Don't know from squat, but something in my gut tells me we're being allowed a peek into something a bit more personal and familiar to our talented author's life story than a intricately woven story of many stories past.

Thank you for allowing us to peek.

Joshua, thank you so much for sharing this gift with us.  God has blessed you with a wonderful creative mind.  Can't wait to read the rest.  Blessings.

ttt

When the Monarch saw his chance and used it to put the bull from Snaggletooth Creek onto the ground, he did more than win a contest.  Elk know each other. The Snaggletooth bull had come up onto the high top and thrashed every bull elk of any importance- until he tried for the Monarchs cows. After he was done, all the elk on the mountain knew the Snaggletooth bull well. When the Monarch so clearly crushed this foe, a foe who had beaten up every other bull so easily, the other elk took note. The Monarch had little trouble keeping his harem together after his triumph, despite the frustrated pests that seemed to always buzz around his cows like flies. To him these bulls were of little concern now, for it was obvious none of them were willing or able to challenge his supremacy. This indeed was fortunate, for it allowed the Monarch to continue to shepherd his strength and bank it for another day. The lives of wild things hinge on luck. For a bull elk, this luck was often measured in calories. The plus and the minus of energy ingested against energy expended often meant the margin between life and death. If winters mean winds later came howling across the slopes of Bull Mountain and the rut had left them weak and undernourished, a few extra mouthfuls eaten here, a decision that saved exertion there, made all the difference.
When the archer and his daughter bumped the Monarch harem out of the dark timber rimming the giants favorite park, the old cow that led the group took them up slope and over a small rise behind the timber. The park the Monarch preferred was chosen well, because behind this rise was a narrow bench that allowed the elk to watch and see if they would be followed. If not, they would simply settle into grazing the ample grasses that grew there, until such time as they decided to move elsewhere. But if trouble came, the bench quickly dropped into a broad gulch of dark timber into which the elk could easily fall, using the steep topography to excelerate their escape. The elk did not reason out these choices, or how they reflected the equation of expenditures vs deposits. It was simply instinct.  They understood in some innate way the value of only doing what was necessary, and no more. So it was that the Monarchs harem only traveled a mile before stopping. No threat hounded them. There was no reason to continue fleeing.
 
The narrow bench made the Giants life more complicated than it would have been in the open meadow of his park however. Now he could not simply stand in the broad open meadow that was its jewel during the night and from a single view watch his cows. The trees meant cover for the other bulls. He would now have to continually circle them to keep any lesser bulls from sneaking in and horning away one or two of his harem. The bench was timbered sparsely, but even in the waning light of late afternoon it was enough to offer cover to those bulls that coveted what he had. They dared not challenge the Monarch directly, but began to test less courageous methods of getting what they wanted.. As a consequence the Monarch would have to spend a vigilant, restless night.
The gray sky lowered until it seemed the clouds were only inches above the crown of the stunted high top aspens. A steady wind came out of the North, pushing its crisp message through the scarred timber. A single coyote loped across the rise above the narrow bench which sheltered the herd of elk, his interest only in the meadow voles so abundant in the park the elk had so recently vacated.
Night closed in on the high top of Bull Mountain. It became colder and the wind ebbed like a slack tide. Two hunters bivouacked lower on the mountain made their plans, even as an owl drifted silently above them...

This building to a great end.....  

Win.Loose. or Draw.

This has touched so many levels of emotion and raw human nature I'm transfixed with each new installment!

Thank you, Josh for this excellent read!

Outstanding Joshua!!!...... Terry

QuoteOriginally posted by Doc Nock:
Don't know from squat, but something in my gut tells me we're being allowed a peek into something a bit more personal and familiar to our talented author's life story than a intricately woven story of many stories past.

Thank you for allowing us to peek.

Agreed Doc...agreed.

Too good to be on the 2nd page! TTT

very nice story, you have a true skill there
       

TTT!

Thanks for taking care of us before opening day sir!  Anxiously awaiting more.

You mentioned that copies would be available and I would like to get my name in on two copies please and thank you.  I'd be happy to pay for them and postage just let me know.

God bless you,
K.C.

The archer kept trying to close the valve on the gas line. It hissed as the gas escaped even as he torqued the wrench tighter and tighter. He had to turn it off! He put the weight of his body onto the wrench and then in front of his vision knelt his daughter, her headlamp lit against the early morning darkness shrouding the North slope of Bull Mountain. She was boiling water on their roarer gas stove. For a moment he was confused, the dream so real. But there in front of him was the little stove, its burner hissing merrily to the task. The archer laughed to himself. He sat up under the open tarp shelter, rubbing his eyes as he shivered against the chill. Seeing movement, his daughter greeted the archer with a "Get up Dad!", but ignored his request for the time. He found his watch tucked where he had left it under the edge of his sleeping pad. It was 3:15AM. The archers body wanted sleep, but he only had himself to blame for the early bird making a hot breakfast for  them both on the little one burner stove. He also knew better than to display any reluctance getting up. Taking the steaming cup his daughter offered with a thank you, the archer set his mind for what he knew was going to become a long, interesting day.
The daughter reviewed the hunt they would bring to the Monarch of Bull Mountain.  Between spoonfuls of oatmeal, she confirmed the route the two bowhunters had decided would bring them to where the Bull might have gone with his cows. She checked the map against her compass that she lay along its declination marks the way her father had taught her so long ago. She reflected on the constricting contour lines seemingly so benevolent on the maps flat surface that actually meant such profound physical challenge. They had planned to cut under the bench the elk herd had escaped to, playing the mornings downslope breeze to their benefit. They would stalk up from below the elk feeding up on the bench, then finally make a set up to call the big bull out to them.  They had to get under the elk before the thermals changed direction and brought their scent up slope to the bulls harem. They needed to climb up from their camp to the high top, circle its North rim, descend into the deep gulch of black timber behind it, then fight back up through the old growth blow downs and dead falls guarding its steep slopes. The plan was a demanding one, both of time and of physical expenditure.  It ignored the reality that they might not be able to do it...

Joshua...... I was hoping I would get to read another segment before heading up to the high country tomorrow for my Deer / Turkey / Lion hunt. I, like Killdeer, and many others I'm sure, find your writing so good I don't want this story to end...... Thanks for taking the time to share this with all of us and good luck on the mountain this year!!...... Terry

The last segment is later today so check back.

J-