Roberto
Guest
Been thinking about one of my most favorite spots in the world that I have visited. Black Range of the northern Gila. Forest road ## (secret!) drop down into the canyon. Come to the old sawmill remains and a log cabin long rotted into the earth. Huge deposit of sawdust decayed that I used to haul home for the garden. Creek with water most of the year draining three canyons. The ancient remains of a wagon road run through here on a forest service road. Passing an old goat ranch of 3 log cabins, two of which are inhabited. One part time during hunting season an one full time by a guide/hunter/handyman. The log cabins are on a small piece of private land surrounded by forest service public land. It was a goat ranch when mohair was a market item,. . I tried to buy the land for 10 years, no go!! Just past the gate to the cabins a little arroyo comes into the creek creating after a monsoon rain a sometimes almost impassable jumble of rock almost blocking the entry from up the mountain. This dumps into a ponding area that has had beaver in the past 10 years but the water supply dropped off and the beaver moved. .There is the remains of a log cabin next to the beaver dam and sawmill that must have been the coldest spot around. It was buried part way into the north face of the mountain that loomed over the creek at that point. I bet no sun for 6 months. Maybe it was the cook shack for the mill.
We had our favorite a camp site down the canyon around a curve of the creekbed where there were some old foundations. Just far enough so your would not be driven nuts by the screech of the sawmill blade when working.
There was a flock of turkey resident there for the 15 years or so I hunted there. I was not too hard on them obviously as only a friend and I hunted there. We positioned our camp to block entrance to the canyon ! we only hunted the first week of the season and by then the flock disbursed to higher ground to avoid the next group of hunters.
Although we always cooked and ate the bird at home it was the feathers I most wanted. I had a some very good friends at a Pueblo nearby where I lived in NM. the first time I told them I had harvested a turkey, Tata Ray inquired, ' what did you do with the feathers.' I told him they are blowing in the woods. He got this strained look on his face and sort of hopped up and down,That was when learned how important and sacred turkey feather are to the Pueblo Indians.
We had our favorite a camp site down the canyon around a curve of the creekbed where there were some old foundations. Just far enough so your would not be driven nuts by the screech of the sawmill blade when working.
There was a flock of turkey resident there for the 15 years or so I hunted there. I was not too hard on them obviously as only a friend and I hunted there. We positioned our camp to block entrance to the canyon ! we only hunted the first week of the season and by then the flock disbursed to higher ground to avoid the next group of hunters.
Although we always cooked and ate the bird at home it was the feathers I most wanted. I had a some very good friends at a Pueblo nearby where I lived in NM. the first time I told them I had harvested a turkey, Tata Ray inquired, ' what did you do with the feathers.' I told him they are blowing in the woods. He got this strained look on his face and sort of hopped up and down,That was when learned how important and sacred turkey feather are to the Pueblo Indians.