I think there was someone spying on me today. Hiding up on the hill with binocs, waiting for me to finally get comfortable with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. And then they would send the next vehicle of hunters down the road.

And as soon as I was done with that group and trying to read again, they would send in the next truck.

All day long.

All I really wanted to do was read the Sunday comics. Didn't get that done 'til well after lunch.

Not that it was that productively busy. Probably less than a dozen antelope all day (and a third of those in the last hour). And even fewer truckfuls of sage grouse hunters.

No, the bulk of today's traffic was archery hunters.

You could spot them before they pulled in off the highway. All decked out in camo instead of orange, usually with camo on their faces and a full load of camping gear in the back. Arrows and bows piled up in every nook and cranny, and a tired look on their face.

Tons and tons of people coming in from the mountains after spending days, if not a week or two, sneaking around in the forest trying to launch an arrow into an elk or deer.

Unlike white-tail deer hunters in the eastern USA, who tend to bowhunt deer by sitting in tree stands and waiting for a deer to come by, most elk hunters sneak through the woods, trying to imitate the bellow of the bulls and calls of the cows and calves ("cow talk") to draw one close enough in (~30 yards or less).

The rut usually peaks here in the last week of September, but it has been unusually hot. Most report the bulls were bugling well back when we had the snow, but now that it is 70-80 degrees again, they have pretty much shut up. Except at night.

Only one of the many had been successful. Most of the others had some great stories to tell, and since I was the first human they encountered upon returning to civilization, I got to hear them all.

Like the bull hunter who, leaning up beside a tree, had a cow elk come along and brush against his leg, never knowing he was there.

The father and son that called in two bulls at the same time, who then tore into each other (the bulls, not the father and son) until the loser went limping away. No more than 30-40 yards away, but never available for a clear shot. They didn't mind that much.

The bull hunter who asked if it was legal to drape a cow elk hide over himself as he snuck around after the bulls.

Yep, not illegal here (or any other state or province I know of). May not be too smart, considering the number of other archers in the woods.

The young girl who was so awestruck watching a big bull strut his stuff 20 yards away that she forgot to shoot at the cows that ambled past her.

Her father has a bull license, and has discovered the wallow, deep in the woods, of the bull he has been stalking for two years. His hopes are high.

I asked him if rolled in the wallow to cover his scent with that of bull piss and crap, but no, he isn't that desperate.

Actually kind of envious of these people. They say the aspen are peaking right now, and they have been walking around in that green and gold wonderland for hours or days. But I know I will not have time to get into the mountains before the leaves drop. Did pick up and hold two yellow leaves that fell off one outfit. My face and ears are sunburnt from standing outside the windows while they recited their tales from their air-conditioned truck cabs.

One grungy fellow came out after two weeks in the wilderness. I didn't ask if he knew what had happened to his country while he was out. Newspaper reports that there have been groups horse packing out of the Yellowstone wilderness that have just recently received the news.

Some long-time friends came out with a load of firewood. Their son, in the Navy, has received orders to be prepared to ship out immediately upon notification. He lives to hunt, but may miss out this fall. Fortunately our outfit has offered to refund license fees to anyone in the service who gets shipped out and cannot hunt.

I didn't get a lick of work done on the tooth letters and envelopes.