End of The Line

As railroads expanded west during the 1800’s the term End of the Line was used to announce the last stop on a railway.  However, for the passengers on the train the phrase represented where civilization stopped and the Wild West began.  It meant you had better be tough, gritty, and smart because there was an outlaw, hustler, or rough individual around every corner looking for the next green horn to step off the train to swindle, steal, or kill.

Questions?

It’s not the answer that enlightens, but the question – Eugene Lonesco

Staring into darkness I heard the first bugle. My watch read 2:30 am. “Would I hear another?” Moments later the bull elk let out another banshee like scream letting the world know that it was his meadow. He was getting closer, probably only a couple hundred yards from camp. I lay silently in my sleeping bag smiling. Hearing elk is a highlight of any trip to the mountains, however on this trip my prey was mule deer. One more bugle broke the silence as I drifted back to sleep pondering the question “Would opening day bring success?”

Showing Up

There was not a soul at the fish cleaning station as the sun set in the west.  Our haul for the evening was three white bass and a catfish.   Boat morale was slightly up and it was our best outing to date on this trip.  The boost in confidence quickly diminished as the old man in a straw hat hobbled up to the table.  His two granddaughters followed carrying a cooler full of white bass and wipers. 

The Mountain Lion Saga

Gazing at a single track imprinted in the sand I tried to imagine the beast that made it.  My concentration was broken by the bark of a hound that worked the mountain side.  I stared past the dogs to an outcrop of rocks at the top of the mountain.  My eyes strained as I searched for him, but my efforts were useless.  A single thought raced through my mind “Could he see me?”

Thankful

Thankful

Whistling wings and a distant “quack” broke the silence as the first signs of light crested the horizon to the east.  Soon families would be waking up across the United States to prepare for Thanksgiving Dinner.  But the five of us hunkered down behind the little cover we could find in anticipation of the mornings hunt. Time would tell what kind of day it would be, and our hopes were high.

The Twelfth Hour

My mind did not immediately register what I had seen.  Looking to my hard left to investigate the sudden noise I expected to see a squirrel for the 500th time that day.  Quickly returning my eyes to the two does out in front of me I realized I had seen a buck creating a scrape less than 10 yards from the base of my tree.  Peering back over my shoulder I confirmed my eyes were not playing tricks on me as he started to move.  If I was going to capitalize on the opportunity unfolding during the last minutes of shooting light in the 12th hour of hunting I would need to act now…

Connected

Americans are disconnected from their food.  We live in a country where food is in abundance.  Restaurants line the streets in every city and grocery store aisles are filled with multiple options for almost any product.  For example, we designate an entire aisle to cereal!  The average person knows where they get their food, however they do not know where their food comes from.  They just walk into McDonalds, order some Chicken McNuggets, pay with their credit card, and go on about their day.  Completely oblivious to the fact that their order resulted in another chicken being put into the butcher line to be cut up and pressed into a nugget.