Rocky Mountains

Rocky Mountains by Adrian Sutalo North Park valley where outdoor adventures await, Great Lakes to Rocky Mountains journey, to seal a cervidae’s fate. Roads past endless cornfields stretched toward the horizon, acres tens of thousands of rolling golden prairies, The burning smell of asphalt of North Platte River’s railroad town, mesquite broiled angus sirloins steaks, rest for travelers sweaty and weary. Meadows vast as the eye can fathom, like a view of the setting sun on the sea, framed of snow-capped western alps, grueling two-day drive ends with awes of the scene. Trio of Southern Baptist Preachers, Locked horn Marines a pair, old war Soldier, friends rendezvous, common goal to share. Some not seen since journeys of previous years, happily reunited in fellowship, thanksgiving and prayer. Majestic Elk of the Rockies, coveted target of game, a harvest of one cheerfully shared all the same. Infinite Aspens aplenty for a stand which to hunt, all game not pursued, such as bull and cow moose in my front. Bugle of bull elk, turns stomach to knots, nestled between willows kneeling, arrow knocked. With cow elks a harem, barnyard aroma fills snout, dozen eyeballs toward me, imperfect for bow shot. Evening hunts over, sun dips in skyline, strolls out of woods unbeknownst watched of mountain lion. Few lucky to put down, elk on these trips, blessed ones share mashed potatoes, tenderloin elk strips. The five-day hunt over, the journey home begins, dreaming of next year, to pursue elk again.