Quote:
Originally Posted by jerryaldini
You could send it to that guy at Idaho State. Unless he's dead by now. I'm really looking forward to reading your book. Can you post a few excerpts?
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As we made our way across the dried bed of Lake Eucha on a warm summer night, a young buck blew at us from a tuft of trees, on what would be an island if the lake had water. TJ, our Cherokee guide from the local community of Kenwood, raised his fist signaling us to stop. Josh and I both stopped and watched as TJ realeased a wild sound mimicking the squatches he had hears before. The young buck tore across the river rock, coyotes howled all through the hills, and then from behind us on top of the small mountain we had climed to get to the lake we heard it. The sound was like nothing ive ever heard a human make, it was deep and powerful, every other sound stopped, even the mosquitoes seemed to be gone. TJ pointed down at my prized Ruger Mark II m77, with the hard to find stainless barrel and skeleton stock, and he said "Still think thats gonna do you some good?" as he smirked. I pulled the bolt back confirming there was a round in the chamber, and he started our march back up the mountain.
this is just an excerpt sent to the editor, likely it will be the preview on the back cover. Forgive me for it being imperfect im a product of too much time in the woods and too little time in the class room. This is our trip to Kenwood a small Cherokee community outside of Tulsa, theyre not very receptive to non natives coming in but we befriended a nice man who claimed to have had rocks thrown at him many times by adolescent squatches from the bank.