After flying home from New Zealand and surviving a couple of years the global pandemic I was ready to put into action that nascent idea that had come to mind on the flight home. Most people I feel have a underlying desire to connect in some way with their ancestors and I am no different. Combining a chance at family history, my world war rifle collection and hunting for both experience and sustenance was something I wanted to make happen.
Harry Hancock, my grandfather on my mothers side, was quite an interesting fellow. Harry was a consummate outdoorsman, environmentalist, farmer, mountain climber and above all a loving husband, father and grandfather. He had a typical Kiwi upbringing on the family farm near Papakura. On the extensive list of things my grandfather did throughout his life, the time he spent as a government deer culler interested me most. Regrettably I did not ask him more about it before he passed away. Fortunately he documented his life in great detail. He wrote stacks of journals, memoirs and letters detailing pretty much everything. I’m fairly certain that the only thing he did not write about was trips to the loo. After a fair bit of reading and getting photos from old albums my aunts and uncles have, I had a plan. I was going to hunt the same way he did.
The first part of the plan required me to get a buck mule deer tag. Here in Colorado all our deer are native and very strictly managed to conserve the population in fairly stark contrast to Harry’s mission of shooting anything with hooves. The Gunnison valley where I live produces quality deer and the unit I wanted to hunt requires a few preference points to get a tag. I had been banking points since I last got a nice buck in 2018. A quick check of the draw statistics showed I had enough points for a tag. Next I needed the rifle. Lucky for me it would actually fill a slot in my world war collection as well.
My uncle Blue actually has Harry’s rifle, however getting it to Colorado is impossible. Thanks to a handful of detailed pictures I was able to discern all the information about his rifle. It is a Number 1 Mk3* Short Magazine Lee Enfield made in 1917 at the Enfield factory in England. Marks on the gun indicate British and Australian service across the two world wars. Surplus military rifles have a long history of ending up as hunting rifles when their service is over. Harry, like most of the deer cullers working for the New Zealand government, was issued his rifle out of inventory being phased out of military service. Since I couldn’t use his actual rifle I would need the next best thing: one of its siblings. Same factory and same year were the requirements. Since 1917 was the middle of the first world war, rifle production was in high gear and I wrongly assumed it would be relatively easy. It took me six months, a thousand mile road trip to a massive gun show in Oklahoma and many hours on the internet before I was able to find a sibling of Harrys rifle.
With the rifle sorted I just had to wait until June 2022 when the big game results come out. Amongst a group of friends and my dad we had drawn five elk tags, four deer tags and most importantly my buck tag. Since I would be guiding elk and deer hunters pretty much until the second rifle season I didn’t get to do any scouting. However I knew the area well and the part of the unit we would be hunting is a large migration corridor with new animals constantly moving through.
Two days before the season we got a dose of winter with several inches of snow and temperatures hovering a little below freezing. We set up camp the day before the season and in typical Colorado fashion by the time we were set up the snow was starting to melt and there were deer walking past camp. Old hunting buddies Doc, Devin and a trio of llamas rolled into camp that afternoon and we headed out to do some glassing. Devin and I went up to a spot henceforth known as the bobsled run as it would result in some vehicular pucker moments throughout the week. We hadn’t been glassing long when I spotted a group of elk. Six cows and a bull feeding on a steep slope on the other side of the main creek drainage. Not what I was after but as everyone else had a cow tag the odds were looking good for a successful week ahead….
Hunt with History 