Sunday

The sky was filled with blazing pink clouds, edged with wintery gray.  I probably should have arrived a bit earlier.  Up the hill, a bull elk bugled.  Then another on a nearby ridge answered.  It is exciting to start your hunt out with elk bugling.  I loaded the rifle, grabbed the shooting sticks, heaved on my heavy pack (ever knife I own plus a bunch of other stuff - you never know what you might need), and started walking up the hill.

Although it seems less successful, I really like to hunt afoot.  Carefully placing each step, looking forward, looking sideways.  Today, I walked up on four deer at about 150 yards.  They were clueless of my presence.

The deer would be all I see.  Tracks.  Lots of tracks in the snow.  Elk tracks.  Big dog tracks.  I don't think those were from any other dog than a wolf.  I trudged up to the saddle; always a destination in mind.  The sun had crested the ridge.  The grasses, brown and golden and moving in the morning breeze.  The forest, quiet.  I checked my phone.  No service.  8:39.  I sat, drank water, and took these pictures.

This year, hunting feels like hunting.