Alas, the Chenault clan was out-smarted. Two legs bad.

We saw tons of sign on Saturday, two separate groups Sunday, the same big group Monday, and nothing the last two days. Rising temps (I think) caused the critters to flee for higher ground out of our zone.

Best shot was an up-the-ass at 150 yards on a cow in the first group Sunday. With no rest or option to sit, and a strong sense that any shot on game must be 110%, I passed. For the uninitiated, such a shot is deadly and quick (internal organs aplenty), but inches to either side and you just crippled an elk you will never find. Later that day I had a perfect premeditated broadside on a running bull at 50 yards, but I have an antlerless tag, you see. Damn elk. The other sightings were 1000+ yards off, and in the small pine and pinon-juniper scrub, the casually 7 foot tall bastards made utter fools of our attempts to find them again after descending from on high.

Next time I’m setting up a blind on Ed’s porch.

I struggled a bit with boredom, a good learning experience, and enjoyed stalking and mindfulness getting to know one hillock very well indeed. Days and especially evenings around the fire with M and my parents were the highlight, as was the intention.

This morning I was doing very well, sneaking silently through scrub oak and pine cones towards an occasional cracking in the bush ahead. Sneaky sneak I was, feeling proud and caught up in the moment, only to look up (capture the flag rule: hide it in plain sight!) and see a hunter in full (gloves, hats, face net) camo 50′ ahead and 20′ up a tree. I’m sure he had a fine time watching my non-camoed and orange-hatted self stalk up and ruin his fun. To add insult to injury, it seemed that he only climbed the tree to direct (?) his buddy around the brush. We later heard them from 500+ yards off!

Sorry Matt, no munchies. You can come anyway.

I should also mention that 4 years and ~16 hours ago M and I were married in Vegas. I may tell the tale in proper tribute soon. I am a very fortunate being, one much improved over the one who graduated college in May of 2003.

Yes, I came home from hunting yesterday. As a cosmic reward for our time together our old favorite pizza joint has been re-sold to the old owner, and as we happened to find is as wonderful as ever. Bliss is good bread and crust with marinara.

We also saw Into the Wild, which was excellent in it’s profligate nudity and cinematic license.

I’m also pleased to have so much wonder floating in netland with which to catch up: Mikey’s new blog, Ed’s typically excellent work, Jenny’s musings, Dave’s cool new bike, Jill’s blushing boldness, a gathering this weekend I will be very sad to miss, and Chris’ tale of triumph. (If you think we need No Doz sir, it is only to full the unplanned night ride you inspire.) May we all ride again, soon.

In conclusion: we have no snow here, it’s bluebird and upper 70’s, and I’m pissed about it. Fucking Arizona. LAST year of it!