I have mentioned before that I don't really know how to describe so many of the hunters that I am acquainted with. Many I have known for years. Quite often I have been allowed to share in what, for these people, are special, personal events.

Out here, one's first antelope, first deer, or first bull elk, is celebrated. Perhaps not as much as a marriage or birth, but certainly equal to a graduation.

I have visited with many of these folks over many years, many hunts. Some I know outside the outdoor arena, most I do not. And while I may not know the names of their kids, or even how many they have, I still call them "friends".

Today, I may have just lost one.

I am still home, working on sage grouse reports while most of the rest of the community is out enjoying the cold weather and good hunting.

Got a call from one of my long term hunting friends. He and his partner were out hunting elk, his partner killed a cow, and then they found a spike bull dead at the same spot. Fresh enough to be salvaged.

And so they did. Gutted it and loaded it, and were headed to town with it now.

Untagged.

Illegal as hell.

First, he wanted to know how to get a hold of the game warden. They had used the cellular to call him, as they were calling me now, but he wasn't home, out on a call.

Second, could he put his elk tag on this spike?

A common misconception among so many people is that a hunting license is a receipt. That once you pay your money, beat the odds in the drawing and receive your license, you are entitled to an animal.

But that is not the way it is. A hunting license is like a concert ticket, or better, a ticket to a baseball game. It entitles the recipient to participate in a recreational activity. Nothing more.

Just as fans at a ball game are not each entitled to catch and keep a homerun ball at a game, not all licensed hunters are entitled (or expected) to have a successful hunt that puts meat on the table or a trophy on the wall. That outcome of a license depends upon skill, perseverance, experience and, yes, luck.

Go out, enjoy the wilds and come back empty-handed, and you have still gotten your money's worth.

So, no, you cannot put your elk tag on an elk that you did not kill. To do otherwise reduces wildlife to a commodity, similar to their standing at the turn of the last century. A crop to be harvested (although we (and I) often use that analogy). But if a harvest is all these animals are, it would be more efficient to harvest that crop with marksmen and aircraft. Or herders and corrals.

So, what to do with this salvaged elk?

A state tag can be placed on it, and it can then be donated out by the game warden, same as any confiscated meat. To avoid any conflicts of interest, and help prevent a rash of such "discoveries" in the future, most wardens will not donate it to the person who discovered it.

I have means, via dispatch and cell phone, to contact the wardens that the general public does not have access to. I will contact him. Meanwhile, I advise my friend to continue in to town with the elk.

Know the warden will not be pleased. These cases of finding a lost or wasted animal in the field occur several times a year. Usually they are too rotten to salvage. But even if fresh, my friend has destroyed the crime scene and probably all useful evidence. The lay of the carcass can often tell you where the shots came from, providing a chance to discover brass, vehicle tracks and footprints. Gutting an animal to salvage the meat often removes the bullet itself, and destroys the internal organs, which could be used in situ to trace the path of the bullet within the body, again leading you to the shooter's likely location.

Most folks with cell phones call from the site, before charging in and removing the carcass.

Call the warden's cell. Busy. Don't know if it is his phone that is busy, or the circuits. Call the warden's home, and he is out, of course. On a call. He had advised his wife he would probably not be back in time for church. Leave a message with her.

Dispatch hasn't heard from him in two hours, leave a message with them, as well.

Try his cell again several times for a quarter-hour. Finally get through.

No time to talk. He is in the process of stopping a truck of hunters on the highway, suspected of trespass. All I have time to say is I have a report of an elk headed to town without a tag.

Few minutes later, he calls back, and I relay the information from my friend.

They are the vehicle he hightailed it out of town to intercept. They are leading him to the gutpiles as we speak. Like me, he suspects there is more to this than what they say.

The warden calls back some time later. When they reached the two gut piles, practically side by side, my friend confessed. He shot the spike, thinking it was a cow. And then tried to smuggle it in. But they were also trespassing on private property, and were spotted. So they made up the cover story of finding the spike.

And lied to me to try to make it work.

Still got two expensive citations.

And lost the elk.

He called a little after the warden did. To apologize for the lie.

A nice gesture. I've been lied to before, by people I thought I should be able to trust. He is the first to apologize.

I'll give him credit for that.