Saturday, March 8, 2008

Timberline



Dawn breaks over the headwaters of the East fork of the Wind river. The early morning fog blots out the sun . During the dark of night wolves were howling along the treeline to the west, making for a restless night of sleep for me and the two horses tied just inside the trees. I start a fire and put on the coffee, my faithful australian shepherd looks at me from the bedrole he recently laid claim to after a long night of guarding the camp. The chill of early morning bites my skin as I raise my arms to the sky in an age old ritual of giving thanks for the new day and all it may bring with it. I think of the ancient hunters who roamed these lands, and wonder if they may have raised their arms to the sky on this very same ridge sometime in the past. The bugle of a bull elk breaks the silence of the chilly morning, and I remember why I have come to this high place. My bow and quiver hang from a tree branch ten feet from my fire. The elk bugles again and I smile to myself, the coffee is hot and the day only beginning. I will enjoy this moment of serenity and absolute natural beauty that surrounds me. After a cup of coffee and a relaxing moment by the fire, maybe then I will follow the call of the rut crazed bull, and see what adventures the rest of the day brings............The thrill of the hunt is only a part of what draws me into the high lands. I often wonder as I walk the lonesome trails, how many others like me are out there, walking through the shadows of some high mountain forest and seeing the world from that sacred place called the timberline.....Hawk A/ho

2 comments:

Stacey Huston said...

Fantastic and beautiful words as always. You have a true talent for describing natures beauty. Keep up the great work..

WildFisherWoman said...

The horse.. The dapple grey paint... I own his twin.. I never thought I would ever see another one painted so perfectly. Wonderful writings.