvest a buff. Beginning with the 1989 season, nonresident hunters may take part in the state buffalo hunt for the first time. The new regulation limits the number of nonresident permits to 10 percent of the total available in any calendar year. It also stipulates no more than 50 percent or two tags for a hunt number will go to out-of-staters. Fortunately for residents, the nonresident fee might discourage some applicants. The price for an adult bull or any buffalo is $3,750. One specifically for a cow will cost $2,250, and a calf permit will be $1,200. In comparison, a resident pays $750, $450 and $240 respectively. Amazingly, the odds of drawing a tag are not as bad as some people believe. Although the permits usually average about 50 a year, first choice applicants have about a one-in-six chance of being drawn. Compared to some of the elk and sheep hunts, those are pretty decent odds. Arizona's buffalo population averages about 200, about equally divided between the two ranches. The number of permits normally reflect how many animals must be harvested so the herd remains within the limits their habitat can support. In 1987, the department authorized 41 permits --- 26 at Raymond Ranch and 15 at Houserock. First choice applications numbered 217. Last year, about 300 hunters vied for the 61 permits available for the October season. Although the buffalo population and present day hunting pales compared to what they were a century ago, we should be thankful the magnificent animal still survives. We should also be thankful to Charlie "Buffalo" Jones. Without his folly, the bison, in all probability, never would have set foot in Arizona. ----- 30 -----

Josh, Yeah, some photos of it posted here. -TONY

Bill, Yes, Jones was a good friend of Roosevelt's, who appointed him as the first game warden of Yellowstone NP. Jones and writer Zane Gray were also good buddies. If I recall there are several books around that chronicle a lot of Jones' life. I wrote an article titled "Then There Were Some,"in the mid-1980s. It was basically about all of the transplants and game introductions that had been done in AZ up to that time. Here's the part about Jones and the buffs. -TONY The buffalo, both at Raymond Ranch and House Rock, are one more instance of exotic game in the state. Way back in 1884, a buffalo hunter named Charles J. "Buffalo" Jones captured 57 calves in the Texas Panhandle. He moved about 35 of them to the Kaibab Plateau in 1905 and another 87 in 1906. After three years, Jones lost interest in raising buffalo, so he drove the entire heard into Utah and sold them. Unknowingly, ol' Charlie left some strays behind. The few remaining buffs became the property of Jim Owens, owner of the Grand Canyon Cattle Company. In 1927, 98 descendants of the original strays roamed the Kaibab. The state, thinking Houserock Valley would be ideal habitat for the buffalo, purchased the herd for $10,000. Since then, the AGFD added a few more animals to keep the herd's genetic balance in tune and transferred some to Raymond Ranch, east of Flagstaff. The method used to cull the surplus created much controversy when the movie, "Bless The Beasts And The Children," arrived in theaters across the country. Although the picture exaggerated the facts, critics blasted the procedure. The game department instituted a few changes, and now, nary a harsh word is uttered.

Here's some more history -- this on the AZ Strip from two different articles I've writen on it. -TONY The "good ol' days" mentioned by **** are what made the Strip legendary. Among the world's trophy hunters, it once had a reputation as lofty as its next door neighbor -- the North Kaibab Plateau. Over a span of about 20 years, the Strip produced some of the best mule deer hunting in the West, and many of the bucks grew to record-book size. In fact, the trophy record book published by the Arizona Wildlife Federation still lists more than 30 typical and non-typical bucks from the Arizona Strip that were killed from the mid-1950s into the early 1980s. The history of the Strip prior to the early 1900s is somewhat vague. We know the Mormons used timber from Mt. Trumbull to built a temple in St. George, Utah. We also know good populations of pronghorn antelope and desert bighorn sheep inhabited the Strip because local cattle baron Preston Nutter proposed that it be turned into a big-game refuge. Nothing ever came of it, though. And supposedly, Teddy Roosevelt brought a herd of gazelle from Africa and turned them loose somewhere on the Strip. Nobody knows what happened to them either. But unlike the Kaibab, where the mule deer had been a mainstay back into the 19th century, the Strip herd has a much more recent history. When Abraham Bundy and his family first arrived in the shadow of the Hurricane Cliffs in 1917, it was nothing but a vast, dry panorama of sagebrush flats and pinyon-juniper forests. The nearest water was miles away on Mt. Trumbull. Yet, despite having to haul water or melt snow, the homesteaders persevered. Eventually about 40 other families joined the Bundys to settle a few miles from the north rim of the Grand Canyon. Their tiny community, complete with school and church, became Bundyville. They farmed the arid land and even started to raise cattle and sheep once they constructed some cisterns and stock tanks in the surrounding territory. Pat Bundy was one of Abraham's sons, and according to his accounts seeing a deer in the Strip country was a rarity during the early years of his life. For the most part, much of the land was marginal deer habitat anyway, and the lack of water in what was basically a high-desert environment didn't help. This all changed when more ranchers began to utilize the Strip country for sheep and cattle grazing. For two decades beginning in about 1930, the ranchers built dozens of stock tanks to ensnare free-running water for their livestock. In 1947, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service assigned Ted Riggs to the area as a predator control trapper. Using both traps and poison, Riggs made a serious dent in the coyote and lion populations. Then the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), which controls most of land on the Strip except for a few small, private parcels, moved in during the early 1950s to improve the grazing habitat. With a heavy steel chain stretched between them, bulldozers 'chained' down entire stands of juniper and pinyon trees so new forage could sprout. For the deer's sake, everything came together. The rest, as they say, is history. Within a few years, the steady supply of water, increased browse and low predation helped the deer herd grow huge, even to the point where it threatened to overrun the available habitat. The Strip literally turned into a deer factory. By the mid-1950s, hunters in Arizona learned about the excellent hunting and trophy-producing ability. Nearly anyone who wanted to venture into the remote area and endure hours of bumpy, dusty roads could tag a buck. If they had the patience and willpower to pass up the smaller ones, they had a very good chance at an outstanding trophy. Because the soil in the area mirrors the same mineral-rich type as that on the North Kaibab, antler growth was sometimes spectacular, with spreads often going well beyond 30 inches. Place names within the Strip such as Poverty Mountain, Mt. Dellenbaugh, Snap Point, Trumbull, Black Rock, Wolfhole and Seegmiller became well known for their big buck production. At an old line shack near Grassy Mountain, the graffiti-covered walls tell some of the story. In 1966, a local cowboy, Garn Esplin, scribbled, "Saw 40-50 deer in the past two days." Farther down the wall, in March 1963 ranch foreman Mel Wipple wrote, "What's the matter with the deer hunters? There's 10,000 deer here by the look of things." Even Riggs saw what was happening. In 1956, he rode his horse from the Wildcat Ranch to Snap Point. On the way, he counted deer; his one-day tally totaled 346 of them. More than half of them had antlers, and half of the bucks were four points or more. Not surprisingly, three of the notable entries in the Arizona record book have Riggs listed as the hunter. His typical entry from 1968 scored 189. His two non-typicals scored 249 6/8 and 240 2/8. His last Strip deer, taken in 1988, was an 8x9 with double eyeguards. Sadly, sometime in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the Strip no longer harbored a lot of deer. A lot of finger pointing occurred, but for the most part, the downward population trend happened because of several factors. Worried about a repeat of the now infamous debacle where thousands of deer starved on the North Kaibab in the 1920s, the Arizona Game and Fish Department (AGFD) liberalized the seasons and also issued a large number of doe permits. Then in 1972, President Richard Nixon banned the canid poison, Compound 10-80 for use on federal land. This move took away Riggs' most effective predator control. About the same time the coyote population started to grow again, the AGFD gave the mountain lion the status of a big-game animal, thus creating the need for a special tag and an annual limit of one lion per hunter. Finally, the drought that has plagued the state for the last 12-15 years arrived. Together, these factors resulted in a dramatic drop in the total deer population. At one time, the Strip country west of the North Kaibab comprised a single hunt unit. After the deer numbers started to plummet, however, the game department split Unit 13 into Unit 13 A and 13B for management purposes. The split effectively separated the deer populations around the Mt. Trumbull-Mt. Logan area from those in the Virgin Mountain, Black Rocks and Mudd Mountain area. Although there are fewer deer, Unit 13B still produces high success rates and ranks as a top trophy area. SIDEBAR from another article about one of the Governor's tag bucks. Clay Bundy was one of the guides. The somewhat vague history of the Arizona Strip tells us the first white men to visit the area were Dominguez and Escalante when they traveled along the base of the Hurricane Cliffs on their return trip from central Utah in 1776. Nearly a century later, other Anglos attempted to take advantage of the area's vast land resources, but conflicts with native tribes occurred as the newcomers quickly laid claim to the best water sources and vegetation. Disputes between settlers and the Navajo, Paiute and Ute tribes culminated in the Black Hawk Navajo Wars of 1866-1869. By 1870, Mormon paramilitary action had mostly quelled the native resistance, eventually leading to the "Treaty of Mount Trumbull" and the establishment of several Paiute reservations. Although the settlers included a colorful array of ranchers, sheepmen, cowboys and outlaws, the majority of the newcomers were Mormons, dispatched by the Church of Latter Day Saints to lay claim to the choicest land and resources before non-Mormons settled them. A number of large ranches were established, as well as a sawmill and a large dairy, and the rights to limited water sources of the region were swiftly claimed, though often without "valid government title." Range wars -- often settled with guns -- were quite common in this lawless frontier, and cattle rustling was a crime with hanging as its punishment. Immigration to the Strip was encouraged by two events in 1916: the Stock Raising Homestead Act and the opening of a half million acres of Utah's Dixie National Forest to homestead entry. In addition, a climatic shift early in the 20th century brought increased rains and snows, which filled water holes and allowed the grasslands to grow lush. About the time of the immigration surge to the Strip country, Abraham Bundy and his family had been living in the Mormon colony of Moroles, in the state of Sonora, Old Mexico. But Poncho Villa and the Mexican Revolution of 1912 forced them to seek out a gentler environment. So Abraham brought his wife, eldest son Roy and several daughters to Arizona in 1916, where they settled in an area near the Hurricane Cliffs, not too far from 8,000-ft. Mt. Trumbull. Bundyville, also known as Mt. Trumbull, became the Strip's largest community. Eventually, nearly 300 people lived in the town, which included a schoolhouse that was built in 1922. Roy Bundy just happens to be Clay Bundy’s grandfather, and Clay went to classes until the third grade in Bundyville's tiny schoolhouse. Today, little remains of Bundyville. The school had been abandoned in the early 1960s, then later restored. It recently burned, but it's demise as part of the Strip's history won't last long. Clay Bundy is a contractor and has already made plans to restore it once again. He also still owns a cabin on a ranch near Bundyville. It sits on land that belonged to Roy Bundy until Clay's father, Orvel, bought it.

Jim, That country with that heavy vegetation looks very much like most of the hills that surround the lakes where I fish for bass in Sinaloa. There are plenty of deer, but seeing one for more than a brief second is nearly impossible. I've often thought of how I would actually hunt it if I had the chance. Great sighting on the jag. Not many folks get to see them in the wild. -TONY

John, I guess you mean about the size, double posting, etc. or some such? If so, not to worry. NONE of those images are on Amanda's server. They are all in my private web space. -TONY

John, You'll need to fill me in or point me to what Amanada said because I musta missed something. -TONY

A fairly new member would probably have a few observations when visiting here and would conclude the following after asking a simple question such as, "How many forum members does it takes to sight in a riflel?" -TONY 1 to sight it and to post that the rifle is now zeroed. 14 to share similar experiences of sighting in their rifles and how the one forum member could have done his differently 7 to caution about the dangers of sighting in a rifle 1 to move the thread to the Political section 2 to argue, then move it to the deer hunting section 7 to point out spelling/grammar errors in posts about sighting in rifles 5 to flame the spell checkers 3 to correct spelling/grammar flames 6 to argue over whether it's "sighting in" or "zeroing in" ... another 6 to condemn those 6 as stupid 2 industry professionals to inform the group that the proper term is "sighting" 15 know-it-alls who claim they were in the industry, and that "sighting in" is perfectly correct 19 to post that this forum is not about rifles, so to please take this discussion to the right forum 11 to defend the posting to this forum saying that we all use rifles and therefore the posts are relevant to this forum 36 to debate which method of sighting in rifles is superior, where to buy the best targets, what brand of target works best for this technique and what brands are faulty 7 to post URL's where one can see examples of different targets 4 to post that the URL's were posted incorrectly and then post the corrected URL's 3 to post about links they found from the URL's that are relevant to this group which makes targets relevant to this group 13 to link all posts to date, quote them in their entirety including all headers and signatures, and add "Me too" 5 to post to the group that they will no longer post because they cannot handle the controversy on guns 4 members to accuse 1 member of being a troll and for posting under 5 different names. 4 to say "didn't we go through this already a short time ago?" 13 to say "do a Google search on rifles before posting questions about sighting in" 1 to tell everyone it's all about the game department wanting more money if you decide to go to the Ben Avery range. 1 forum lurker to respond to the original post 6 months from now and start it all over again.

I ADDED MORE FARTHER DOWN!!! -TONY Ok, this is gonna be the last thread I start in this section for a while. I need to get some work done. Anyway, here are some wildlife pix of North American species, including some NON-GAME ones, and scenes of some familiar -- and some not so familiar places. I'll add to it as we go along. So check back often. -TONY

And...some more........

A few more:

Super buck! Congrats. -TONY

With no comment. -TONY

If those photos are the ones I think they are, it's probably the bull that was eventually traced to a game farm in Alberta. -TONY

Just guessing here, but common sense seems to indicate that these hunts would be put in place in the southern half of the state where elk are somewhat rare and Coues deer are somewhat common. -TONY

Very fine work, Jason. And kudos to you for your generosity. -TONY

That was the Foremost brand. I sold thousands of them in the early 1970s when I managed the sporting good department of the J.C Penny's at Tower Plaza on E. Thomas Rd. in Phx. -TONY

I bought a beagle pup some time in the 1960s. Months later, I headed to the N. Kaibab to hunt deer with my grandfather and a friend. At the time, the Big Saddle Camp was still in place that had been built sometime in the 1920s, if I recall. There were several wooded cabins and the main stone building complete with stone fireplace, tables and an ol' wood cooking stove. The cabins had real beds with springs but no mattresses. There was even a screened-in little structure for hanging deer and an old gas pump with one of those glass things atop alongside the road. So we often used it as a base camp if we could get there first. This wonderful link to the past was later razed when Lady Bird Johnson went on her Beautify America kick. As we pulled up to the front of one of the cabins, I spied a bobcat sitting on top of a 55-gal. drum and foraging thru the garbage. I reached under my seat and pulled out my .22 mag Ruger Single-Six, opened the door of the truck and rested on the lower window sill. When the little bullet hit the cat, he jumped about 4' high and hit the ground DOA. I skinned it and salted it. Once I got home, I salted it some more, then draped it over our clothesline in the backyard. Big mistake. The next day it was all but gone. The beagle had literally devoured most of it. I found only a few odd clumps of hair and one ear. -TONY

Amanda, Also, if one READS the opening recap, one of the suspects will stand trial for SIX felony counts in the killing of the horses. -TONY

Thought you guys might enjoy seeing this. Open a cold one, sit back and watch the Life Of A Sandhill Crane. -TONY

Bingo! Although I couldn't see the sill while looking through my peep sight providing a much higher and clear view above the sill, my arrow was pretty much pointed straight at it. It didn't go through the sill, but one razor cut a very nice 1/4" deep gash in the wood. Maybe I should have removed the sill and had it mounted, huh? I used several different broadheads over the years, but I think I was shooting 100-gr. Thunderheads on that trip. -TONY

Here ya go. Get them deer trained right with the Feeder Repeater. -TONY

Doug, Are you saying I should have mentioned removing the collimator before actually shooting the rifle??? Doesn't that take all of the fun out of it? -TONY