smalls
Well-known member
Only two days until August and 16 days until archery antelope opens. Today when I look out my window I see a sparkle of light at the end of the tunnel. The long "offseason" is nearly over as the thoughts of going afield grow more frequent and dreams of the chase grow more vivid its hard not to get lost thinking about what lies ahead.
I can't shake the pictures in my head of a series of giant wallows found late during rifle season; banks ripped and trampled by years of heavy, wet hooves. Filled by a spring mere yards from a trail navigating the tree choked saddle that separates a great lowland morning feed and the shaded confines of a cool north facing slope, I soon expect the crystal clear ponds I found in November to be muddied daily by tan and blonde visitors.
Perhaps a sign of insanity, I am longing to feel the sting of prickly pear in my knees and knuckles because that means the stalk is on. Even the random smell of sage immediately elicits an association to antelope and hot, wide open spaces.
This time of year is to hunters what spring time is for farmers. The slate is clean, hope springs eternal. The wait is nearly over to feel that excitement and anticipation of parking at a trailhead and throwing on the back pack for the first time, with the inevitable question running through your head as your truck disappears behind you, "will today be the day?"
The truth is I want it all, and I love it all. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there is a special desire to fell my first elk. I've been close so many times and I've had some long, demoralizing walks back to camp. I believe this year I will have a more triumphant hike, a knee-buckling heavy load up a steep slope type of hike. Hopefully I can make the phone call to my buddies and father-in-law back and instead of telling them another story about "the one that got away", it'll be telling them about the coolest thing they've ever dreamt of doing with a bow in their hands.
So where is it at for your guys? What hunt or trip has you punch drunk wandering through the day?
I can't shake the pictures in my head of a series of giant wallows found late during rifle season; banks ripped and trampled by years of heavy, wet hooves. Filled by a spring mere yards from a trail navigating the tree choked saddle that separates a great lowland morning feed and the shaded confines of a cool north facing slope, I soon expect the crystal clear ponds I found in November to be muddied daily by tan and blonde visitors.
Perhaps a sign of insanity, I am longing to feel the sting of prickly pear in my knees and knuckles because that means the stalk is on. Even the random smell of sage immediately elicits an association to antelope and hot, wide open spaces.
This time of year is to hunters what spring time is for farmers. The slate is clean, hope springs eternal. The wait is nearly over to feel that excitement and anticipation of parking at a trailhead and throwing on the back pack for the first time, with the inevitable question running through your head as your truck disappears behind you, "will today be the day?"
The truth is I want it all, and I love it all. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there is a special desire to fell my first elk. I've been close so many times and I've had some long, demoralizing walks back to camp. I believe this year I will have a more triumphant hike, a knee-buckling heavy load up a steep slope type of hike. Hopefully I can make the phone call to my buddies and father-in-law back and instead of telling them another story about "the one that got away", it'll be telling them about the coolest thing they've ever dreamt of doing with a bow in their hands.
So where is it at for your guys? What hunt or trip has you punch drunk wandering through the day?