Honey, don't shoot!

[Dale Lilly]

Hunting deer near the Little Weiser River in Idaho with my wife. She was carrying a .44 caliber Kentuckian with about 65 grains of powder and a patched round ball. We were walking a forestry road heavily timbered and with a lot of vegetation on the slope above us. We heard a loud crashing as something was approaching rapidly. My wife swung her rifle into position to shoot as did I. Suddenly this very large animal came out of the timber about 20 yards from us and running right at us. When my brain finally kicked into gear I began yelling "Honey, don't shoot that's an elk!" [not in season] She had cocked the gun and her finger was on the trigger and the muzzle leveled on the chest, now about ten yards. Just as I thought she would shoot she lowered her gun and scrambled to get out of the way. The big bull elk never changed course; in fact I'm not sure he ever saw us. I assume he was running from other hunters. I think it was about ten minutes later that I finally took a breath. The local game warden was a good friend but I did not want to face Fred and explain a bull elk shot out of season. Whew! Polecat