Like the Wind

Cowboy · Jun 26, 2004

From the ridge top he could see across the river valley to the canyons and meadows far up to the north and west. Some he knew well, but to see them now from this perspective it was much different. The October snow frosted the ledges, but left the trees stand out in bold green. The purest blue sky framed this scene, while the bite in the air promised the end of summer.

He pulled the lace up tight on his boot and tied it in a double knot. Standing up now, he hitched the day pack in its rightful place and found the game trail that weaved among the rocks along the crest of the ridge, and worked his way on up.

Amongst the gnarled and tough old juniper he picked his way. There were places where the wind that bit his cheek now, at times blew so hard that the dirt and rocks flew out from around these tough old stanchions of nature, leaving their roots arched grotesquely up out of the ground. But they twisted their roots deep into the crevices anyway searching for a grip and found it, leaving the trunk and branches to bow in the brutal wind. The passage of time told its story in the way the limbs curled and swept to the leeward side.

There were lessons here to those who would listen. Nature would have these trees be here to some purpose, yet made their existence so harsh and trying. God made him weak and frail when compared to the juniper. Under certain conditions he could not even survive one day here. He could not tolerate the boredom of that existence let alone the elements. He wasn?t like the tree.

doakes · Jun 26, 2004

What the hell does that mean!!

dakotakid · Jun 26, 2004

So true Cowboy, so true...........

Mike

Cowboy · Jun 26, 2004

You gotta be patient doakes. You will find out soon enough. Check back tommorow.

doakes · Jun 26, 2004

Am I missing something? Is this a serial post? "Tune in tommorow for the exciting conclusion...". Cowboy, are you a poet? Sorry if I sound irrate. I am from Mississippi and we get scared of stuff we don't understand. I still climb under the bed during a thunderstorm.

RACKMASTER · Jun 26, 2004

LAST EDITED ON Jun-26-04 AT 10:08PM (MST)[p]LAST EDITED ON Jun-26-04 AT 10:07?PM (MST)

huh like tring to talk with the wife!
????
or is this what Osoma Bin $H!t Head is feeling when attack chopper is right above his turd hole?
RACK

Hunt4lyf · Jun 26, 2004

Doakes, just sit back and wait, the best part is coming, Cowboy is an expert story teller and I'm sure he'll have a message to say.

Cowboy, I wait with anticipation for the conclusion. Now hurry up!!!

Wraith

Cowboy · Jun 26, 2004

He thought about the trees as the path descended now into a broad basin, but his mind quickly jumped to his pursuit as he stepped across freshly cut tracks. The tracks pressed sharply into the earth dampened from the melting skiff of snow. Older duller tracks were there too.

As he had suspected, the big deer had climbed the ridge and dropped into the north slope jungle to bed for the day. During his scouting, he had glassed from a hilltop far below. He glimpsed the deer on two occasions early in the morning as it appeared on the slope, and was thrilled to see the animal that he had strong hunch was a large old deer based only on its sign among the meadows below.

The deer would not cross anywhere but this broad basin, with the terrain such as it was. He would stay up in the timber though and not be out in the open dry and rocky ground unless forced there.

There was a pocket of grass by a spring that burbled up out of the rocks down below the saddle on the north side. He walked there and studied the ground. A large hoofed deer had spent some time there. He imagined that the deer spent a few minutes there when he was up and about, perhaps before or after the night's activity. He was just sure the deer he sought was somewhere in that timber below the spring. In his minds eye, he saw the old buck bedded amongst the deadfall in the cool pine needles and fern.

When the evening sun finally sank below the horizon, the hunter was perched in the rocks above the spring where he could see both it and the timbered slope above the basin. His butt complained about the uneven ground and got the sympathy of his back too. He had to shift. Before he moved, the fading sun?s light reflected off a movement by a deadfall.

He froze and all thought of his aching ass and back disappeared. He fixed his eyes on the deadfall and awaited the next signal.

Soon it came and he recognized the soft curve of a deer and shape of a heavy antler behind the gnarled barren gray-brown limbs. The deer stood behind the deadfall and through his scope he studied the shape of the back of its neck and ears. The antlers blended in with the dead snag and he could not discern the detail, but was convinced nonetheless that this was the buck he wanted.

The deer began to move directly away, with deadfall between he and it. He would have but a second to shoot when it stepped clear before it once again would be hidden on the timbered slope. When it cleared he set the crosshairs at the juncture of its neck and shoulder, pulled the trigger and the deer dropped in its tracks.

His exaltation was brought up short by the glimpse of another bounding buck as it cleared a rock pile and its massive wide rack dropped out of sight. He couldn't assess the size other than that it was huge. Bigger than any buck he had seen, and likely bigger than the one he shot. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to quickly stride over to where the buck he shot had dropped.

A 3-1/2 year old buck lay there on its side glassy eyed with shattered spine. Not the old boy. A younger deer who had made a mistake. The old boy did not make a mistake. The older deer would probably live to pass on his genes at least one more year. The big old buck would help to make its kind stronger than ever before.

He pulled the cap off his head and chuckled. In spite of his sincere attempt to bring that seasoned old survivor down, Nature had her way with the hunter. The antlers and deadfall looked too much alike and he'd been fooled.

No he wasn?t like the tree at all. He culled the less capable. He was a lot more like the wind.