$29.99 Canadian Funds, INCLUDES A SIGNED COPY, TAXES, & SHIPPING
Steve's book contains ONLY Big Game Hunting stories. Stories about Wild Sheep, Goat, Moose, Elk, Bear, Musk-ox, Caribou, Deer, Buffalo, the list goes on, for a total of 38 stories and 280 pages!
More than a few of our readers have said it is one of the best books they have ever read, now I find that hard to believe, but I sure appreciate the compliment! |
Yogi The GuideMany evenings were spent in hunting camp telling hunting stories with good friends. For as many years as I can remember, folks have been asking me over and over again, "If I was ever going to write a book, and when it would be done?" Well here it is!
This book is a collection of my favorite hunting articles, reciting some of my greatest personal hunts with my Labrador Retriever "Yogi", and a few other hunts where he was not present. Many of these stories have been published in national magazines across North America. Also many of these articles have never before been published, and were written just for this book, a total of 38 of my favorite hunting stories! I strive not to glorify the kill, but try and capture the sense of adventure, “the journey” of the hunt, the importance of sharing these experiences with friends and family, and to glorify the four legged critters I love to hunt. I strive to engulf the reader into a world of natural beauty exploring the snow capped peaks, bacon frying on an open fire, the smell of fallen aspen leaves, the moist coastal air, and the serenading sound of the bugle of the bull elk. Although my stories are all true life experiences, it is common practice for me to embellish my writing with tidbits of lore and sometimes stretch the truth, some say it’s writers license, but for me it was done to create a story that I hope for you is a joy to read, and the journey to adventure will cause your blood pressure to rise. The Book is $29.99. This amount in "Canadian Funds" will be charged to your credit card regardless if your from Canada, USA, or International. This price will include all Taxes and Shipping. An Invoice will be sent with the book. Allow 3-4 weeks for delivery. A conformation email will be sent to you upon processing your credit card.
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Here is an example of one of the stories in Steve's book for your enjoyment!
Chapter 27 - Hunting Day Dreams
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From time to time I find myself sitting back in my chair rubbing my temples trying to work out the writer’s block that has suddenly impacted my thought process. After the blockage is gone I have many times found myself looking around my office walls reminiscing about moments in the wilds hunting when I harvested my most prized trophies. I think it is time I shared had a few of theses moments and see if it can’t turn into a decent hunting article.
On a windy ridge top in Northern British Columbia myself, Yogi, and my guide Mike lay flat on our bellys. Below us, 150 yards away was 30 ewes and lambs and 12 other rams. Mike and I study the band, carefully trying to determine which stone ram is the best and oldest in the bunch. The choice is difficult as many of the rams are beyond full curl and several are in the 34 to 36 inch class. I continued to glass as my guide put down his binoculars and started to talk into me ear. “Steve the largest ram is the one on the right, probably around 36 inches, and 9 years old, if you want him get set up and shoot him.” I paused and set my binos down on the rock in front of me. I laid my left ear on the ground and looked at Mike, the look in his eyes was full of question as to what was I going to say next. “Mike, I am going to pass on this ram” I whispered. "I have guided and shot many Stone rams and had the good fortune to witness several giants fall to my hunter’s shots, I wanted a truly exceptional ram." Mike nodded his head and picked up his binos again and said, “not a problem Steve, you know what you want.” I too picked up my binos and started to watch the largest ram as he chased ewes around with his neck outstretched. With a poke to the ribs with his elbow and “Hey Steve”, Mike got my attention quickly. As I brought my binos down from my eyes to look at Mike I seen 3 huge full curl rams, not 60 yards away from us at 2 O-Clock. The rams were looking down the hill at the ewes and other rams, and as I reached for my rifle I looked at Mike. The smile across his face said it all, my opportunity was now. I slid the rifle up into position and settled in behind it for the shot. I picked out the largest ram; he was pushing 38 inches on both horns. I confirmed it with Mike, and squeezed the trigger. At the shot the ram leaped off the small ledge in front of him, and all were out of sight. “Mike how big was that ram?” is all I muttered. Mike responded with a slap on the back and a hug as he said it’s a beautiful Stone. We quickly made our way over to the ledge and found the monarch of a Stone ram lying dead several feet below us in the grass and rocks. At home this 38 inch Stone horns hang with pride above my desk beside another greatest trophy my Canadian moose.
AAAAEEEAAAAWWWWHUHH! I bellowed an amorous love struck cow moose call out into the still cool October morning air. Northern British Columbia is the place for big Canadian moose, and it was in such a place I decided to hunt several years ago. The bulls were high at the tree line with three cows as they like to keep an eye on their gals and watch out for intruder bulls that like to sneak in and grab a gal when the big boss bull is not looking. My hunting partner broke the silence as we listened for a return call from a bull in the valley below. Several miles up the valley on the opposite side he saw a cow, and a portion of a bull’s antler in the sub alpine timber. The horn looked good to me, and I knew I wanted to try for this bull. We headed down the valley and started to climb up the other side. Our plan was to get above the bull and his cow and try and sneak in for a shot. After an hour or so we knew we were getting close to where the bull had been located, he had to be below us somewhere. I snuck in behind a small fir tree and let out another cow call. The bull grunt of the bull below us in the timber perked up both to full attention. Then the thumping and cracking sound of the bull raking his huge antlers on some poor innocent tree caused me to shiver. I grunted back and raked brush as well with a small shed horn I pack with me when hunting moose in the rut. Then the sound we wanted to hear. UUUGH! UUUGH! With each step the bull was aggressively moving in our direction, but we could not see him, just hear him crashing threw the brush. Then silence, the bull hung up and did not want to pull away too far from his cow, he was grunting his challenge back to me and raked brush furiously. I would grunt back, rake brush, the bull would respond, but not come any closer. As I said “see ya”, to my hunting partner I left the security of the tree and started to walk threw the knee high brush grunting strait towards the bull. As I got 50 yards down into the timber I noticed it to very open and not as thick as I had expected. I stopped and raked some brush and got an instant answer from the challenging bull not 50 yards away but could still not see him. I moved closer and off to me left, when suddenly I seen the bulls antler pans swinging from side to side as he moved towards me not 30 yards away. The huge bulls massive shoulder muscled heaved and rolled as he slowly postured his head gear at me from side to side; I got down on one knee and rested my elbow on the other knee so I could shoot over the brush that was now mid thigh level. As the bull cleared the small trees I could see the intent in his eyes, he meant business, and this was his cow down here, and he was not willing to give her up. I had him bluffed I was another bull, but knew out in the open like this I would not have the upper hand for long before he winded me and fled like a tornado. The bull presented me with a perfect broadside shot and I placed the crosshairs on his massive heart. The impact of the bullet caused the bull to spin around and trot off down the hill, and as I took 4 huge leaps in the buck brush to keep an eye on him I seen him tip over and crash into the willows as he was trotting. I hollered at my partner, but he was already on his way. As I cautiously walked up to the bull I was awestruck by the bull’s body size and massive antlers. He was not a Boone and Crocket moose, but his 55 inch antlers sure take up a fair chunk of my office wall.
When hunters reminisce about most prized trophies, we often think of the biggest ones we got as the most memorable. But not all trophies need to be measure by the amount of antler or horn, but also by the moment and time in ones life it was shot. Such is the case with the most memorable Big game animal I have ever shot. Over 20 hunting seasons ago, a 16 year old beginner hunter was walking down an overgrown logging road with his father. The air was cool, the time was middle November, the smell of dead leaves and morning dew filed the woods. The kid had his hands deep in his pockets, his grandfathers old 30-06 over his shoulder. His father led the way, the boy followed. The boy paused and looked threw an opening in the trees that grew along the edge of the logging road, and there standing 30 yards away was a mule deer buck and doe. The boy turns to his father and whispers urgently, “Dad, there is a buck right there!” The father turns around and blurts out, “shoot it son, shoot it!” The boy pulls his hands out of his pockets and takes his rifle off of his shoulder and chambers a live round. He lifts the rifle to his shoulder and finds the buck in his cross hairs. He settles the cross hairs behind the buck’s front leg, just as he had been instructed to do for a clean kill on a big animal like a deer. He squeezes the trigger. The buck leaps into the air and takes several bounds vanishing into the timber. The boy lowers his gun, and questions whether he had missed of not? His father takes off into the woods in the direction the deer fled and the boy catches up to his father and sees the smile on his face before he sees the deer at his feet lying in a bed of fresh fallen colored leaves. “Way to go Steve, you got him, your first deer!” my father exclaims. I reach down and hold the deer’s small 1x2 rack up off the ground. My first deer, how exciting it was, and the pride my father had in me that day will remain etched in my memories forever.
As I conclude this article, the writer’s constipation gone, I look over the doorway into my office at the 1x2 buck that started my quest that made hunting more than a hobby for me but a complete lifestyle. A loyal hunting partner lays curled up n the floor beside my office chair, snoring away. To the right of the doorway is an empty spot, only time will tell what trophy will hang there?
On a windy ridge top in Northern British Columbia myself, Yogi, and my guide Mike lay flat on our bellys. Below us, 150 yards away was 30 ewes and lambs and 12 other rams. Mike and I study the band, carefully trying to determine which stone ram is the best and oldest in the bunch. The choice is difficult as many of the rams are beyond full curl and several are in the 34 to 36 inch class. I continued to glass as my guide put down his binoculars and started to talk into me ear. “Steve the largest ram is the one on the right, probably around 36 inches, and 9 years old, if you want him get set up and shoot him.” I paused and set my binos down on the rock in front of me. I laid my left ear on the ground and looked at Mike, the look in his eyes was full of question as to what was I going to say next. “Mike, I am going to pass on this ram” I whispered. "I have guided and shot many Stone rams and had the good fortune to witness several giants fall to my hunter’s shots, I wanted a truly exceptional ram." Mike nodded his head and picked up his binos again and said, “not a problem Steve, you know what you want.” I too picked up my binos and started to watch the largest ram as he chased ewes around with his neck outstretched. With a poke to the ribs with his elbow and “Hey Steve”, Mike got my attention quickly. As I brought my binos down from my eyes to look at Mike I seen 3 huge full curl rams, not 60 yards away from us at 2 O-Clock. The rams were looking down the hill at the ewes and other rams, and as I reached for my rifle I looked at Mike. The smile across his face said it all, my opportunity was now. I slid the rifle up into position and settled in behind it for the shot. I picked out the largest ram; he was pushing 38 inches on both horns. I confirmed it with Mike, and squeezed the trigger. At the shot the ram leaped off the small ledge in front of him, and all were out of sight. “Mike how big was that ram?” is all I muttered. Mike responded with a slap on the back and a hug as he said it’s a beautiful Stone. We quickly made our way over to the ledge and found the monarch of a Stone ram lying dead several feet below us in the grass and rocks. At home this 38 inch Stone horns hang with pride above my desk beside another greatest trophy my Canadian moose.
AAAAEEEAAAAWWWWHUHH! I bellowed an amorous love struck cow moose call out into the still cool October morning air. Northern British Columbia is the place for big Canadian moose, and it was in such a place I decided to hunt several years ago. The bulls were high at the tree line with three cows as they like to keep an eye on their gals and watch out for intruder bulls that like to sneak in and grab a gal when the big boss bull is not looking. My hunting partner broke the silence as we listened for a return call from a bull in the valley below. Several miles up the valley on the opposite side he saw a cow, and a portion of a bull’s antler in the sub alpine timber. The horn looked good to me, and I knew I wanted to try for this bull. We headed down the valley and started to climb up the other side. Our plan was to get above the bull and his cow and try and sneak in for a shot. After an hour or so we knew we were getting close to where the bull had been located, he had to be below us somewhere. I snuck in behind a small fir tree and let out another cow call. The bull grunt of the bull below us in the timber perked up both to full attention. Then the thumping and cracking sound of the bull raking his huge antlers on some poor innocent tree caused me to shiver. I grunted back and raked brush as well with a small shed horn I pack with me when hunting moose in the rut. Then the sound we wanted to hear. UUUGH! UUUGH! With each step the bull was aggressively moving in our direction, but we could not see him, just hear him crashing threw the brush. Then silence, the bull hung up and did not want to pull away too far from his cow, he was grunting his challenge back to me and raked brush furiously. I would grunt back, rake brush, the bull would respond, but not come any closer. As I said “see ya”, to my hunting partner I left the security of the tree and started to walk threw the knee high brush grunting strait towards the bull. As I got 50 yards down into the timber I noticed it to very open and not as thick as I had expected. I stopped and raked some brush and got an instant answer from the challenging bull not 50 yards away but could still not see him. I moved closer and off to me left, when suddenly I seen the bulls antler pans swinging from side to side as he moved towards me not 30 yards away. The huge bulls massive shoulder muscled heaved and rolled as he slowly postured his head gear at me from side to side; I got down on one knee and rested my elbow on the other knee so I could shoot over the brush that was now mid thigh level. As the bull cleared the small trees I could see the intent in his eyes, he meant business, and this was his cow down here, and he was not willing to give her up. I had him bluffed I was another bull, but knew out in the open like this I would not have the upper hand for long before he winded me and fled like a tornado. The bull presented me with a perfect broadside shot and I placed the crosshairs on his massive heart. The impact of the bullet caused the bull to spin around and trot off down the hill, and as I took 4 huge leaps in the buck brush to keep an eye on him I seen him tip over and crash into the willows as he was trotting. I hollered at my partner, but he was already on his way. As I cautiously walked up to the bull I was awestruck by the bull’s body size and massive antlers. He was not a Boone and Crocket moose, but his 55 inch antlers sure take up a fair chunk of my office wall.
When hunters reminisce about most prized trophies, we often think of the biggest ones we got as the most memorable. But not all trophies need to be measure by the amount of antler or horn, but also by the moment and time in ones life it was shot. Such is the case with the most memorable Big game animal I have ever shot. Over 20 hunting seasons ago, a 16 year old beginner hunter was walking down an overgrown logging road with his father. The air was cool, the time was middle November, the smell of dead leaves and morning dew filed the woods. The kid had his hands deep in his pockets, his grandfathers old 30-06 over his shoulder. His father led the way, the boy followed. The boy paused and looked threw an opening in the trees that grew along the edge of the logging road, and there standing 30 yards away was a mule deer buck and doe. The boy turns to his father and whispers urgently, “Dad, there is a buck right there!” The father turns around and blurts out, “shoot it son, shoot it!” The boy pulls his hands out of his pockets and takes his rifle off of his shoulder and chambers a live round. He lifts the rifle to his shoulder and finds the buck in his cross hairs. He settles the cross hairs behind the buck’s front leg, just as he had been instructed to do for a clean kill on a big animal like a deer. He squeezes the trigger. The buck leaps into the air and takes several bounds vanishing into the timber. The boy lowers his gun, and questions whether he had missed of not? His father takes off into the woods in the direction the deer fled and the boy catches up to his father and sees the smile on his face before he sees the deer at his feet lying in a bed of fresh fallen colored leaves. “Way to go Steve, you got him, your first deer!” my father exclaims. I reach down and hold the deer’s small 1x2 rack up off the ground. My first deer, how exciting it was, and the pride my father had in me that day will remain etched in my memories forever.
As I conclude this article, the writer’s constipation gone, I look over the doorway into my office at the 1x2 buck that started my quest that made hunting more than a hobby for me but a complete lifestyle. A loyal hunting partner lays curled up n the floor beside my office chair, snoring away. To the right of the doorway is an empty spot, only time will tell what trophy will hang there?
