Originally Posted by
Jagermeister
Long ago , okay, 50s and 60s we wore red and orange quite a bit. The pants were usually blue jeans, but sometimes brownish wool pants, weather dependent.
On this occasion, I was hunting solo between Rock Creek and Midway. I was crossing a fairly open hillside when just in front of me the dirt blew up followed by the report of a rifle shot. Lucky for me, there was a large boulder two giant steps away which I dove behind just as I heard the second report.
After a couple of minutes I collect my wits. I get down on my belly and gingerly peek around the boulder.
Across the way I see a guy squinting through his scope in my direction. I gingerly slide my rifle out and line up on a slender poplar tree trunk about 15" away from him and send a shot into the trunk. I see wood splinters flying and then the French accented caterwauling starts. "Don't shot, don't shot!"
I holler back with with the same instruction and then show myself. Across the way I see a portly dude in a red mackinaw jacket and cap combo.
As I approach he starts profusely apologizing stating, "I thought you a deer" in a heavily laced French accent.
I can see why that could be, his glasses were like the bottoms of a coke bottle and were quite smudged. On top of that, I asked to see his rifle and took a peek down the scope. It was so out of focus for me that when I looked over to the boulder I could not make any detail.
Anyhow, I chewed him out and told him to be more cautious and get the scope in focus. He said he would go home to his friend's place in Greenwood and get him to help focus the scope. It didn't dawn on me at the time to ask to see his hunting license or to ask if he was a BC resident.
I was wearing plaid as well, red cap. It was sometime later when in the Cariboo, I was sitting on bit of a hill at the side of a road. My vantage point gave me an ample view in either direction. This was in the first week of October and the leaves were just starting to fall. Off in the distant I see a black shape moving amongst the trees. Pop my binoculars up and what I see is not the black of a moose, but the plaid jacket of man. Over the distance, the color black becomes more predominant over the red, virtually obscuring the red. About then I decided to acquire some camo. Not the camo of today, but the military camo from the 50s and 60s, the only camo available.
And I stopped hiking about aimlessly. Hike to a spot that gives me cover and which I can see from in most all direction. Figured that if I wasn't moving, there was a less likely chance of being seen and mistaken for a critter.
One more thing. There is a little test you should do on your bolt action rifle. On an empty chamber, cock the rifle, engage the safety and pull back on the trigger. Now, keeping your finger away from the trigger, ease the safety off. If the firing pin is released, you better get the rifle to a gunsmith to have him check it out.