The call came over the cell phone at 08:29.

I was just passing Devil's Gate, an historic landmark on the Oregon Trail, headed to my check station just three miles past Independence Rock. Another major landmark of the pioneers who struggled and died along these trails to settle this part of the USA.

The call was my wife, calling from work, asking if I had been listening to the news.

Nope.

She had to choke back the tears to tell me. Hijacked planes crashing into the World Trade Center towers, and the Pentagon. Our brief conversation ended with "And we have an 18-year old son."

Listened to NPR the rest of the drive, while I set up my signs, and as I waited for hunters to pass through.

The day's newspapers sat unopened on the seat by the heeler sisters. All the news in them suddenly seemed old and unimportant.

Got testy with the sisters more than once, as they jostled for a chance to get out and run. Little maskless heeler knew something was wrong, but the spayed masked heeler, the forever puppy, never did let up.

The first hunter came out shortly after we set up. A smile on his face as he pulled up, and another as he showed me his antelope.

Do I ruin this day for him?

Share my pain?

All of our pain?

Selfishly, the answer was yes. I would want to know.

He left sober.

How could anybody hunt today? To enjoy any form of recreation today seems wrong, but to participate in one that causes death, even of a prey species, seems unnatural.

A woman came into the area, seeking two men she knew were out hunting. She had a license, too, but "I can't use it. Not today."

I know what you mean lady.

County road workers stopped by, and mentioned "That fiasco back East." Like it was a massive screw-up on someone's part, rather than mass murder.

Like it happened to someone else, those folks in the "East."

More hunters in and out. Had to break myself of the habitual "Good morning" or "Good afternoon." Nothing good about this day. When they made the equally habitual "How ya doin'?", the answer was "As good as I can today."

Their faces then immediately told you if they knew.

Several did not.

The ones that knew? "Can you believe it?" "Thought that'd never happen here." "We oughta nuke the entire Middle East. They've been fighting for 2000 years and never solved anything."

The elder retired couple who have been coming through my check station here on opening mornings for most of the past 20 years came through again. They knew. These folks were adults when Pearl Harbor was bombed. They had no great words of wisdom.

I could have used some.

One of the wardens stopped by, to make sure I knew. We compared notes and discrepancies, his from NBC with mine from NPR.

Said it made him want to go home and pull his kids out of school. They are certainly in no danger in our podunk part of the nation, but I think he just wanted to grab them and hold them close.

One of the trainees showed up, all smiles. The excitement of youth. He didn't know.

He didn't believe us.

Really.

Thought we old hands were pulling his leg. Warden points to the sky. "See any jet trails today? Ever seen that before in your life?" This was almost sadistic, grabbing people in their innocent reverie and forcing them to see the evil in the world.

It occurred to me that this hot, cloudless sky unblemished with modern contrails was the same sky the pioneers saw as they struggled across this arid land. The first time I have ever seen it the way they did.

It was not a comforting thought.

Boss stopped by with supplies I needed, and we tried to talk shop. He actually ate a lunch. I couldn't. Mentioned the Governor had given all us state workers the day off, if we wanted it.

To do what? Sit in front of a TV and watch video of all the scenes I had been listening to on the radio? Over and over again? No thanks, I'll stay here in the country. The news will still be on when I get home.

Left a little before sunset. Usually I wait until after, watching the red orb drop below the Sweetwater Rocks. Not tonight.

Kept the radio off most of the drive home. Alone with my thoughts. Thinking about passengers on those planes, and their last moments. About those in the towers, trapped above the flames.

I would have leapt out to fly.

Thinking about the Pennsylvania crash. I strongly suspect that some unknowing people somewhere "in the East" owe a great debt to the crew of that plane.

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I still have no words of wisdom and comfort. Perhaps there are none. But I ended up reading diaries after all. I found comfort in your words, if only in the sharing of emotions.

Thanks.