close your eyes and try to imagine tacking a bull elk in the high country in autumn , there is about 2'' of snow on the ground , its clear skies as the sun pops over snow capped peaks breaking through the canopy of lodge pole your breath goes straight to the sky , he's bugled back just once, you’ve got to get through the timber cross the ridge his tracks [and his cows ] are headed down into a basin the sun isn't shining there yet ,the entire basin is shrouded in mist as the warmth of the earth evaporates the fresh snow . The sides of the basin are steep ,bear grass covered with wet autumn snow ,your heart is pounding , beads of sweat stream down your forehead you feel more alive,more connected melting into the landscape no longer the intruder who crawled out of a warm sleeping bag hours ago fumbling , groping , asking yourself ''why am I here ?'' Your close now , he's rank , there’s no mistaken it ,your nostrils flare its silent and still save the trickle of the small brook that divides the basin ,don't blow it . Stop . Think . Get into his head . Are you up to packing out of this hole miles from the nearest trail getting caught up in the rush and passion that only a herd bull can bring. You just descended close to a thousand feet ,think about it.......maybe the camera this time,maybe he'll get to breed all these cows . You now realize that you may hold his fate in your hands .....what will it be like here when he's gone ....even though you still haven't seen him , intrinsically you know , you know he's special and so are you or you wouldn't be here stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of a small stream , mid September , lungs burning ......its your call...


more later, K.E.W.