Still there was a rise of ground between us, so I took three slow, long steps upward to get flight clearance. The bull kept coming. Still holding back the arrow, I chirped quietly with the Phelps AMP diaphragm stuck to the roof of my mouth since first light. The elk stopped a half ...
My plan was to hang myself, but I had only the leash I’d fashioned from an old orange climbing rope for my dog, Clyde. Clyde and I had ridden up that morning to Thompson Creek Road with two friends who then headed off on a trail run where the track dropped into a canyon. When ...