It’s time to hunt. I’m not sure what else to say. Hunting in the Mountains is such a powerful experience. It’s beautiful, it’s challenging, it provides food, it’s how people survived for a long, long time. It’s also how they died.
This was more of a scouting trip for a future trip, and as it turned out, a beary exciting trip:
We are no strangers to bears, black or grizzy, they come with the territory up here. We’ve had a fair number of encounters, even some that raised our blood pressure a notch, but I’ve not surprised a sow Grizz with cubs at short range till now.
We were dragging ourselves through snow and sleet across an alpine meadow when we spotted her at only 20 yards. To our collective delight, she did not immediately spot and kill us. We managed to sneak away to about 40 yards before she pinned us. She popped her jaws as she began to circle us with a nervous lope. We were definitely not within her circle of trust. As it turns out, we were also just outside of her kill-before-being-killed personal space, the importance of which should not be understated. When she got our wind she was quick to turn, leaving the .243 an unproven Grizz defence system. It was awesome!
The rest of the trip was loaded with beautiful mountains and valleys and streams. That’s why we’re here, to be amazed.
We were looking for sheep country and I think we found. There were a few mule deer but no giants, which is all that was open. We embraced some typical early season snow, which is good for us. Being stuck in a cold, wet weather with few provisions makes our little house seem so much bigger and warmer when we get back home.
Are you a mountain hunter? Married to a mountain hunter? Want to be a mountain hunter? Think mountain hunters smell funny? Me too, lets spread the word. Share this post on your FB or at least write a letter to your grandma and tell her about the awesome blog post you found about hunting in the mountains.
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