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blizzard warnings - 13:52 , 03 October 2013

heelerless - 21:32 , 18 August 2013

Red Coat Inn in Fort McLeod - 11:38 , 23 June 2013

rushing into the waters - 09:53 , 21 June 2013

choosing a spot - 17:43 , 27 April 2013

04 November 2006 - 23:26

missing the hunt

Should I kill an elk?

These were the first words out of my mouth as the wife answered the phone.

It wasn't a rhetorical question.

I made the call as soon as we reached the ridgeline, where I got a minimal two bars on the cell phone. There's 25 or so elk moseying through the trees 500 meters behind me. They're in a valley that I've hiked before, and thought at the time, "This would be a fun place to hunt." If I wanted to go back and shoot one, it wouldn't be hard.

And yeah, it would be fun. Trying to sneak quietly to a point of ambush, picking the best shot, the ideal moment. Fearing the frustration that one of those two things might never come.

Because that's hunting.

It's been nine years and 21 days since I've killed anything "recreationally". I'm starting to miss it. Not the killing, of course. Found out that was no thrill the first time. No, watching the spark of life leave something beautiful is not fun.

But the stalk? Trying to anticipate every unanticipated movement, breeze, snapping twig?

I miss that.

And yes, I could do all that with the camera.

But I also miss the pounding of my heart when the deed is done. The feel of warm blood bathing my hands and, with an elk, on up to the elbows.

The smell of elk, and running my fingers through their long, surprisingly stiff hair. The bright red of muscle turned suddenly into meat. Trying to figure out how to get an animal that weighs more than me down a mountainside and into a truck.

And I am so tired of eating beef.

Hence the question to the wife. But I knew what her answer would be.

"You got some place to hang it?"

No. And she and I both know the shed we call a garage is jammed full. It's a maze just to get a rake out, or a hose in. There is no place to hang an elk, or any other critter.

"And where are you going to cut it up? We'd have to pay somebody to do it, and who knows what you're going to get back then."

And she's right again. We haven't seen the top of the dining room table in years, and there is no other place in our house to spread out a leg of elk and start carving roasts, steaks and scraps off the bones.

"And have you got a freezer with any space in it?"

Ummm, 'No' to that question, too. We'd be talking over 100 pounds of elk meat here. Right now, we'd be lucky if we could squeeze in 10 packages.

I knew she would bring up all these questions, though. And I already knew the answers. That's why, when I was this close, just minutes before that phone call...

I grabbed the camera, instead of my rifle.

But I do miss it.

Less than a mile down the road, one of my wardens called. I mentioned the opportunity I just passed up.

Heresy to most folks in this outfit. Most hunters, too, for that matter.

And he promptly offers me the use of his garage. And their cutting table. And hey, he's got a professional meat grinder, too.

And he'll help with the butchering.

Oh, man! Just when I got things all resolved in my head.

Gotta work the same country tomorrow.

Guess we'll just have to see what comes up.

And what I'll do if it does.

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